On a windswept coast in the early days of wireless communication, Guglielmo Marconi stood beside a crude wooden mast and pressed a small metal key. A spark leapt between two brass knobs, sharp and bright. That spark released invisible waves into the air. Waves that carried a message across miles of open space. No wire connected sender and receiver. And yet, far away, another instrument responded with a faint click.

The spark sent out a signal. The air was already full of all kinds of—natural noise, electrical hums, other broadcasts. The receiver was set to a specific frequency, and it reacted only to waves that matched that setting. When the tuning lined up, the message came through clearly. When the tuning was off, the waves were still there, but the device didn’t register them.

Yogi Ramacharaka teaches that thought works in the same way. In his view, thoughts are living vibrations, radiant and persistent, moving through the mental plane. They travel outward and linger, gathering with currents of similar tone. “We attract the thoughts that resemble our own,” he writes.