Thoughts of a Cloud

Oh, what thoughts! Thou, Cloud,
Whispering a través el cielo,
Scooting on the wind.
Does't thou shiver with chills?
Or art thou warm, wrapp'd in fluffy white sweater,
Sunshine on thy back,
Filled with delighted laughter,
Spinning, floating wherever you float,
Surrendered to the caresses of the breeze.

Tell me how drastically this Earth spreads
From your panoramic view--
Do we all look the same?
Like we come from the same Parent?
Rolling hills of different colors,
Silver, snaking rivers
Busy highways with speeding vehicles--
So much to see!
Do you see my upturned face?

10 years from this question...

Martha Beck, whose book I'm thoroughly enjoying, suggests an exercise in which her readers and clients close their eyes and visualize themselves 10 years into the future. Start by calculating your age 10 years from now and the ages of the people closest to you, and "see" the scene or snapshot from your own point of view. Describe your immediate environment--colors, sounds, smells, temperature, etc. Be as sensory as possible so you can really feel it. Martha Beck has been a life-coach for much of her career and this method has proven to be "amazingly accurate" in what people see in their own futures.

I decided to give it a try...


I'm a happy, healthy 40-year-old at a busy outdoor market on a late-October day in a European town. A fresh water scent fills the air, softly assuring the presence of a nearby river. Although the day is overcast, I love every step I take on the cobblestoned streets. I'm wearing the dark brown boots I bought in Amsterdam, a beige sweater and a colorful scarf to protect me from autumn's chill. Something about the scene feels very holiday-ish.

I'm in a tent where candles are sold in glass jars with ribbons tied around the top. I'm torn about whether or not I should by a pink candle. Or maybe an orange cinnamin-spice candle would be more seasonally appropriate. Soft music plays in the background. The heaters warm me and I raise my gaze to look for a friend to consult.

Directly in front of me is a woman, in her late-30s, with long dark hair who doesn't notice me staring at her. Though visibly pregnant, she looks beautiful and vivacious as she discusses various items with the people around her, rapidly speaking some European language. I feel sisterly love and admiration of her. "Alicia!" she calls for me to join them.

A tall, bright-eyed man with great hair and a navy sweater puts his warm hand around mine and whispers to me. I crack up, rolling my eyes at his joke, and feel a sense of family.

We stroll along...

Words

Stiff in the softness of my bed,
Words billowing across my consciousness--
Delicate words, short words, elaborate words, sexy words, hard words.
I wish I knew more words!

What would I do
If words bowed at my command?
I'd charm princes,
Study at any university of my choosing,
Solve awkward familial troubles and
Sooth all misunderstanding.

Speak perfect Central American Spanish
And beautiful French
That'd make my own heart
Melt like butter.
Draw exquisitely soft
Chinese calligraphic characters,
Slow stroke, swift curl,

Oh words! Spill your love upon me!
Lend yourselves not to lies and deceit!
Leave voiceless those who would bring harm,
For no voice is no power.

Show me your meaning!

It's impossible to tell you mine.