I was born without a sense of smell. The sense of taste depends upon the sense of smell in many ways. My eyes, my sweet eyes depend upon a camera and a computer so that I can see and read. Today I received my hearing aids for my failing hearing. It would seem I am down to one unsupported  or working sense, the sense of touch. Yet I do see through the Whisper’s eyes. I do hear the Whisper’s voice. I smell through metaphors. Someone told me cinnamon smells like seeing your grandparent’s holding hands as they drink coffee. I have warmers throughout my house burning cinnamon fragrance wax. I have only to see the light and I can smell the fragrance of that image. There are moments that the taste of life explodes within me. And the texture of life flails, ripples, and caresses my body, mind, and heart.

No, I am not without my senses. There is no lack. There is no failing. There is no impairment. There is no “not.” And should I ever doubt, or fail to know the experience of the Beloved’s call, I have but to remember “Love has nothing to do with the five senses and the six directions: its goal is only to experience the attraction exerted by the Beloved” ~ Rumi. I still have the sense of heart. “Only from the heart can you touch the sky” ~ Rumi.  When one’s heart touches the sky you become sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch.  Instead of relying upon senses as a way of knowing, you are Known. And that is Whsipered Grace’s sweet mercy.