When I was growing up one of my favorite summer activities was to lay in the grass on a lazy afternoon and find shapes in the drifting white clouds. My neighbor friend and I would lay in my dandelion-dotted backyard on Upton Street for hours. We could pick out everything from unicorns to Mount Rushmore; animals of all varieties, profiles of teachers from school, even favorite foods. There was something mesmerizing about watching the shapes morph from one image into another as the clouds floated by.
I remember that no matter what was going on in my life, everything felt okay at those times. I felt safe, I felt light, I felt relaxed and peaceful. Plus, daydreaming with my friend was fun! Our imaginations were free to create whatever we wanted to see, without the restrictions of reason or plausibility.
My young self didn’t know that lying down in the grass was grounding, allowing her to feel safe with the support of the Earth. (We now call walking or lying in the grass “earthing,” like it’s a new thing!)
She didn’t know the psychological benefit of leaving behind all the fruitless thinking, letting her mind wander and display it’s creations on a natural canvas. She didn’t know the clouds were an outlet for her internal projections, like the perfect Rorschach test.
She didn’t need to know to enjoy it and learn to love the silence of Being.
These days, even though I do know all those things, it’s not my head but my soul that beckons me to the peaceful, grounded, freedom I found in the clouds. Some days the pull is stronger than others: when I feel the weight of human suffering around me, feel overwhelmed with responsibility or frustrated by my limitations.
It’s at those times I hear God whisper, “My Love, leave behind all the fruitless thinking and come lay down here in the silence of Being.”
May we be reminded every time we look up at the clouds.