"I've looked at clouds…"

"I've looked at clouds
from both sides now,
from give and take..."
- Joni Mitchell

I live along a river valley that runs between two mountain ranges. Each morning I rise, fill the bird feeders, water the flowers and return to the kitchen where I make a pot of tea. Then I spend a few hours studying spiritual texts, taking calls, and staring.  Yes, staring.

I've always been fascinated by clouds. As a child I couldn't wait to finish my chores and retreat to read. If the weather was inclement, I would go to my room, climb into my bottom bunk and disappear into a story about horses, a Nancy Drew mystery, a biography about strong women, or a book of fantasy. If the weather allowed, I would grab a book and head for a grassy place to lie on my back and alternate between reading words and reading clouds.

I loved watching a cloud change shapes -- from a bunny, to a dragon, to a castle -- and so on. The first time I heard Joni Mitchell's,"Both Sides Now," I thought it was the most brilliant song ever penned.

These days, I don't have to lie in the grass to watch clouds. All I have to do is look out our floor to ceiling windows, where I have a stretch of sky that reaches about 50 miles along the valley -- from north to south. I can watch a single cloud shift shape dozens of time. I can watch her start out as a puffy little thing, and over the course of a few hours, turn into a pouty, storm-sodden promise full of rain.

One day, as I watched a cloud morph, over, and over again, I realized that "the cloud" I'd been watching -- and which I'd identified as "that cloud," -- was not the same cloud, at all. Fifth grade earth science had taught me that throughout the morning, the sun had caused water molecules to evaporate up from puddles, lakes, rivers, streams, and back into the atmosphere. From there, they'd then been gathered (or condensed) into clouds. But all the while, as each cloud gathered new molecules of water, other water molecules were being released back into the atmosphere. There was a constant, ongoing exchange of water molecules.

The cloud that I had been watching move from the north earlier that morning, was actually not the same cloud I saw later in the afternoon. Even though I thought I'd been monitoring its southbound progress -- and its ever-changing shape -- there were probably very few water molecules left of what had started out as "that cloud" earlier in the morning.

And for that matter, what constituted "that cloud" anyway?  How was it so different from the atmosphere it seemed to be traveling through. The same molecules that made up that beautiful blue sky, made up the cloud. All that was different, was density. What I thought of as an outlined shape, was actually, in a constant state of transformation -- continuously changing and shifting.

For me, this realization felt -- in ways that are hard to explain -- like I finally understood Life. I could see that the atmosphere which seemed so invisible, became more visible when gathered into a denser form -- not a different substance -- just a different density. The essential elements that made up the atmosphere -- and the cloud -- were interchangeable, and changeless.

I had to ask myself, "how is this different from what I think of as my body -- a body in which each cell is replaced every seven years?" Could this be what Mary Baker Eddy is referring to in her primary work, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, when she says:

"Spirit, God, gathers unformed thoughts
into their proper channels
and unfolds these thoughts…
in order that their purpose may appear"  

and that:

"Metaphysics resolves things into thoughts
and replace the objects of material sense
with spiritual ideas." 

Gathering and resolving, gathering and resolving...

As Joni sings:

"something's lost,
and something's gained,
in living every day..." 

I couldn't help but think of God as the atmosphere -- invisible, but ever-present. And everything we experience -- bodies, trees, houses -- as clouds. Constantly gathering into forms that allow the atmosphere to express a new sense of purpose -- to provide shade, to move moisture from north to south -- or east to west, to sort sunlight into a rainbow of hues, to resolve into much-needed rain -- in short, to bless.

I could actually feel the give and take of being spiritual -- and yet, having form -- without the membrane of duality. To be as at-one with God, as the cloud is one with the atmosphere it travels through, and exists in.

There is so much more I am learning from clouds. But for tonight -- this begged sharing.

offered with Love,

Kate

"I really don't know clouds, at all..."

"I've looked at clouds from both sides now,
from up and down and still somehow,
It's clouds illusions I recall
I really don't know clouds at all..."

I have so many stories associated with Joni Mitchell's song, "Clouds."  But today, when I saw this photo on Facebook, and the following description, I realized how true it is.  I really don't know clouds...at all.  The description read:   

"A Dutch artist named Berndnaut Smilde has figured out how to create a white cloud in the middle of a room. This requires careful regulation of humidity, temperature and light. Once conditions are perfect, he uses a fog machine to create the cloud."

It made me laugh out loud.  It was the perfect depiction of what I seemed to be experiencing.

I was sitting in my office all morning, feeling as if I was on the verge of an emotional downpour.  I couldn't pinpoint which direction the storm was blowing in from, but it was looming on the horizon.

Then, one little trigger and the tears started falling.  When pressed for a "reason," it all came rushing in.  A recent incident, the fragile emotional season,  memories associated with a similar experience...they were all there.  The ego (or mortal mind) had been perfecting the atmosphere, just waiting for just the right conditions to introduce a trigger...and voila, what looked like a real cloud ready to dump a downpour of tears into the middle of the room.

Mary Baker Eddy, in Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, states:

"Disease arises,
like other mental conditions,
from association."

I like thinking of disease...as any dis-ease -- mental, emotional, financial, relational, physical, etc. -- that would suggest God, Love, is not the only Cause and Creator...of anything.

In an attempt to forward it's story of our isolation from God's allies -- either as victim or perpetrator -- the ego dips into the muckery of regret, guilt, "what if," and "why, oh why..."  

From there, it gathers the right atmospheric elements -- mistakes, choices, fears, doubts, anger, hurt -- and sets up the perfect environment for blowing in the fogginess of self and separation.  A perfect storm. 

 The past contributes regret, the future its imaginings, and blow in a little meaningless incident or chatter, and it's a swirling nor'easter.

Yup, that's how it works...a cloud in the middle of your office ready to break into torrents of anger, a downpour of tears...bearing down in sideways sheets of misunderstanding.

But, we are not victims.  We can know what is going on.  

When the humidity in the room begins to skyrocket with a heavy sense of emotional vulnerability, or the barometric pressure of spiritual charity dips into the single digits of "me, my, mine" -- open the windows.  Turn on the fan which Eddy defines, in Science and Health, as: 

"the separator of fact from fable;
that which gives action to thought." 

...and change the atmosphere.   When we open our hearts to the freshness of divine inspiration, the ego can't create a cloud of self and sin.   Those false elements can't find ways to associate themselves into reasons for sadness, regret, guilt, or sorrow, when we stir the environment with Truth.

Just a thought...

 shared with Love,

Kate

And if you love the original Joni version of "Both Sides Now" here is a link that includes a bonus...the original "Circle Game" at the end. Enjoy.