Okay, the title sounds a little grandiose. But perhaps rightly so. Let me give you a quick rundown of the main things we’ll explore in this article:

• The Sun contains about 99.8 per cent of all the mass in our solar system. Yet our little Moon can completely cover its disc as seen from Earth: the Sun is about four hundred times wider, but also almost four hundred times farther away. Divide their distances from Earth by their own diameters, and both give a ratio around 108.

• Every interior angle of a regular pentagon is 108 degrees. Join its vertices to form a pentagram and you find the golden ratio in the proportions between its lines.

• That connection takes us to the Fibonacci sequence. Divide consecutive numbers by one another and you approach the golden ratio. In sunflowers, these numbers often reappear in the number of spirals. Even your hand contains the counts 2, 3, 5 and 8.

• Both the golden ratio and the pentagon were used in the Gasunie building in Groningen. Its two wings meet at 108 degrees. Proportion acquires walls, windows and a space you can walk into.

• Proportion can also be heard. Double a note’s frequency and you hear an octave. In Tool’s Lateralus, Fibonacci also takes musical form: groups of 9, 8 and 7 beats, read together, form 987, a Fibonacci number, while parts of the vocals follow the sequence through their syllable counts.

Creation is built on proportion

There are moments when the world, without explaining a thing, reclaims our attention. A solar eclipse (such as the one on 12 August) is one of them. People look up. Streets grow quieter. Someone points, someone else puts on eclipse glasses, children ask why the light is changing. For a few minutes, the most ordinary source of light, the Sun, becomes something strange. Not gone, but hidden. Not vanished, but beyond our ordinary way of seeing.

Humans aren’t the only ones who notice the day briefly tilting. Animals also respond to the changing light. Birds may fall quiet or look for somewhere to roost, while some nocturnal animals seem to wake for a moment. An eclipse shifts the rhythms of an entire environment, even if only for a few minutes.[^1]

An eclipse makes it clear that we do not stand outside nature. We are right in the middle of it, an inherent part of it: on a small Earth, moving around a star, with a moon that sometimes passes directly between us and the Sun. It is a natural phenomenon, and the more you know about it, the more extraordinary it becomes.

The scale alone is almost impossible to grasp. The Sun contains about 99.8 per cent of all the mass in our solar system.[^2] Earth, the Moon, the other planets, asteroids, comets and ourselves move within that tiny 0.2% of matter around it. The Sun is about four hundred times wider than the Moon, but also almost four hundred times farther away. From Earth, the two therefore appear almost the same size in the sky.

A total eclipse becomes possible when those two discs overlap. Not because they are actually the same size, but because, from this particular place, the difference in size and the difference in distance almost cancel each other out. Sometimes the Moon appears slightly larger than the Sun, and the Sun disappears completely. Sometimes the Moon is a little farther away, appears smaller, and leaves a burning ring visible.

Elsewhere in our solar system, moons also pass in front of the Sun. But nowhere do we know of the same almost perfect match in apparent size.[^3] Our Moon doesn’t crudely blot out the Sun with room to spare. It fits. Sometimes almost seamlessly.

What the actual fuck, we’re floating. Now. Right this moment. In what is, in all likelihood, an infinitely vast universe.

And somewhere in that peculiar relationship, a number appears that has been repeated in India for centuries.

The ratio in the sky

Here, 108 appears. Not merely as a number, but above all as a deeply intriguing ratio.

The average distance between Earth and the Sun is about 107.5 solar diameters. The average distance between Earth and the Moon is about 110.6 lunar diameters. Because both orbits are elliptical, these values change constantly. So 108 is not a physical constant engraved into the universe to the last decimal place.

But nothing in the material world stays still enough to retain exactly the same measured value forever. Earth moves. The Moon moves. The Sun moves. Distances breathe, as it were, with their orbits. The fact that 108 is not a flawless constant does not empty this convergence of meaning. It is the round figure under which two different ratios come strikingly close together.

After all: if you weighed every grain of sand on Earth and, go on then, on every planet in the universe one by one, you would discover that no two grains weigh exactly the same. More than that: you would discover that their weights all differ enormously. If, for example, you looked 1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 digits beyond the decimal point, you would start to see the differences. While still being nowhere near even a grain of the infinity into which you could measure, of course.

Historian of Indian science Subhash Kak has proposed that 108 in Vedic cosmology and temple architecture relates to the distances to the Sun and Moon, expressed in their own diameters.[^4] In Vedic astronomical knowledge, the Sun and Moon are each approximately 108 of their own diameters from Earth. That is why they appear almost the same size from here. That is what makes this particular form of eclipse possible.

The Moon’s orbit crosses the Sun’s apparent path at two points: the lunar nodes. Eclipses can occur near these intersections.

The question is not only how people could have measured this back then. It is also why a civilisation would do more than record such a ratio, why it would let it return in prayer, movement and architecture.

A number that keeps turning up

For hundreds of millions of people, 108 is not some esoteric internet factoid. The number appears in malas with 108 beads, in mantras repeated 108 times, in the names of deities, in pilgrimages and temple traditions.

And it doesn’t stop at prayer. The Nāṭyaśāstra describes 108 karaṇas, movements from Indian dance that have also been carved into temple stone.[^5] Historical musical systems count 108 rhythmic cycles.[^6] Around Shiva, we find, among other things, 108 names and lingas bearing 108 smaller lingas.

Someone growing up within such a tradition doesn’t encounter 108 just once in a footnote. The number is counted, sung, danced, walked and touched. You’re practically bombarded with it. It is a form through which paying attention is practised.

Twelve times nine

108 is twelve times nine. Within Indian astrology, that multiplication takes a concrete form: each of the twelve zodiac signs is divided into nine smaller parts, the navāṃśas. Together, they form 108 divisions spanning the entire zodiac.

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Twelve does not, of course, belong to India alone. The New Testament connects the twelve apostles with the twelve tribes of Israel; in Revelation, a city appears with twelve gates and twelve foundations. Different civilisations evidently recognised twelve as a number through which a complete order could be imagined: a year, a people, a heaven or a cosmos.[^7]

Twelve also appears in the building blocks of life. Carbon forms the chemical backbone of all life we know. The nucleus of its most common stable isotope, carbon-12, contains six protons and six neutrons: twelve nuclear particles. That twelve describes the physical composition of the nucleus. People then chose this atom as a standard of measurement: the atomic mass unit is defined as one twelfth of the mass of a single carbon-12 atom. A natural count thus became the reference point through which we express atomic masses.

108 is twelve and nine meeting: a whole and its finer divisions, brought together in a single number.

An angle of 108 degrees

Every interior angle of a regular pentagon is 108 degrees. From that same pentagon comes the pentagram, in which line segments relate to one another through the golden ratio.

The pentagram also contains an isosceles triangle with angles of 36, 36 and 108 degrees. This golden gnomon carries the golden ratio in the relationship between its sides. Divide the figure further and smaller versions of the same golden triangles appear. The form repeats its own proportions.[^8]

Where number becomes form

The pentagon brought us from 108 degrees to the golden ratio. In nature, we encounter both motifs again: fivefold form and order through proportion.

Fivefold form appears in the five petals of a wild rose or apple blossom, and in the star shape of many starfish. The parts arrange themselves around a centre: five directions that together sustain a single form.

The golden ratio appears in plants through a different angle: the golden angle of about 137.5 degrees. It emerges when you divide a full circle according to the golden ratio. In sunflowers, pine cones and other plants, new leaves, scales or florets are often placed at roughly that angle. This produces spiral patterns whose counts are often consecutive Fibonacci numbers.

The proportion we found between the lines of a pentagon reappears here in the ordering of growth.[^9]

People have carried those proportions into buildings, too. Gasunie’s headquarters in Groningen (the most beautiful building I have ever had the pleasure of seeing from the inside) was designed by Alberts and Van Huut as organic architecture, with forms and materials drawn from nature. The golden ratio was used extensively in the design, and the two seventeen-storey wings meet at an angle of exactly 108 degrees, derived from the pentagon.[^10] A proportion that grows in a flower became a space where people can work.

So the relationship between 108, the pentagon and the golden ratio is no fantasy. The maths works, the corresponding forms are alive, and sometimes we build with them ourselves.

The human hand

Closer to home, we also recognise numbers from the Fibonacci sequence. A single human hand has two bones in the thumb, three in each other finger, five digits and eight carpal bones. You encounter the sequence not only in the spirals of a sunflower, but also in the counts of your own hand.

Where proportion becomes audible

Proportion can also be heard. Musical intervals arise from ratios between frequencies, and rhythm from ratios between durations. In the Pythagorean tradition, the octave, fifth and fourth were associated with the simple ratios 2:1, 3:2 and 4:3. Harmony was not merely something pleasant to the ear, but a clue to the order of the cosmos. Within that same tradition, the pentagram, in which the golden ratio repeats itself, served as a sign of recognition and was called ‘Health’.[^11]

Tool made that idea literally audible on Lateralus. In the title track, parts of a bass riff move through 9, 8 and 7 beats, read together as: 987, a number in the Fibonacci sequence. When the band recognised that connection, Maynard James Keenan also had parts of the vocals grow and recede through the sequence in their syllable counts. The best detail is that the music came first. The numerical connection was discovered afterwards.[^12]

The conditions that allow us to exist

The number can point to the actual cosmic proportions within which life arose. Without the specific relationships that actually exist, life as we know it would not exist either.

