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An' like chalk and cheese yeah we'll shoot the breeze, button fingers, fancy tickled, gleeful abandon, how her hair tumbled free of its pins - how there were sudden dashes - whenever we spoke, Loud like . . ., Once upon a Cloud, pantaloon passion, Saga, She read me like a book But I'm hiding in the small print, skyrockets in flight - afternoon delight, steamgalleoned, Story, Tales from the Troposphere, Time in a bottle, we'll lay on the grass and let the hours pass, Your sun it shines
I’m having some fun at her expense, yet it is gentle in nature; the aim, to bring forth a smile, perhaps even a soft laugh, for she knows me now and my off-centre ways. With others my tongue will cut and scythe away, for I am at times sharp. Too sharp; inordinately so. I suffer a fool not for one moment; time is precious, the century gains speed and I’ll not have a second of it wasted upon boorish buffoons. Not twice, anyway.
We lie on top of Keppel Hill, our picnic consumed with relish only moments ago, and now, with our stomachs well satiated, and our backs to the grassy knoll, we banter and laugh. Badinage caroms back and forth with clear delight; occasionally we tear our gaze from each other to view the wide, vivid blue sky above, with its peppering of near pulchritudinous nomads — the clouds. As captivating a display of nimbus as ever did I observe.
The sun plays, its rays dancing their way over our bodies, and our hands casually emulate. Lazy arousal with intent. My nose wrinkles at the wildflower pollen in the air, and I sneeze like some kind of demented limb-flinging hyena, setting off her giggles yet again, to which I add my own with pleasure.
If I remember naught else as I age, I wish to hold today close to me, bookmark this page of my life and harbour it within. For this, this is some manner of effortless, flowing happiness on tap, but for the briefest of spans, a rare and helpless kind. And my cynical self — locked away at present in a tidy cupboard at the back of my mind — whispers slyly that anything this perfect is too good to be true. Mayhap this is the case, if so then I’ll treasure it all the more. Yet for the moment I must stop this chattering analysis of the exalted and simply live it. Love it.
My eyes water with laughter, the joyous lachrymal, and I glance again at the sky, only to see a lofty steam galleon soar elegantly across the firmament. My smile broadens . . . for I too soar in the high-blown clouds of today.
For those who are new to the Cloud, please read the information at the following link regarding the Simulcast Fragments. Thank you – Esme
Esme's Cloud 
Lovely.
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Thank you Ben. I very much appreciate you saying so.
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🙂
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A true celebration of the value of the moment.
To share a personal story, a long time ago, I was pretty depressed over a break up I went through and decided to take advantage of the free therapy they offered on campus and ended up joining a group session with some other guys who were going through various things in their life. One guy was talking about how he had received a scholarship and he found it difficult to take joy in that fact. He felt like he didn’t deserve it. And suddenly as if inspired I said to him “Why would you not take pleasure at the good in life, even if you don’t deserve it? Life throws us a lot of bad that we don’t deserve either. If we must feel misery for the bad things we don’t deserve, why not feel joy at the good things we don’t deserve?” The therapist who was leading the session was impressed and praised me for giving everybody in the group a gift that day. Always nice to receive praise, especially when going through a tough time in life, but even that aside, it seemed obvious to me that people so often spend their time feeling like the bad things are probably deserved, while the good things are not deserved. When I read your lines here:
And my cynical self — locked away at present in a tidy cupboard at the back of my mind — whispers slyly that anything this perfect is too good to be true. Mayhap this is the case, if so then I’ll treasure it all the more. Yet for the moment I must stop this chattering analysis of the exalted and simply live it. Love it.
it just made me love you all the more. Because there is so much truth and beauty in these words. Misery may come, but too often we anticipate the misery and feel it before its time. Let joy have its day too.
I love this piece, not only because of the wonderful imagery you paint with your words, but because of its wisdom, and because there is so much of you in here. One of the things that you are exceptional at in your writing is taking the moment and breaking it down into its many sensations. You might think it belittles your talent when I say it’s almost scientific, but for me this is what science does is that it investigates. It takes the whole and breaks it down into its components that we can see. With your words you do the same for emotions and sensations. It’s like as I sit here drinking my chai, I can enjoy it as a whole, or I can really focus on the sip. Let it slowly enter my mouth and feel the warmth on my tongue as the tea travels across. I can say, “Yes, there is the cardamom, the cinnamon, the cloves….a hint of fennel, and the tiny bite of black pepper.” I am left with the sensation that I am both getting joy from the whole, while also experiencing each aspect of its components. This is very much how I view the world as a scientist. I can watch the storm and feel tremendous joy, but I can think of all the forces, and interactions that go on to make that storm and that are going on within the storm and there is only more beauty to be found. We are all relatively poor observers of reality, but people like you have the ability to help us all see some of the things we are missing, and I thank you for that.
