Finding Grace in the Fog
Moving through the unknown with acceptance
“Don’t be afraid to go into the mist. Be excited because
you don’t know where you will end up.”
~ Sophie Madden
Living on the shore often provides the opportunity to be enveloped in fog. Some days it is so thick, it appears as though the world ends at the end of my street—where land meets the water.
I find fog comforting, like a cozy blanket has been wrapped around me. Softening all the edges. Life is still. Sounds are softer with longer pauses of silence. Colors appear more vivid against the muted backdrop. The eyes can rest with not as much to focus on. The days of snowfall are similar.
But fog can be treacherous as well. Years ago when I was still sailboat racing, a fog bank rolled in as we were approaching Block Island, Rhode Island in preparation for a week-long regatta. The boat was 42’ with a very long keel needing 8’ of water. One person was stationed on the bow of the boat (front) to watch for land or other hazards. The fog was so thick, we couldn’t see him from the stern (back). Luckily the crew was very experienced with the area and knew it “like the back of their hand”.
Brain fog is more like that type of fog. Scary and at times treacherous. Life becomes hard to navigate. More and more of us are finding ourselves in this boat called “brain fog”. Although mine started before 2020, it is the common symptom of Long Covid. With more people experiencing it, the medical field is slowly starting to take notice and not always as quick to dismiss brain fog as an anxiety symptom. My slew of symptoms ebb and flow, like the tides, with a larger wave every 6 or 8 weeks. I do find it ironic that the other most bothersome one is disequilibrium—it feels like I’m on a boat, not quite sure-footed but not quite dizzy.
Eventually, my physician felt my body may be dealing with a viral infection. I’ve been fortunate not to have had Covid (or the vaccine) so it had to be something else. Reading about Long Covid, since my symptoms are similar, this paper on Pubmed came up: “Incidence of Epstein-Barr virus reactivation is elevated in COVID-19 patients”.
Bingo! Last Friday I tested positive for chronic recurring Epstein-Barr virus. It’s an answer without a cure, but it’s an answer that explains so much. It is estimated that up to 95% of the population carries EBV, the virus that causes mono when we are younger. For most, it never reactivates. Stress, trauma, and infections are some of the triggers that can bring the virus out of latency.
Brain fog and cognitive issues are not fun. It is very draining on the nervous system. Everything overstimulates. The nervous system is stuck in fight-or-flight mode. Some days writing or reading is too difficult. The body becomes like a cellphone battery that doesn’t hold its charge and drains much too quickly. The combination of deep rest, hydration, reducing stress, and nutrition is the only solution for optimizing the immune system and sending the virus back to latency.
Grace
Every year I pick a theme word (or one picks me). I “know” my word for 2025 is grace yet I couldn’t find a good non-religious definition to reflect on.
I’m conflicted with AI (artificial intelligence) but I feel that under the right circumstances, AI can be a valuable tool. Since I’ve been talking about health, I will liken it to using crutches for a broken leg. So, I had a little conversation with ChatGPT (which I would never use for actual writing) and received a wonderful meaning of grace. I’m sharing because I love this definition.
Here’s the parameter I provided: “Please define the word grace from a non-religious viewpoint. More spiritual. I'm thinking of using this as my theme word for 2025.”
From a spiritual perspective, grace refers to a sense of ease, flow, and a quiet, compassionate presence in one's life. It embodies the idea of moving through the world with gentleness, kindness, and acceptance—without resistance or force. Grace is often associated with the ability to remain calm and centered in the face of adversity, finding beauty in moments of stillness and in the simplicity of existence. It’s an openness to receiving life's gifts, both big and small, with gratitude and humility.
In the spiritual sense, grace is not about perfection or deserving—it is the gentle, unearned support that guides you through life, encouraging a deeper connection with your inner self and with the world around you. It invites you to embrace the natural flow of life with trust and to meet challenges with a heart full of peace. Using "grace" as a theme for 2025 could inspire a year focused on cultivating ease, compassion, and alignment with the present moment.
And this will be my practice moving forward. May you all find grace in your life.
Here are several writers on Substack who have given me courage during this challenge. Maybe you would find them helpful as well. 💜
- with Unfixed is what brought me to Substack originally. I found her story while researching my disequilibrium symptoms. It is through the comments on her posts that I “met” so many other wonderful writers.
- with Quantum Nomad is a newer discovery for me. His writings are beautiful and full of wisdom.
- ’s “Coincidence Speaks” serialized novel opened me to explore possibility and to be more curious about life, again.
- with Bimblings has the most beautiful way of noticing life during the hardest of challenges.
- with Rock & Hawk offers beautiful photography and empowering essays.
I do not at all understand the mystery of grace - only that it meets us where we are but does not leave us where it found us.
~Anne Lamott
Peace, Love & Blessings,
Tania
If something I wrote inspired or brightened your day a little, or anything else you’d like to share… I’d be very grateful to hear about it in the comments. A restack or clicking the little heart 💜 for a “like” would always be appreciated.
I understand grace as the loyalty and connection that arises from love. It can show up interpersonally and it can show up as an experience that “I am cared for by the universe.” That might be very practical—food to eat, air to breathe (though some might have a hard time seeing food and air as having anything to do with “love”)—or something more spiritual.
I didn’t go to sleep until after 4am; I often find myself still awake till the early morning hours.
This am, before I went to bed, I looked out and saw that the fog was so thick it was nearly impossible to see more than 50-100ft away.
I call it: being in the clouds. I don’t know why, but I love it. Maybe it’s because it’s a metaphor of life?
We don’t always know what’s ahead of us, and often can only see the next step or two . . . but we have to keep moving even so, and have faith that as we move forward, our path will become more clear to us.
It also reminds me of one of my favorite songs: I can see clearly now the rain has gone! I can see all obstacles in my way!
Thanks for reminding me of these things! And thanks for listening.