I’ve looked at clouds . . .
The sky outside my window was wonderfully blue and I found myself watching the globs of white clouds against that clear, blue sky and was suddenly 10 years old. Ten years old and playing again that old childhood game of ‘making the clouds go away’. And I’m glad to report, it still works.
Later on I was telling a few others about it, and was astounded to find that their childhoods hadn’t held that game. They really didn’t believe me, and laughed as if I were looney, but danged if three of them didn’t call me during the following week, saying things like . . . My gosh, Ethel, it works . . . Hey, it really does make them disappear . . . or, Ethel, I thought you were crazy, but you were right. You can make clouds go away.
I laughed and said, You know, every kid I grew up with did it. No big deal. It just was a fun game to play when there was nothing else to do on a nice sunny day.
But then, because it was new to so many of them, I thought that maybe some of you don’t know about it either, and dang it, no one should grow up and not know how to make clouds disappear. Here’s all there is to it.
Go outside on a nice day like we get here so often, when the sky if full of big and small white clouds against a blue, blue sky. A nice hot summer day is best, or at least more comfortable, but it works in winter just as well. But for heaven’s sake don’t try it on a storm cloudy day, cause you won’t be able to do it. Oh, I know the Indians, (both of America and India) can control those big rain clouds, but they must know some secret I don’t. Nope, I know my limits and don’t even try to compete with them.
But, anyway, find a nice lil ole cloud. For beginners try just a little wiff of a one. One standing all by itself so you won’t get all confused when it begins to disappear, and make you wonder if you’re still looking at the one you began with.
Okay, now look at it. Stare at it hard steadily for one, two or three minutes. Concentrate on it, and don’t let your mind wander and begin wondering what you must do later on, or could be doing right then. We kids would chant silly things like . . . cloud, cloud, go away . . . but it isn’t necessary. It just made us feel great.
But concentrate on that little cloud and mentally tell it to go away. Keep your eyes upon it with concentration and darned if, little by little, it does disintegrate right there before your own eyes.
Course, there are all kinds of explanations nowadays. I’ve read recently that we send out heat by our concentration and that heat reaches into space and vaporized (or whatever is needed) to make that cloud disappear.
I’ve also read where it is all will power. That God created all the world and everything in it and then gave us dominion over it. Maybe so, maybe so. I’m no expert on such things, so don’t ask me. I just know the results. Not the cause.
But the next time the fleecy clouds are filling the sky, with lots of clear blue sky in between, go outside, sit or lie down, relax, and stare and concentrate at some little ole harmless bit of fluff and do your stuff.
You’ll laugh. You’ll tell your kids. You’ll hesitate to mention it down at the office for fear others will think you’re weird, but that’s all right. Just tell them Ethel told you about it, and everyone knows I’m a bit weird, so no one will be surprised or hurt.
Your kids will think it’s neat too, except that probably they already know about it, and will think it’s funny that it’s new to you. They’ve probably been doing it for years.
Cloud, cloud, go away, come again some other day. You, too, just might be surprised. It’s fun, even if you’re not still a ten year old.