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Nice personal parallel Swarn, and you were, and are right; so many people centre on whether they deserve what happens to them, good or bad, and on either side they’re usually making themselves unhappy when there’s no need to be. I think people do this when they regard others as well and get pretty riled up along the way – why should Bob get a rise when he doesn’t deserve it? Would they rather he got cancer? Would that make them happy? If they themselves get ill they may well dwell again and again on how they don’t feel they deserve it – its chance and lifestyle, nothing more. ‘Misery may come, but too often we anticipate the misery and feel it before its time. Let joy have its day too.‘ – Exactly! People practice being unhappy and angry, anxious and miserable all the time, they live it and stretch it out like THIS (2.07) instead of enjoying the moments that are quite splendid.
‘You might think it belittles your talent when I say it’s almost scientific ‘ – Not at all, logic and curiosity are two of the mainstays within Esme, and I investigate minutely the moment, time, innards and outer bits and bobs of humans, emotions and sensations – yes – spot on – I just add a job lot of imagination to explain my findings – beams Your tea drinking enjoyment is mindfulness. It’s a very useful way to introduce people to enjoy the moment, to take notice of everything going on as they examine it, consider it, enjoy all it has. The moment could be anyone, but some are more interesting than others. Getting all mindful about scratching your bum wouldn’t be considered as much fun as drinking your tea, but there’s no reason it can’t be applied as an experiment. It all gives your brain some space, a rest from chattering on with itself about what needs to be done, what has happened, what will happen etc all those paths we sprint down and back of a day/night. It cuts all that out and shows you something quite different, something really quite beautiful at times.
Wondrous comment Swarn, honoured by your love of both the writing, Esme and this wee world upon The Cloud, so thank you in spades in return. shakes his hand a lot and looks very happy indeed
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I agree with your thoughts about mindfulness Esme. As I’ve been practicing mindfulness meditation, I am practicing being mindful about activities as mundane as you mention, because who knows…perhaps by paying attention, in addition to getting the rest you speak of, maybe there is more information there than we are taking in, and maybe that information is some beauty or some knowledge we previously didn’t notice.
Also I got lost just watching how candy was made, and forgot what your original intent of posting the link was, which was to show how people stretched their anger and misery out. lol I need some sugar now. 🙂
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It frees the brain up, gives it space to allow the whole thing to work fully, and provides a large element of peace to the intense and chaotic thoughts that go on all the time even when we are unaware its happening.
I’m glad you enjoyed the rock, I kept trying to think how I would name it for those outside of the UK, and could only think of ‘taffy’ which doesn’t do it justice. You slipped into ASMR mode. Have you heard of it? When I was a child every Wednesday the children would be ushered into the small library; we all sat on the floor, and the giant box of a TV would be turned on. We would watch a program like the rock making video. Others included printmakers, Japenese bookbinding, all videos that show someone slowly and carefully (often quietly) creating or compiling or the like. And we all went into a wee trance. Not a sound from all those cheeky imps for the whole of the time it was on. Mesmerised. This state has been identified as ASMR, I can’t recall what that stands for, but is most definitely a kind of meditation that the human brain begins all on its own. Without intent. Unless you want to, then you look up an ASMR video of which there are thousands and thousands.
Here is an unintentional ASMR video – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QA7x9PVHtiQ
And here is an intentional one – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ot5odactJX8
Some people find crinkling noises do it for them,, with others it’s quiet tapping, or brushing sand, there are lots of them. Personally, I find them incredibly useful when the Sandman just won’t turn up.
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I am not sure if what I experienced was ASMR, at the very least that second video didn’t do it for me. The first one was more interesting. 🙂 I think I was just more hypnotized by a gigantic piece of candy. 🙂 Overall I find it cool to see how things are made, especially in a case where I haven’t the slightest notion of how it is done. lol
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It’s something people drift into I think, especially insomniacs – laughs
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I love this! Why not accept the undeserved good? We do get enough of the seemingly undeserved other stuff. Wise words. 🤗
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Live it and Love it indeed, Esme! A true magical movement to cherish always! 🙂
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‘A true magical movement to cherish always!‘ – Thank you Pete. The movement is musical as well in this one – another of its collection of facets – I’m so pleased you enjoyed it and picked up on said movement. I’ve just had the words ‘ a roll in the hay’ spring to mind, hahahaha, perhaps that’s the case too, it certainly is a roll in the ‘hey’.
Very kind of you to read it all and comment sir.
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Thank you for reminding my cynic to leave! Enjoying living in perfection.
—Allergy suffering demented limb-flying hyena
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The cynic is a logistical imp that sits upon my shoulders often too Kris, it does the soul good to slip out of its grip occasionally methinks.
‘Allergy suffering demented limb-flying hyena‘ – Hahahahaha, when I was much younger I too had such intense allergies to grass/pollen/dust/air etc that reading anything like this would also have made me think of sneezing with runny nose and eyes, not an enormously romantic episode when you think of it that way, eh? Hahahaha.
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Finely spun from your cloud 🙂
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Very kind of you to say so Tish. – bows
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I am, for one, always guided by nephological omens, especially those which portend a great victory, as for example when I play chess with a ruddy-kneed child. The nose unwrinkled. The moment passes.
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I’m pleased to hear it, dear Wiz, people so rarely take note of what’s above, let alone beyond. Coincidentally Esme has an allergy to ruddy children. I mean ruddy-kneed children, tsk, of course.
