It was the evening of the new moon, July 22nd. I set about going for a walk in the small town in Germany’s Rhine Valley where I was stationed for two weeks working away from home. I set about exploring my new environment, seeing what the town had to offer by walking out towards the outskirts, past the old church dedicated to St.Lambert. Incidentally, the church has a spiral pattern formed in small tiles outside the church’s west-facing front door.
Then I wandered into the local park, past the thermal baths, and out beyond the rows of old people’s homes that formed the eastern-most extent of the town. I had no idea what compelled me to continue walking through the fields of crops, but something was pulling me onwards.
I was enjoying the late evening sun and relaxing after a day’s work. The sun was still warm and the apple trees that lined the wheat fields seemed to form a guard of honour inviting me onwards. I was looking for something, but I didn’t know what it was. Then I found it. In the middle of a field stood an old gnarled pear tree. The views of the setting sn that it offered made me sit down and snuggle into the tree’s welcoming root structure and I lay back and dozed amongst the rustling ears of wheat and the light buzz of fruit flies.
In the darkening sky I could see cirrus clouds streaking across my view, and the light dappled through the twisted branches of the old pear tree. I tried my hand at meditating, but the old pear tree was determined to prevent this, occasionally dropping a pear with a thud that startled me out of my trance – each pear getting closer to me! Soon I gave up and simply observed the sun descend through the trees that bordered the fields.
Have you every tried that child’s game of making shapes out of clouds? We humans can anthropomorphize almost any form into an animal or face, and it seems to be a psychologically innate feature of humans. But try it yourself – pick any day where there are clouds in the sky and try to see shapes or faces. Actually, when you try, you’ll find it’s rather difficult to get anything meaningful at all. I know.
I had been trying to see something in the clouds ever since I had taken an interest in air spirits that we call “sylphs” traditionally. It’s harder than it may seem.
One guy on the internet has a page that he claims shows bird-like or angelic patterns and he calls these sylphs, convinced that they exist in the sky, and that they are up there trying to deal with the ‘chemtrails‘ and air pollution that we humans throw off into the air. I had seen his site and was less than convinced at his evidence, but was intrigued by the idea of such forces of nature.
Perhaps cloud sylphs were on or in my mind. Perhaps the old pear tree was trying to tell me not to waste my time trying to meditate.
Anyway, I stood up and began to walk back to the town slowly. For some reason I looked back, and upwards into the evening sky above the pear tree, and this is what I saw:
This photo doesn’t really do justice to the level of definition that this cloud had. Cameras cannot bring the level of differentiation of light, shadow and depth that the human eye can. If you struggle to see the face in the picture above, slightly un-focus your eyes to bring about more contrast. Move up and down a little. Watch it suddenly appear as clearly as I saw it that night. Now imagine it in three dimensions for the full impact!
Let me tell you that I stopped, stared and then almost fell to the ground in disbelief. There, looking down from behind the tree, was a very clear face. By the time I realised that perhaps I should photograph this phenomenon it was already mutating slightly. But it held its form for several minutes, whilst all around clouds nearby moved slowly with the evening breeze. This form did not move or dissipate in that way. It simply evolved.
I had seen a cloud sylph. Yet again my world view was spun around and I was reeling with the implications. What a strange but fascinating moment!
Gwas.
Seeing things as usual