Our distance from the Sun determines how much energy Earth receives. Earth is, on average, about 149,597,870,700 metres from the Sun. Almost 150 billion metres, and yet, on a clear day, all you have to do is turn your face upwards to feel it on your skin.[^13] An Earth much closer would be warmer; an Earth much farther away would be colder. Climate, atmosphere, oceans and geological feedbacks would shift with it. And the habitable window is not very wide. Far enough beyond the present relationship, human habitability disappears first, and eventually so does the world in which complex terrestrial life could arise.

The Moon also plays an indispensable role. It causes most of our tides, has changed Earth’s rotational history and helps keep the tilt of Earth’s axis relatively stable over long timescales.[^14] Without the Moon, large swings in Earth’s axial tilt would occur, bringing more extreme shifts in climate.

Even a small change in the Moon’s distance makes a real difference. Tidal force increases much more rapidly than ordinary gravity, scaling approximately with the inverse cube of the distance. If the Moon were ten per cent closer, its tidal force would be about 37 per cent greater. More than enough to profoundly change coastlines, tidal zones, currents and the organisms that depend on them. Ten per cent farther away would weaken lunar tides by about a quarter.[^15]

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Various marine animals use moonlight, tides and internal lunar clocks to synchronise reproduction. Corals release their reproductive cells on the same nights; marine worms and fish wait for a particular part of the lunar cycle. The Moon is part of the mechanism through which thousands of individual animals find one another at the same moment.

Before we recorded time in apps and calendars, a clock hung above us that everyone could see. Its waxing and waning showed where you were in the month, while the body itself carried rhythms moving at roughly the same pace.

The Sun emits light. The Moon produces no visible light of its own, but catches sunlight and reflects it back to us. You could therefore call it the memory of the day through the night: the same light, softened and transformed, so that we can look into it without having to turn our eyes away.

God as proportion

108 can stand for the particular way in which everything relates to everything else. The distance to the Sun. The Moon. The speed of rotation. The tilted axis. The tides. The chemistry. The evolutionary history.

As far as our thinking can reach, there could also have been nothing at all. No space, no time, no matter, no creation. Simply nothing. But instead of nothing, there is everything.

That almost sounds like a sentence that says nothing, until we realise how radical it is. We do not exist first, with the world then happening to provide a backdrop. We emerged from that backdrop. The boundary between humanity and the cosmos is more porous than daily life would have us believe. The iron in our blood, the calcium in our bones, the rhythm of light and darkness, the gravity under which our skeletons grew and the Moon that moved the seas: these are not stage props surrounding life. They are woven into the history of what we are.

And inside us, something stranger still takes place. Matter becomes not only alive, but conscious. Consciousness is not a thing we can set on a table beside a rib, a nerve or an atom. It is the place where experience arrives. Where matter and consciousness meet, what emerges is not only life, but also the capacity to experience God. In that sense, God appears both as the relationship from which we arise and as the ungraspable reality that can be perceived within us.

Without these relationships, there might have been something somewhere that we would call life. But not this life. Not these trees, these bodies, these tidal pools, these eyes through which we watch an eclipse.

The anthropic principle rightly says that we can find ourselves only in conditions in which we could have arisen. On an uninhabitable planet, no one would be sitting around marvelling at the distance to the Sun. But that does not make the question of meaning disappear.

One hundred and eight appears in between

By now, 108 has turned out to be more than an approximation in the sky. The number opens up an entire network of relationships:

• In the sky, 108 appears as the approximate ratio between distance and diameter.

• In a regular pentagon, 108 appears exactly as an interior angle.

• In India, 108 appears as a number that is counted, sung, danced, built and touched.

• In the Gasunie building, the golden ratio and an angle of 108 degrees appear deliberately together in architecture.

The astronomical 108 is approximate. The geometrical 108 is exact. The cultural 108 is consciously chosen. These examples bring us to the same fundamental phenomenon:

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The veil of what we take for granted

In the Bhagavad Gita, Maya is often understood as a veil: not because the world does not exist, but because we forget its interconnectedness. These days, that veil can look suspiciously like a screen. We receive thousands of images and spend less and less time considering the fact that we live on a rotating planet orbiting a star.

An eclipse breaks that habit. The familiar light changes, and suddenly we notice that we are part of something we do not control. For a moment, the messages on a phone become smaller than the Sun and Moon.

Perhaps 108 serves the same purpose within a ritual. Repeating a mantra 108 times takes long enough to change not only the words, but also the person speaking them. The beads give attention a body: as soon as the mind wanders, the next bead is already between thumb and finger.

The number does not need to be a secret access code to the universe. It only needs to be a form that keeps us here long enough to see again.

A temporary cosmic window

Even the eclipse ratio will not last.

On average, the Moon moves about 3.8 centimetres away from Earth each year. Once, it was closer and appeared larger in the sky. In about six hundred million years, it will have receded so far that it can no longer completely cover the Sun from anywhere on Earth.[^16]

So we live not only in the right place, but within a particular window of time. An intelligent being on the far-future Earth would see the same Sun and the same Moon, but would never witness one disc disappearing almost exactly into the other.

That temporary covering has itself helped us understand the Sun better. During totality, the corona becomes visible. In 1868, an unknown yellow line was observed in the spectrum of sunlight. The element behind it was given a name that refers to the Sun: helium. Only later was it found on Earth.[^17]

The Moon hid the light and revealed the Sun. A shift between two celestial bodies made visible what had been above us all along.

That is where the meaning of all these relationships lies: they bring something into being. The placement of notes makes a melody. The cooperation of countless processes makes a living body. What we recognise as a single thing exists through an entire interplay.

Proportions are the foundation of creation

That creative capacity is what I mean here by God. The power of design in nature itself: the capacity through which matter takes form, life emerges, and eventually eyes open. Eyes through which creation can admire its own forms. In that light, the ancient reverence for 108 takes on a profound meaning. A ratio becomes a number, a number becomes a ritual, and the ritual keeps wonder alive.

And somewhere within that immense history, there you are.

Your eyes move across these words. Your heart beats. While you read about interconnectedness, an almost inconceivable interplay keeps you alive. Everything that seemed so vast and distant in this article comes together here: in a body that breathes, perceives, thinks and can be moved by a few notes or a changing sky.

That is what makes wonder so extraordinary. The world brings forth beings who can experience how wondrous that world is. Matter acquires eyes. Proportion becomes experience. And on a small planet, someone looks up, sees the Moon move in front of the Sun, and gets goosebumps.

The eclipse arises between the Sun and the Moon.

The wonder arises between the eclipse and you.

You, too, are part of that interplay.

Sometimes the light goes out for a moment, so that we can see again.

Lux et Veritas,

The Mythicus

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Want to explore these ideas further? In The Rebus Method, you’ll find a practical framework for systematically examining your thoughts, emotions and patterns.

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Imagine a birthday party. Music is playing, people are laughing, someone pours another drink. One person looks around the room and sees people who love him. He feels happy. Another sees the same room, hears the same voices, and can think only of the person who did not come. Or of a comment that landed badly.

The room is the same. The reality they experience is not.[^1]

We often say that thoughts are just thoughts. As though they exist somewhere above real life: little clouds drifting through our minds while the actual world simply carries on. But what if that assumption is not entirely true?

What if thoughts do not merely comment on reality, but help determine which reality we enter in the first place? What if an expectation helps determine what you notice, what you dare to do, which opportunities you can and cannot see, how your body responds to a situation, and what meaning an event ultimately acquires?

A thought does not have to be ‘true’ to have real consequences.

Gratitude then becomes something more interesting than a list of three positive things before going to sleep. Perhaps gratitude can be a way of influencing reality. Not by using your thoughts to bend the external world to your will, but by changing how you enter that world.

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Maybe

The ancient Chinese book Huainanzi contains a story about a man known for his calm way of looking at things.[^2]

One day, his horse runs away. In a world where a horse can mean transport, labour, and livelihood, this is no minor inconvenience. His neighbours come to console him. What a loss, they say. What terrible luck.

The man does not reply that it is not so bad. Nor does he say that everything happens for a reason. He asks only: Maybe. How do you know this is bad luck?

Some time later, the horse returns. It does not return alone, but brings another strong horse with it. Now the neighbours are at his door again, this time to congratulate him. What a stroke of luck. What good fortune!

The man asks the same question: Maybe. How do you know this is good fortune?

His son is excited by the new horse. He wants to ride it, falls, and breaks his leg. Once again, the neighbours see an obvious turn of events. First loss, then an unexpected gain, and now this. What terrible luck, they say.

Again, without triumph or reassurance, the father replies: Maybe. How do you know?

Two weeks later, war breaks out. Young, healthy men from the region are called up. Many do not return. The man’s son stays home because he cannot walk. What first appeared to be a disaster now keeps him out of the war.

The neighbours visit once more and say: How fortunate that he does not have to fight in the war! The father replies: Maybe. How do you know?

The story is often told as though it means that every misfortune eventually becomes good fortune. But of course, that is not a conclusion we can draw from it at all. The broken leg truly hurt. The war remains a catastrophe. The people who did not return do not suddenly become a necessary chapter in a beautiful story. Perhaps, a year from now, something will happen that makes the son wish he had gone. Perhaps not.

The power of the story lies elsewhere. The man is not indifferent, nor is he predicting the future. He simply refuses to turn an event immediately into a final judgement on his life. He does not say that the neighbours are wrong. He only says that they are rather quick to draw conclusions.

What You Think Is Real

There is a well-documented study by the Italian nocebo researcher Fabrizio Benedetti.[^3] Before a journey to an altitude of 3,500 metres, one participant was given information about the possibility of ‘high-altitude headache’. That message was then passed on to 35 others. A control group of 38 people did not receive the warning.

