Over the past few decades I’ve carried on three parallel conversations—one with science, one with philosophy, and one with the quiet, persistent experiences of my own mind. For years these stayed in separate compartments. Science belonged to the lab bench and the classroom. Philosophy lived in the books I read and wandering thoughts. And whatever I felt or glimpsed during moments of trauma, awe, grief, or deep focus—those belonged to no category at all.
Lately, those compartments have been collapsing. And what I hope to do is develop a new way of describing why those compartments are illusory. My descriptions rely upon my own experiences as a scientist, teacher, reader of philosophy, and seeker of truth.
The more I’ve read, taught, and lived, the more I’ve noticed an odd convergence: the language of geometry keeps appearing everywhere. In physics, geometry underlies the structure of spacetime and the symmetries of particles. In consciousness studies, people reach for geometric metaphors to describe perception, memory, and awareness. Even moral psychology, theology, and political theory—fields you’d expect to avoid mathematics—use geometric images of orientation, direction, boundaries, ascent, and descent.
At some point, this stopped feeling coincidental.
So this series is my attempt to articulate a framework that has been slowly forming in my mind for years: a way of thinking that uses geometry as the bridge between matter and meaning, physics and metaphysics, consciousness and morality.
This is not a theory of everything. It is a notation.
It’s not physics masquerading as spirituality, or spirituality disguised as physics. It’s closer to something like a map: a unifying set of shapes and relationships that help explain why our experience of the world has such a consistent structure across domains that otherwise seem unrelated.
And perhaps more importantly: why certain crises—personal, moral, or civilizational—always force us into the same fundamental choices.
Before we get there, I want to sketch the problem that got me started.
1. The Fragmentation Problem
Modern intellectual life is divided into silos.
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Physics explains matter, energy, and the deep structure of spacetime.
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Neuroscience explains the brain, perception, and subjective experience.
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Philosophy explains meaning, ethics, and the conditions of knowledge.
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Theology (when done seriously) investigates ultimacy, transcendence, and the ground of existence.
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Psychology tries to explain why people do the strange things they do.
Each of these systems works well on its own territory. But they don’t talk to each other. A physicist can describe the curvature of spacetime but not the curvature of a human life. A theologian can speak of transcendence but not why transcendence feels the way it does inside the brain. A moral philosopher can write about character and agency but has nothing to say about the underlying physical processes that shape those capacities.
Meanwhile, an ordinary person lives all of this at once.
You don’t experience your life in compartments.
You experience it as one world, with one self moving through it.
But if you try to understand that world using the tools we’re given, you end up with a fragmented picture:
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Your mind is one thing.
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Your body is another.
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Your moral decisions belong to a third category.
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Your spiritual or philosophical intuitions—assuming you allow yourself to name them at all—sit in a fourth compartment with a big quarantine label attached.
Increasingly, this fragmentation feels artificial.
We keep discovering hints that the boundaries between these domains may be more porous—or more illusory—than we assume. Modern physics points toward information and symmetry as the foundations of reality. Neuroscience keeps discovering that consciousness may be more relational and field-like than previously believed. Phenomenology tells us our experience is structured, patterned, and directional. And theology, when stripped of its dogmatic layers, has always been obsessed with the same three things physics cares about: origin, structure, and transformation.
So the question I keep circling is whether these fields might be describing the same territory in different dialects. I want to speak in geometry.
2. Why Geometry?
Geometry has always been the secret language of reality.
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The universe expands geometrically.
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Spacetime curves.
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Quantum states rotate in complex Hilbert spaces.
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Neurons organize in recurrent loops and resonance patterns.
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Moral choices feel directional: upward or downward, toward or away, constricting or expanding.
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Mystical experiences often include geometric imagery—circles, spirals, lattices, light patterns, radiant symmetry.
And underneath cognition itself lies a geometric engine: the brain constantly finds edges, shapes, boundaries, and symmetries. We detect pattern more naturally than we detect propositions.
