The On ——ing Series

The On ——ing series is the personal companion to the theory — its introspective half.

Where the journals build the framework outward, these short lyric-philosophical essays turn inward. Each takes a single living verb — being, seeing, arriving, forgiving, witnessing — and follows it until it opens onto something larger. They are the culmination of more than thirty years of independent research, reading, and reflection, distilled into pieces meant to be read in any order.

Each one is a trace. Together they map how the framework feels from the inside: not a system to be proven, but a way of paying attention. They correlate directly to the main theory — every gerund is a small study in coherence, a place where attention aligns and meaning becomes legible.

Reading the dates

Each entry shows the date it was first created, and those dates tell their own story. The journals and the earliest essays are the distillation of more than thirty years of independent research and journaling — material that arrived in every form a life produces it: handwritten notes on napkins, marginalia, full documents, whole collections of files. The early pieces, and the lyrical prose, stay close to things written long ago.

Around the sixth of June, 2026, that began to change — new material started entering the work in real time, something learned or said on a given day, folded in and finished the same day. You can watch the turn from old to new right around then, and then the reach into mathematics and physics: a language I had to learn, though the underlying ideas have been available for decades. On Completing marks the hard turn — the end of the old notes, and the beginning of the new. Everything dated from the fourth of July, 2026 onward is written from experience, observation, and research, in support of a dissertation in the philosophy of psychology.

With gratitude

None of this was made alone. The series carries the fingerprints of everyone I have tried to name throughout the work — Jung and the depth psychologists; the Dzogchen and Taoist teachers; Boethius, Spinoza, Whitehead, Peirce, Buber, and Bohm; Simmel and the researchers of shared intentionality; and Carl Sagan, whose longing to find a signal in the noise sits quietly behind all of it. Beyond them stand countless artists, scientists, and idea-makers whose work lit the path.

I owe them more than citation can repay. This list is not complete, and it never will be — there will be many more names as the work continues, because that is exactly how coherence grows: by gathering.