the beautiful unseen

the future is opaque

With Midwinter came the fog. On Christmas Day, we walked to the tower, a vantage point with views across to the Welsh hills, but we could barely even see beyond the barbed wire fence that bordered the field. A dense silver cloud lingered for days over the valley, making a secret of everything. To me, it was a sign, a confirmation, a blessing of sorts; from submitting the manuscript of Chasing Fog in January to reading a wonderful review of my book in the Times Literary Supplement in December, 2024 was my year of fog.

I have lost myself — more than once — in the fog but I have also found imperceptible things, including a new sense of self. When my vision is obscured and the world contracts to the next step ahead, I am forced to exist in the moment — surrendering to uncertainty and finding unexpected clarity of focus. Over and beyond a long year I chased fog, but what I really sought was the flicker of the unknown. I learned to meet strangeness with gladness, I began to not fear the hidden path.

Now, pale January light reaches through the window and across the ceiling — all cloudiness has faded away and the sky is clear. We are poised on the threshold of a new year.

The future, like the fog, is opaque but I see hopeful beauty in its mystery. Shall we take a breath and step together over the edge into the beautiful unseen?