Storytelling Starters ~ Over the hills and far away
You could play it as a game. ‘Associations’ you might call it. For instance, let’s start with the word ‘cloud’. Playing ‘Associations’, I might come up with the fact that I once knew a girl called Cloud. (‘What a beautiful name,’ I used to think.) Then again, each day when I open up my computer, on comes one of those irritating dialogue boxes: KnowHow Cloud. (‘Have you logged in to Cloud?’ it persists in asking.) Or am I remembering the Afrikaans saying I quoted here a few weeks ago: ‘And all the time we are being carried like great clouds across the sky.’
I don’t know what associations you’d put forward. Maybe you have none for Cloud. But as a storyteller, I do think it’s useful sometimes to stop and wonder. ‘ Why? What associations do I have with that story? Why do I like it so much? What is it about it that attracts me? Why am I so compelled to tell it?’
Following suit, I must ask myself why, towards the end of this week, I remembered a little story about a cloud I was once told? And why did I start thinking about it? Was it simply because I was walking down the street wondering what I’d write about today and happened to notice a distinctly shaped cloud in the sky? More than likely. Dense grey skies have been over our heads so often here in London lately (and here, thinking about what it may be like elsewhere, I must send special greetings to the growing number of readers of this blog who live far, far away, in Australia, New Zealand, India, Brazil). When the sky is one dense grey mass, there are none of those separate clouds where you might see particular colours and shapes. ‘Look, do you see the dog in the sky?’ ‘And what about that great bird on the wing!’ Or could that cloud be a boy?
The Boy Who Became A Cloud
Once, there was a boy who loved climbing the hills behind his house. At the top of those hills, he’d lie on the grass and stare into the sky above. He’d watch clouds scudding past and wonder what it was like to be up so high. Sometimes, he thought he’d like to be a cloud. He’d travel through the air, he’d feel light, he’d be free.
Then one day when he was on top of one of those hills, a cloud came along and touched the ground on which he was standing. The boy thought, ‘This is my chance.’ So he spread his arms and hopped into the cloud. And when the cloud scudded away on its journey, the boy went with it. He was part of the cloud. What journeys he had. What skies he went through. What vast, spreading lands he saw beneath him and what marvellous seas! So he travelled until, one day, he thought about home. And then he began to feel sad. He remembered his family and wanted to see them. He remembered his friends and longed to be with them. In his sadness he began to cry.
I can’t say exactly what happened next. Was it that all the other clouds in the sky became aware of the boy’s weeping? Or did they just sense his sadness? All I know is that, soon after, the cloud that carried the boy through the sky came over the part of the world where he lived. And as he began to see where he was, the cloud went lower and lower until, just as it touched the hill where the boy used to play, it began turning into rain. As the rain fell, the boy stepped out of the cloud and, drying his tears, ran down the hill to his home. Everyone was overjoyed to see him and he was delighted to be back. And didn’t he now have some stories to tell?
The End
PS: My top photo this week is of a sky in New Zealand when I was there in 2010. The bottom photo is of a late-evening Pembrokeshire sky at the very end of 2015. Over to you. Does ‘cloud’ mean anything at all to you? Welcome to any of your associations.
February 6th, 2016 at 3:06 pm
Hi Mary.
Clouds have very important memories to me as my Mum use to love looking at the different shapes and animals or faces that she could pick out. Also as a child I was fascinated by the sky, the stars and the different formation of clouds. Happy memories when I was with my Mum who sadly isn’t with me anymore.
Liz
February 8th, 2016 at 4:30 pm
Dear Liz, so good to hear from you. And now your mention of your mother has reminded me of a great friend of mine in Kenya who used to point up to the sky and point out to us extraordinary things in the clouds. It must be important to so many of us, clouds, sky, stars. But it’s something that usually remains quite personal and private. I’m delighted that the clouds story has brought back these important memories. All love, Mary.
February 8th, 2016 at 7:40 am
Dear Mary,
Your story of the clouds touched upon a childhood pastime of mine. I enjoyed looking at clouds and their different shapes-imagining an ice cream, a poodle, a face or a teddy bear.
I carried the same fascination to walls that landed up with different images when they got wet by rain or the green moss that created a variety of illusions.
Thank you for transporting me back to my childhood.
I will surely share this story with my story time children and also weave in the associations game.
Cheers!
Swati
February 8th, 2016 at 4:27 pm
Dear Swati, I’m so glad you liked that story – and so happy to her how it touch what you describe as a childhood pastime. And, yes, from clouds to walls and moss on walls. It’s been much the same with me. Do let me know how your story time children are getting on and if they enjoy the clouds story. All my very best to you, Mary.
February 13th, 2016 at 5:17 am
Dear Mary. Ever since a storyteller friend Lesley in NZ introduced me to cloud angels, spreading clouds catch my eye. I have seen many an angel flying past. I think too looking up makes me feel optimistic We look for rain a lot.
I’m also reminded of a story I found in a book “the Wily Witch’ by the Dutch author Godfried Bomans called The Cloud Tree. It’s a gentle, dreamy tale about finding true love really … rather appropriate for this time of year. Kind Regards, Meg.
February 15th, 2016 at 12:58 pm
Dear Meg, The Cloud Tree sounds lovely. So does the idea of cloud angels. I hope they continue to fly over and around you. Regards, Mary