Cloudy with a chance of joy

You don't need to plan an exotic trip to find creative inspiration. Just look up, says Gavin Pretor-Pinney, founder of the Cloud Appreciation Society. As he shares charming photos of nature's finest aerial architecture, Pretor-Pinney calls for us all to take a step off the digital treadmill, lie back and admire the beauty in the sky above.

Clouds.

Have you ever noticed how much
people moan about them?

They get a bad rap.

If you think about it,
the English language

has written into it negative
associations towards the clouds.

Someone who's down or depressed,

they're under a cloud.

And when there's bad news in store,

there's a cloud on the horizon.

I saw an article the other day.

It was about problems
with computer processing

over the Internet.

"A cloud over the cloud,"
was the headline.

It seems like they're everyone's default

doom-and-gloom metaphor.

But I think they're beautiful, don't you?

It's just that their beauty is missed

because they're so omnipresent,

so, I don't know, commonplace,

that people don't notice them.

They don't notice the beauty,
but they don't even notice the clouds

unless they get in the way of the sun.

And so people think of clouds as

things that get in the way.

They think of them as the annoying,
frustrating obstructions,

and then they rush off and do
some blue-sky thinking.

(Laughter)

But most people, when
you stop to ask them,

will admit to harboring a strange
sort of fondness for clouds.

It's like a nostalgic fondness,

and they make them think of their youth.

Who here can't remember thinking, well,

looking and finding shapes in the clouds

when they were kids?

You know, when you were
masters of daydreaming?

Aristophanes, the ancient
Greek playwright,

he described the clouds
as the patron godesses

of idle fellows

two and a half thousand years ago,

and you can see what he means.

It's just that these days,
us adults seem reluctant

to allow ourselves the indulgence

of just allowing our imaginations

to drift along in the breeze,
and I think that's a pity.

I think we should perhaps
do a bit more of it.

I think we should be a bit
more willing, perhaps,

to look at the beautiful sight
of the sunlight bursting out

from behind the clouds
and go, "Wait a minute,

that's two cats dancing the salsa!"

(Laughter) (Applause)

Or seeing the big, white,
puffy one up there

over the shopping center looks like

the Abominable Snowman
going to rob a bank.

(Laughter)

They're like nature's version
of those inkblot images,

you know, that shrinks used
to show their patients

in the '60s,

and I think if you consider
the shapes you see in the clouds,

you'll save money on psychoanalysis bills.

Let's say you're in love. All right?

And you look up and what do you see?

Right? Or maybe the opposite.

You've just been dumped by your partner,

and everywhere you look,
it's kissing couples.

(Laughter)

Perhaps you're having a moment
of existential angst.

You know, you're thinking
about your own mortality.

And there, on the horizon,
it's the Grim Reaper.

(Laughter)

Or maybe you see a topless sunbather.

(Laughter)

What would that mean?

What would that mean? I have no idea.

But one thing I do know is this:

The bad press that clouds
get is totally unfair.

I think we should stand up for them,

which is why, a few years ago,

I started the Cloud Appreciation Society.

Tens of thousands of members now

in almost 100 countries around the world.

And all these photographs
that I'm showing,

they were sent in by members.

And the society exists
to remind people of this:

Clouds are not something to moan about.

Far from it. They are, in fact,

the most diverse, evocative,
poetic aspect of nature.

I think, if you live
with your head in the clouds

every now and then, it helps you
keep your feet on the ground.

And I want to show you
why, with the help of

some of my favorite types of clouds.

Let's start with this one.
It's the cirrus cloud,

named after the Latin for a lock of hair.

It's composed entirely of ice crystals

cascading from the upper
reaches of the troposphere,

and as these ice crystals fall,

they pass through different
layers with different winds

and they speed up and slow down,

giving the cloud these
brush-stroked appearances,

these brush-stroke forms
known as fall streaks.

And these winds up there
can be very, very fierce.

They can be 200 miles
an hour, 300 miles an hour.

These clouds are bombing along,

but from all the way down here,

they appear to be moving
gracefully, slowly,

like most clouds.

And so to tune into the clouds
is to slow down,

to calm down.

It's like a bit of everyday meditation.

Those are common clouds.

