I drive by my destination. Twice. I am so enthralled with the sky I can barely keep my eyes on the road let alone the street signs.
Puffy white, cotton-like clouds cradling the most magnificent sky-blue-display I’ve encountered in a very long time. Or maybe they’ve been here all along and I’m just more attuned. One year ago, almost to the day, I challenged myself to open my eyes wider, come away from my computer more, and notice my surroundings. Particularly what lies beyond the window of my office. #365daysofnoticing
The photo (taken with my iPhone at a stoplight) doesn’t do it justice. Powder-puff beauty peeking out from behind the darker more ominous clouds that later drop a few pelts of rain just to let us know they reign.
I’m late for my appointment but I feel no remorse. No wave of guilt washing over me compelling me to apologize profusely for being six minutes tardy. (Catholic School Guilt)
Not today. I’m mesmerized by the metaphor in these clouds. I want to skip the appointment altogether so that I can just pull over and ponder the feelings that are arising in me as I greet my favorite fall foliage with less than my usual relish.
I’m feeling out of sorts this week. Partly because I’m in the midst of launching a new program that I’m passionate about and that always makes me anxious even though I have never failed to fill a program.
I am noticing contrasts today, some delightful like these clouds, and others: aha moments like, “How is it that. . .?”
How is it that, even though I’ve been in business for over six years, I sometimes long for my ‘teaching days’ where I never, ever, had to worry about ‘filling’ a program?
How is it that I never before fully realized what a gift it was to fill a classroom just by showing up day after day, year after year, doing what I loved most in the world: inspiring young mathematicians and scientists, readers and writers?
And, how is it that in November, each year, I would be pulling out my Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow project and asking the children to find their oldest living relative so that they could arrange an interview because I wanted them to see, first hand, that someone they knew (personally) might have grown up on a farm, milked a cow, walked to a market, kneaded a loaf of gluten-ful bread…attended class in a one-room school house. And, for an entire week we would ‘pack’ our lunches with the kinds of foods this oldest relative might have eaten in the ‘good old days’.
Nothing processed. Nothing packaged. Nothing blue.
And the enticing aromas in our classroom would have us drooling long before it was time to eat the lunches that were teasing us from sacks, parcels, and pails.
Chicken, hard boiled eggs, cheese that smelled like cheese. Maybe even a piece of homemade pie if one or more of the parents participated in our time travel adventure.
Yes, somehow I’ve managed to create an ‘adult’ version of Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow and that never would have occurred to me had I not stopped to ponder that gracious display of colossal clouds.
The Luscious Legacy Project begins on Tuesday. You don’t even need a recipe, just a wide-open heart and a desire to start recording slices and snippets of the memories you hold dear. Register now, the program begins on Tuesday!
28 thoughts on “I’ve Looked at Clouds from Both Sides Now”
Amazing how we keep singing the same tune, spreading the same message, however consciously or unconsciously. I’d say that’s a good indication of how true you’re being to you. I love that school project – what a delicious way for children to connect with the older generation, what an inspiring way for grandparents to share their stories. Somehow puts a more loving perspective on Jamie Oliver’s school campaign (which is brilliant in its own way). I love that you’ve found a way to bring this project to life for us grown kids.
(I can still close my eyes, step into my grandparents’ kitchen and smell my grandfather’s bread as it emerged from the toaster, to be spread with butter.)
Yes, Cathy, I am so glad there is space in our work to honor food and still eat healthfully. I’m looking forward to making some of that homemade bread in the weeks ahead!
Right now I am making our grandmother’s fresh sauce from tomatoes that I grew in my garden. I just finished making Anne’s Quiche from Dinard and on the stove is simmering White Bean Chili with Chicken, in a few minutes I will start making Golden Granola. Out my window is the most beautiful tree glowing in the sun, the most beautiful rust leaves you have ever seen and it is a lovely 53 degree day in Colorado. Just perfect!! I cannot wait to start your class. I hope others do not miss this opportunity.
Mary Jane, we are going to have some fun with this project, yes? I can smell that sauce all the way over here in Virginia.
What a beautifully descriptive post!
I, too, love the idea of the Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow project. My mom grew up on a farm, eating “real” food and attending a one-room schoolhouse until grade 8, while my dad grew up in town eating whatever was least expensive. Your project would be interesting as a way for them to each experience how the other grew up.
