This past week I’ve been sleeping with the window open. The cool evening breeze is a welcome respite after the long days that have left the apartment a bit too toasty during this recent heatwave. Tonight, feeling the refreshing ocean air roll into the room and come up against my face, I smiled and was peacefully lulled to bed by the sleepy groans of the Golden Gate foghorns sitting just a few miles north.
The next thing I know, I’ve been woken up by the steady din of the foghorns that has grown noticeably louder. In a daze, I check the time and it’s 4AM. As I lay in the dark with my eyes closed, listening to the foghorns’ self-important bellows, I find myself picturing Karl the Fog having a good time outside the window, enveloping the Golden Gate Bridge and everything under its sight. And then, as if caught between a dream and wakefulness, a slideshow of images begins playing in my head. First, an army of undead pirates quietly passes through the fog unseen (think Lord of the Rings: Return of the King or Pirates of the Caribbean), ready to launch its attack on the city.
Then, a Disney-esque caricature of a foghorn trio — the lead foghorn, enormous, grey, and clumsy-looking, joined by two pipsqueak foghorns on each side, rather cute — together creating the babel of blares that has kept me awake. Next, I’ve taken a trip to the 19th century and I get a black-and-white view of the RMS Titanic enshrouded by thick, ominous fog, and with each blast, the grizzled row of foghorns fights off the foul fog, only to reveal a massive shiny iceberg just beyond the bridge. I don’t have to imagine what happens next.
As my brain continued to conjure up random scenarios and personifications of the foghorns to justify why I was awake at this hour, I grew curious of how the foghorns actually worked. When do they go off? Who controls them? How do they keep the ships and vessels entering the Golden Gate safe? When will it stop? Make it stop! I got up, shut the window, put in my earplugs, and gradually fell back asleep.
As it turns out, the Golden Gate Bridge foghorns have a valid reason to wake people up in the middle of the night, having played an essential role in keeping ships safe since 1937. What I was hearing was a chorus of the bridge’s five foghorns working together to signal to ships their position relative to the bridge spans, helping them find their way through the fog while avoiding other vessels and staying away from the coastline. Unlike in my imagination, the foghorns don’t actually fight off the fog for the sailors. Instead, their deep, baritone blasts signal imminent danger and help sailors navigate the waters safely.
As I emerge from the foghorn wikihole I found myself in after being kept awake by them last night, I can’t help but think about the foghorns that are present in my own life. Like a vessel in the night traveling through the fog of life’s uncertainty, so far I’ve managed to steer clear from shipwreck. Who, where, and what are the foghorns that have kept me safe and sound? When does the foghorn of my own ship sound? Do I trust it?
Through all the moments of change in my life, both large and small, whether it be immigrating to a new country, navigating the end of a long-term relationship, moving to a new city, or being laid off from work, I’m grateful for my gut, as well as the support and advice I’ve received from my loved ones — my personal foghorns that have kept me afloat so far.
My parents have always been quick to sound their alarms when they sensed problems ahead for me. Moreso when I was younger, I feel lucky to have had their foresight, as in most cases I did avert crisis by heeding their advice. From resolving conflict with a fellow 3rd grader at school to making a tough decision on whether or not to take a gap year in college during the pandemic, they were my foghorns before I even knew I needed them.
As I’ve gotten older, many of the decisions I have made by following my intuition have turned out to be the right ones. But more than once I have had to learn the hard way. In the face of uncertainty, internal strife, and unwelcome change, I’ve learned to navigate life’s murkier waters by trusting my own foghorn, especially when it sounds with a discomforting warning.
Uncertainty is certain in life. We can chart our own path, but we do not know which direction the winds will blow. When we’re blown off course, we set our sails straight to keep moving forward, even if it feels like the wrong way. We do not know which ships we will encounter on our journey, who will join our crew along the way, or which storms we will pass through. Yet as rough as the sea can be, the sun will rise the next day, and the horizon remains.
The foggy moments in my life have taught me more than the clear ones. They’ve shown me who I can lean on, and when to trust the signals coming from within. If we have only sailed smooth waters and clear skies, how will we have the resilience, coordination, and experience to face a powerful maelstrom? If we encounter a heavy, disorienting fog, will we have confidence in ourselves to make it through? Who or what will we put our trust in, if not ourselves?
Like sailors, we must be adaptable, resilient, and take charge of our helms, recognizing that we are the sole captains of our lives. We have to realize that life is truly about the journey, because the destinations we seek are never guaranteed. As I approach my 30’s, I find myself deeply evaluating the life I want to live and who I want to be, especially in how I choose to face uncertainty.
Inevitably, when the foghorns sound, I’ll know to trust them, knowing that I am encountering yet another one of life’s challenges. And when the fog lifts, I’ll see clearly that I’ve become a bit more deft, a bit more resilient, and perhaps a bit more prepared for the next challenge.