On the mountain, 31 of the 36 people in the warned group reported headaches, compared with 20 of the 38 people in the control group. Their headaches were also more severe. Greater increases in prostaglandins and thromboxane (substances involved in the pain response) were measured in the saliva of the warned group. Only that group also showed an increase in the stress hormone cortisol.

It reveals something fascinating. The words did not make the mountain any higher. They did not create the low-oxygen environment. Nor did they make the real physical strain imaginary. The expectation intensified what happened on that mountain, both in the experience of pain and in a measurable physiological process.

The underlying phenomenon is called the nocebo effect: a negative expectation or treatment context can trigger or intensify symptoms. A later meta-analysis of 130 studies found such effects across a range of physical outcomes, although their strength varied considerably depending on the symptom and the way in which the expectation was induced.[^4]

That distinction matters. A thought does not have to create matter out of nothing to influence reality. It only has to interact with what is already there.

What does this tell us about the power of our thoughts and expectations? Does it work the other way around as well? Could it be that if I can feel a form of gratitude for experience itself, even when that experience is not entirely pleasant, this can have a positive and measurable influence on my life?

From this, you could argue that the power of gratitude lies in recognising that attention, expectation, and meaning help determine which possibilities open up to you within this world.

It can be liberating not to treat a thought as an immediate verdict. It is a first impression. An automatic response. A first reading. A possible story.

Maybe.

That single word expands the realm of possibility.

Hell and Heaven in the Same Situation

Perhaps you recognise this: you wake up and do not feel well. Your body is tired. Your mind is full. Something is scheduled that you are dreading. On mornings like these, it can feel as though everything is conspiring against you. The weather is grey. Someone responds curtly. Your coffee has gone cold. A bill arrives. Everything seems to provide evidence for the same conclusion: this is a bad day.

But imagine waking up on that exact same morning with a different point of departure. Not: why does all of this have to happen to me? But: I am still here. I have a body capable of feeling tired, which also means it carried something yesterday. There is coffee. There is water from the tap. Apparently, there is still a day in which I can do, say, make, or change something.

The rain remains rain. The bill does not disappear. The person who was curt does not suddenly become warm and loving. And yet, you are no longer living in exactly the same reality.

Your attention is constantly making selections. You cannot see everything at once. When your attention is completely consumed by lack, danger, rejection, or disappointment, it becomes almost impossible to notice what is also there: the friend who did call last week, the fact that music exists, the fact that your legs can carry you outside, the possibility of sending someone a message, the sun that continues to illuminate the entire world even behind a dense layer of cloud.

Gratitude does not say that the bad does not exist. Gratitude says something more like this (perhaps a little ‘corny’, but no less true for it): maybe the glass actually is half full.

That is different.

Perhaps gratitude is therefore not primarily an emotion. Perhaps it is the direction in which you look. A tendency towards the positive, as it were. A choice for optimism.

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The World as a Mirror of Your Inner State

When you see the world as a hostile place, you walk differently. You speak differently. You look at people differently. You are quicker to be on your guard, quicker to interpret a remark as an attack, quicker to withdraw before anyone has the chance to reject you.

And then something interesting happens. People often sense that reserve and become more cautious as a result. Less open. The world then appears to confirm what you already believed: see, people are distant. Your expectation influences your attitude. Your attitude influences the other person. Their response then becomes evidence for your original expectation.

I think, for instance, that you are more likely to stub your toe on a day when you are already in a terrible mood than on a day when you feel good. You move more hurriedly, you feel the opposite of relaxed, and every inconvenience fits seamlessly into the story that the day was already against you. When we are angry, we often say or do things we later regret. When we have inner peace, this rarely happens.

The mirror cannot judge you. You judge what you see in the mirror. Let the world be your mirror. Perhaps you do not need to judge less, but to judge differently.

When you assume that there is nothing for you, that you are always lacking something, or that the world owes you something, you mainly see whatever fails to meet that expectation. When, on the other hand, you look for what is already there. Not as an exercise in self-deception, but as a genuine intention. You become more likely to recognise and create connections, to see and seize opportunities, and, for example, to dare to give something back to another person.

Can someone with few possessions, but with the ability to notice beauty, help, time, friendship, and life itself, experience a richer life than someone who possesses a great deal but can see only what is missing?

More, more, more, more, more?

Gratitude for Experience Itself

This is where things may become a little stranger.

We are grateful when something goes well. That makes sense. Someone helps you, you are given an opportunity, your body feels healthy, you fall in love, or you hear a song that says exactly what you yourself had not yet been able to put into words.

But can we also be grateful for the fact that we are capable of experiencing anything at all? If you were given the choice, would you want to numb human sensitivity so completely that you could no longer feel pain, if doing so also made love, the capacity to be moved, and connection unreachable?

Perhaps not.

Perhaps this is also what non-duality points towards, in a certain sense: that we often try to remove parts of life that are inherently bound up with it. Sadness is not allowed to exist. Fear is not allowed to exist. Uncertainty is not allowed to exist. The inevitable end is not allowed to exist.

But they do.

Resistance to injustice can be necessary. But resisting the mere fact that an emotion exists in this moment can add a second layer on top of it: fear of fear, shame about shame, anger because the anger is still there. Perhaps space emerges only when we no longer demand that experience be different before we are willing to live. Resistance prevents emotions from having the space to ‘dissolve’. Embrace and receive; holding on holds you back.

Gratitude can mean: this, too, is part of life, and that is okay.

Past, Present, and Future

Thoughts, emotions, and actions form a triangle of influence. What you think affects how you feel and act. What you do can change your mood and self-image. And how you feel helps determine which thoughts sound believable.

Deciding to eat better, exercise more, or finally have that one conversation does not guarantee that you will immediately feel better. But an action can bring movement into a system that appears to be stuck. A different emotional state can then make different thoughts accessible. And those thoughts can, in turn, lead to different choices.

Harmony between thoughts, emotions, and actions arises from:

1. Acceptance of the past.

2. Gratitude for the present.

3. Trust in the future.

A Reference to The Rebus Method

When you look at the symbol above, you direct your attention towards your Thoughts and Actions. Thoughts always move through time:

1. The winding line at the top represents the Future: expectations, hope, worries, or trust.

2. The straight line in the middle represents the Present: the only moment in which you can take action.

3. The segmented line at the bottom represents the Past: memories, reflection, regret, or acceptance.

4. The > symbol on the right represents Actions: the choices you make based on your emotions and Thoughts.

Want to know more? Read more about The Rebus Method here

1. Accepting the past

As long as you do not let go, you cannot accept the past. As long as you do not accept the past, you can never be content with where you are in this moment. If you cannot feel gratitude for the present, you cannot have trust in the future either.

As long as you continue to negotiate with the fact that something happened, the present becomes a kind of courtroom in which the past is put on trial again every day. The question is not whether you can somehow call the past good after all. The question is what relationship you want to have with it today.

2. Being grateful for the present

The present is the only reality that actually exists. As long as you are not grateful for the now, you are living either in memories or in worries. Gratitude brings you into harmony with the moment and gives you peace, because you lack nothing and need not force anything.[^5]

3. Trusting the future

The ability to feel gratitude at any moment gives you trust in the future. You know that, whatever happens, in a future present you will still have the capacity to be grateful for that moment and everything it contains. That is where trust lies. And trust removes every limitation.

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Revising the Verdict

“Maybe” breaks the verdict open. Gratitude determines what happens next with the space it creates. Gratitude is not the pleasant feeling that arises when life finally meets your expectations. When gratitude depends on a desired outcome, you can be grateful only for as long as you get what you wanted. That is not gratitude. That is conditional satisfaction. And by doing so, you give the external world complete authority over your inner state.

True gratitude is inner independence. Not the denial of pain, loss, or injustice, but the refusal to let what happens to you determine the meaning of your existence as well. That is why gratitude is the key. Gratitude makes acceptance of the past possible, because what happened no longer defines the present in its entirety. Gratitude places you in the present, because you stop waiting for reality to finally meet your conditions. And gratitude gives you trust in the future, because your inner peace is no longer entirely dependent on a particular outcome.

Every future eventually becomes a new present. There, too, you once again possess the ability to look, to choose, and to relate to life. You do not need to control the future when the future no longer determines your inner freedom. The Christian image of Jesus on the cross takes that idea to its furthest extreme: his body is at the mercy of the external world, but his inner focus remains fixed on God. That is the peace many are searching for: not a life in which nothing can touch us, but an inner state that is not entirely governed by our autopilot response to what happens to us in the external world. The external world can touch you, wound you, and take a great deal from you. Gratitude does not deny that. Gratitude merely deprives the external world of the power to determine your inner peace entirely.

And that begins with the most undeniable fact of this moment: you are breathing. Gratitude for your breath rests not on a belief, but on a fact. Without that breath, no thought, memory, fear, love, or any other experience is possible.

That is the power of gratitude.

Lux et Veritas,

The Mythicus

🔮 Continue the exploration

If this article resonated with you, you may enjoy exploring these ideas further through The Rebus Method: a symbolic framework for observing experience, recognizing patterns, and deepening philosophical inquiry.

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Chakras. You have probably heard of them before. But what are they, exactly? Are they simply a vague spiritual concept, or is there more to them? Why do chakras play such an important role in certain Indian yogic and tantric traditions? And can it be useful to know something about them?

Those were some of the questions I once had about chakras. When you start looking for information, you quickly find an enormous body of material. Thousands of books have been written on the subject, each approaching it from a different angle. Many articles are incomplete as well.

That is why I have brought together the key information within this approach in one, hopefully understandable, account. It is still a fairly extensive article, there is no real way around that, but I think it can be valuable to know something about the subject. At the very least, you now have one place where you can find a concrete explanation of what chakras are and what they may offer you.

