Least ‘tis not for lack of trying
To be, or not to be not…. The pleasure is in the mere pondering. Whether to be in love with love that I may speak of her, or to be in love with her that I may speak of love – Oh Heaven, that thou has gifted me with tongue do I then speak!
My cheeks are the sides of her very own magic lamp, and as she speaks, my wish is but the brush of her hand upon them. I am the ether that adheres her stamp of approval upon all that she may wish, and whatever more… forevermore. “…like Feather, except with an ‘H.’ Her name, so much like her voice, is the full will of heaven wed to the human soul.
What has made me feel this way? Her Voice… surely sunshine on a cloudy day!
My own cumulative spiritual programming includes the belief that one is more fortunate in not swallowing one’s own heartfelt desire with doubt regardless of the opinion of the peanut gallery. It would be more proper to bathe desire in the delusion of serenity, lest in its swallowing is manifested future carcinoma! The purity of love is that in itself – the means and the end. All else is an elaboration of illusory signposts to point the way (and the way not).
Once upon a casual drive around the bend on a cool summer afternoon, with windows rolled down and Wichita Public Radio complementing the breeze, her voice pierced my ears, ignited my consciousness, and lifted my spirit gently by the chin to uncommon heights. Yeah, she really is that good! There’s only one Heather, and as you follow this treasure map, you needn’t tell her who sent you. Through the world who know her, she is already aware on more quantum a level.
Split second resistance to my own desire to cling to the essence of the moment resulted in my immediately concluding that it’s all a ruse – a fake voice, so well-practiced and polished to perfection as to produce the desired effect… and all with probable implicit commercial intent. I couldn’t deal with it, at least not while driving. I turned off the radio and continued cruising. I didn’t get a quarter mile before I realized I needed another fix. I wanted to again feel the experience caused by that voice – contrived or not.
I turned the radio back on within seconds of the tail end of a featured broadcast, and just in time for her announcements. I knew precisely the instant her voice would again flick that switch in my soul… and as surely as babies’ bottoms are warm and soft, it did! In the blink of an eye I’m in heaven again… her voice… how to describe it…? As my rational mind attempted to arm wrestle with the richness and purity of the sound, trying to detect the slightest indication of fabrication, it could find none. So the heck with it! She’s for real… even if she’s not. I don’t care anymore; she just sounds so good… so frigging [well] that I’d be happy to be her puppy if I could hear her voice as often as possible – for only her voice. Indeed, I’m fortunate she hadn’t chosen to be a flight attendant, as I’d then be cashing out in bouts of random first class air travel. But as it is, to become spiritually aligned, I have only to be in touch with a device that harvests the airwaves.
The name of God, the voice of the divine, the Word, the sound, the air… all exist within vibration. Each being, whether ethereal or earthly, and each with its own signature wavelength, interfaces existence and keeps it held together. Heather’s sacred sonar is milky sweet – just so much so to yet remain recognizably of human origin. Her song is energy pulsing straight from the golden glow within her blessed Wichita heart. It penetrates me with the realization that there are things about life that are so much worth paying attention to.
Thank you, Heather, for daily making my day!