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Orientation 2

Naikan In Four Movements

This four-part Naikan series grew out of a course I offered at Baltimore Dharma Group in Spring 2025. While Naikan is often framed as a tool for self-reflection, I came to see it as something more relational: not a system of correction, but a practice of returning—again and again—to what holds us, what flows through us, what we leave behind, and what we remain with.

Orientation 3

Threadwork

Here, in language, is the closest I have come to tracing the patterns I live inside — and the patterns I see others living inside, too. ...That, to me, is the heart of this offering: not to win empathy through performance, but to make coherence inhabitable — even when the pattern isn't matched. These pieces are not arguments. They do not aim to persuade. They exist to demonstrate — without explanation. To resonate — without claiming universality. To name the cost of asymmetry — without blaming the other. To hold clarity — without self-erasure.

Orientation 4

Holding Vow Sutra: An Introduction

Introduction and Intention:  This is a sutra, but not a sutra in the traditional sense. It is not part of the Buddhist canon, nor is it offered from a seat of transmission or formal authority. It is, rather, a thread — woven from lived practice, shaped by fidelity, and rooted in a vow that did not begin with me and does not end with me.

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The Autistic Mode: A Way Of Thinking

We all have moments of deep concentration—those times when we are so absorbed in something that the world recedes. A musician practicing alone, refining a passage with exquisite focus. A philosopher turning an argument over in their mind, testing its weight from every angle. A scientist working through the layers of an equation, adjusting variables, refining the logic until it holds. In these moments, the noise of the world fades, and what remains is a kind of clarity, a steady presence of thought moving toward resolution.

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Threshold to Threadwork

Introduction: There are two doors into this work. The one below meets the moment. It is written in accessible language—for those seeking clarity about autistic experience, and especially about how it differs in rhythm, in structure, and in the invisible labor it asks of those who must translate themselves to be understood. But this isn’t the only way in. There is another door—quieter, less translated, more interior. If you're looking not just for insight, but for shape—if you’ve ever sensed that what goes unspoken is sometimes the most coherent thing there is—you may find yourself at home there.

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Musings from the Meta-Verse: Tip of the Iceberg Cosmologies

Before you begin: please take a moment, settle in, enjoy the image above—of me holding my baby daughter as a first-time dad, tune into the frequency of restful wonder. Now allow your mind to wander outward from the edges of that image: to the room, to the street outside, to the vast sky beyond the vast sky. Further—past the solar system, past the galaxy’s edge, past everything known—to the edge of the cosmos. And then…

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Woven

I never stopped making art. I just didn’t always call it that. What I made with you, my loves — in those days we shared — was the most embodied form of relational creation. Art was us — there was no interruption. Something Luu Li and and I talked about yesterday landed deeply. She said, “Wow Papa, 54 years! I'm so glad you’re starting to do art again.” And I told her — honestly — it’s never left me. But after that, I found myself thinking: when I was homeschooling Luu Li and CT, I wasn’t just not doing art — I was expressing my creativity through my life with them.

