This morning, as I arrive at the station, I notice something peculiar.
Someone has left a backpack hanging from a tree at my usual entrance.
I thought about taking a picture of it, but then I might be a witness or accessory to some type of crime.
I also didn’t want to get too close because of that same reason.
As I board my big green chariot, onto the cabin car and past my perch, I notice something that makes me smile.
I’ve blogged about every piece of signage that I’ve come across.
A feeling of accomplishment sinks in.
Followed by a feeling of writer’s block.
Signage constitutes for about 75 percent of my blogging material.
As if on command, the train makes a high pitched squeal, reminiscent of those tv tests from the emergency broadcast system.
This is the second day the train has developed tourettes, and everyone else pretends not to notice.
What to write, what to share?
I think back to a dinner I attended this weekend, where 4 of the guests were regular blog readers and dare I say fans.
Being a celebrity has its advantages.
I get to brag about myself and everyone thinks it’s ok.
I resisted the urge to sign my name on their foreheads with a sharpie.
I ran out of ink.
One fan even told me she enjoys reading my blog with her morning coffee, and was concerned when I didn’t write for a while.
To this person; I said that writing is an intimate, complex process whereby you have to be spiritually, emotionally and intellectually available.
I wasn’t in that fragile state to produce content at the calibre my fans were accustomed to.
That’s a lie.
I actually told her “I was busy with stuff.”
She told me she understands how writing is a creative process and knew I needed to be inspired.
I grunted and told her to pass the salad.
Fans that are smarter than me are actually kinda annoying.
I make a mental note to unsubscribe her.
Prior to leaving for the station, this morning, as I stepped outside I noticed the thick, heavy fog:
When I think of fog, I think of a couple of things.
A former voracious reader, I enjoyed a biographies, historical fiction, and especially a strong english mystery.
Fog would always set the stage for many stories, maybe being cut through on a scenic train, hovering over a Castle or making its presence know in the Cotswolds.
I’m not exactly sure why all of these victims decided to walk into translucent conditions, but if they didn’t, we’d never find the bodies or have stories.
Fog also reminds me of a previous trip to Peggy’s Cove.
A week long east coast adventure had me travelling to this tourist destination on a spectacular sunny day.
One white cloud beside the lighthouse made for perfect photography conditions.
The next day, when my supervisor went, the fog was so thick you couldn’t see anything.
When meeting up for dinner the following evening, after reviewing her photos, I pointed out where focal points would have been.
A thick fog is also very timely, particularly on the morning of Mental Health First Aid training.
Lots of literature pertaining to mental health concerns discuss the symptom of brain fog–a combined feeling of confusion, forgetfulness, lack of focus and mental clarity.
I think we’ve all experienced these mild conditions at some point in our lives.
Did I leave the stove on?
Where did I park my car?
Why did I forget to bring my lunch?
I’m sure everyone has had insignificant “bloopers” to some extent.
The fog appears, stays for a while and eventually rolls away.
For someone living with mental illness, these kinds of occurrences are not one-off situations.
The fog appears, stays indefinitely and suffocates all aspects of their lives.
It’s something easily unnoticed.
It might be the person who laughs and smiles the most in your life that struggles.
In your daily interactions, be mindful of the way you treat others.
You have no idea what challenges they face, and how being present might have been a struggle.
If everyone was able to shine some of their natural light onto others, together, we can combat the darkness.