Trusting Uncertainty

When the fog rolls in and surrounds us with a thick, hazy blanket, our perspective shrinks. In this state of sensory deprivation, our vision is limited, and we can only see what’s closest to us with any certainty. The familiar world around us fades into the distance, and we are enveloped by a sense of mystery and stillness. Nothing has changed, except how we see things. Yet, this shift in perspective is enough to make us pause and reflect.

I remember one morning walking beside a large lake, shrouded in dense fog. Despite knowing this area well, I could barely make out the tree line ahead. The fog was heavy and damp, and I could hear an eagle calling somewhere in the distance. As I stood on a small wooden bridge looking out over the water, I felt strangely vulnerable without my sight. Even though I loved this place and was familiar with it, my mind began to race, imagining all sorts of unsettling scenarios, like something out of a horror movie.

But then I stopped myself. I reminded myself to focus on the beauty around me. I took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of the trees. I listened to the soft sound of the water. As the wind brushed against my face, I stood still, letting my heart take the lead. My heart, I realized, knows there’s more to life than what I can see. It finds meaning in the darkness, knows the way even when I don’t, and always holds onto certainty, even when I’m confused by what’s around me.

As the fog began to lift, I was surprised to spot an eagle perched in a large pine tree, less than 50 feet away. I silently thanked it for the visit and reflected on the ancestors and angels that protect us, whether we’re aware of it or not. I felt, in that moment, a deeper understanding that we are always being watched over—whether we recognize it or not. As the fog continued to clear and the sun began to warm the air, I noticed a second eagle, about 100 feet away, perched in a tree downstream. Both eagles had been there all along, watching me while I grappled with uncertainty, reminding me of who I am.