Each Has Its Run of Days

I’m finding my way through another chronic illness fog. It is one of substance, a “pea souper,” thick with the unexpected.

I happen suddenly upon health hazards no matter how cautiously I proceed. Often, there is not even a murky outline of warning.

My own words surprise me, blurts here and there. Often, I create a new word entirely.

I don’t finish my own sentence–be it on a screen or in conversation–I lose its purpose. Quickly, I start two or three others that never find the finish line, either.

I’ve always had this problem—starting more than one sentence at a time— but in the fog of chronic illness, the results often startle even me. 😉


Thoughts drop in here and there—stripped and shredded–unable to attach for long, if at all. From the Zen Buddhist perspective, that’s a good thing.

Still, I snatch phrases and string lines together for a brief moment of form, misty at best. Why expend energy to write a blog post? Some days I don’t. When I do post, there is a glimpse of perspective, albeit shrouded in fog.

I find  comfort in immersing myself in what I cannot know or even touch. It is a lesson in impermanence, trusting that neither fog nor sunshine stays.

Each has its run of days.

Aim for Even posts offer equanimity a dose at a time. No day or dose is ever the same, even if the aim is. You may read about the origins of Aim for Even here or on this site’s About page.

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