When the Mist Doesn’t Clear

When the Mist Doesn’t Clear

This morning, the mist didn’t ask for permission.

I stepped out of the garage with one hand on the bike and the other wrapped around a coffee mug that didn’t actually hold coffee. It was filled with hot mineral water—salted, grounding. It wasn’t for sipping so much as it was for centering. Something warm to hold. Something simple to remind me I’m still here, still moving.

I rode out steady. The air was damp, soft with drizzle. My glasses caught tiny droplets that blurred the view, but I didn’t stop to wipe them clean. I didn’t need perfect clarity. I just needed enough. Sometimes, enough is the only kind of clarity that shows up.

When I reached my friend’s place, I was still holding the mug. I didn’t set it down. I carried it with me on the walk. That detail stuck with me—how we carry what grounds us, even as we move forward. We don’t always need to put everything down to walk with purpose.

We talked as we walked—about life, about distractions, about the voice that tries to convince you to chase people’s approval instead of walking in purpose. We’ve both seen how easy it is to flip the equation: trying to serve people first and maybe seek something deeper later. But that always leads to burnout. Emptiness. Disconnection.

The better way? Keep it simple.

Be at the right place, at the right time, doing the right thing.

That became the theme of the walk. Simple doesn’t mean easy—it means clear. Show up where you need to be. Be present. Do your absolute best. Focus on what matters. Bring a good attitude, put in real effort, treat people well, and be grateful—even when the circumstances don’t seem to favor you.

Because if you’re living in gratitude, there’s no room for whining.

No blaming.

No excuses.

No self-sabotage.

When you’re grounded, honest, and grateful, you stop lying to yourself. You don’t cheat yourself out of what today has to offer. And you certainly don’t steal the beauty of life from your own hands.

We ended the walk with a conversation about truth—how it doesn’t always need defending. Sometimes, it just needs someone willing to stand in it. When you live aligned with that, you stop needing to fight everything. The resistance fades. The noise quiets. Peace walks beside you, even if the path is still wet with rain.

By the time I got back on the bike, the world hadn’t changed.

But I had.

And sometimes, clarity doesn’t come by wiping the mist off your lenses.

It comes by riding through it with both hands on what matters.