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What are chakras?

Chakras originate in several Indian religious and spiritual traditions. Their number, location and meaning vary from one tradition to another. In this article, we use the now-familiar model of seven chakras as a symbolic map for themes such as safety, connection, self-expression, insight and meaning. The psychological interpretation below is a modern reading, not one fixed original system.

You do not have to regard chakras as literal entities in order to find this model useful. As an inner map, they can help you recognise patterns: where do you feel tension, where do you make yourself smaller, and where is connection or direction lacking? They give language to experiences that can be difficult to place, and can offer an entry point for self-inquiry, meditation and personal development.

Let us first look at the places in or around the body that the seven chakras are symbolically associated with in this approach.

Take a moment to look through the chart below. What do you notice in yourself? Which theme currently seems to have too little room, or to demand a great deal of attention?

In this article, we use the chakras as a spiritual and philosophical map of human experience. They are not a medical diagnosis or a fixed truth about the body, but a language for exploring what is alive in you: safety, desire, will, love, expression, insight and surrender.

Each chakra is described using the same structure, presented visually to keep the information as clear as possible. After all seven chakras, you will find a final summary visual.

• Location - the symbolic place in or around the body.

• Element - the quality associated with the chakra.

• Right- what you may allow yourself.

• Focus - what the chakra draws your attention to.

• Development - what you can practise in this area.

• Sensory gateway - a practical way to experience the quality.

• What opens / obstructs - attitudes that make more room for the energy, or narrow it.

• In balance / out of balance - points of recognition, not a diagnosis.

• Practice - a small, concrete invitation.

1. Muladhara - Root chakra

Muladhara forms the foundation of this map and concerns safety, the right to exist and contact with your body. The central question is simple: do I feel that I am allowed to be here? When that foundation feels unstable, fear can take up a great deal of space. You may then look for safety mainly outside yourself: in control, possessions, approval or the opinions of others.

Grounding does not mean that you are never afraid. It means that fear does not have to determine everything. It helps to look concretely at what you need: rest, food, movement, clear boundaries, or someone with whom you feel safe. These are not minor things; they are ways of reconnecting with yourself.

Your body is not an obstacle, but the place from which you live. As you learn to listen more closely to physical signals, it becomes easier to make your sense of safety less dependent on the outside world. Standing barefoot on the ground can be a simple beginning, but above all: discover what you need in order to feel present and supported.

Fear may be present, but it does not have to determine how you live.

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2. Swadhisthana - Water chakra

Swadhisthana concerns feeling, pleasure and vitality. It relates to your body, emotions, desire and the room to enjoy life. The question is: can I feel what is moving within me without immediately suppressing or judging it?

This also involves balance: between enjoyment and boundaries, rest and movement, letting go and taking good care of yourself. When that balance is absent, you may feel empty, restless or constantly in search of stimulation.

Guilt often keeps you tied to the past. Self-forgiveness does not mean pretending that nothing happened. It means looking honestly at what you blame yourself for, learning from it, and not punishing yourself endlessly. When you take emotions and desires seriously without being completely swept away by them, there is more room for pleasure, creativity and trust.

Enjoyment begins where you stop punishing yourself for what you feel.

3. Manipura - Fire chakra

Manipura concerns giving direction to your life. What you feel inside; your wishes, ideas and desires, takes shape here in choices and action. The question is: do I dare to choose and take responsibility for what I want?

Personal strength does not mean that you must always be certain, have everything under control or never make mistakes. It is the willingness to act, even when something still feels exciting or uncertain. Shame can get in the way. If you reject parts of yourself, it becomes harder to move freely and make choices.

Your identity is not fixed. You change through experiences, relationships and the choices you make. Manipura invites you not to remain stuck in who you used to be, or thought you had to be, but to explore who you want to be now. Giving this side of yourself too little room can leave you feeling powerless or indecisive; too much emphasis can turn into dominance or control.

Strength does not begin with certainty, but with a choice you dare to make.

4. Anahata - Air chakra

Anahata concerns love, connection and self-acceptance. The question is: can I open myself without losing myself? Love is not only about what you feel for others, but also about how you treat yourself when you are sad, vulnerable or uncertain.

Grief can cause you to close yourself off. Yet grief does not first have to disappear before connection can have room again. It helps to take loss and hurt seriously rather than suppressing them. Compassion often begins by acknowledging that something hurts.

An open heart also means that receiving is as important as giving. If you are always caring for others, you may forget yourself. If you only wait for love from outside yourself, you may become dependent on it. Balance develops when you can be close to others while also taking your own boundaries, needs and care seriously.

Love does not ask you to forget yourself.

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5. Vishuddha - Throat chakra

Vishuddha concerns speaking, listening and expressing yourself honestly. This chakra connects your inner world to the outer world: what do you feel, what do you think, and how do you put it into words? The question is: do I dare to make clear what is really going on within me?

Honest communication does not mean that every thought has to be spoken immediately. It means learning to name what you feel, need and find important without making yourself smaller, but also without overwhelming someone else. Listening is just as important as speaking.

Sometimes you hold things back because you fear conflict, rejection or being seen. At other times, you say a great deal without truly making contact. Vishuddha invites you to explore both sides. The more closely your words match what you actually feel, the clearer and calmer communication can become.

Speaking honestly begins with listening to what is really alive within you.

6. Ajna - Brow chakra

Ajna, also called the third eye, concerns insight, self-reflection and imagination. The question is: can I look beyond my first interpretation? We never see the world entirely neutrally. Memories, expectations and fears shape how we understand situations.

Insight does not mean having all the answers. It means being willing to notice patterns, examine assumptions and make room for another explanation. Sometimes a story you tell about yourself or someone else turns out to be less fixed than you thought.

Imagination can help with this. Not to escape reality, but to see possibilities that do not yet exist. When you understand recurring patterns more clearly, you can choose your direction more consciously. Without that insight, you may remain caught in confusion, assumptions or catastrophic thinking.

Insight emerges when you make room for another perspective.

7. Sahasrara - Crown chakra

Sahasrara concerns self-knowledge, meaning and connection. The question is: can I connect with something larger than my immediate concerns without escaping reality? This is not about abandoning earthly life, but about not having to hold on to everything so tightly.

Here, surrender does not mean becoming passive. It means recognising that not everything can be made or controlled, and that control has limits. Meditation or silence can help you practise this: being present with what is, without immediately needing to solve or judge it.

When you remain open to new insights, other people and experiences you do not fully understand, there can be more room for understanding. This does not undo pain or loss, but it can help you place events in a wider context without losing yourself in grand ideas or abstractions.

Not everything has to be solved in order to live with it.

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AUM, sound and mantra

Now that we have covered all the chakras, I would like to end with something interesting about AUM, which is also part of the The Rebus Method. You may recognise the symbol.

AUM has an important place within several Hindu and yogic traditions, but it is not linked to chakras in the same way in every tradition. It is not an extra chakra, nor is it “the solution” to every chakra. In Hindu and yogic traditions, it is a sacred sound -often written as OM - used in meditation and concentration. Repeating or chanting it can be a simple way to slow the breath and gather the attention.

The connection with chakras lies mainly in sound and mantra. In many modern yogic traditions, each chakra is associated with a *bija mantra*: a short sound that can serve as a point of attention during meditation.

• Muladhara: LAM

• Swadhisthana: VAM

• Manipura: RAM

• Anahata: YAM

• Vishuddha: HAM

• Ajna: OM or AUM

• Sahasrara: often silence, sometimes OM

The exact arrangement varies by tradition. You do not have to treat these sounds as a fixed system that must be performed correctly. You can use them as a practical exercise: say or sing a sound slowly, pay attention to your breath, and notice what changes in your attention.

For that reason, AUM does not simply belong to one chakra. Within the approach of this article, it is better understood as an overarching mantra. In some contemporary systems, OM/AUM is associated with Ajna; with Sahasrara, the silence after the sound is sometimes emphasised.

In closing

As you read at the beginning of this article, there is an enormous amount of information about chakras. Different traditions place different emphases, use different terms and approach the subject from different perspectives. Hopefully, this article has given you a clear overview of what the seven chakras can mean within this particular approach.

You do not have to see chakras as literal places or energy centres in order to find this map useful. Their value lies mainly in the questions they raise. Do I feel safe? Do I make room for what I feel? Do I dare to choose, love, speak and look at myself honestly?

You do not have to memorise or perform the mantras perfectly either. Think of them as an additional entry point: a sound, a calm breath and a moment of attention. Sometimes that can help you spend less time in your head and notice more clearly what is happening within you in that moment.

Perhaps you would like to carry one of these central questions with you:

- Do I feel that I am allowed to be here?
- Can I feel what is moving within me without immediately suppressing or judging it?- Do I dare to choose and take responsibility for what I want?
- Can I open myself without losing myself?
- Do I dare to make clear what is really going on within me?
- Can I look beyond my first interpretation?
- Can I connect with something larger than my immediate concerns without escaping reality?

You do not have to answer all of these questions at once. Choose one that touches something in you today. Take it with you on a walk, write a few lines about it, or simply pause with it for a moment. Self-inquiry does not begin with the perfect answer, but with the willingness to look honestly.

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Why is this useful?

By writing down what we do know for certain (or as close to certain as possible), we reduce the field of chaos. These observations serve as a kind of framework within which other conversations, questions, and ideas can take place.

The goal is for this article to continue evolving over the years. Whenever new observations, insights, or arguments prove to be sufficiently logical and fundamental to the human experience, they can be added to this list.

If you believe there is something that can be established with certainty, I’d love to hear from you at x.com/themythicus. If your contribution is added to the article, I’ll gladly credit you by name (unless you’d prefer to remain anonymous), allowing your contribution to become part of this growing body of thought.

