If you read this and could ever put a melody to it, let me know? How nice if I could sing it on days when I feeI under Grace and In the Flow. It kinda reminds me of a Joni Mitchell song I heard when I was about eight or nine. Maybe eleven.
Do listen to the song Both Sides Now here.
Rows and flows of angel hair
And ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere
I’ve looked at clouds that way
Though melancholic, Both Sides Now scintillates with its poetic vision and lyricism. And the melody! Who can forget it?
I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down, and still somehow
It’s cloud illusions I recall
I really don’t know clouds at all
It got me thinking about sides, the different sides to people you know, or think you know, or think you’ve figured out a little more than when you last met. Also, there are so many ways of looking at things, and wouldn’t it be good to be in your shoes, even if it was for just one day? (Nik Kershaw, 1984)
People are a lot like clouds, in the way that we see them. From the ground up, they look fluffy and inviting, and from a plane above, they look more misty and ephemeral. And if you’re in a plane going in and through clouds, it’s actually an unmoving yet anxious experience because it’s blind fog all around and you hope there’s nothing hovering in the path of the airplane zooming forward.
. . . Well something’s lost, but something’s gained
In living every day . . .
Sometimes I wonder if what I see in someone else is an illusion put forth by how I interpret the words and the actions, expressions on the face and the expressions used in the words. In the end, the action has to speak for itself and thankfully, it does, and they do.
One memory that loiters, like a party guest who doesn’t know when it’s time to leave, in my mind is that of an Alley cat explaining the right and left location of some major organs in the body. The remedial had been kickstarted by my asking what he thought of left-brain-right-brain thinking.
The cat was in his element, standing in the doorway a few steps up from where I was inside a small room filled with books, refreshing my mind pedagogically about forgotten biology lessons. Except for a sleek iMac silently perched on a desk, the curtained room was filled with old and familiar things, awash with the curtailed light of a sunny afternoon and time kept travelling back into an era long past.
The diffused light and conversation about old adventures and old choices composed but one part of a mental diptych; the first in sepia tones, and the second panel set with urbane food and suffused with references to the 21st century.
This is what it is, both sides now.