Nothing stands between me and my highest good.

Fog on a country road doesn't move. You do, and then it's somewhere else. The road was continuous the whole time. Visibility was the only thing missing.

Highest good is a large phrase for something that tends to arrive plainly: work that suits you, people who know you, enough quiet in the evenings.

Much of what appears to block the way turns out to be a decision nobody has made yet. Not all of it. Often enough, though, that it's worth checking the gate before assuming it's locked.