The claim I want to explore in this series is simple:
Geometry is not just how the universe is structured.
Geometry is how the mind perceives, organizes, and participates in that structure.
In other words:
The mind is shaped for a geometric universe because both are expressions of the same underlying informational field.
When I say “geometry,” I don’t mean triangles and Euclid. I mean something deeper: the stable relationships that appear whenever systems have to organize themselves coherently.
These patterns show up everywhere:
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circles of periodicity and unity
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hexagons of resonance and equilibrium
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squares of stability and rational structure
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triangles of conflict, agency, and directional choice
Across this series I’ll explore how these shapes form a cycle—circle → hexagon → square → triangle—that may reflect a fundamental logic of how the universe generates, stabilizes, structures, and tests itself.
3. The Four Domains to Unify
This series will weave together insights from four major domains:
1. Physics
Energy, information, symmetry, resonance, entropy, and the geometry of spacetime.
How the physical universe evolves, collapses, and self-organizes.
2. Phenomenology
How experience is structured.
Why near-death states, trauma, awe, and boundary experiences have such consistent geometry.
3. Moral Psychology
How character takes shape.
Why moral decisions feel like “up” and “down,” “narrow” and “wide,” “open” and “closed.”
4. Theology and Metaphysics
Not doctrines, but the deep questions:
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What is ultimacy?
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What is transcendence?
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What is the structure of the sacred—if such a thing exists?
Across history, thinkers in these domains have circled similar metaphors: ascent, descent, light, dark, harmony, freedom, bondage, expansion, collapse. I want to examine whether these metaphors correspond to actual structural features of reality and consciousness.
4. Where This Is Going
Across the next several posts, I’m going to sketch a unified conceptual model that connects:
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the geometry of consciousness
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the geometry of moral agency
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the geometry of physics
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the geometry of transcendence
This is not mysticism.
And it’s not scientism.
It’s an attempt to describe why our deepest experiences, our ethical struggles, and the universe’s physical structure seem to rhyme.
Here’s a preview of where future posts will go:
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how hexagonal resonance may underlie both molecular stability and conscious stability
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why the UV boundary at 246 nm (my trademark “lavender”) can represent a meaningful perceptual/phenomenological threshold
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how moral decisions can be modeled as geometric orientation within a dimensional manifold
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how religious experiences may reflect resonance rather than revelation
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why history keeps producing authoritarian collapse (black-hole behavior) and transcendent emergence (white-hole behavior)
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why free will and determinism look contradictory only in low dimensions
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how trauma, awe, and near-death experiences reveal structural truths about the mind
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how stories of resurrection, enlightenment, and apocalypse map onto geometric transitions
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and how all of this might help explain the moment of crisis our own society is approaching
My hope is that even if readers disagree with the metaphysics, the framework itself will be useful as a way of thinking about the world—clear, flexible, and capable of bridging conversations that usually never touch.
5. A Personal Note
I’m writing this series not as an attempt to “prove” anything, but because the pattern has been forming for years, and at some point I realized I needed to lay it out publicly. I’ve spent most of my adult life teaching science, wrestling with philosophy, and carrying the residue of a religious background that taught me to take questions of meaning seriously even when I rejected the answers.
If this project succeeds, it won’t because it solves some grand puzzle. It will be because the framework helps illuminate things we already know but don’t yet have a language for:
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why some people collapse under pressure and others expand
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why transcendence and terror feel like neighbors
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why science and spirituality keep circling the same metaphors
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why society feels like it’s approaching a bifurcation
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why geometry keeps showing up everywhere
So let’s begin.
In the next post, I’ll outline the three modes of understanding—Phenomena, Structure, Ground—and explain why I believe they are the roots of every philosophical system humans have ever developed. In fact I think all of human philosophy can be distilled into those three systems of thought.
Once those foundations are in place, we can build upward toward the full geometry.