What We Know for Sure

1. We know for sure that the Sun is hot.

2. We know for sure that, ten years before your birth, you would come into existence ten years later.

3. We know for sure that the possibility of your existence already belonged to what we might call the field of potential.

4. According to modern science, the universe is approximately 13.8 billion years old. We also know that the possibility of your existence must already have been part of that field of potential. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be reading this now.

5. We know for sure that you are proof that your existence is possible.

6. We know for sure that masculinity and femininity exist.

7. We know that when they come together, new life can emerge. New bodies. And with them, the possibility of experience.

8. We know that, in most cases, human life begins through sexual intercourse (with exceptions such as IVF).

9. In that sense, we could also say that life is, in most cases, another phase of an orgasm.

10. From this, we cannot conclude that life has one fixed, universal purpose shared by everyone. But we can observe a recurring dynamic: the dynamic between Adam and Eve - between masculinity and femininity.

11. Finally, there is one thing you can say with absolute certainty: you exist. You are having an experience right now. What you cannot know with the same certainty is whether the people and world around you actually exist. That cannot be measured. In a dream, you may also believe that the world and everyone in it are real, only to wake up and realize that it was all a dream, and that only you had an actual conscious experience. If you find this question interesting, you may want to explore the philosophical concept of solipsism.

    

From Here, Philosophy Begins

From this point onward, we leave the realm of certainty and enter the realm of philosophy. One question naturally follows: What is life? Could life itself be nothing more than the meeting of consciousness and matter? Matter without consciousness is simply matter - a rock, for example. But what about a plant? Does it possess consciousness? Or can life exist without it? And if consciousness exists at all, how could we ever hope to measure it?

Many aspects of reality appear to exist in complementary opposites: life and death, light and darkness, day and night, positive and negative. They seem to define one another. Perhaps consciousness and matter belong to that same category. If matter represents everything, could consciousness represent nothing? Not “nothing” in the sense of nonexistence, but in the sense that it cannot be pointed to. It has no location, no shape, no measurable properties - only the capacity to be aware. Could consciousness simply be that in which experience appears? That in which experience is witnessed? That in which experience ultimately dissolves? Wouldn’t that explain why consciousness itself has remained so elusive? Every attempt to observe it seems to reveal only the attributes of consciousness, never consciousness itself.

Let’s explore that possibility a little further. If matter is the domain in which emotion exists - where experience is generated, or perhaps more accurately, where experience is - could consciousness itself exist entirely without emotion? Could consciousness simply be awareness itself? Pure observation. Without judgment. Without preference. Without resistance. Nothing but attention itself. The witness. Interestingly, this closely resembles the way consciousness has been described throughout many spiritual traditions. In Hindu philosophy, for example, one finds the distinction between Purusha (pure awareness) and Prakriti (the material world).

Could consciousness therefore be described as Stillness Itself? Perfect equilibrium. The zero point. Completely undisturbed. Matter, by contrast, appears to be perpetual movement. Everything in the material universe is constantly changing. Molecules never stop moving. Energy never stops transforming. The exact configuration of any object exists only once before it is gone forever. In that sense, matter is continuously dying while simultaneously being reborn. Could matter therefore be understood as eternal change?

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Beauty, too, seems to belong to the material world. One might object by pointing to music. But music exists through vibrating air, and air is matter. Even the appreciation of beauty takes place through a physical brain, a physical nervous system, and physical senses. Perhaps beauty, too, ultimately belongs to matter.

Can we say that the quality of being desired is more characteristic of the average woman than of the average man (consider the role of estrogen, physical beauty, the beauty industry, and the receptive nature of the egg cell)? Can we say that the quality of desiring is more characteristic of the average man than of the average woman (consider the role of testosterone and the active movement of the sperm cell toward the egg)?

This dynamic also seems to be reflected in the fundamental questions many men and women unconsciously carry within themselves. The average man (whose masculine pole is often more dominant) frequently struggles with questions such as: “Am I enough? Do I matter? Can I make an impact, provide direction, and protect what is important to me?” The average woman (whose feminine pole is often more dominant) often carries a different set of questions: “Am I loved and safe? Am I truly seen, appreciated, and free to be completely myself?”

These are not absolute rules, but archetypal tendencies. Every individual carries both energies within them. True fulfillment often arises when both aspects (the anima and the animus) come into balance, both within ourselves and in our relationship with others.

When we take a closer look at the process of reproduction, it becomes even more interesting. Throughout his lifetime, a man produces hundreds of millions of new sperm cells every day (approximately 1,500 to 3,500 per second, 90,000 to 210,000 per minute, and 5.4 to 12.6 million per hour). A woman, by contrast, is born with all the egg cells she will ever have.

The sperm moves. Wants something.

The egg waits. Is desired. Wants to be desired.

The sperm searches.

The egg selects.

The sperm represents an enormous amount of potential. The egg ultimately determines which potential manifests itself as life.

Millions of possibilities (approximately 100 to 300 million sperm cells per ejaculation) move toward a single possibility of manifestation. In the end, only one succeeds. And that one possibility is now reading this text.

Can we therefore say that masculinity symbolizes consciousness, while femininity symbolizes matter?

It is an interesting question. From this perspective, one could argue that the material world is fundamentally feminine - including the male body itself. If we look at reproduction in a fairly literal way, we could say that the masculine contribution, the seed, provides the element of consciousness, while the woman builds a body - matter - around it.

Could this have been where masculinity and femininity were to be found 13.8 billion years ago, before anything had ever manifested as life? When everything still existed only as potential in the ether? Femininity as matter, and masculinity as “the nothing”. That into which the universe expands. Could it look something like this?

Be that as it may, creation itself is more directly connected to women than it is to men. This is because the possibility of experiencing creation is made possible through the body, and every human body is created and brought into the world by a woman.

From that perspective, one could argue that, for as long as we exist in manifested form, men are ‘visitors’ in Eve’s dimension.

Adam & Eve, Clothing & Conclusion

Remarkably, a woman has two X chromosomes (XX), while a man has one X and one Y chromosome (XY). Could it be that, on a symbolic level, the story of Adam and Eve is not so much about disobedience, but about the meeting of the masculine and feminine principles?

One could, for example, interpret it this way: Eve (X/Matter) first takes a bite of the apple (X), after which nothing fundamentally changes (Matter + Matter = Matter). Only when Adam (Y/Consciousness) follows does something entirely new emerge. It is as if the masculine principle (Y) unites with the feminine principle (X), giving rise to the world of experience, mortality, reproduction, and manifestation as we know it today (Matter + Consciousness > merged > create > Life & Death).

Of course, this is not a scientific or historical claim. It is merely a thought. A symbolic interpretation. Nevertheless, it is a remarkable one, considering that virtually everything in our existence seems to arise from the meeting of masculinity and femininity.

It is also interesting to observe the same dynamic reflected in clothing. Traditional men’s clothing often moves toward uniformity: the suit, the uniform, the toga. It is as though the masculine principle moves toward oneness. Women’s clothing, by contrast, generally allows for far greater variation in color, shape, texture, and diversity. Could this be another reflection of the same underlying dynamic that appears throughout reality? Consciousness as the One. Matter as the Many.

Perhaps the overarching purpose for each of us is simply to love one another. To hold on to Adam or Eve. Because, for as long as consciousness and matter remain unmanifested, such a possibility does not exist.

Have you ever felt closer to ‘the truth’ than during the moment you looked into the eyes of the person (Adam or Eve) you love?

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If this article resonated with you, you may enjoy exploring these ideas further through The Rebus Method: a symbolic framework for observing experience, recognizing patterns, and deepening philosophical inquiry.

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Memento Mori is a Latin phrase meaning remember that you must die. Far from being a pessimistic idea, it is an invitation to live more fully. To remember death is to remember that time is limited, and that every moment carries value precisely because it cannot be repeated.

Your body has been sacrificed to your life.

The Symbol: The Scarab & The Sun

The symbol of Memento Mori is rooted in two ancient archetypes: the scarab and the Sun.

In Ancient Egypt, the scarab beetle was regarded as sacred because it appeared to emerge from death itself. The beetle lays its eggs inside animal dung, which the Egyptians associated with death and decay. Watching new life emerge from what appeared lifeless, they came to see the scarab as a symbol of rebirth, renewal, and the eternal cycle of existence.

For this reason, the scarab became one of the most enduring symbols throughout Egyptian art and hieroglyphics.

The Sun & The Eye of Awareness

The second element is the Sun.

Like the Sun, everything rises.

And everything sets.

Every sunrise is a beginning.

Every sunset is a reminder that one day there will be a final evening.

At the center of the symbol rests an eye. It represents awareness. Memento Mori is not primarily about death. It is about becoming fully conscious of life.

Many people live as though there will always be another opportunity. Another year. Another conversation. Another beginning.

Memento Mori quietly reminds us that nothing guarantees tomorrow.

When this is truly understood, priorities begin to change.

Small worries lose their weight.

Meaning becomes easier to recognize.

Presence becomes more valuable than postponement.

The Sun and the Moon

Memento Mori and Amor Fati complete one another. The Sun represents certainty: death is unavoidable. The Moon represents acceptance: life unfolds according to rhythms beyond our control. One reminds us that life ends, while the other teaches us to love everything that comes before that ending.

Together, they reveal a simple truth.

Life is finite.

Everything within it belongs.

Living Memento Mori

Memento Mori is less about thinking of death than about remembering life.

Instead of asking whether there will be enough time someday, it asks whether this moment already deserves your full attention.

What truly matters if time is limited?

What deserves your energy?

