Driving though the mountains, out to the coast, we were into the clouds. I remarked to my wife Debra that at least the rain didn’t have far to fall. And fall it did, in sheets and torrents. The windshield wipers were ’slapping double time’ as brake lights and headlights probed through the rain and traffic slowed. Away from the highway though, the landscape was an amazing smoky blue black, highlighted in clouds of wispy white and transcendental silver. The misty breath of the mountains surrounded us in the rain.
I asked Debra, “What is it about mist that is so intrinsically appealing to us? “We like the mystery,” she replied. And she was right of course. As we peered into the unknown world around us, rocks, trees and mountains had been transformed into soft shadows, blending and revealing, then hiding again. The mist was a soft swirl, a suggestion of reality, a blend of the abstract with a hint of the mystical. There was no pulling over to the side of the road, too much traffic for wonder and awe. We drove through the moment and too soon, we were out of the rain. We’d been to the pacific coast before though. It’s the home of fog and mist and the realm of the mysterious.
The mysterious is when we’re not sure exactly what we’re seeing. Is it the dawn of creation or a portal to the cosmos? The mysterious is dark and maybe a bit scary, but at the heart of it, it’s awesome, wonderful and beautiful.
And then it comes…tender melting mystery. Emily Carr, Hundreds and Thousands.
The mysterious is misty mornings in the mountains, foggy, old growth forests and winter storms at the pacific coast. It our chance, our opportunity for a long slow look, into the mystic.