It may not make a lot of sense but it is a thing that happens often. You hear something but there is nothing evident that could make any sound. At least not in the narrow viewpoint that most of us have been brought up to embrace in this physical world.
There are many varied sounds in the realms of the supernatural. Sometimes the Music of the Spheres comes through. The depth and beauty of it is beyond description but if you ever hear it you’ll never forget the experience. Kind of a heavenly symphony from God.
At other times, a single sound may only be evident. The note of a flute. The gentle ringing of a bell, or sometimes, many bells. The roaring of waves breaking on a beach. A gentle breeze blowing through the trees or sometimes heavy, howling wind. Even the rumble of thunder may be heard at times. In many instances, if a person is in contemplation, the sound heard can give a clue as to what plane or realm is being visited. Your angel can supply that information if you ask. As you become more sensitive you may find that you occasionally hear some of those inner sounds mentioned above while you are in a fully awake physical state.
Keep those inner and outer ears open and sometime soon you may be blessed to hear some of those heavenly sounds. They put even the most beautifully composed music on earth in the shade.
I stand on the bank of the river watching the cold water flow by. The overcast sky and the snow on the ground combine with the dark water to present a mostly colorless world of white, black, and assorted shades of gray.
Most would call it a dreary scene and for a moment I feel a wave of intense loneliness and melancholy. So much unhappiness in the world. Such bitterness and hate. So much misery. What a sad state of affairs.
I am suddenly jolted out of my reverie by an icy blast of wind blowing down the canyon. “Wake up…wake up,” it seems to say. “Look around you! Open your eyes!” I look closer at the surrounding scene. Even in its nearly black and white mode I realize I am still in the presence of the endless beauty of God’s Creation. It fills me with its happy sights and sounds. The chuckling river. The whistling of the wind as blows through the tall pine trees.
I feel a rush of energy and love lift me up. I also feel chilled. The wind is getting colder and flurries of snow begin. I pick up a small rock from the edge of the river and gently touch it to my cheek. I carefully replace it and make haste to return to the car. The storm is arriving early and I must leave here quickly for the road will soon be closed by snow.
I like weeds. They’re hardy and will grow just about anywhere. They don’t require tilling and feeding with some special fertilizer. Lots of them are good to eat and many have beautiful flowers.
I don’t know why weeds got such a bad rap. It it weren’t for them some places would be really barren, funky looking affairs. Consider how dreary those wonderful high mountain meadows would be without all those wildflowers (weeds) ablaze with their blooms.
During those dry summers when the lawn of St. Augustine grass looks bedraggled the crabgrass can be counted on to remain nice and green. And, of course, we can always depend on dandelions to proliferate and supply a good show of yellow flowers.
I like weeds. God created them so He certainly must think they are important. I’m not inclined to question God’s opinion?
So…all together now…let’s hear it for the weeds. “Yea weeds. Live long and prosper.”