The fog

Today, I did mostly nothing by the standards of the average American. I did house chores, some fabricated and some necessary. I did a few hours of excel work, which by my usual timeline was actually a heavier day than most. I checked a few items off the lagging to-do list, and I added a few more for tomorrow. I spent way too much time looking at the smallest screen in my house, my iPhone.

Much of the day I felt a very familiar fog of existence, the one where I’m veiled to an experience that others can feel that I can’t. Growing up, I felt this veil pretty regularly. I walked around with a relatively clear mind encased in a lethargic fogginess that often kept me listless and low energy. Even when I wasn’t completely conscious of it, I imagined that something was wrong with me. Other people seemed to be energetic and in touch with an enthusiasm for life that I wasn’t. I wasn’t depressed, life just had a particular vagueness that I could never quite specify.

As I’ve gotten older and worked on a lot of my conditioned behavioral responses, this fog has mostly lifted; some of it an incredibly intelligent protective response to circumstances that felt scary or out of my control as a kid. Yet, remnants still remain. On a day like today, nothing parts the clouds, not a food, not a plan, not a cry, not an accomplishment, not a goal. I know not to try.

Perhaps this is being, not so pure and not so sexy. Perhaps striving for being in the form of embodiment is another cloak of ‘doing’ not much different than the holy grail of earlier decades’ intentions to achieve mindfulness. Perhaps this is what is left when achievement is laid to rest, the intolerable tone of nothingness with nothing to fill it.