I stand on the edge of a lake. A massive, dimly glowing subterranean lake where my spirit floats, my memories swim, and my soul goes for deep, sightless dives.

I stand on the edge but I can’t see a thing. I know the place like the back of my hand, but today a thick mist hangs over it like a colossal cobweb. Thick and damp, clinging to me and clouding my vision.

I like to stand by this lake and look into it, seeing my reflection perfectly still – seeing who moves first. Sometimes I drop a thought in, to see the ripples shoot out forever. To hear thunderous waves crash in the distant mindfulness.

I think the storm brought in the mist, and as I toe the edge of this massive thoughtful water, deep and shimmering dark, underground a bright surface, I know it is just as bottomless as ever.

Just as perfect as ever, just as ready to be disturbed. Just hiding in a heavy moment.

So I sit down, close my eyes, hold my hands, and feel through the fog.