I don’t know why but that cloud looks to me like it’s moving headlong into the mountain. Whump!
No really, it’s a sweet fluffy cloud. Not like some thoughts that can run around with such abandon. “Listen to me!” “Listen to me!” Listen to me!”
Then evening comes. It’s quiet and I look out at the mountains, and I see something that takes me away from my inner dialogue. This crashing cloud.
My latest philosopher of choice, John O’Donohue calls these times, moments of “reverence”. Where the mind shifts away from the small to something larger. Where it notices something not understood immediately.
But what I particularly love about O’Donohue’s idea is that play is part of reverence, that it’s not all pious dignity:
Playfulness, humour and even a sense of the anarchic are companions of reverence…they insist on the proper proportion of the human presence in the light of the eternal.
~ from “Beauty”
I love that. “Play” and “light of the eternal” in one sentence.
I’ll go for the play, and clouds bumping into mountains, and perhaps, some light, too. Take that into my art. Yes.