China in the wet season. The small boy, three or four years old stands on a veranda looking out across the village street. To his right another house with a woman’s voice singing out of the radio. To the left hills, green and wet. Everything is seen through a screen of rain steadily pouring, and being drunk up by the earth, except on the muddy village street in front of him where it rushes off gurgling into culverts.

Everyone is out of work but he can stand here on watch uninterrupted for a couple of hours yet.

He is fascinated by the radio. It is different from everything else he senses at the moment. He’s aware of the voice, real but not quite real, and not just because the voice has that tinny quality. He can sense the electromagnetic field around the radio. Everything else around has a different sort of field. Not because the radio is artificial; the houses are artificial but have an energy field that harmonises with the hills. They talk to one another. But it seems that the radio (which he loves) speaks the loudest because the rest of the world doesn’t quite hear it.

He wonders. The raindrops have a language too. Actually each one has something different to say. No chance of being bored while it’s raining. They generate a field and he feels this too. It’s here connecting him to the hills in the valley that falls away behind the houses opposite.

Being part of this field makes him blissfully happy. He would like to share this happiness. He thinks he might sing on the radio when he has grown up. But first he’ll have to change its energy field.

He notices that each raindrop has an energy field of its own.  It seems that each drop is aware – of the hills he sees everyday especially. He thinks that the energy field of the raindrops is gentle because they are heard, and the energy field of the radio is harsher because it isn’t really heard by the hills in the same way.

He has seen inside a radio station with his inner eyes. If he went there he would end up tinny to, he thinks. Maybe if he is one with the energy fields of the rain and the hills, the air would sing with him without needing a radio.

He talks constantly with the Earth about this. What does the Earth want him to do? He knows there is something beyond all this and he remembers, but not quite fully yet, a technology he has known and studied somewhere else that somehow combines the directness of the voice on the radio with the subtlety of the air and the rain around him broadcasting the song of the Earth.

Like the earth receiving the rain he lets his mind receive what the rain has to tell him. Perhaps there is a way to teach the radio to listen; not only to the signal the transmitter sends to it, but to the world around, to the Earth.

The hills love every drop of rain and he is learning to do this too. Each drop its own message and  he lets his own energy field expand to receive them all.