For a child, time as the great circus parade of past, present, and future, cause and effect, has scarcely started yet and means little because for a child all time is by and large NOW time and apparently endless. What child, while summer is happening, bothers to think much that summer will end? What child, when snow is on the ground, stops to remember that not long ago the ground was snowless? It is by content rather than its duration that a child knows time, by its quality rather than its quantity — happy and sad times.
When your ears aren't filled with chatter and the cacophony of negativity, and your life is free of stress-generated mindless actions and the prolonged cleanup operations that result from the subsequent mess, then the still, small voice of spirit may be heard. The music of the universe becomes louder and louder in the silence generated by the absence of charged auto-chatter, and we are able to hear the whispered instructions of the soul, the rustle of angel wings, and the divine harmony of the spheres.'