(Chocolate for breakfast sounds wonderful, too!) 🙂
Lumen, that’s such a good point. It’s the stories that open the door to compassion while bringing us together at the table. Yes.
Sue Ann, I echo so many of your beautifully stated sentiments above that I would take up your entire comment section if I listed them all. Allow me to just say, “DITTO!”
And this is why your class will fill. Because you speak from the soul, and in doing so, you light up the souls of others.
xo
Thank you, Michelle. This program, especially, feels like it’s coming straight from the soul.
I love this: #365daysofnoticing. Practicing presence has completely changed my life. I often get caught up in the rush, the need-tos, have-tos, and musts in a day and I realize that I miss so much when I’m in that kind of headspace.
I most definitely realized that I have some pretty deep neurological grooves that keep me firmly rooted in the “doing” but I am feeling some movement here and my personal #365daysofnoticing project has been a great teacher. Thanks for leaving a comment, Cheryl.
I. TOTALLY. ADORE. YOU. and I. LOVE. WHAT. YOU. HAVE. CREATED. HERE.
oh my Sue Ann, the world needs more of people like you! What a beautiful project that will fill it’s self to the brim and feel like home-made apple pie…. xo
You are a love, Elizabeth, thank you. I’m pretty excited about this one!
Sue Ann, I love the segue in this story, like a danish pastrie it unfolds layer-up’on layer-up’on layer. The threads you weave and the delicate and delicious delight of the tapestry of it all.
Love you,
deep Beauty,
Narelle
Narelle, you have no idea how much I needed to hear those words today. Thank you. xxoo
I remember that project! In fact, I recently came across the interview we recorded. That Thanksgiving was my Grandma’s last, and it is such a wonderful memory I have, of the then 7 year old interviewing his great-grandma. When I found it, I couldn’t watch the complete interview, as my eyes were a bit full at the time. Difficult to believe that was seven years ago.
Amy, of all the projects we engaged in, that one was my favorite. I still have many of those photos in a treasured envelope. There is a story in each one.
I notice the clouds in particular on my dog walks every evening. The colors and shapes amaze me and I also try to enjoy them and the little things each day. Though I certainly don’t have the poetic words to describe them like you do! Your writing weaves warmth and down-home goodness into the soul 🙂
Thank you so much, Kathleen. I’ve thought that I really need to get a dog. That would get me outside when I find myself sitting at my computer far too long!
This was so beautiful to read – just spoke to my heart. The time to ponder, the good catholic, the classroom – the things that just are – so wonderful to integrate and appreciate the whole sum of us. xx
I’m so glad this post spoke to you, Maria.
Lovely post Sue Ann,
I am similar to you, the sky can stop me dead in my tracks and often does; much like the sea it omits a sense of freedom and adventure, and I find it’s splendour one of life’s beautiful freebies.
I also love the Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow concept that you have dreamt up, I feel that so many things from prior generations that were brilliant, and indeed worked, can be lost through the passing of time, especially in this day and age; I further feel that the linking of all the good bits from each generation is where the juice is at.
I enjoyed reading your words. Thank you…
Now I am hitting the recipe section!
Love that, Ben. Makes me think I need to upgrade the recipe section! I haven’t been there in a while. Thank you for stopping by.
i love how life has a way of seamlessly weaving together our most important parts, integrating us into one whole through with our essence shines. so happy for you that you are doing your heart’s work, sue ann.
Thank you, April. This program, especially feels like I’ve finally landed deep in the “heart” of my work.
Beautiful Sue-Ann. I can’t believe how connected we are. I have my Activate Your Senses and Honor Your History projects and of course I am always guiding people to notice and be with their feelings. I love the way you share what you are noticing and you have inspired to me, to do more of that. Yes, I so agree with you about honouring our ancestors and recipes are such a great way to do that. My brother and I still have plants from our parents and our grandparents and our aunts!
I also wonder too about the filling up classes! I left teaching many many years ago – what a wonderful playground it was to have eager students without the marketing!
Blessngs for your next course – it sounds truly beautiful. xxx
Wow, Deborah, I love that you and your brother still have plants from your parents and grandparents and aunts!
Loved this Sue Ann and resonate with your ‘open eyes wider’ practice. I call them Beauty Breaks, noticing the beauty and wisdom in all of life
Your programme sounds wonderful, how blessed your participants are to have your soulful wisdom and experience xx
Thank you, Kamini. I love the sound of your beauty breaks.