The journey we call life

         This morning, fog enveloped the city. It didn't help that my car was in a case of ice. I spent some time scrapping the ice off and let my car warm up in the parking lot after work. The fog got worse in a matter of minutes.

         Since there are less street light the farther I go from the city, it became more and more difficult to see as I drove. Imagine getting caught in the rush hour traffic under that setting. It would have been pretty scary.

         Lucky for me, the traffic in the early morning is almost nonexistence where I live. So, when I drove out of the main city area, I felt more comfortable with taking my time. It also helped that I didn't see any overzealous joggers who felt the need to run in the fog.

         Every now and then, when I could no longer make out the road, I slowed down. I tried to stay on roads that had some street lights because they pierced through the veil of the fog. The points of reference they gave akin to lighthouses for ships in the stormy seas.

         When I arrived home, I felt a sense of relief. Everything else still looked dark and dreary, but I was ready to rest. Ready to prepare to sail for the next day.

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         In a way, driving home in the fog felt like a metaphor for life. We have limited views and perspectives throughout the journey. The light we see along the way could be helpful persons or events that pushed us in the right direction.

         The fog distorts our perception of our surroundings, much like how life isn't black and white. We often don't have the full picture, or could not comprehend the full majesty of the things around us. We can only cast judgement based on the limited information we had access to at the time.

         We may have an end goal, like returning home, but what we would encounter along the way is often unknown. Sometimes, the "end goal" is but another check point for the continual journey we call life.