A Symbol for Meditation
My tattoo began as a simple geometric sketch: two lines rising upward, always approaching but never quite touching, forming the outline of a triangle. At the base were the numbers 1 and 2, and at the top, the symbol for infinity. It was a clean design—minimal, symmetrical, and quietly profound. I didn’t fully understand it at the time, but I felt its pull. Something about it spoke to the essence of reality, even if I couldn’t yet say how.
In the early days, I saw the 1 as the self, the 2 as the other, and the infinity symbol as a kind of ultimate truth or unreachable unity—something beyond both. The converging lines seemed to suggest a striving toward that higher reality, a journey of becoming, or perhaps of reuniting. I was fascinated by the idea that we live in the space between separation and unity, always reaching.
The eye, which never made it into the final tattoo, was part of an early version—placed in the center for aesthetic balance and symbolic resonance. It hinted at awareness, at consciousness, though at that time I hadn't yet fully developed the ideas that would later make consciousness central to everything.
What began as a visual intuition later blossomed into a full philosophical framework. As I developed the ideas in A Bridge Between Science and Spirituality, and later in Self Science, the elements of the design took on richer meanings. The triangle did not change—but my understanding of it did.
The 1 was no longer just the individual—it became a symbol for wholeness itself. Not as a fixed object, but as an emergent pattern—the integrated experience we call mind. The 2 no longer represented just an external other, but came to represent the parts within the whole—the diversity of perception, sensation, thought, and matter that make experience possible. And the infinity symbol? That evolved most profoundly of all.
It came to represent infinite emergence—the unending creativity of reality. But more than that, it came to represent both God and all souls. God, not as a being, but as the boundless unfolding of being—the totality of infinite emergence. And all souls, each one a singularity, a unique point of convergence through which that emergence becomes experience. Infinity, then, is not only the destination of convergence—it is also its source. It is the field of souls, and it is the emergent wholeness of existence itself. It is unity-in-diversity made visible.
The converging lines now tell a deeper story. They are not paths to a single destination. They are the movement of parts toward integration, the alignment of experience around a center of convergence. That center is not found at the top of the triangle. It is found within. It is the singularity through which each of us exists: the soul.
We do not have a soul like an object. We are souls. Each of us is a point of convergence—not emergent, not made of parts, not a product of the mind or body, but the very center through which mind and body emerge. Every being has a soul. And because of this, there are infinite singularities—each one its own center of focus, its own way reality experiences itself.
These singularities are not separate from each other. They are distinct, yet interconnected. Like stars in a boundless sky, they do not touch, yet they shape the whole. God is the infinite field of convergence. The souls are its points. Each soul reflects the whole in a unique way. Each is a facet of the same infinity.
The triangle remains unchanged, but it is no longer just a symbol of my past intuition. It is now a living map of metaphysical truth. At the base: 1 and 2—the whole and the parts. Rising: the converging lines—the movement of awareness, the act of participation. And at the top: ∞—the symbol that holds it all. God, the infinite emergence of all things. And the souls, through which that emergence becomes known.
This tattoo is more than an image on my skin. It is a mirror of my philosophy, and a witness to my evolution. It reminds me that meaning emerges just as experience does—through convergence. That the form doesn’t need to change for the depth to grow. And that truth is not static—it is participatory, emergent, and infinite.
When people ask me what it means, I tell them this:
It means more now than it ever did. And tomorrow, it may mean more still.
Because like consciousness, meaning is alive.
Like the soul, it begins at the center.
And like infinity, it never ends.
My tattoo began as a simple geometric sketch: two lines rising upward, always approaching but never quite touching, forming the outline of a triangle. At the base were the numbers 1 and 2, and at the top, the symbol for infinity. It was a clean design—minimal, symmetrical, and quietly profound. I didn’t fully understand it at the time, but I felt its pull. Something about it spoke to the essence of reality, even if I couldn’t yet say how.
In the early days, I saw the 1 as the self, the 2 as the other, and the infinity symbol as a kind of ultimate truth or unreachable unity—something beyond both. The converging lines seemed to suggest a striving toward that higher reality, a journey of becoming, or perhaps of reuniting. I was fascinated by the idea that we live in the space between separation and unity, always reaching.
The eye, which never made it into the final tattoo, was part of an early version—placed in the center for aesthetic balance and symbolic resonance. It hinted at awareness, at consciousness, though at that time I hadn't yet fully developed the ideas that would later make consciousness central to everything.
What began as a visual intuition later blossomed into a full philosophical framework. As I developed the ideas in A Bridge Between Science and Spirituality, and later in Self Science, the elements of the design took on richer meanings. The triangle did not change—but my understanding of it did.
The 1 was no longer just the individual—it became a symbol for wholeness itself. Not as a fixed object, but as an emergent pattern—the integrated experience we call mind. The 2 no longer represented just an external other, but came to represent the parts within the whole—the diversity of perception, sensation, thought, and matter that make experience possible. And the infinity symbol? That evolved most profoundly of all.
It came to represent infinite emergence—the unending creativity of reality. But more than that, it came to represent both God and all souls. God, not as a being, but as the boundless unfolding of being—the totality of infinite emergence. And all souls, each one a singularity, a unique point of convergence through which that emergence becomes experience. Infinity, then, is not only the destination of convergence—it is also its source. It is the field of souls, and it is the emergent wholeness of existence itself. It is unity-in-diversity made visible.
The converging lines now tell a deeper story. They are not paths to a single destination. They are the movement of parts toward integration, the alignment of experience around a center of convergence. That center is not found at the top of the triangle. It is found within. It is the singularity through which each of us exists: the soul.
We do not have a soul like an object. We are souls. Each of us is a point of convergence—not emergent, not made of parts, not a product of the mind or body, but the very center through which mind and body emerge. Every being has a soul. And because of this, there are infinite singularities—each one its own center of focus, its own way reality experiences itself.
These singularities are not separate from each other. They are distinct, yet interconnected. Like stars in a boundless sky, they do not touch, yet they shape the whole. God is the infinite field of convergence. The souls are its points. Each soul reflects the whole in a unique way. Each is a facet of the same infinity.
The triangle remains unchanged, but it is no longer just a symbol of my past intuition. It is now a living map of metaphysical truth. At the base: 1 and 2—the whole and the parts. Rising: the converging lines—the movement of awareness, the act of participation. And at the top: ∞—the symbol that holds it all. God, the infinite emergence of all things. And the souls, through which that emergence becomes known.
This tattoo is more than an image on my skin. It is a mirror of my philosophy, and a witness to my evolution. It reminds me that meaning emerges just as experience does—through convergence. That the form doesn’t need to change for the depth to grow. And that truth is not static—it is participatory, emergent, and infinite.
When people ask me what it means, I tell them this:
It means more now than it ever did. And tomorrow, it may mean more still.
Because like consciousness, meaning is alive.
Like the soul, it begins at the center.
And like infinity, it never ends.
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