What about rarer ones,
like the lenticularis,

the UFO-shaped lenticularis cloud?

These clouds form
in the region of mountains.

When the wind passes, rises
to pass over the mountain,

it can take on a wave-like
path in the lee of the peak,

with these clouds hovering at the crest

of these invisible standing waves of air,

these flying saucer-like forms,

and some of the early
black-and-white UFO photos

are in fact lenticularis clouds.
It's true.

A little rarer are the fallstreak holes.
All right?

This is when a layer is made
up of very, very cold

water droplets, and in one region
they start to freeze,

and this freezing sets off a chain
reaction which spreads outwards

with the ice crystals cascading
and falling down below,

giving the appearance
of jellyfish tendrils down below.

Rarer still, the Kelvin–Helmholtz cloud.

Not a very snappy name. Needs a rebrand.

This looks like a series
of breaking waves,

and it's caused by shearing
winds -- the wind

above the cloud layer
and below the cloud layer

differ significantly,
and in the middle, in between,

you get this undulating of the air,

and if the difference in those
speeds is just right,

the tops of the undulations curl over

in these beautiful breaking
wave-like vortices.

All right. Those are rarer
clouds than the cirrus,

but they're not that rare.

If you look up, and you
pay attention to the sky,

you'll see them sooner or later,

maybe not quite as dramatic
as these, but you'll see them.

And you'll see them around where you live.

Clouds are the most egalitarian

of nature's displays,
because we all have a good,

fantastic view of the sky.

And these clouds, these rarer clouds,

remind us that the exotic can
be found in the everyday.

Nothing is more nourishing,
more stimulating

to an active, inquiring
mind than being surprised,

being amazed. It's why we're
all here at TED, right?

But you don't need to rush off

away from the familiar, across the world

to be surprised.

You just need to step outside,

pay attention to what's so
commonplace, so everyday,

so mundane that everybody else misses it.

One cloud that people
rarely miss is this one:

the cumulonimbus storm cloud.

It's what's produces thunder
and lightning and hail.

These clouds spread
out at the top in this enormous

anvil fashion stretching 10
miles up into the atmosphere.

They are an expression
of the majestic architecture

of our atmosphere.

But from down below,
they are the embodiment

of the powerful, elemental force and power

that drives our atmosphere.

To be there is to be connected
in the driving rain

and the hail, to feel
connected to our atmosphere.

It's to be reminded that we are creatures

that inhabit this ocean of air.

We don't live beneath the sky.
We live within it.

And that connection, that visceral
connection to our atmosphere

feels to me like an antidote.

It's an antidote to the growing
tendency we have

to feel that we can really
ever experience life

by watching it on a computer
screen, you know,

when we're in a wi-fi zone.

But the one cloud that best expresses

why cloudspotting is more
valuable today than ever

is this one, the cumulus cloud.

Right? It forms on a sunny day.

If you close your eyes
and think of a cloud,

it's probably one of these
that comes to mind.

All those cloud shapes at the beginning,

those were cumulus clouds.

The sharp, crisp outlines
of this formation

make it the best
one for finding shapes in.

And it reminds us

of the aimless nature of cloudspotting,

what an aimless activity it is.

You're not going to change the world

by lying on your back and gazing
up at the sky, are you?

It's pointless. It's a pointless activity,

which is precisely why it's so important.

The digital world
conspires to make us feel

eternally busy, perpetually busy.

You know, when you're not dealing with

the traditional pressures
of earning a living

and putting food on the table,
raising a family,

writing thank you letters,

you have to now contend with

answering a mountain of unanswered emails,

updating a Facebook page,

feeding your Twitter feed.

And cloudspotting
legitimizes doing nothing.

(Laughter)

And sometimes we need —

(Applause)

Sometimes we need excuses to do nothing.

We need to be reminded by these

patron goddesses of idle fellows

that slowing down

and being in the present,
not thinking about

what you've got to do
and what you should have done,

but just being here,
letting your imagination

lift from the everyday concerns down here

and just being in the present,
it's good for you,

and it's good for the way you feel.

It's good for your ideas.
It's good for your creativity.

It's good for your soul.

So keep looking up,

marvel at the ephemeral beauty,

and always remember to live life
with your head in the clouds.

Thank you very much.

(Applause)