I slowly wake to a snow kissed morning. The air is still, the light an even gray.

Outside, the world is wrapped in a gentle snow — the kind that arrives just before spring, with a bit more warmth, a bit more touch. The trees, the grass, the land, all glowing white against the pale flat sky. The world seemingly sits still.

Inside, a desire to bring that outer stillness closer, to feel its slow, vibrational grounding more intimately. Longing for integration, a joining of the quiet cozy outer world and the deep still inner world.

And yet, there is something else. A hum inside. One that hisses and pops and cracks the stillness. Ideas, plans, thoughts come in and out, not unlike listening to a faraway baseball game on a summer night, on an old AM transistor radio.

A memory. I’m young, maybe 10. I’m adjusting the little radio while in bed. Lots of static. Then suddenly, a faraway weather forecast — winter storm warning for the Jersey Shore, 12 inches, lots of wind. Yet there in that moment, no storm. Just stillness.

Even this morning, while the world outside my window appears still, there is another world filled with noise, as the inner static of billions of people crosses over into the outer world.

Just for a moment, what if the transmission went the other way?

Imagine the stillness of a snow kissed morning crossing the boundary of collective consciousness — and just like that, everyone, the entire world, was still.

Just for a moment.