The Clouds

Touch Grass

I feel like trusting words is misguided. Like looking at a cloud or the sea is really the answer to any philosophical or psychological problem. That sounds cringe. Like the mind wants something high effort to solve the problems it considers so important.

Maybe there is a certain logic in it. Mind made problems are all contrivances, so it makes sense that the mind would seek another contrivance as their solution.

That’s the beauty of looking at a cloud. Really looking at it. Something that is uncontrived. Makes no arguments and also brooks none. It really overwhelms you with its majesty, if you can incline your whole being into observing it.

Maybe there is some goal you’re not reaching. Some relational problem. The clouds and the sea don’t care. They sweep away all the inner noise by just being.

I’ve heard it said that primitive man was closer to God, simply because he spent all his time in nature. I’m sure that if every night you see a Bortle 1 sky, it is much easier to believe in something like God. Not like it matters, the word “God” is really a paltry attempt to imprison in language something that can’t be imprisoned by anything.

Turning attention away from the clouds and towards the contrivances of man carries a cost. Everything man does is self-seeking. The result of some desire seeking satisfaction. Only in nature you can taste the superiority of something that was not the product of desire. Of the uncontrived.

And in observing the uncontrived through the crude apparatus of the bodily senses, it is possible to learn that you carry something uncontrived in you as well.

That you have a kinship with the clouds.