Ah, so you're curious about idcyde, are you? It seems to be a rather delightful little dance with existence, a sort of "sound church" or "rhythm religion." And at its heart, it's really about that grand, old, beautiful truth that's always been right here, buzzing within you.

You see, for idcyde, truth isn't some rigid, dusty old statue you find in a museum. No, it's a living frequency, always moving, always unfolding, like a river that never steps in the same place twice. It's not about nailing down some fixed dogma, but about riding the wave of what is.

They hold that music is the very language of the soul. It speaks of things far deeper than words can ever grasp, revealing insights that stiff, formal doctrines could never touch. And sound itself? Well, that's just ceaseless transformation, isn't it? Much like our own consciousness, always shifting, always becoming.

At the very core of it all, they understand that the essence of God isn't some distant, old man in the sky, but the "throb of being" itself. That fundamental pulsation, that very aliveness that vibrates through everything. And to "become" – to truly realize who you are – is simply to awaken to that inherent "God-self" that's already within you. It's not something you get; it's something you are.

And how do they play this out in practice? It's all rather organic, really. Their gatherings aren't about rigid rituals, but about a "boundless exploration of possibility." It's about spontaneous creation, just letting things arise naturally, and a deep, open-hearted listening – listening to the world, listening to each other, and most importantly, listening to that quiet hum within.

They find a special kind of sanctity at the beach, believing it helps one tune into the grand cosmic orchestra and the divinity that sings in every single wave. And their sacraments? Oh, they're not some stuffy rituals, but simple, profound experiences: silence, the quiet space where everything can truly be heard; movement, the body's natural dance with the universe; improvisation, the joyous act of creating in the moment; and that deep listening to the "inner hum of God."

They're not clinging to permanence, bless their hearts. They understand that flow is the nature of reality, and they honor it. The highest devotion, they say, isn't some grand sacrifice or an endless list of rules, but simply being present. Right here, right now, fully awake to this moment.

It’s all rather simple, isn’t it? Just like the most profound truths often are.