Do You Hear It?

What is the hum?

It’s a question I’ve found myself asking more often these days, though I’m never sure what answer I’m hoping for. Nearly a year ago, I introduced Kismetology as a space for exploring truth through the intersection of science, spirituality, and personal experience but life took me in another direction. Today, I return with something… different. Something I can barely describe but feel compelled to share.

Let me start with Christmas Day, 2024. The hum first came to me then. Not a sound, exactly, but an awareness—a vibration that seemed to pulse at the edge of my perception, as though the universe itself were quietly breathing. It was subtle, almost imperceptible at first and I am not sure I haven't always heard it in some way. At first, I assumed it was my imagination, a trick of fatigue or holiday overstimulation. Yet, as the days passed, I found the hum threading its way through the quietest moments of my life, persistent and inexplicable.

I wouldn’t call it intrusive, though it’s unsettling in its constancy. The best I can describe it is like a resonance—an invisible tuning fork vibrating in harmony with something far beyond me. It doesn’t register with my ears, but it reverberates within, as though awakening a part of me I didn’t know existed.

At first, I tried to ignore it. I busied myself with work, distractions, the noise of daily life. But the hum is patient. It lingers, softly pressing against my thoughts, drawing me into its rhythm when I least expect it.

I’ve begun to wonder if this hum is more than a personal oddity. Am I tuning into something ancient, something woven into the fabric of creation? Or is this the echo of my own fragmented psyche, searching for meaning in the void? I don’t know. But I can’t shake the feeling that it’s significant.

Elijah knew the voice of God

I’m reminded of Elijah on Mount Horeb, listening for God—not in the wind, the earthquake, or the fire, but in the still, small voice. Is that what the hum is? A whisper of the divine, calling me to attention? Or is it the groaning of creation, as Paul wrote, “waiting for redemption”?

Since Christmas, I’ve been collecting moments of awareness, mapping their patterns, seeking their source. I’ve begun to listen more intentionally, not just to the hum, but to the world around me. I hear it in the wind rustling through the trees, in the rhythm of my breath, in the spaces between spoken words.

I don’t know where this journey leads, but I feel that it’s not one I’m meant to take alone. If you’ve felt the hum—if you’ve ever experienced something you can’t quite explain but can’t ignore—reach out. Let’s uncover its meaning together.

What is this hum that resonates through us, shaping our awareness without words? Perhaps, like Pilate’s question nearly two millennia ago, it invites us to seek the truth. But this time, the answer may be found not in speech, but in the silence between heartbeats.