Liz Vigar – Counsellor | Counselling in Reading, Berkshire

There was a thick fog this morning. As I was walking round our local lake, I looked across, trying to make out the other side through the mist. It got me thinking about the ‘mists’ in our own lives. Sometimes things feel a little unclear. We may have some idea of the direction we are going and there may be things that we can anchor to for stability, but sometimes it may feel as though those things are almost completely eclipsed.

I think human nature often demands that difficult and confusing circumstances should make sense immediately. We want answers and it is so hard to find peace in uncertainty. Sometimes it may be all we can do to just survive day to day.

How then do we find ‘meaning in the mist’? Perhaps meaning comes much slower than we would like – maybe over time or even years later. Maybe to survive the fog, we could reframe our need for immediate answers and ask ourselves what we need to just keep moving when we can’t see clearly. How can we ground ourselves to find some calm within ourselves even if all around seems to be spinning out of control? What helps us to feel secure? What does it look like to just simply put one foot in front of the other for a time, until we have more clarity?

As I look at my photo of the lake I can’t make out all that much in the distance. There are trees and I can see their reflection on the lake and maybe, if I try hard enough, a hint of what might be blue sky! The trees and bushes directly in front of me though are quite sharp and clear. If I look ahead I can’t make out much and it takes my attention away from the vivid colours right in front of me.

To stretch the metaphor a little more, whilst I am focussing on the misty distance, my mind is trying to resolve uncertainty – figure things out, make meaning and get clarity. This is a very understandable impulse when everything feels emotionally significant and when we feel unsafe and unsure. But, whilst this is happening I am missing things in the present and the more vivid parts of my experience are lost. Now some of these present things may be painful and hard to be with and that’s tough. But there may also be good things that I am finding difficult to see.

I guess grounding isn’t about denying the mist but attempting to rebalance our attention to the present to see what is right in front of us. Perhaps we don’t need to have all the answers just to take the next step?