Delycia and I took a quick (2.5 mile) morning walk around the seacoast town of Noank (CT) this morning, and we had the mysteries of mist all around as we walked. It’s always wonderful to realize that seeing boats and the sea somewhat hidden in mist surprisingly makes them seem even more exquisite, more magnificent than when seen in clear light. It is, indeed, a spooky but very pleasant power that mist has.
And masks, too, can sometimes bring out a curious shine in faces, especially valiant elderly travelers out scouting the morning mist.
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MIST AND MIGHT
Mist on a May afternoon can find the truth for you. If yelling at yourself and sending disagreement out like shots from guns has brought you to a house of horror, try making friends with mist when May has found you with its helpfulness and its family-like mist. This affectionate, friendly haze will call you by your real name. Out of nowhere, the missing you might finally arrive through the pathway of this sympathetic springtime mist.
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One Tuesday in September, a man named Harold Smith said to the clerk at the Social Security office that he wished to change his name to Harold Hidden, simply because he suddenly saw so many marvels hidden inside every single moment. He said he now saw sadness secreted far down inside stormy words, and friendship was camouflaged deep down in almost everything. He told the clerk, whose name was Carl, that he knew peace was working undercover everywhere, always ready to shine its light. He said love was sometimes disguised in the form of anger, and wisdom was occasionally masked as sorrow. “So Carl, can this new name happen for me?” he asked, and Carl coughed, and then smiled like he suddenly understood something.
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