Bits and pieces are all I can glimpse through the haze. I’m like a car on Chicago’s outer drive, just south of Navy Pier. I’ve driven this stretch of street many times before, yet the sudden fog throws me. I inch along, wondering, every worrying, what might happen if I move into the soup. What if I bump into something unpleasant? How thick is this hazard?
Sometimes it feels the fog won’t lift, causing me to make a decision. Leave the road or surge ahead. I inch at first, then – sensing no real obstacles – I pick up some speed.
“This is good, making progress, moving forward.” Forward through the soup is better than pulled off the side of the road – waiting for what.
And sometimes when the fog is so thick we can’t see where we’re going, have no idea what obstacles lie ahead – what do we do? This seems so trite but I love the Dory’s line from “Finding Nemo” – “just keep swimming, just keep swimming …”
Because you can pull over to get out of the way, or keep moving forward. Just move forward – not sideways or backwards – you’ve driven through fog before and haven’t yet fallen off the edge of the earth. For me, doing something is better than doing nothing.
What do you do when fog clouds your thinking? I’d really like to know.