The Quantifiable Soul and the End of Spiritual Vagueness

Oh, the irony. Spirituality claims to be about the soul, and yet, very few spiritual systems can actually define what the soul is—let alone describe how it works or offer a way to verify its existence.

But imagine, just for a moment, what would happen if someone could. What if there were a precise, mathematical explanation of the soul? A way to reveal its mystery, to understand it, even to measure it? Would this be the greatest breakthrough in the history of human spirituality—or the most destabilizing threat to the sprawling spiritual-industrial complex?

When I first encountered Ontological Mathematics, I was stunned. This wasn’t just another theory or spiritual philosophy—it was a rational system grounded in mathematical necessity. It offered a proof, not just a poetic metaphor, of how the universe works, what the soul is, and what our role is in the cosmic cycle of becoming. If you believe that the soul is real and worth understanding, then this is the mic drop you’ve been waiting for.

And yet, despite over 200 books and what must amount to tens of millions of words of highly developed reasoning, these ideas remain mostly ignored. In some cases, they’ve been picked up by fringe personalities—people who try to rebrand the work to serve personal ambitions, which often does more harm than good. In other cases, the work has remained inside its own intellectual bubble, with most of the discussion happening among students of the material. It hasn’t yet found its way into the mainstream.

This strikes me as bizarre. If we’re serious about spirituality, and if the soul is our central concern, shouldn’t a rigorous, coherent theory of the soul be headline news? Shouldn’t it be the most exciting development in spiritual history? And yet it’s met with silence, or worse, indifference.

The Comfort of Ambiguity

One reason, I think, is that modern spirituality thrives in ambiguity. Traditional religion told us we couldn’t know the mind of God, and that understanding the soul was beyond human reach. That created an opening for authorities and intermediaries—priests, gurus, prophets—to claim special insight. Today’s spirituality, while more democratized, has inherited the same fundamental limitation: the idea that ultimate reality is unknowable. Instead of surrendering to a church, we now surrender to vibes and personal resonance.

We’re encouraged to “take what resonates” and “find our own truth.” But the notion that truth is something subjective and personal is, frankly, incoherent. There can be many perspectives, but there is only one reality. Truth is not democratic. It’s not a buffet.

I remember a conversation early in the process of writing The Dream of Matter. I told someone I was trying to make the ideas as clear and technically sound as possible. They smiled and said, “Don’t worry too much. None of it’s verifiable anyway.” They weren’t being dismissive—they were just stating what has become an accepted fact of the genre. But that kind of thinking turns spirituality into a playground with no rules. No accountability. No standard of truth.

This is where the spiritual market differs from fields like engineering or science. One of my favorite management quotes is, “You can’t manage what you don’t measure.” But when it comes to the soul, we’ve accepted the opposite: that we must manage our lives, our ethics, our healing—but we’re not allowed to, and can’t, measure the very thing driving it all.

Maybe it’s because we’ve been told so many times that the soul is unknowable, we’ve simply given up trying. Or maybe there’s something even deeper—a kind of existential comfort in ambiguity. Because if the soul could be truly known, truly measured, then we might suddenly find ourselves responsible for aligning with it. And ambiguity, for all its limitations, gives us a convenient way out.

Of course, for some, the very idea of “measuring the soul” sounds absurd—like a category mistake. Isn’t the soul by definition ineffable? Isn’t that what makes it sacred?

But this response often stems from what philosophers call the argument from incredulity—the idea that something must be false simply because it seems implausible or unfamiliar. It’s a kind of cognitive laziness dressed up as common sense. Just because no one has mapped the soul yet doesn’t mean it can’t be done. And just because something hasn’t been accepted by the mainstream doesn’t mean it lacks truth. History is full of ideas that were ridiculed—until they weren’t. Germ theory. Atomic theory. Heliocentrism. Even the unconscious mind. The fact that something seems impossible to imagine is not, in itself, evidence that it’s untrue. It’s evidence that our imagination may still be too small.

The Cost of Certainty

Let’s suppose for a moment that the soul really can be defined. Not poetically. Not metaphorically. Precisely.

That would come with serious implications. It would mean that some spiritual ideas are accurate, and others aren’t. It would mean that spiritual growth could be mapped, modeled, and understood as a developmental process. And it would mean that many long-cherished ideas—no matter how comforting—would need to be revised or retired.

Ontological Mathematics is a revolution in understanding the soul. It doesn’t offer a symbolic model or a culturally specific interpretation. It presents the soul as a waveform composed of eternally oscillating thought, structured through the mathematics of sine and cosine waves. It shows how these internal frequencies combine to create identity, cognition, and experience through interference patterns and phase relationships. And it connects the immaterial mind to the material world through frequency-domain principles and Fourier mathematics.

This isn’t a judgment against mysticism or spiritual intuition. Those have always been valid ways of feeling our way through the dark. But when a light turns on—when reason gives us a tool for seeing the terrain clearly—we’d be foolish not to use it. Ontological mathematics gives us a way to bridge the inner and outer worlds. To bring structure to the ineffable. To begin measuring what was once invisible.

