By Beth Winze
It is nearly two in the morning as I am actually putting the conjunction of thoughts in my brain into manageable words on a screen. It has taken me nearly four weeks to find something inspiring to write about again. I keep telling myself that it will hit me like it always does, but I find myself hitting the backspace more than the enter key. Currently, there is this magical transformation happening that consistently occurs around midnight every night (or early morning) depending on how you want to look at it. A heavy fog descends from it’s height to veil the mountains I now call home. Magical may be a childish reference, but it really is. The once clear street lights around campus become foggy reminders of attempted light. The stoplights are all flashing red because the common thing is for no human to be out driving this late or early (again) during the night. And it’s peaceful. My fellow floor mates have all ceased to open and close the heavy wooden doors leaving our hall in silence. The only noise I am acknowledging is the crickets and the soft whirr of fans in the room.
Straight out the window of the room, nestled on top of the mountain is an airport light beacon. My roommate and I often joke that it looks like the green light at the end of the dock from The Great Gatsby. It just silently spins it’s way in the dark, cutting through the dense – magical – fog.
Something stirred in me enough to inspire this post. And no – it is not the half empty cup of light roasted cinnamon coffee or the frayed edges of my brain from the Psychology paper I have been tearing through. It’s simply the silence. It has once again become a standoff between me and my thoughts with nothing but the magical fog as a witness. College is wonderful, college is amazing, I love college – but I have never recognized silence until this moment. There is constant chatter, lectures, music, and other noises that have become a part of my world. Maybe I have become a little lost in the shuffle. But getting lost is where you truly find yourself. I found myself just now. In the silence. When all other noises have ceased to enter my ears. When my brain has blocked out all other thoughts and when the fog veils my home. It is a quiet enthusiasm that stills my brain and inspires my heart. So call me a little foggy headed. When I wake up in the morning I will probably read over this and see the two o’clock affect. But in my state of foggy minds and peaceful silence, I have been inspired.
I told you it was a magical fog.