What no longer does?

When death is remembered, life often becomes remarkably clear.

Closing Reflection

One day, every name will be forgotten.

Every achievement.

Every possession.

Every reputation.

Perhaps that realization is not something to fear.

Perhaps it is freedom.

If nothing external lasts forever, then the only rejection worth overcoming is the rejection of yourself.

Your body has been sacrificed to your life.

Remember that you will die.

And for that very reason,

live.

Amor Fati is a Latin phrase meaning love of fate. More than accepting everything life brings, it invites us to embrace it completely. Not because every experience is pleasant, but because every experience belongs.

The question is not whether life unfolds according to our preferences.

The question is whether we can meet reality without resistance.

The Symbol: The Tree & The Moon

The symbol of Amor Fati combines two timeless archetypes: the tree and the moon.

The tree represents the countless paths life may take. Every branch extends in a different direction, yet each remains connected to the same roots. What appears random often belongs to a deeper order that cannot be seen all at once.

Above the tree rests the moon, a symbol of timing, rhythm, and fate. The moon follows an unchanging cycle, yet its appearance depends entirely upon perspective. It is never early. Never late. It always appears exactly as it must.

Perhaps life unfolds in the same way.

What seems like an obstacle today may become tomorrow’s greatest gift. What feels painful now may later reveal itself as the very experience that shaped us.

Amor Fati replaces the question,

“Why is this happening to me?”

with another:

“This belongs to my path.”

The Sun and the Moon

Amor Fati and Memento Mori are complementary ideas.

One reminds us that life ends.

The other reminds us to love everything that comes before that ending.

The Sun symbolizes certainty. Like death itself, it follows a path that cannot be escaped.

The Moon symbolizes acceptance. It reflects the quiet understanding that life unfolds according to rhythms larger than ourselves.

Together they reveal a simple truth.

Life is finite.

Everything that happens within it belongs to it.

Living Amor Fati

Amor Fati does not require passivity. Nor does it suggest that nothing should ever change. It simply invites us to stop resisting what already exists.

Every experience carries something with it. Every setback contains information. Every loss reshapes us, often in ways we only recognize much later.

Instead of asking, “Why did this happen?”, we might ask, “What becomes possible because it happened?”

The question changes.

So does the experience.

Closing Reflection

Perhaps fate is not something standing in our way. Perhaps it is the path itself.

To love one’s fate is not to celebrate suffering. It is to recognize that nothing stands outside the whole. Every joy belongs. Every loss belongs. Every beginning. Every ending.

Everything belongs.

That is Amor Fati.

The good news is that you are not condemned to remain a prisoner of your own mind.

This framework offers a practical way to regain clarity and cultivate a more stable inner world.

Step 1 - Recognize the Source

“Perception creates reality.”

If you could consciously choose how you felt, would you choose inner chaos?

Most of the time, we do not consciously respond to events. We react automatically. Inner turmoil rarely originates from external circumstances themselves, but from the meaning we assign to them. The moment you recognize this, power begins to shift from the outside world back to yourself.

Step 2 - Stop Blaming the World

“The world reflects your inner condition.”

As long as your peace depends upon external circumstances, you surrender your freedom to them. Lasting stability begins by taking responsibility for your internal response rather than trying to control everything outside yourself.

Ask yourself:

Which interpretation of this situation would make me feel most mature, most peaceful, and most aligned?

Step 3 - Let Emotion Become Information

“Every emotion points toward your potential.”

Your past does not have to determine your future unless you allow it to.

Rather than resisting uncomfortable emotions, allow them to reveal where growth is possible. The emotion itself is not your enemy. It is information.

Ask yourself:

Which perspective feels most true, rather than merely most comfortable?

Step 4 - Find the Opposite

“Every perspective has its opposite.”

Positive and negative are not separate realities. They are different interpretations of the same event.

Whenever you experience an emotion you dislike, deliberately search for the opposite perspective. You may discover that both are available simultaneously.

Likewise, when something feels entirely positive, practice finding its hidden limitation. Training both directions develops psychological flexibility.

Step 5 - Build an Inner Foundation

“Inner peace is the highest form of wealth.”

Peace is not something you find.

It is something you cultivate.

The more confidence you develop in your ability to consciously choose your response, the less your circumstances determine your experience. External stability is temporary.

Inner stability is portable.

Step 6 - Invest in Peace

“Negative emotions lose their power when transformed.”

Imagine an invisible account into which every meaningful act of gratitude, courage, forgiveness, discipline, or kindness is deposited.

Each investment strengthens your ability to meet future adversity without becoming consumed by it. Inner resilience is accumulated over time through repeated choices.

Step 7 - Gratitude

“Thank your suffering.”

Gratitude transforms resistance into acceptance.

Much of our suffering begins the moment we believe reality owes us something different. Gratitude interrupts that belief. It reminds us that every experience, even painful ones, contains the possibility of wisdom.

When resistance disappears, peace naturally follows.

Closing Reflection

We naturally strive toward perfection. Yet perfection appears to be impossible within the human condition. Its value lies not in being attainable, but in providing direction.

Acceptance provides what perfection never can:

Peace.

Do not use this framework to become perfect.

Use it to become more aligned with yourself.

Inner peace is not a destination.

It is the natural consequence of seeing reality clearly.

In a world filled with distraction and constant mental noise, there remains one tool that is always available.

Your breath.

The average person breathes around 20,000 times each day. Most of these breaths happen unconsciously, guided by the autonomic nervous system. But what if you consciously observed just 108 of them?

What if a small fraction of your breathing became an opportunity to cultivate clarity, gratitude, and inner stability?

This is the foundation of the 36912108 Method.

Why Breathing Matters

Breathing is unique among the body’s processes. It functions automatically, yet it can also be consciously directed. This makes it one of the few direct connections between body and mind.

A calm breath slows the heart.

A slow heart quiets the nervous system.

A quieter nervous system allows clearer perception.

Scientific research consistently shows that slow, controlled breathing activates the parasympathetic nervous system, reducing physiological stress while improving emotional regulation and concentration. By simply observing the breath, attention gradually shifts away from distraction and toward presence.

The breath is always available.

It asks for nothing.

Why 108?

For thousands of years, the number 108 has appeared throughout mathematics, astronomy, and spiritual traditions. The distance between the Earth and the Sun is approximately 108 times the Sun’s diameter, while the distance between the Earth and the Moon is approximately 108 times the Moon’s diameter. In geometry, 108 degrees forms one of the defining angles of the pentagon, a shape long associated with proportion and natural harmony.

Across Hindu and Buddhist traditions, malas contain 108 beads. Ancient Vedic literature speaks of 108 sacred texts, while Japanese temples ring their bells 108 times at the end of each year as a symbol of letting go.

Whether viewed scientifically, symbolically, or historically, the number has long represented harmony, completion, and balance. Within the 36912108 Method, 108 simply becomes a practical destination: only 108 conscious breaths, roughly half of one percent of your daily breathing.

The Practice

The method is intentionally simple. Begin by breathing naturally. There is no need to force a particular rhythm. Simply become aware of each complete breath: inhale, exhale, count one. Continue counting until you reach 108.

Throughout the practice, gently cultivate gratitude for the simple fact that you are breathing. If your attention wanders, notice it without judgment and continue from the number where you left off. The goal is not perfect concentration. The goal is awareness.

Why It Works

The method does not ask you to suppress thought.

Each conscious breath becomes a return to the present moment. Over time, this develops greater clarity, emotional stability, and confidence in your ability to remain present regardless of circumstance.

Like any practice, its effects emerge through consistency rather than intensity.

A few minutes each day are enough.

Closing Reflection

The breath accompanies every moment of life.

Long before we learned to think, we learned to breathe.

Perhaps that is why the breath remains one of the simplest paths back to ourselves.

One hundred and eight breaths.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

What follows is not an attempt to arrive at a definitive answer, but an exploration.

Ideas can be examined without requiring certainty. Sometimes the value lies not in reaching a conclusion, but in expanding the way we think.

Whatever conclusion we arrive at, the perspective gained remains with us.

The Limits of Choice

Free will suggests that we are completely autonomous in the choices we make.

But how free are we, really?

Every human being is born with a particular capacity. Some concepts are naturally accessible, while others remain beyond comprehension. Consider advanced mathematics. Not everyone can understand the equations that describe quantum mechanics, regardless of effort. This is not simply a matter of determination. Capacity itself differs from person to person.

The same appears to be true beyond intellect.

Not everyone has the potential to become the strongest person alive.

Not everyone experiences the same emotions under the same circumstances.

Every life unfolds within its own range of possibilities.

When Intention Meets Capacity

If free will implies that every possibility is equally available, capacity becomes difficult to explain.

Intention alone is not enough.

A person cannot choose to understand what lies beyond their ability to comprehend.

Nor can they directly experience another person’s emotions. Empathy allows us to approximate another’s experience, but what we ultimately feel remains our own interpretation.

Even joy is not a single experience.

There are infinitely many ways to feel joy.

If our possibilities are constrained by the capacities with which we are born, then perhaps our choices unfold within boundaries that already exist.

A Larger Possibility

This raises an intriguing thought.

Perhaps genuine free will could only exist if every possible choice already exists somewhere within reality.

If every possibility exists, then every decision becomes the exploration of one path among infinitely many.

Perhaps creation itself is the expression of a deeper, cosmic freedom.

If free will is a fundamental property of reality, then our universe may simply be one manifestation of that greater possibility.

Absolute Free Will

Even omnipresence may not resolve the paradox. Imagine a consciousness capable of existing within every being simultaneously. Would absolute freedom finally become possible?

Perhaps not.