‘The moment passes.’ – It does, but another is always right there to take its place, again and again, they flock to one as pins to a big bugger of a magnet. Some of the pins are nice enough to keep, like this one, and this one, and this one, but some from the past are kept in a jar with vinegar so they can no longer do any harm. Vinegar neutralises impetuous pins.
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Do I detect two allergies in Esme: one to petulant pollen, whose effect upon the nostrils is well documented by nosy scientists, and one to bratty-not-so-good-at-chess children? It’s a good thing there are a few moments of bliss in life to counterbalance the ravages of seasonal (and sometimes metaphoric) allergies.
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It’s lessened with age actually. The pollen issue I mean – the other option, well I am more a dog sort if straight – *holds up Rosie who is looking at Prospero hopefully, thinking he may have biscuits hidden away in that rustling robe of his. She thinks everyone has biscuits they might be up for sharing mind you, but his robes have space for a good couple of handfuls (no funny business -gives Swarn, Hariod and Prof Taboo a warning glance).
I like the word ‘bliss’ quite a lot, it’s underused these days. Thank you for popping back sir – beams
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You have a way with words, Esme-pon-Cloud. 🙂
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Esme bows low and throws a swift curtsy in – Thank you Meeka, that’s a lovely thing to read.
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-grin- My pleasure. Now stop those cartwheels before you fall off!
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Thank you for this marvel, this romp, this rest, this cast simul, Esme. Allow me to write that I read your work to Lisa aloud, that she felt each word drifting down from your cloud, that she wowed and unpanically toweled:
“Badinage caroms back and forth with clear delight; occasionally we tear our gaze from each other to view the wide, vivid blue sky above, with its peppering of near pulchritudinous nomads — the clouds.”
Not only had Lisa ‘felt each word drifting down,’ but embraced them so lovingly that, as I paused at the em dash, she uttered — the clouds. 🙂 ❤ 🙂
Lisa sends her response to your simulcast fragment in a figurative bottle, here they are:
“Your tender tendrils of tenuous love bring tears of joy and pain at the fleeting dance of hearts afire. May it evolve, revolve and remain for you dear.”
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How lovely Bill, to read Esme’s words out loud to Lisa, I’m sincerely touched, and, little do folks realise, but reading Esme’s words out loud casts a small spell, a charm shall we say, for each and every piece, each and every word. I suspect very few indeed have read any of them aloud, and the charm woven through this one – it is meant to be powerful stuff, so I’m very happy indeed to find it bestows the intended effect, that one ‘feels’ it so well. The Cloud is also chuffed to get a mention for a change, it’s all up there, just look up – there I am.
“Your tender tendrils of tenuous love bring tears of joy and pain at the fleeting dance of hearts afire. May it evolve, revolve and remain for you dear.” – Beautiful, thank you Lisa! – hugs them both
<
ul>
Esme smiling happily and sending love from herself and The Cloud ❤ X
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There is, to my mind, not much that can compare with days such as you describe. Good company, laughter, and a bit of latitude to exercise these minds and wit on a patch of sensuous earh under all of heaven… Loved this story, along with the inevitable reflections. Aloha.
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True, can’t go wrong with a spot of latitude misses, laughs – Thank you, I’m really pleased you loved it Bela, stay safe over there in the land of fire. ❤
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👻
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Live each moment for its unfolding richness. A beautiful post Esme. 💕
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Thank you Val, I appreciate you saying so, that was certainly my aim – smiles ❤
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Bloody depressing. Best keep those ones locked away and indulge fantasy fantasy from somewhere else. Can’t be haunting ourselves, mm.
I liked it, evocative.
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Well thank the Gods and Medium-sized Dogs for your last line.
Hahahahahaha.
I’m really pleased you like it Matt, thank you for stopping off and saying so.
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There seems to me a delightful lightness, a diaphanous quality — a clear reflection of the writer-subject’s elevated state — permeating this piece. It’s a lightness which allows a little poignancy, and that’s quite a feat to pull-off, for a writer, I can only imagine; either quality on their own perhaps not representing anything like the challenge. And how to write of poignancy without wandering, if only with a tentative big toe, into the cloying and mawkish? I suppose it’s about balancing sensibilities, but managing it so on a knife-edge. Yes, this seems a perfectly wrought little piece, Esme, a tiny jewel sparkling within its own light, rather than one illumined under the heavy heat of an author’s spotlight. Well done; it’s perfect. H ❤
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I’m awed by this H, I knew you liked it, but your comment says so much more and that’s where the awe comes in.
Thank you so much for coming to the Cloud and telling me what you think of it, it makes a huge difference to find out people’s thoughts on one’s writing, and you have gone into such detail here. ‘Being’ there, on that grass, with the sun beaming down, whilst writing is the key for me. I can always ‘be’ there as it turns out – I saw Jacob in front of me as clear as day. They say one should write what one knows, but one should also consider ‘knowing’ the characters and events one writes of as well. Inhabit them I guess. Like method acting. Method acting is quite nuts mind you, but for the imagination to truly connect it’s right up that street. ❤
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