The “Everyone’s a Little Bit Right” Fallacy

One of the most popular ideas in contemporary spirituality is that “everyone is a little bit right.” This is the foundation of spiritual pluralism, and systems like Integral Theory build entire frameworks around it.

But let’s be honest: being “a little bit right” often means being mostly wrong—especially when dealing with precision systems.

If our framework is off by even a small degree, the consequences multiply over time. We don’t get spiritual freedom. We get spiritual noise. In a system based on interference and phase—where coherence is everything—small distortions can completely collapse the signal.

It’s like trying to design a spacecraft using a blend of alchemy, astrology, and aerodynamics. We’re not going to Mars. We’re more likely to burn up on the launch pad.

The Spiritual Marketplace Meets Its Reckoning

Now, let’s talk about the elephant in the room: what happens to the spiritual economy when a definitive understanding of the soul enters the picture?

Spirituality today is a marketplace. It’s consumer-driven. We shop for belief systems the way we shop for supplements—whatever makes us feel better. But if the soul has a fixed structure, then not all beliefs are equal. Some are aligned with reality, and others are, frankly, not.

This is where things get uncomfortable. If a system like Ontological Mathematics gains traction, it could start to displace other systems. Not by force or evangelism—but by sheer coherence. And that will threaten industries built on ambiguity. Coaching programs, healing modalities, mystical frameworks—many will suddenly look like the spiritual equivalent of snake oil.

Could this be the spiritual bubble of the 21st century? A crash not of stocks, but of worldviews?

But what if there’s another path?

What if, instead of clinging to incompatible frameworks or doubling down on ambiguity, we began to align? What if the different marketplace offerings—each with their own myths, symbols, and insights—could begin to orbit around a shared core? A common foundation. Not based on cultural preference or emotional appeal, but on mathematical necessity.

What if we treated truth the way physicists treat gravity: as something to be discovered, not invented? And what if, from that shared ground, we let our individual traditions bloom—not in contradiction, but in harmony?

Imagine the beauty of that convergence.

Displacing Authority, Reframing Prophecy

And what about the biggest institutions? What happens if the Catholic Church—or any major religion—no longer has exclusive authority over the soul? What if the “truth” no longer needs to be mediated by tradition or hierarchy, but is instead directly accessible through reason itself?

That may sound threatening. But I believe there’s a deeper opportunity here.

The Church may, in a sense, be “too big to fail.” With over a billion Catholics worldwide, any radical new understanding of the soul—if it were to surface—would either be repressed, or strategically integrated. Personally, I’d like to believe the days of inquisitions are behind us, and that integration is not only possible, but inevitable.

We don’t need to discard the mystics. Quite the opposite. We need to finally understand what they were really pointing to. Every prophet, every enlightened figure, was tuning into something real—but their insights came wrapped in metaphor, filtered through culture, and constrained by the conceptual tools of their era.

They weren’t wrong. They were incomplete.

Human intuition is powerful. But it’s also prone to distortion, projection, and poetic license. That’s why we need a system that doesn’t shift with mood or metaphor—a system that doesn’t depend on the charisma of a teacher or the interpretive lens of tradition.

We need a teacher that doesn’t misinterpret itself.

That teacher is reason.

From Revelation to Rationality

Let’s be clear: this isn’t about throwing intuition, or the voice of prophets out the window. Ontological Mathematics was not built in defiance of intuition—it was born from it. The foundational insights of the system are profoundly intuitive. They speak to the deepest patterns of existence: waveforms, symmetry, eternal motion. These are not arbitrary concepts—they are what mystics have touched for millennia.

What sets Ontological Mathematics apart is that it doesn’t stop there. It takes those intuitive flashes and subjects them to the most rigorous logical analysis possible. Every connection is checked. Every deduction examined. No contradictions are allowed. If there’s a paradox, something’s wrong. And in a universe built on coherence, the system must itself be coherent.

This, I suspect, is one reason the system was developed in secrecy for so long. How many people in the world are truly equipped to take the wildfire of spiritual insight and refine it through formal logic? How many are able to hold both radical intuition and precise rationality in the same hand? Probably not many. But if humanity is going to evolve, more of us need to learn how.

That’s why I was so struck by the work of the Iranian philosopher Abdolkarim Soroush, particularly his book The Expansion of Prophetic Experience. Soroush argues that revelation isn’t a static download from on high, but a dynamic process shaped by the prophet’s interpretive lens. Inspiration is real—but it must be metabolized through the mind of the receiver, and inevitably reflects their culture, knowledge, and worldview. Prophecy, in his view, is a seed planted in the soil of human understanding. As that understanding grows, so too must the revelation.

