I wouldn’t be so arrogant—or foolish—to believe that with my tiny brain, I’ve figured out something that hasn’t already occurred to someone else with a larger brain and a higher IQ. That said, I was never afraid to take a swing at the plate, even knowing I might strike out. So I’ll share what I believe is happening in the universe and beyond.
When I think about the nature of the universe, I don’t feel compelled to invent fictional stories that have no chance of ever being proven mathematically. That type of speculation doesn’t interest me. Instead, I rely on existing phenomena in physics—not just imagination—to form theories. One such phenomenon is the Mandelbrot set.
The Mandelbrot set reveals a fractal pattern—one of the most profound visual representations of infinity discovered in mathematics. As you zoom into any point on the fractal, the original shape reappears again and again. Zoom in closer, and it appears again. This repetition continues infinitely, at least until we reach the limits of our observational tools. And it’s not just inward: when we zoom out, we see the same structure repeating.
Our bodies mirror this pattern. A single cell, as small and finite as it may seem to us, contains a universe of its own. Inside that cell are particles that might never traverse from one side to the other—because, for them, the distance is vast. That’s exactly like us in our universe. Each of our cells is alive. And life requires some form of consciousness—even if it’s not the kind with a brain. That cellular consciousness might be linked to a collective force we call instinct.
Instinct isn’t magic—it’s a pattern. It’s etched into the record grooves of biology. The cell contains blueprints that respond to specific conditions, unfolding complex processes like the orchestration of an entire universe. Each particle, molecule, and atom inside that cell follows an order. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t survive.
Now zoom out: Trillions of those tiny, conscious specimens live inside your body—separated by what to them are great distances. And here’s what’s wild: They have no awareness of what their container—you—looks like. They can’t comprehend the being they live inside. That’s us. We’re inside something vast, governed by laws and rhythms we barely grasp. We can observe what’s inside our container—stars, rocks, gas, void—but we have no concept of what our universe looks like from the outside.
We can’t see it. We can’t model it. And even when someone proposes an idea, it’s often dismissed until math "proves" it. I don’t do that kind of math. What I do is observe. And from what I see, our universe is a body. A body with structure, form, function, and consciousness—just like ours.
We are tiny organisms living inside a massive being, just as the cells within us live inside our own body. That greater being—our universe’s container—likely follows entirely different rules. Maybe it also has gravity, but its gravity may act differently. Maybe it has dimensions we can’t perceive. We experience height, depth, width, and time. It might have five more we can’t even imagine.
Even if we were to meditate for a thousand years, we wouldn’t uncover what the universe-that-contains-our-universe looks like. And honestly, that doesn’t matter. It’s irrelevant to your day-to-day experience. That speculation can become another distraction from what really counts.
But it is likely—perhaps even inevitable—that every universe sits within a larger one, just as our cells sit within us. Each universe may function like a single building block—together constructing something unimaginably complex. As we zoom out, scale and time start to collapse. They lose meaning in the “highest” realities. And the higher you go up this scale, the less comprehensible it all becomes.
That’s okay.
We have enough to focus on right here in this tiny universe, on our even tinier planet. What matters—across all dimensions—is life. Life is sacred, in every universe, regardless of its shape or scale. Every conscious being, no matter its form, must learn the lesson of valuing life above all else.
Life is the most precious creation—unique in each realm, yet somehow connected. But don’t worry: You’re not here to solve universe-sized problems. You’re here to solve the problems inside your own mind. The riddles you inherited from your childhood. From your family. From your society. From every system that shaped your thinking.
So let’s leave the cosmos behind for a moment and turn our attention inward—to the body and mind we live with every day. There’s practical value in understanding how our systems work. And there are two kinds of knowledge in this realm: What we call “science,” and what we might call theories, philosophies, or metaphysical ideas.
At the edge of that second category are the charlatans—the snake-oil salesmen—who string together nonsense and feed it to people who are new to the conversation. They confuse those who haven’t spent enough time examining the subject for themselves.
Everything I’ve just shared? It came from a finite, flawed, anxious, addictive mind. Mine. A mind like yours. And that’s not embarrassing—it’s human.
What we’re about to dive into now is much more grounded. Ideas localized to your body, your emotions, your thoughts. This is where reality happens—inside this thinking, breathing, erratic, beautiful machine we live in.
The mind is a machine—a miraculous one—made of about three pounds of what we call gray matter. It’s composed of brain cells, just like our bodies are composed of heart cells, skin cells, bladder cells, and so on. Organic matter. Flesh. Plant flesh, animal flesh, insect flesh—it all reduces down, eventually, to something cellular.
And cells themselves are not the end. We can break down cellular material into smaller and smaller components, until even the idea of a “cell” no longer applies.
Within the body, beyond the cellular, are energy fields. They’re invisible to the eye. And sometimes, thinking too much about them does little to help us heal. It’s okay to start simpler. Rather than saying “energy,” let’s say: Experiences create emotions.
Emotions are shaped by thoughts. Thoughts are shaped by what was done to us—especially when we were young. And from that, patterns were born. Patterns we often can’t see, because we’ve become shut off from them. But they’re there. They are the architecture of personality.
And that’s where our journey inward truly begins.