Experience appears to be inherently contextual. Joy and grief cannot be lived in exactly the same way at exactly the same moment. Identity itself implies distinction. Even a consciousness that exists everywhere might still encounter limits simply because different experiences require different perspectives.

Of course, this reasoning is rooted in the human mind. It is entirely possible that there exists a state of consciousness beyond our imagination, where past, present, and future are no longer separate, and where every possible experience exists simultaneously within a single awareness.

Closing Reflection

Perhaps absolute free will cannot be understood from within the human perspective.

Perhaps freedom is not the absence of limitation, but the existence of every possible path somewhere within reality.

If that is true, then each of us may simply be one expression of an infinitely larger whole, exploring one possibility among countless others.

Silence has become increasingly rare. We live surrounded by conversations, notifications, endless information, and constant stimulation. Yet beneath all of this noise lies something easily overlooked.

Silence.

Not as the absence of sound, but as the absence of unnecessary distraction.

It is within silence that the mind begins to settle, perception becomes clearer, and attention naturally returns to the present moment.

Silence Creates Reflection

When external noise subsides, internal clarity has room to emerge.

Thoughts become easier to observe.

Emotions become easier to understand.

Instead of reacting automatically, we begin responding with greater awareness.

Silence is less an escape from the world than a return to ourselves.

Silence Strengthens Focus

Every meaningful act begins with attention.

Before creating, deciding, or solving, a brief moment of stillness allows the mind to organize itself. Many of our clearest insights appear not while searching for answers, but when the search itself comes to rest.

Creativity often emerges from quiet rather than stimulation.

Silence Reveals Connection

Silence is rarely empty.

It often reveals what words conceal.

A shared moment of silence between two people can communicate more than conversation. Beyond language, there is a recognition that does not require explanation.

Silence reminds us that connection does not always depend on speech.

The Spiritual Dimension of Silence

Across many philosophical and spiritual traditions, silence is regarded as more than a practice.

It is a way of perceiving.

Meditation, contemplation, and prayer all use silence as a means of moving beyond constant thought. In silence, attention shifts away from the endless movement of the mind toward something quieter, deeper, and more enduring.

Silence is not emptiness.

It is the space in which the essential becomes audible.

Closing Reflection

Silence does not appear by accident.

It is cultivated.

A few minutes without music.

Without conversation.

Without distraction.

Not to escape life, but to experience it more completely.

In a world filled with noise, silence becomes a rare form of clarity.

And wherever clarity appears, inner peace quietly follows.

Within the cosmos, everything exists as energy in motion. There is that which radiates, and that which receives. That which gives, and that which absorbs. This dynamic lies at the heart of existence and has long been symbolized by the Sun and the Moon - the timeless archetypes of masculine and feminine energy.

The Sun: Emission, Structure, and the Active Principle

The Sun is pure emission. It radiates its energy without hesitation or expectation. Symbolically, this represents the masculine principle: projecting intention, creating structure, and establishing boundaries. The Sun defines reality by what it illuminates. In doing so, it also defines what lies outside its light.

This principle of emission appears throughout nature. Beneath it lies a deeper mathematical order reflected in the Golden Ratio (Phi). More than a numerical relationship, Phi can be understood as a blueprint for natural growth, proportion, and harmony.

Within this symbolic framework, Phi (+3) represents:

• Structure and direction.

• Expansion and manifestation.

• Rejection as an act of creation.

To define something is simultaneously to define what it is not. In this sense, rejection is not destruction. It is the creation of form.

Like the Sun itself, this movement follows a stable and enduring rhythm.

The Moon: Absorption, Transformation, and the Receptive Principle

The Moon expresses the complementary movement. Rather than generating its own light, it receives, reflects, and transforms the light of the Sun. Symbolically, this represents the feminine principle: receiving experience, integrating it, and allowing it to emerge in a new form.

Where the Sun establishes boundaries, the Moon dissolves unnecessary resistance. Through complete acceptance, transformation becomes possible.

Within this symbolic framework, Phi (-3) represents:

• Integration and receptivity.

• Transformation and renewal.

• Acceptance as an act of creation.

What is fully received is never returned unchanged.

Like the phases of the Moon, this movement unfolds through continuous cycles of change.

Phi: The Universal Balance

The relationship between the Sun and the Moon is not merely symbolic. It reflects a deeper pattern found throughout nature. The Golden Ratio appears wherever growth, proportion, and balance emerge naturally.

Within this framework:

• Phi (+3) represents emission, structure, direction, and creative action.

• Phi (-3) represents absorption, integration, acceptance, and transformation.

Together they form a single dynamic. Nothing can only emit. Nothing can only absorb. Each movement depends upon the other.

The Cosmic Circle

This pattern is not confined to the heavens.

It exists within every human life.

There are moments when we must act, choose a direction, establish boundaries, and bring order into the world. In those moments, we embody the Sun.

There are also moments when we must observe, receive, reflect, and allow experience to transform us. In those moments, we embody the Moon.

Wisdom is not becoming one while rejecting the other.

Wisdom is recognizing when each movement belongs.

Only then does life begin to move with its own natural rhythm.

Sometimes a new word is needed to describe an experience for which no word yet exists.

Kalufua is one such word.

It does not describe an object, but a state of awareness. In the same way that we speak of “a positive mindset,” Kalufua refers to a particular way of perceiving reality: the awareness of non-duality.

Its essence can be expressed in two simple statements:

Everything is creation.

Everything is perfect.

Everything that exists is an expression of creation, and everything that unfolds is exactly as it is able to unfold.

The Awareness of Non-Duality

Ordinarily, we perceive the world through contrasts. Good and bad. Beautiful and ugly. Order and chaos. Yet these opposites exist only within the framework of human perception.

Kalufua points toward another perspective.

One in which separation dissolves.

There is no fundamental division between yourself and the world.

There is no fixed judgment about what is.

Everything is an expression of the same creative process.

This does not imply that everything is pleasant or desirable. It simply recognizes that reality precedes judgment. When experience is observed without resistance, a different quality of mind begins to emerge.

A quiet clarity.

Living Kalufua

Kalufua is not something to believe.

It is something to recognize.

It appears whenever resistance falls away.

You allow experience to arise before deciding what it means.

You observe without immediately dividing reality into success and failure, gain and loss, right and wrong.

You begin to see each moment as a unique expression of creation, including the moments once called mistakes.

Acceptance, in this sense, is not passive.

It is complete participation without unnecessary resistance.

The Endless Wave

A wave does not attempt to become something other than a wave.

It rises.

It breaks.

It disappears.

Never resisting its own nature.

Never existing apart from the ocean that gives it form.

Kalufua is the recognition that life moves in the same way.

Everything that appears is part of a single unfolding.

Nothing stands outside it.

Nothing is separate from it.

Everything is creation.

Everything is perfect.

Kalufua.

The Sacred Symbol of Shiva

Why This Symbol?

Within the spiritual tradition of Lord Shiva, the Tripundra holds a special significance. Consisting of three horizontal lines of sacred ash (bhasma), often accompanied by a red dot (bindi), it symbolizes transformation, inner purification, and the transcendence of material attachment.

What Is the Tripundra?

The Tripundra is a powerful emblem of Shiva’s energy and a constant reminder of the impermanence of physical existence. Traditionally applied to the forehead by devotees of Shiva, it represents three fundamental principles of existence:

• Creation (Brahma) - The beginning of all things.

• Preservation (Vishnu) - The sustaining force of life.

• Transformation (Shiva) - The cycle of dissolution, renewal, and rebirth.

Wearing the Tripundra is considered a symbolic act of burning away the illusions of the ego and directing one’s attention toward spiritual awakening. The sacred ash (vibhuti) reminds us that everything material is temporary and will ultimately return to dust.

The Deeper Meaning of the Three Lines

Beyond the three principal deities, the Tripundra also represents several fundamental triads within Hindu philosophy.

It symbolizes the three states of consciousness: waking, dreaming, and deep sleep.

It represents the three divine energies (Shaktis): the power of action (Kriya Shakti), the power of will (Iccha Shakti), and the power of knowledge (Jnana Shakti).

It also reflects the three Gunas: Sattva (purity and harmony), Rajas (activity and desire), and Tamas (inertia and stagnation).

The red bindi at the center symbolizes the union of consciousness and energy, reminding us that all phases of existence are inseparably connected.

The Spiritual Significance of the Tripundra

Within Hinduism, wearing the Tripundra is regarded as a profound spiritual practice. Ancient scriptures describe it as a means of purifying karma and moving closer to moksha - liberation from the cycle of birth and death.

Traditionally, it serves as:

• A reminder of the impermanence of material life.

• A symbolic burning away of ego and attachment.

• Protection against negative influences.

• A deeper alignment with Shiva and the cosmic rhythm of existence.

It is not an obligation, but a declaration of intention. A conscious decision to direct one’s attention toward the eternal rather than the temporary.

What Does This Mean for You?

The Tripundra is a symbol of surrender and awakening. It reminds us that everything we possess is temporary, while our deepest nature remains untouched by change.

What would you release if you truly knew that everything is only a phase?

How would you live if you held on less tightly to the temporary, and more deeply to the eternal?

Surprisingly, many people feel more comfortable living in discomfort than in genuine peace. Although this seems contradictory, the fear of becoming truly comfortable with oneself can be greater than the discomfort of remaining in a constant state of inner tension.

Why Discomfort Becomes the Default

Human beings naturally strive toward perfection. This aspiration gives direction to life, yet it conflicts with a fundamental truth: perfection does not exist within the manifested world. Everything that comes into existence is, by definition, imperfect.