This is precisely the missing piece. For millennia, we have been intuiting fragments of the truth. The prophetic impulse is real—it’s the mind resonating with the deep structure of existence. But until now, there hasn’t been a universal method for refining and validating those insights. We’ve had powerful visions, but no calculus to process them. Ontological Mathematics offers exactly that: a formal, coherent framework for sorting signal from noise, truth from metaphor, principle from projection.

It doesn’t invalidate revelation—it systematizes it.

So perhaps the deeper crisis isn’t that mysticism is wrong, but that it’s unfinished. Formal mathematics wasn’t the enemy of spiritual truth—it was the missing half of the equation. And now that it’s here, it’s up to us to evolve from mystics to mathematicians of the soul.

Soul as Science, Self as Signal

Once we accept that the soul is a waveform, everything changes.

Spirituality becomes engineering. The self becomes a signal. Healing becomes waveform optimization. Mental health becomes phase alignment. Lucidity becomes a measure of internal coherence.

When I work with neurotherapy, or explore altered states, or reflect on my own growth, I see it all as pattern modulation. My soul isn’t some vague aura—it’s a precise interference pattern of sinusoidal thought, constantly shifting through life experience.

Love, purpose, wisdom—they don’t become less sacred when they’re mapped. They become more powerful. More actionable. More true.

This doesn’t ruin the mystery. It unlocks it and reveals the beautiful truth.

What If Reality Had a Vote?

If the soul is real, measurable, and its role in the cosmic cycle definable—then ambiguity itself begins to lose its grip. That’s not just a metaphysical shift. It has political consequences, too.

Politics today is built on competing narratives—subjective values, group identities, and moral frameworks that often have no common denominator. One person’s liberation is another’s oppression. One side’s truth is another side’s heresy. We argue not just over solutions, but over what’s real in the first place.

But if Ontological Mathematics reveals a structured soul—a mind that exists in a lawful, intelligible system—then we can begin to ask entirely new kinds of political questions:

What social structures actually support coherence and mental evolution?

What values arise from understanding the soul as a mathematical, eternal being?

What kind of governance would emerge if our political systems aimed to align with the objective architecture of reality?

Rational ontology doesn’t align with the left or the right. It doesn’t bend toward ideology. It bends toward truth. And that’s both exhilarating and terrifying.

Because if reality is structured, and the soul is real, then we can no longer justify every belief as equally valid. Not all values are created equal. Some support the actualization of the soul. Some distort it. And once that’s knowable, neutrality becomes complicity.

This isn’t a call for technocracy or dogmatism—it’s an invitation to evolve. To move beyond politics as tribal warfare, and toward politics as reality alignment. A politics of coherence.

Now that’s a real revolution.

The Steep Cost of Clarity

The idea of a mathematically defined soul—structured, measurable, and rationally provable—is, to me, the most revolutionary concept in the history of spirituality. If you could understand the exact nature of the soul and its journey through the cosmic cycle, what could possibly rival that?

But there’s a cost. A steep one.

To understand the soul through Ontological Mathematics, you have to learn to think differently—not just from religion or science, but from how nearly every human on Earth has been conditioned to think. Most of us rely on sensory data, subjective experience, or emotional resonance. But Ontological Mathematics bypasses all that. It demands a new instrument: reason. Pure, formal, deductive logic.

And that’s not easy. Religion only asks for faith. Mysticism offers countless ways to feel something profound. But reason requires effort. Study. Time. Precision. You can’t just feel your way to truth—you have to prove it.

The soul isn’t observable in space and time. So to grasp it, we must train the mind to see what the eyes cannot. That’s the real challenge—and the reason why so few engage deeply with this system.

Personally, I’m struck by the sheer scale of commitment from the authors behind Ontological Mathematics—the Pythagorean Illuminati. Over 200 books. Possibly more than 20 million words. This isn’t spiritual marketing—it’s an intellectual cathedral. You don’t build something like that casually.

How many individuals or organizations can you name that have pursued a single philosophical vision with such focus and depth, across decades—or even millennia?

I choose to take that as a challenge, not an excuse to look away. Great insights demand great effort. So here’s the question: do you have the boldness and stamina to explore a paradigm this different? Can you stay with it long enough for the pieces to snap into place?

Because if this system really holds the key to understanding the soul, it may not just be worth the effort—it may be the only thing that is.

The Holy Grail Is Real (But Do We Want It?)

So here we are.

We live in a world made of mind. And we now have a system that may describe that mind—not figuratively, but mathematically. The soul can be measured. Trained. Tuned. Evolved.

This isn’t the end of spirituality. It’s the beginning of real spiritual progress.

The question is no longer, “Does the soul exist?”

The question is: “Are we ready to take responsibility for what that means?”

That’s why I am writing The Dream of Matter. That’s why I’m attempting to contribute my little part to this work. Not to impress, or convert, or mystify—but to help bring these profound, crystalline ideas into contact with something that matters: neuroscience, mental health, and the real human journey of integration.

Because in a world made of mind, what could possibly be more important than understanding and healing the mind itself?