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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.
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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.
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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.
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The Myth of Big Picture Thinking: What ND Minds Actually Do

IN PROGRESS...

The Misunderstood Big Picture

There’s a story often told about autistic people: that we get lost in the details, that we fixate on minutiae at the expense of understanding the larger whole. The world is supposedly made up of two types of thinkers—those who see the broad landscape, and those who focus on the texture of the bark while missing the forest entirely. And we, they say, are the latter.

I don’t think that’s true.

If anything, I think we see the big picture more clearly than most.

But not in the way people expect.

What Is the Big Picture, Really?

When neurotypicals talk about “big picture thinking,” they are often referring to a kind of gestalt social awareness—the ability to move fluidly between interactions, to absorb context implicitly, to keep track of shifting emotional landscapes. This is a kind of big picture thinking, yes, but it is not the only kind.

There is another way of seeing the big picture—one that is structured, conceptual, and patterned rather than relational. It is the kind of thinking that does not just observe the world but tracks it—noticing how systems unfold over time, how inconsistencies accumulate, how one decision ripples into the next. It is not merely about perceiving the whole, but about understanding its underlying structure.

This is where I live.

Detail-Oriented, but Not Small-Minded

Yes, I am detail-oriented. I have a Where’s Waldo-level sensitivity to things that don’t belong—to patterns that break, to anomalies that others smooth over without noticing. But I do not collect details for their own sake. I track them because they set things in motion—because each inconsistency is the first domino, and I see the path it will take as it falls.

To neurotypicals, a detail is often just a detail. To me, a detail is a forecast—an early signal of what’s coming.

A financial inconsistency isn’t just an outlier—it’s the first shift in a larger pattern of decision-making. A social misalignment isn’t just an awkward moment—it’s the start of a miscommunication cascade. A change in someone’s tone isn’t just a mood fluctuation—it’s a structural shift in how they engage.

When I track details, it’s not because I am fixated on them. It’s because they don’t stop where they appear. They trigger the next shift, and the next, and the next. The dominos are already falling—I just see them moving before they hit the ground.

The Fragmented Big Picture

The irony is that, in many ways, neurotypicals are the ones who struggle to see the big picture—at least when it comes to structured, long-term coherence. They move from situation to situation, from conversation to conversation, integrating new information emotionally but not systematically.

I’ve seen this pattern often. Someone will stress about finances one day, then justify a large expense the next—not because they are reckless, but because they experience financial decisions as separate events rather than part of a structured whole. The same applies to emotional conflicts: a disagreement can be smoothed over in the moment, but the underlying patterns that created it remain untouched.

This is the difference between seeing a collection of moments versus seeing an ongoing system.

To a neurotypical person, the resolution of a single issue often feels like the resolution of the whole. To me, a decision isn’t settled just because it has been discussed once—it exists within a larger framework, and that framework doesn’t disappear when the conversation ends.

This is why I do not drop certain topics as easily as others seem to. It is why I continue to hold the weight of things that others have already moved past.

Because to me, decisions are not isolated. They are dominos—each one tilting forward into the next.

Who Really Sees the Big Picture?

If neurotypicals are socially big-picture thinkers, then neurodivergents like me are structural big-picture thinkers.

Neurotypicals smooth inconsistencies for the sake of flow. Neurodivergents highlight inconsistencies for the sake of accuracy.

Neurotypicals see interactions holistically. Neurodivergents see systems holistically.

Neurotypicals track the emotional arc of a situation. Neurodivergents track the causal arc of a situation.

Both of these are forms of big-picture thinking. It’s just that ours doesn’t look the way they expect.

The Need for a New Model

The common narrative—that autistics can’t see the forest for the trees—only holds if you define the forest socially. If, instead, you define it structurally, the story flips.

Instead of: ❌ NDs get lost in the details while NTs see the big picture.

It’s actually: ✔ NDs track patterns and systems while NTs track social and emotional flow.

Neither is inherently better or worse. But it is time to stop assuming that ours is the one that is broken.

We see the big picture. We just refuse to let it be a blurry, incomplete one.

And that is sometimes the cause of friction.

Because while others may be content with the general shape of things, we notice when something doesn’t quite fit. When a decision isn’t fully resolved. When a pattern, left unchecked, will eventually lead to a problem no one else anticipated.

It’s not about being right or proving a point. It’s about seeing what’s actually there—and what will be there if no one stops to adjust the course.

~ End ~
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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