Mary Oliver starts one of her poems with
I see or hear
that more or less
Kills me with delight…”
And happily I find that to be mostly true, but especially in monsoon season. Our summer monsoon season drives me blissfully crazy and I want to weep and moan with the beauty of it all. I drive around with a car full of unfinished sky drawings and ache to capture all those wondrous clouds that leap and dance and hover and disperse and disappear.
And sometimes I do….by being quick quick quick and entering that zone of being on one’s toes and fully present and then some magical times I am rewarded for all of my years of drawing and drawing by being able to abandon thought and run on heart and intuition. It is a joy when one cloud magically appears able to be grafted to the sketchy cloud on the page and it works, or a serendipitous smudge perfectly reflects the storm haze on the horizon.
I like to think that there’s a gleeful creator up above the sky rubbing his/her hands in anticipation, scattering water and blowing air down below to see what will happen, delighting in the endless combinations of shape and form that are always changing.
The other evening I had to chuckle while reading “The Singing Stone” by Fleischner who wrote:”I believe that people are what they pay attention to.” Well then I guess I’m a cloud!