Perfection exists only as potential. The moment something manifests, it becomes subject to limitation, change, and interpretation. Accepting the inherent imperfection of our thoughts, actions, and emotions brings a profound sense of peace. The belief that something can be done perfectly is, ultimately, an illusion.

A simple principle follows:

1. Striving for perfection provides direction.

2. Accepting imperfection provides peace.

Why Discomfort Feels Safe

If comfort is so valuable, why do so many people unconsciously avoid it? For some, discomfort provides a sense of control. Others carry unresolved experiences that have quietly shaped their inner world. And for many, discomfort has simply become familiar. They have lived with it for so long that anything outside it feels unfamiliar, or even threatening. Over time, discomfort becomes home.

The Fear of Comfort

Feeling at peace with yourself can be surprisingly confronting. Some fear they will no longer recognize the identity they have built around struggle. Others associate comfort with complacency, believing that peace will diminish their ambition or prevent them from reaching their potential.

But is comfort really the enemy?

Comfort Is Not the Enemy

Quite the opposite. Self acceptance does not end growth; it creates the conditions for healthier growth. When your actions are no longer driven by fear, insecurity, or constant inner conflict, they become clearer and more intentional. Inner peace allows you to make conscious choices rather than reactive ones. It strengthens relationships, deepens self-awareness, and provides a more stable sense of direction.

Comfort is not weakness.

It is stability.

Closing Reflection

Discomfort can be a catalyst for growth, but only when it is entered consciously rather than inhabited unconsciously. The goal is not to eliminate discomfort, nor to worship it. The goal is to understand its place.

Perfection provides direction.

Acceptance provides peace.

You cannot do more than your best.

And perhaps that has always been enough.

Inner peace is the highest form of wealth.

At first glance, these two forces appear to be opposites. In reality, they form a single cycle. The Sun radiates and pushes outward, while a black hole absorbs and draws everything inward. One creates distance. The other embraces completely. Just as in human life, rejection and acceptance are not opposing forces, but complementary movements within a greater process.

Rejection & Acceptance: The Dynamics of Growth

Neither force can exist without the other. Rejection without acceptance eventually becomes rigidity, isolation, and fear. Acceptance without rejection dissolves boundaries, causing direction and identity to fade. Growth emerges through the continuous interplay between both. The question is not which force is superior, but when each becomes appropriate.

☀ The Sun - Rejection & Structure

The Sun continuously radiates energy, pushing matter outward and creating the conditions for structure to exist. Symbolically, this represents rejection. Not rejection as hostility, but as differentiation. Without this outward force there would be no stars, no planets, and no form. Everything would collapse into a single undivided mass. Rejection creates boundaries, and boundaries create identity.

⚫ The Black Hole - Acceptance & Surrender

Eventually, a star exhausts its fuel. Its outward force weakens, gravity takes over, and if the star is massive enough, it collapses into a black hole. Here, nothing is pushed away. Everything is received. Everything is absorbed. Symbolically, this represents complete acceptance. Resistance disappears. Separation dissolves. What once radiated outward now welcomes everything inward.

The Transition

The most profound insight is not that these forces oppose one another. It is that one naturally becomes the other. Every black hole was once a star. Every act of rejection contains the possibility of future acceptance. Every structure eventually returns to openness. The cycle completes itself.

The Same Pattern Within Us

This movement exists not only in the cosmos, but within every human life. There are moments when we must establish boundaries, make difficult decisions, protect what matters, and give our lives direction. There are also moments when we must let go, accept what cannot be controlled, and surrender to reality as it is. Both movements are essential. One without the other creates imbalance.

When Do You Shine? When Do You Let Go?

We constantly move between these two states. Sometimes life asks us to radiate. Sometimes it asks us to receive. The challenge is not choosing between rejection and acceptance, but recognizing which movement the present moment requires. Whoever only rejects eventually becomes imprisoned by rigidity. Whoever only accepts eventually loses direction.

Like the stars themselves, we are all Suns that carry the potential to become black holes. Wisdom is not becoming one or the other. Wisdom is understanding the cycle that contains them both.

Every emotion we experience as human beings can ultimately be traced back to two fundamental emotions:

Rejection
&
Acceptance

Together, these two forces shape how we perceive the world, how we experience ourselves, and how we relate to others. They form the foundation of our sense of safety, direction, and inner peace.

Rejection: The Force That Creates Boundaries

Rejection is the force that establishes boundaries. It determines what does not belong, what is not appropriate, or what is not aligned within a given context. It manifests itself on multiple levels:

• Physically: as tension, alertness, or the impulse to distance yourself from something.

• Emotionally: as insecurity, anger, shame, or jealousy.

• Socially: as exclusion, group formation, and status.

• Mentally: as the belief that something—or someone, including yourself—is “wrong.”

Without rejection, there would be no direction, no autonomy, and no protection. It enables us to make choices, protect ourselves, and grow. Without it, we would lack the ability to distinguish what serves us from what does not.

The problem arises when rejection becomes excessive, manifesting as self-destruction, fear of failure, or a constant need for external validation.

Acceptance: The Foundation of Connection

Acceptance is the complementary force to rejection. It embraces, allows, and integrates. Where rejection creates boundaries, acceptance dissolves unnecessary resistance.

It manifests itself as:

• Physically: relaxation, calmness, and a sense of safety.

• Emotionally: love, compassion, and understanding toward yourself and others.

• Socially: connection, inclusion, and the ability to bridge differences.

• Mentally: recognizing reality as it is, without unnecessary resistance or judgment.

Acceptance does not mean approving of everything or passively allowing life to happen to you. It means acknowledging reality without creating unnecessary conflict with it. It is the foundation of inner peace and genuine self-confidence.

The Dynamic Between the Two

Life unfolds through the continuous interplay between rejection and acceptance. Both forces are essential for living a balanced life.

• Without rejection, we would become directionless and without boundaries.

• Without acceptance, we would become bitter, anxious, and frustrated.

Balance is not achieved by choosing one over the other, but by recognizing when each is appropriate.

Can you reject without condemning yourself?
Can you accept without losing yourself?

Applying the Principle

Self-Acceptance
Notice where you reject yourself—not to correct it immediately, but simply to become aware of it.

Setting Boundaries
See rejection as information rather than failure.

Social Dynamics
Observe how acceptance and rejection continuously shape your interactions with others.

Mental Clarity
Ask yourself:

“Is this something I need to accept, or something I would be wiser to reject?”

This simple question often brings clarity, balance, and direction.

Closing Reflection

Rejection and acceptance are not opposing forces; they are complementary movements within the same dynamic.

When they stop competing and begin working together, clarity emerges.

And wherever clarity appears, inner peace naturally follows.

The Rebus Method is available as an e-book

Finding and maintaining inner peace, clarity, and direction requires a method that encompasses every aspect of your life. True balance can only emerge when nothing is overlooked. But how do you know where your attention truly belongs? And what are the fundamental aspects of life?

The Rebus Method provides a structured framework that helps you identify where your attention is needed to cultivate and maintain inner peace, clarity, and harmony. It is designed to encompass the essential dimensions of human experience, allowing you to recognize what asks for attention without overlooking the bigger picture.

The method is built around eight symbols, each representing a fundamental aspect of life:

1. Your Body

2. Your Emotions

3. Your Thoughts & Actions

4. Your Identity

5. Your Perception

6. Your Patterns

7. Your Resonance

8. Your Direction

Why symbols?

Symbols condense complex information into a single visual form, allowing you to think less and perceive more. A symbol does not need to be explained in order to be effective. The information associated with it can be recognized, felt, and recalled almost instantly.

Research shows that:

• The human brain processes images up to 60,000 times faster than text.

• Approximately 90% of the information sent to the brain is visual.

• The brain requires an average of only 13 milliseconds to recognize an image, meaning a visual is often understood before conscious thought begins.

Visual information is also remembered more effectively:

• Around 80% of people remember what they see, compared to only 20% of what they read and 10% of what they hear.

• When information is only heard, people remember on average about 10% of it after three days. When that same information is paired with a relevant image or symbol, retention increases to approximately 65%.

For this reason, symbols are not simply illustrations. They function as cognitive anchors that make reflection more intuitive and accessible. The Rebus Method deliberately uses symbols to reduce mental complexity and direct attention toward what matters most.

I don’t usually hide behind a mask. But for this project it’s important. That’s because De Zelve (Dutch for The Self) should be available for everyone and not tied to 1 person. Everyone has a ‘Zelve’. The distance between you and De Zelve, is the amount of distortion/chaos in your brain. The less noise, the more your signal can come through.

We can see the body as a ‘receiver’. Like a radio, translating your signal into a physical manifestation. Everything stems from the body. Without the body, there’s no experience. No sound, no touch, no experience ‘arrives’ at consciousness.

The merger between matter and consciousness, is what we call life. Matter is the place where all (potential) experience exist. A super nova somewhere in deep space only turns into experience once it’s observed by consciousness.

What I think is that consciousness is ‘the nothing’ and matter is ‘the all’. But we will talk a lot more about this in the future (I wrote this on 17 june 2026).

Everything, all experience, stems from the body (and the merger with consciousness). I’ve created a framework/interface to describe everything that encompasses experience called ‘The Rebus Method’. This way, you know which subjects exist to think about. This creates inner peace (the greatest form of wealth), because you can be sure you thought about everything and did not leave anything out.

1️⃣ Your Body

2️⃣ Your Emotions

3️⃣ Your Thoughts & Actions

4️⃣ Your Identity

5️⃣ Your Perception

6️⃣ Your Patterns

7️⃣ Your Resonance

8️⃣ Your Direction

I will tell you all about it. For now, if you’re interested, you can get the E-book here.

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