Someone has suggested that many of the old buildings and churches of the world are actually energy devices, and I agree; they are built like us, collecting the stuff that spills into the world, and turning that stuff into music, art, poetry and nature.
I'm not sure what to call the stuff, or if it even is stuff at all.
Something seems to be rushing into our planet-- every single inch of it-- as if the Earth is ever looking inward with such intense introspection that every blade of grass on the planet is quietly shivering in the wake of its quest, the atmosphere and sky humming along in perfect harmony.
Whether it's called chi, life-force, prana or perhaps orgone, or ether, this stuff has been mentioned throughout numerous cultures in history for some reason, while such unmeasurable stuff tends to naturally evade most modern scientific studies. Indeed, ever since Einstein and all those geniuses decided to get rid of the idea of an ether from their minds and from our vocabulary, we modern Earthlings don't even have so much as a name to call the stuff, if it even exists.
Is It Really Stuff?
All that we have to suggest the existence of Stuff is the evidence of its existence-- we never get to see the actual Stuff. We see the results of the Stuff pouring in from everywhere, but the Stuff itself remains infinite and immeasurable, always aside from time and space while busy creating the physics that we see. We see its wake in the patterns of the world, but whatever causes those ripples is always too close for us to observe.
The Stuff collapses with such intent that the dynamics of the collapse actually causes the formation of the surrounding Things, and indeed those Things are all we ever get to see of Stuff in its infinite inward gust.
If it's anything that we can imagine, the Stuff is a lot like the number 9, always curling inwards, while outwardly always infinitely adding up to Itself.
Therefore to put it simply, we have a planet that has decided to meditate for a while, and in doing so has become a conduit between the world of things, and the world of Stuff. This is how Stuff is able to experience things that are physical, and Stuff can't resist a chance to do that. In its introspection, the invisible Stuff we're talking about leaves behind a wake that vibrates itself into the nifty patterns and celestial sounds that modern science calls nature.
Any planet willing to spend time noticing its own awareness for a moment may note that the Stuff that's spilling in is pure, unadulterated consciousness. If a planet can avoid looking out into the solar system trying to figure out what the other planets are all thinking, and would rather look inward at their own selves in an objective and unbiased fashion as they sail through the cosmos, then the Stuff naturally gets sucked into the big eddy of awareness with even more vigor and purpose, causing that much more radiation or light.
We are the lightning, the world is just our thunder.
Behold the humans that live upon the planet; they live as great lightning bolts, and yet they think the world is made of someone else's thunder. Meanwhile, the planet that these humans are toiling upon is pulling in enough Stuff to shiver the world into physical form, and the planet's atmosphere hums the old tune that the mountains still tap their toes to today, like standing waves left by echos within echos within echos.
Learning the Music
If we were the beings living on such a planet, we might notice that even though the Stuff can't be seen or heard as it funnels in, the planet still pulsates and breathes a certain tune. All at once the trees, then the forks and branches, then the little leaflets, they all shiver sympathetically, entrained with the solar system's rhythm like a meadow full of humming violins ringing through each other in vibrant undertones, forming flowers within flowers as far as the eye can see.
Coherence and pattern, rhythm and pulse, a visible pitch to tune to and and an audible voice to make a song, and we have music! A massive wave coiling along a beach, tossed by a larger wave of lunar undertones, all spun vigorously by a galactic twist under the glimmer of a universal disco ball-- the party is on.
There are some people who believe that there was technology built into a lot of old buildings, and that the ornamental spires and weathervanes on top are actually designed to collect Stuff from the atmosphere. What these old buildings did with that precious Stuff once it was collected is still not clear, and how to build a new Stuff collector has also been kept secret by our muddy history and its war-makers, or hidden by priests so that their church's power source remains a mystery.
Like any lost treasure, the secret of free energy is a secret that, when one tries to solve the mysteries around it, they invariably find themselves looking within their own souls, and those deep introspections lead to treasure that is valued well beyond any technological devices. The gismos on top of buildings--if they are gismos at all, they only try to mimic us humans, acting as a conduit between the physical world and the Stuff that it's made of.