It is a childhood rite of passage, I think, to sit on the grass looking up at a blue sky filled with billowy clouds that magically take the shape of our imaginations - a bear, lion, cricket, horse.... I found, that while this game was fun, I tended to try to identify the artist that may've painted that particular sky that day: the whispy clouds of Renoir, the open sky of Wyeth, the dramatic sky of Thomas Hart Benton... and as my vocabulary of artists grew, so did my vocabulary of clouds.
Last night, standing at my living room window I watched the sunset over the mountains and, as with most days, was in absolute awe as vibrant oranges, reds, violets, and indigos splashed across a rather Dante-esque sky. At one point, my perspective was inverted and the clouds looked as if they were wet sand being revealed by a receeding tide. Pure Magic! At moments like these, there is an understanding of how the ancient Egyptians, Greeks, Mayans, Mesopotamians... all felt when looking up at such an amazing sight.
I know I'm not the only one completely awed by the ever changing palette of the sky. Yesterday I came across the Web site of the Cloud Appreciation Society, whose slogan is "look up and marvel." How often do we actually do this? The act of looking up is no big deal, but how often do we look up and marvel? -How often are we filled with wonder or astonishment?
Challenge: Marvel at something today
Look up and marvel at the sky, look down and marvel at the inchworm. Marvel at your cats persistence... etc.
Activity: Look Marvel up in the dictionary
List as many marvelous synonyms for Marvel as you can. Write each word in a new Marvelous way. Hang your list in a Marvelous location, so that you may marvel at it.
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