The toy story clouds dissipate and rearrange themselves into sensical, then nonsensical patterns.
Out west, clouds begin to define the vastness of rural space, providing a needed sense of scale to the mightiness of the country. My own years out here, five and counting at this point, feel similar – the purposes feel core to the experience, and yet continually undefinable. I’m out in the Sangre de Cristo mountains doing dirtwork, now leading staff as they build trails and work with volunteers. You can look at product created: we leave behind physical legacies on the land and ethical legacies in those that contribute. But like a cloud, there’s something grander and overall more to these experiences.
Taking a pulse of this all could in itself be a lifetime of work. Understanding that this beat needs to keep beating its drum, needs to keep cyclical is not. Like clouds, the form may change but its presence won’t.