Driving home after a day in the trading post, I have seen cloud formations ripple across the evening sky, lit by a blood red sun that ignites the evening and showers the landscape with light that splinters my emotions and inspires my imagination. There is a special corner of my mind that holds memories of lazy clouds easing through intensely blue summer days; high-riding formations of white feathers that stand in direct contrast to their sapphire canopy.
I have often wondered why clouds are so common in Native American art. Rugs, baskets, pottery and jewelry frequently feature representations of clouds and cloud people. I feel a certain magic when an artist brings his or her work into the store and it is adorned with elaborate, geometric sky symbols.
My curiosity is insatiable when it comes to Navajo culture, and I am in constant search for subtle tidbits of mythical information concerning the natural world, always hoping for deeper insight. There is much to learn here at the trading post, and probing artists for explanations about the symbols used in their creations is one way I scratch my persistent itch for further knowledge.
Many artists must wonder at my continuing lack of understanding, and tire of my incessant questions. Every once in a while, however, an individual well versed in Navajo legends crosses my path. When that happens, I am grateful for their patience and willingness to help expand my understanding. As we talk, the heavens open, light shines down on me with blinding clarity and I experience the same sense of satisfaction I feel while watching the morning light break across nature's geologic treasures.
From our Navajo friends, I have learned that clouds are blessings from supernatural benefactors, who scatter them about the sky in an effort to moisturize and re-energize thirsty land and tired souls. Clouds represent symbols of fruition, generous hydration and blessings given to the desert people. Through the patiently observant eyes of Navajo artists, much is seen that may not be obvious to the rest of us, and these observations are translated through their creations.
Clouds remind us that there are higher levels of achievement and understanding available to mortals which are often unrealized; that there are visions, intangible objects and forms that cannot be touched or felt, they must be experienced deep inside the body. By closely watching and thoughtfully pondering these subtle symbols, the veil of ignorance is cast aside, and we are inspired to open ourselves to new possibilities.
On a recent morning, I was focused on the warm air emanating from my truck's heating system as I approached the downward descent of White Mesa Hill. It was cold outside, the sunlight bright and crystal clear, as most winter days are in San Juan County. As I motored along, anticipating the view from the top of White Mesa, I knew the morning vision would not be disappointing.
Although I expected a beautiful vista, I could not have predicted what unfolded before me. In the valley below, a blanket of fog wrapped around the winter landscape; a shroud of mist covering the low ground and filling the canyons. The vision reminded me of a picture postcard of Lake Powell; with white clouds substituting for the lake's dark blue waters.
The hazy white lather wrapped itself around mesas and boulder strewn hillsides, turning them into floating islands. As I descended into this land of mystery, I noticed the sparse plant life covered in crystalline droplets. Sunlight filtered through the mist, backlighting the sagebrush and juniper trees, making the water crystals sparkle like diamonds.
As I drove deeper into the fog, I had the sensation of floating through the swirling mist and filtered sunlight; as if I had entered a bubble. I viewed the outside world through an opaque, slightly smudged portal. The experience was sensuous, surreal and spiritual all at the same time, like a moment shared with the most intimate partner.
As I grow older, I have realized that such moments of discovery, happiness and pleasure are extremely rare, and transcendent. Clouds affect me in strange ways. Those instances that sneak up and surprise me with their inexplicable beauty are sublime. May we always remain open to the world of mystery and imagination; the world of clouds.
Sincerely,
Barry
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