Have you ever felt it? The distinct shift in the world's atmosphere as the day begins or ends. There's a particular quality to the quiet of the early morning, a serene, golden glow in the late afternoon that seems to wrap the world in peace. It’s a feeling so tangible you can almost breathe it in.
For a long time, I've subscribed to the mindful wisdom that peace is an internal state, not an external condition. And yet, I couldn't shake the feeling that during these moments, the world was offering something real—an 'aura' that helped me find that inner quiet. I began to wonder if this feeling was not just a mood, but a genuine event.
What if the world is a kind of tuning fork? This idea isn't as strange as it sounds. We know our brains operate on electrical frequencies—the busy Beta waves of the workday, the calm Alpha of reflection. The scientific principle of entrainment shows that our internal rhythms can synchronise with powerful external ones. Perhaps the slow, gentle pulse of the fading light is a real and measurable vibration, one that invites our own inner frequency to slow down, to come into harmony with the world around us.
This thought opens a door. If the world can tune us, what if everything is a form of tuning? What if the universe itself, as both ancient mystics and modern physicists have suggested, is not made of solid things, but is a grand, cosmic symphony of vibrations?
Imagine a basin of perfectly still water. If you introduce a vibration to it, a frequency, through sound perhaps, something magical happens. The water, while remaining a single, unified body, begins to form intricate and stable patterns. Standing waves appear, seemingly solid. Droplets can even leap from the surface, holding their own distinct shape for a moment. They appear to be separate, individual things. But they are not. They are just water, temporarily organised by a vibration.
And it struck me that perhaps we are just like that. Our ego, our personality, our deeply felt sense of being a solid and separate self, is a beautiful, complex, and stable standing wave. It is a pattern created by the unique frequency of our life—our consciousness. We are a temporary form, held in shape by a constant vibration.
But what happens when the vibration stops? Where does the wave go?
It simply disappears and the shape merges back into where it appeared from. It returns to the water.
What, then, is that profound feeling of peace in the golden hour? Perhaps it is a moment of pure resonance. A moment when the frenetic, individualising vibration that holds our 'self' together softens, just for a moment. It is a glimpse through the absorbing illusion of our separation. It is a brief, quiet memory of the fact that we are not just the wave, but the whole ocean.
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