That Still, Small Voice
By James “Pep”
Washburn
I couldn’t see it but there was
something in the air, subtle, yet unmistakable. If you were distracted by the
other more glaring and harsh realities you might easily miss it. I was hiking
the Ice Age Trail less than a kilometer north of the landfill. No, it wasn’t
the conspicuous smell of garbage infused with maggots and rot. It wasn’t
exhaust from dozers wrestling the earth to cover sponge-like piles forced from
the anus of each giant green truck. That was beyond question dominant orthodox
reality, but every now-and-then a delicate breath infused with the clearness
and sparkle of life would waft through my mind whispering, “Turn aside. Center
down. I speak a higher reality if you will look for me.” . . . . . . I slowed
my pace, listened, looked, mindfully inhaled the air. I stood still, centered
in that moment and place. Once I did it became evident. . . . . . Broadly
strewn about the forest floor in what seemed to be a deliberate manner were
petite effervescent white blossoms. Now on my knees and bowed before them I
drew close with my nose. Yes! These were the dazzling little spirits whose
communication with still small voice I had sensed. Here with head down, humble,
listening, smelling the other reality within the prevailing atmosphere, I may
have appeared odd, crazy, even possessed, but the truth is these wee beauties
spoke of a transcendent divine essence. An essence that, if we will but center
down, look humbly and smell the whispers of our hearts, we can all experience
and possess. It is the experience of a benevolent universal love being spoken
by the still small voice of the Great Mystery. A voice perfumed by the Spirit
of God. A smell that charms, attracts and encompasses all people.
Pep
ONE WORLD - ONE FAMILY OF MAN - ONE CREATOR OF ALL
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