Some nights here in Spartanburg, when the humidity settles like a gentle hand on the earth and the sky finally exhales after a hot Carolina day, I go outside to stand beneath the walnut tree. There’s a particular quiet that isn’t silence at all. It hums. It holds. It feels charged, like something is speaking in a language older than breath.
That stillness always reminds me: we don’t live in a dead universe.
Continue reading Plasma Consciousness: Thinking With the Luminous Universe
