Skip to main content

The Foundation of Knowing: Wholeness, Convergence, and Emergence

At the core of existence lies a profound truth: we cannot know the wholeness beyond our own. Our subjective experience—the wholeness of our consciousness—is all we truly possess. Yet, we find ourselves surrounded by others, each seemingly whole, living, and experiencing. How do we bridge this gap between what we know and what we believe?

This is where my philosophy begins: with humility and honesty. I acknowledge that I cannot directly experience or verify another’s inner wholeness. I cannot know their Qualia—the wholeness of their experience. What I can observe is their functional wholeness: their actions, behaviors, and systems working in unison. From this, I have faith that others, like me, possess experiential wholeness.

Faith is not a retreat from reason; it is a necessary step when reason reaches its limits. This distinction between functional and experiential wholeness forms the bedrock of my worldview. Functional wholeness is observable: it is the harmony of parts within a system, the visible structure and organization. Experiential wholeness, on the other hand, is deeply personal, hidden within the mind.

Convergence and Emergence: Observing Wholeness in Action
Convergence—the coming together of parts—leads to emergence, the birth of something new: a whole greater than the sum of its parts. While we may not know the precise mechanism behind this, we see its effects everywhere, from the natural world to our own consciousness.

Convergence is apparent in countless systems:

Biology: Cells come together to form tissues, tissues form organs, and organs form a functioning body.

Physics: Particles interact to create atoms, atoms form molecules, and molecules give rise to matter.

Human Systems: Individuals collaborate, forming communities, organizations, and cultures.


In each case, parts work together, often in complex and dynamic ways, to create a whole with properties that the parts alone do not possess.

From convergence arises emergence. A living cell is more than just molecules; a thought is more than neural activity. Emergence is the moment when the whole takes on a new identity, gaining characteristics that cannot be reduced to the sum of its parts.

Examples in Nature: Flocks of birds exhibit synchronized flight patterns, though no single bird controls the flock.

In Consciousness: The brain’s neural activity gives rise to the unified experience of being—what we call Qualia.


The Mystery of the Mechanism
While we can observe these phenomena, the underlying mechanism—how convergence leads to emergence—remains elusive. Why does neural activity give rise to Qualia? Why does the whole acquire properties that the parts do not have? These questions invite curiosity and humility.

What We Can Say
Even without knowing the exact mechanism, we know that convergence happens and that emergence follows. This suggests that the relationship between parts and wholes is fundamental to the structure of reality. Convergence appears to be the precursor to wholeness, whether it’s functional (like a machine) or experiential (like consciousness).

Closing Thoughts
This philosophy does not claim to solve the ultimate questions of existence. Instead, it begins with what is undeniable: I am whole, and I have parts. I am part of a greater whole. And while I cannot know the wholeness of others, I choose to believe they, too, experience life as a whole.

Convergence and emergence remind us that reality is layered and interconnected. Each layer builds on the one before, creating new levels of wholeness. Even though we don’t fully understand how this happens, the fact that it does invites us to keep exploring, asking questions, and marveling at the unity of existence.

From this foundation, the path unfolds—not toward certainty, but toward understanding and connection.

BODY

The Living Boundary

Your body is not one boundary. It’s boundaries all the way down.

○ is body as interface. It’s the place where inside meets outside, where you open and close, where you breathe in air, take in food, receive touch, absorb experience. It is not a wall. It’s a selective membrane—alive, responsive, and always in motion.

Try This

Close your eyes and feel where your body ends and the air begins. Notice how many tiny sensations are being woven into that one felt “edge.”

Φ

MIND

The Field Between

Φ is mind as field—the living medium between center (•) and boundary (○). It’s the whole relational space where signals from the body come in, where awareness from the center flows out, and where the two blend into conscious experience.

Try This

Notice your body breathing by itself. That’s ○. Now notice that you’re noticing. That reflective awareness is flowing from •. Then feel the space in which both are happening. That’s Φ.

SOUL

The Aware Center

• is soul as center—not a substance lurking somewhere inside you, but the point of view from which everything is seen. It is the structural center of the whole circumpunct.

Bodies change completely over a lifetime. Memories blur, identities shift. And yet, there’s a sense that the one who was there then is the same one who is here now.

Try This

Close your eyes. Notice your breath. Then, gently, turn attention back toward that awareness itself—not the objects in it, but the fact that knowing is happening. That’s •.

CIRCUMPUNCT

The Whole You

⊙ is the circumpunct: a circle with a point at the center. The circle is the boundary that holds everything that is “you” as a single system. The point is centeredness—the soul that experiences from within.

Instead of thinking, “I have a body, I have a mind, I have a soul,” you can think, “I am ⊙: a whole being whose body, mind, and soul are three faces of the same process.”

Try This

Feel your body as one shape (○). Notice the space of awareness in which thoughts arise (Φ). Sense the quiet center that’s aware of all of this (•). Then soften your attention to hold all three at once. That’s .

You are not on your way to being ⊙. You are ⊙, right now.