Staying With The Break

Companion Note: This piece — Staying with the Break — stands alongside The Autistic Mode, but its alignment is quieter. It doesn’t offer definition so much as positioning. While The Autistic Mode maps orientation, this essay names the role that such an orientation sometimes inhabits: not as advocate or disruptor, but as one who stays with what others have long left behind. But it’s not delay or resistance. Simply, our orientation is to what holds — not to keep it intact, but to keep it real. If The Autistic Mode answers the question, “Where do I live?” This piece responds, "I never left." It also continues a thread begun in Threshold to Threadwork, particularly in the third section When Rhythm Isn’t Enough: Holding the Shape of Connection. That piece traced the connection between rhythmic and structural presence. This one remains inside the fracture, because the thread of coherence still runs through the break. Both are grounded in the same ethical root: that presence is not performance, and that coherence does not require fluency. The reader does not need to hold the entire arc to meet this piece. But for those who do, it reveals the diamond-cut interior that shaped everything else: not a wound, but a vow.
Staying with the Break: Witness Roles in Relational Frames
— Rhythm and Rupture — In most social settings, rhythm is the invisible thread. It guides when we speak, how we shift, what is named and what is passed over. Many people move through this rhythm with ease. They sense the pulse of a conversation, the unspoken social current, and align themselves accordingly. There’s a kind of grace in it. But not all of us are made that way. Some of us are structured differently — not to follow rhythm, but to notice rupture. Where others feel the room’s emotional music, we feel the floor beneath it. And when the floor gives way — through betrayal, a missed cue, a moment of harm glossed over — we cannot pretend it didn’t happen. We pause. We stay. Not out of stubbornness, but out of fidelity to what is real. — A Different Kind of Mind — Contemporary psychology might frame this as hypervigilance, especially in trauma-informed models. In family systems theory, it could be seen as a form of role fixation. But these interpretations often miss something vital: for many neurodivergent people — particularly those with autistic, contemplative, or pattern-centered minds — this isn’t a symptom. It’s a way of being. A structural orientation, not a behavioral quirk. We’re not resisting connection. We’re sustaining coherence. This isn’t about fixation or looping. It’s about integrity — an alignment to the deeper structure of an interaction, a moment, or a relationship. Psychoanalyst Donald Winnicott spoke of the “true self” as something not performative but preserved — often in hiding, awaiting a context that can hold its integrity without intrusion or demand. Philosopher Martin Buber called it I–Thou: a form of meeting where the other is not turned into an object, and the moment is not reduced to utility. For those of us who live by coherence rather than consensus, presence means holding the space where rupture occurred — not to fix, not to perform, but to remain in authentic relationship with what was real. — The Role of the Witness — In past cultures, there were roles for people like this. Shamans, oracles, midwives of spirit — not as mystics, but as structural witnesses. Their function was to stay with what had broken down, not to fix it, but to mark it, metabolize it, and name it. Today, we often rush past discomfort, valuing resilience as “moving on” instead of staying present long enough to allow true repair. Therapist and author Laura Mae Northrup writes, “Repair is the beginning of healing — but healing is not a given. It must be chosen.” In most social settings, repair is left to chance. The momentum of the group determines what is acknowledged, and what is quietly buried. But when we leave ruptures unacknowledged, they accumulate — not just in our bodies, but in our relationships, our communities, our sense of trust. As a parent, I’ve seen this in its most intimate form. When my daughter fell out of sync with the world around her, I didn’t urge her to bounce back. I didn’t offer platitudes. I simply stayed with her in the place of dissonance. I didn’t call it resilience. I called it real. Later, she told me: “Thank you for being my biggest — and often only — ally in hard times.” She wasn’t thanking me for solving anything. She was thanking me for not looking away. In attachment theory, rupture and repair are central to building secure relationships. But what isn’t often named is the role of the witness: the one who holds meaning during rupture long enough for repair to become possible. This witnessing isn’t passive. It’s a form of care. It’s a refusal to let harm become normal. When I stay, it’s not to dwell in pain or to resist joy. It’s because the break still matters. And leaving it behind would only let it happen again. This isn’t disruption. It’s presence. It’s how I remain in integrity. And how I keep repair possible.
~ End ~
Cited and Referenced Works: Winnicott, D. W. (1960). Ego Distortion in Terms of True and False Self. In The Maturational Processes and the Facilitating Environment. International Universities Press. — Winnicott’s concept of the “true self” as something protected and preserved in relational space supports the idea that integrity is maintained not by adaptation, but by remaining in coherence with one’s inner orientation. Buber, M. (1958). I and Thou (2nd ed., R. G. Smith, Trans.). Scribner. (Original work published 1923) — Buber's philosophy of presence frames the act of remaining — not as resistance, but as a relational stance that holds space for the other without turning them into an object. Northrup, L. M. (2022). Radical Healership: How to Build a Values-Driven Healing Practice in a Profit-Driven World. North Atlantic Books. — Northrup challenges dominant cultural models of healing that prioritize productivity and resolution, offering instead a trauma-informed framework rooted in values, presence, and consent — a vision aligned with relational integrity over performative closure. Bowlby, J. (1988). A Secure Base: Parent-Child Attachment and Healthy Human Development. Basic Books. — This foundational work in attachment theory outlines how children develop emotional security through caregivers who remain reliably present, especially in moments of stress or rupture. Tronick, E. Z., & Cohn, J. F. (1989). "Infant–mother face-to-face interaction: Age and gender differences in coordination and the occurrence of miscoordination." Child Development. — Tronick and Cohn's research demonstrates that the health of a relationship depends not on constant harmony but on the recognition and repair of miscoordination — offering a model for how relational trust is built over time.
For orientation beyond this page, you may enter through:
The Vibrating Thread: From the Field of Redibility
Naikan in Four Movements
Threadwork (or begin with  Threshold to Threadwork ⧉  for a gentler entry)
The Holding Vow Sutra (drawn from the arc of  Naikan: The Rhythm of Vow ⧉ , but arriving later)

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