I’ve Looked at Clouds That Way…

I was delighted by the clouds as I sat outdoors a sunny deck.  The big bank of cumulus clouds caught the sunset’s glow and revealed a perfect image—that of an entrancing flamenco dancer, her big eyes flashing, her earring dangling, her upswept hair secured with glittering combs.  There was even a suggestion of outstretched arms in the wispy clouds, and the sun’s rosy reflection gave a hint of her scarlet dress with its swirling skirts. All that was lacking was the traditional rose … but cloud’s illusions rarely provide a complete portrait.  I quickly pulled out my pack of paints and began to capture her image before it vanished.  I had seen her in reality a couple of nights before, dancing at a dimly lit flamenco bar in Cadiz, Spain.  I recalled in vivid detail the tiny stage and the two dancers and their flashing, tapping feet.  I could almost hear the guitar strums and the claps and shouts of the crowd. The haughty-faced slender man had tapped out a complicated rhythm with his patent leather shoes while the woman danced and circled.  It was mesmerizing. And here she was again- thanks to a partly cloudy day, an afternoon break and a little imagination.  It was only a few minutes later that she disappeared, replaced by… was that an elephant?  A four-poster bed?  A tiny kitten ready to pounce? The clouds moved and morphed, as clouds always do. While clouds themselves are not illusions, cloud-pictures are.

I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now… This lyric is immediately recognizable by a certain generation of which I am a member. Joni Mitchell’s classic song, Both Sides Now, is a music-picture of change– in clouds, love, and life. Joni laments that clouds as light as a feather can quickly pour out rain. Love is dizzy and dancing one moment and a sad disappointment the next.  We don’t have to be familiar with the song to know about shifting emotions or unpredictable events. Is everything diaphanous and shifting in life?  While it’s fun to gaze at clouds and let our imaginations fly, clouds have more to offer than the certainty of uncertainty.  Just ask the Israelites.

Lent is 40 days long, a number that mirrors Christ’s 40 days in the wilderness, but also calls to mind the story of the ancient Israelites’ 40 years of wandering in the desert. During those years, the Israelites were guided by God appearing as a pillar of cloud in the day and a pillar of fire at night.  A pillar of fire?  That makes sense to me as I imagine a bright beacon as stable as the North Star.  But a pillar of cloud?  I’ve thought about that one a lot. Clouds change in form; they move all the time; they appear and disappear with regularity; they are sometimes billowy cotton balls and other times ominous gray thunderheads.  When thinking of a pillar-of-cloud-God, I think about strength and stability. I also picture God as a being in whom we see different images at different times.  What the Israelites needed for guidance in that first year of wandering would not have been the same as what was needed in the 10^th year, or the 20^th … or the 39^th.  A pillar-of-cloud God would be gloriously eternal and reliable.  A pillar-of-cloud God would also be gloriously responsive to a people who were changing and moving.  Did that cloud one day appear as a blanket wrapping love around them?  Did one morning bear the shape of a mighty chariot that energized them or did an afternoon bring the sight of gentle wings that bolstered them through disappointment?  Was there a glimpse of a billowing tent of comfort and security?  It was not God who changed, but God’s people who learned about the many dimensions of God as they wandered and wondered, believed and doubted.

From the ancient Israelites to a woman living in the 21^st century may seem like a big leap, but pillar-of-cloud-God is still guiding. God’s intrinsic, creative nature glistens. It is I, the cloud-viewer, whose images and insights shift with the changing patterns of my life. I join with my fellow cloud-dancers.  I am not the teenager singing blithely along with Joni Mitchell.  I am not the young mother juggling kids and career. I am not even that woman who saw a flamenco-dancer in the clouds.  What I saw that afternoon would not be what I would see today. I am grateful for that.  The Divine artist paints an eternal yet changing picture. Imagination is not the frivolous ability to find shapes in clouds, but the imprint of the Creator within each of us. If we are to create a better world, we must first imagine it.

When we move towards our own creativity, we move towards our Creator. When we seek to become more spiritual, we become more creative.

—  Julia Cameron, author of The Artist’s Way.

Do you see her there, the flamenco dancer in the sky? I used watercolor and fine tip markers to coax her dancing image out of the billowing cumulus clouds. She dances in the clouds that hang above a green-tinted horizon and the blue waters of the Mediterranean.  That’s what I saw… but what do you see in the cloudy scene I captured at Cadiz one afternoon?  There are no rules in the art of cloud-gazing.  Open up the eyes of your imagination today; stretch your brain; expand your vision. There will always be something new to see, in clouds, and in the beautifully complex face of God.

Praise the Lord, O my soul.

O Lord my God, you are very great;

You are clothed with splendor and majesty.

He wraps himself in light as with a garment;

He stretches out the heavens like a tent

And lays the beams of his upper chambers on their waters.

He makes the clouds his chariot

And rides on the wings of the wind.

Psalm 104:1-3