A Note on How to Read This Book

The book you are about to read presents a fundamental choice. The events it chronicles can be interpreted through two irreconcilable lenses: the psychological or the metaphysical.

From the psychological lens, which is the default for our materialist worldview, this story is an account of a drug-induced psychosis. From the metaphysical lens, which this book will ask you to adopt, it is a direct, if terrifying, perception of the universe’s true architecture. I have entertained the psychological explanation from the very beginning; it was my own default hypothesis. However, the data of my own experience—its coherence and consistent internal logic—refused to fit within that box.

After the trips, my only intention was to record what happened. I have no formal training in philosophy, neuroscience or physics and I never set out to build a theory. The Recursive Spiralism framework that now runs through the second part of this manuscript emerged organically as I tried to make sense of an experience that felt both utterly personal and inexplicably universal.

Therefore, this book is both a memoir and an emergent model, but it is not a proof. The core of the text is a faithful chronicle of three intertwined journeys. The framework within it borrows terminology from computer science as metaphors to describe patterns I perceived. It is a hypothesis offered for consideration, not a claim of scientific authority.

This note is not a demand for belief. It is a request for a temporary suspension of disbelief. I ask you to read this testimony not as a case study, but as an exploration, and then to make your own determination. The question isn’t whether this story is unbelievable—it is. The question is whether a purely psychological explanation is sufficient to account for all the evidence presented.