La Nebbia

I remember foggy mornings in Arkansas. Not a whole lot, but it seems like sometimes when we went to school early, there would be fog in the valleys of the very hill-and-valley terrain between home and school. I always thought it was beautiful and mysterious.

And I really remember fog in northern Italy. Where they had to put special reflective paint and markers all along the roads for miles, because the fog was responsible for multiple deaths when drivers simply could not see well enough to realize another car was coming right at them. And then more cars could not see the accident ahead, and it would just start a pile-up.  So the markers were indications of how slow one ought to drive. (If you can see three markers, you can go x kilometers per hour, but if you can see only two, better slow to x km, and so on.)

Of course Venice in the fog was like a dream. Beautiful, mysterious, other-worldly. (And could get your clothes wet, too.)

Back in an earlier job setting, I worked with a group of people who struggled with various life situations. We would start each meeting with a check in. Rate your general mood with a number, and rate your general "brain fog" with a number. Brain fog became a frequent topic of our conversation. Because when you're depressed, not sleeping well, feeling confused and close to hopeless about your future, thinking clearly does not come easily.

Thus, brain fog.

I find that this year of my life has brought a lot of brain fog. Which is funny, because I am working on a doctorate now, so of course I have to think clearly enough to do that work. But the stress of that along with other significant stressors have made for a year with almost no consistent routine (and brains thrive on routine), along with the sorts of chemicals that stress pumps into the brain that further foggify it.

(The computer is telling me that "foggify" is not a word. It doesn't know that Gerard Manley Hopkins is my blog's patron saint, obviously, and I shall use words as I choose.)

Anyway, I went for a walk a while back (one of the routines I lost this month with some severely cold weather coinciding with a moderately severe nerve condition that makes being cold something to avoid at all costs for now.), and it was a gorgeously foggy morning.

Beautiful, mysterious, and like brain fog, made it very hard to see clearly.

And the "sacred bench," as I've come to think of it, just struck me as so beautiful.

Perhaps because it is on land surrounded by water, it showed up more clearly than most of the rest of the park. There was less fog where it was.

And even though I was there alone, the bench was a symbol to me of what had helped get me through the brain fog of this past year, and that of many other times in my life. It's the people who will sit down with you and just be there to talk and listen and share and care. That loving care helps clear the fog, brings light into the mind, makes it possible to remember the fog is temporary. The mind will return to its normal functioning.

Richard Stivers has written a fascinating book called Shades of Loneliness, in which he ponders the likelihood that our disconnected society (largely related to technologization) is at the root of much of mental illness. I think he is largely right in what he has written. If more people had sacred benches on which to sit, or people to walk with in the park, I feel sure we'd have less need for the kind of work I do.

I'm thankful for the people who walk and sit with me and help clear the fog from my brain from time to time--sometimes it takes more than once a day.

"Nebbia" is Italian for fog. Where our "nebulous" comes from. And just as fog can be yucky, like brain fog, it can also be beautiful. So I picked a nebulous title for it.

For another foggy post with more photos and a poem with much sadder sentiments, see "Im Nebel."

Sketches

Oops. I went over a month with nothing on my blog. While I'd like to get back into more frequent "blogging" (still hate that word, cf. my very first post from--gasp--eight years ago), I do at least try not to go more than a month without posting something.

 

So tonight, a quick post.

 

In looking for something a few weeks ago, I came across these doodles in a couple of notebooks. The top three were done during a class when I was kind of bored.

 



 

Looking out the glass window to the foliage outside--wishing I were outside.

 

 

 

 

 

This, as I recall, related to something we were discussing in class.

There was not a tree in the room, so I was sketching an idea, not something I saw--obviously!

(Does anyone know how to stop Blogger from turning photos sideways?

I never have figured it out.)

Another view out other windows. It looks as if I were interrupted, or else that tree on the right would continue branching out into the window pane to its left....but I actually remember that it didn't.

It just went upward at that point, out of sight.

 

Another notebook, one I took to Croatia. This was the plan for tiling the bathroom,

though our plan was not to have a sideways bathroom.

Life is different over there, but we don't live sideways.(Blogger again!)

Of course when time for tiling came, and dear hubby flew home to oversee the project,

neither of us remembered that I had drawn this sketch!

 

 

Anyway, just seeing these things while in search of something else reminded me that I really do enjoy sketching/drawing/doodling and don't do it much. I enjoy the way it slows you down, focuses you, connects you to your own body and to the world around you.

 

So when I saw a very small, portable sketchbook at the bookstore the next day, I brought it home. It's set up to do a sketch a day, which I was doing until severely interrupted by two intensive weeks of school, but I intend to get back into the habit.

 

Maybe I'll share some more, though I must say sketching itself is much more relaxing that doing a post on sketching.

 

Here's to old-fashioned fun, no screens involved.

Take Two

All right, I'm back with the hope of sharing the photos I wanted to share last night.

It's the evening of Epiphany, a word I knew only as a word for something like "a comprehension or perception of reality by means of a sudden intuitive realization" (thank you, thefreedictionary) until about a decade ago, when I began learning how the word with a capital "E" fit into Christian history and the liturgical calendar.

Interestingly, I had actually learned about longer ago than that, when I was living in Italy. Except that there I heard mainly of "la Befana," a sort of female cross between Santa Claus and a witch, who leaves lumps of coal and/or goodies for children on this evening. "Befana" is thought to be a sort of corrupted pronunciation of "Epifania," which was surely explained to me back then. But as I had no context for meaning of that term, it didn't stick.

 

 

It's very interesing to me that according to information from the book pictured above, Epiphany was celebrated by the Eastern church circa a century earlier than Christmas was added to the Roman church's calendar.

I'm not the one to go into a in-depth explanation of what Epiphany is, but I think it's a beautiful idea to celebrate the events from the gospels in which it was revealed that Jesus had come to make salvation possible, to Gentiles as well as Jews, events worth pondering and studying, enjoying and being thankful for.

When I have been to Epiphany services, candles and light played a role, with the idea being that just as Jesus came to bring light into the world, so we are do go out and do the same.

And light is what originally caused me to take these pictures, not knowing at the time that I would link them to my life in Italy twenty-something years ago. Now, crossing my fingers that Blogger is going to let me post them.....

Okay, this is hilarious. We live in such a funny world, with our technology dependence. It is still not working. So, what did I do but go to Google, hoping for an epiphany....or at least an answer. A shot in the dark, I thought--but wouldn't you know it? I typed in "why is Blogger...." and it filled in for me "not uploading photos." Obviously I'm not the first!

Well, I found several suggestions but am not competent to carry out any of them. So until I am able to consult with my more techno-savvy husband, I guess I'm stuck.

So.....here's another picture from an earlier post on my blog. It's the moon over our former home. Maybe, just maybe, something like the star that led the magi to Bethlehem. How I would like to know more about that story....

And how I imagine the magi would have liked to know more about what it was they were following, and what it was they found. How I wonder what became of them and how this journey affected their lives. Much to ponder, much to wonder.

And I hope soon to be back with new photos.