i see silence sometimes, just the absence of noise, and it makes me think about what we call normal. every once in a while, i wonder if our definitions of strange are just too limited. we build our expectations, our ideas of what’s expected, and it all feels so set. but how does it make sense that our kind of quiet is the only kind of quiet in the universe. the universe holds so many different ways of being, so many intelligences that we might not even register. maybe what we consider empty isn’t empty at all, just beyond our focus, integrated and living amongst us, just wearing a different face…