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“The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed.” Albert Einstein
I have a fairly long drive from my home to the nearest town, so when I’m not listening to music, I’m thinking.
This was the case the other day as I was driving in silence. I was anguishing over a dilemma that was causing me such pain of spirit and going round and round until a thought came galloping like a wild horse into my mind: “I just wish that something would just reach down out of the sky, just reach right down out of the heavens and OPEN MY EYES!” At the phrase, “open my eyes,” straight to my heart came the snippet of David singing those words. It actually made me shudder with wonder and in that very instant I felt convinced that this album he’s working on will be remarkable.
And my own answer came, not shaking my frame all at once, but in quiet little pieces, like pebbles sparkling one by one at the bottom of a clear pool that once was murky. We struggle at what we already know. We squeeze shut our eyes and curse the darkness.
We at The Voice will wait and stand by him or float, if necessary, on what will become crystal clear in time. We will wait, because a singer with his gift will not come again in our lifetime, and because the same guidance that reached down into my car also guided him in that studio. The miracle is not that we are still here, but that we ever were. The miracle is that, for many of us, ever since we first heard him sing “Waiting on the World to Change,” our world has changed in a thousand positive ways. I know “it’s hard to be persistent when you’re standing at a distance.” But we keep right on waiting.
People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don’t even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child — our own two eyes. All is a miracle.
Thich Nhat Hanh
David and David Archuleta. Layers of David. Are there layers of meaning here as well?
The Voice David Archuleta 