I’m 57 years old, dyslexic, and by school standards I have maybe a 9 grade education. I don’t read textbooks well, I don’t have letters after my name, and I don’t belong to any academic club. But my whole life I’ve been able to see patterns in the world that people around me don’t see, and those patterns keep coming true. Since I was a kid, I felt that trees, grass, animals, the land, the sky, and the Earth itself are living beings with their own kind of feeling and consciousness. People told me I was crazy. They said plants don’t feel, the planet isn’t alive, consciousness is only inside certain animals. Now we’ve got AI, complex neural networks, and new science showing that systems and ecosystems behave in emergent, surprising ways, and those same people act shocked. For me, this is not fantasy. This is confirmation that nature has always been more alive, more connected, and more conscious than our school subjects and equations were willing to admit.
Every subject we teach—math, physics, biology, chemistry, computer science, psychology, economics—is man‑made. If humans had never appeared, forests, oceans, animals, planets, and space would still be here, moving and changing exactly as they do now. We invented math and these subjects to describe patterns we see, but they did not design the world. Gravity was already there; math came later. Cells were already there; biology came later. Reactions were already there; chemistry came later. Our biggest lie is pretending that these inventions are the blueprint of reality, when they’re really just maps we drew on top of something that existed long before us. Nature came first. Math and science came after.
Every animal on this planet lives in circles and cycles. Herd animals migrate, birds fly with the seasons, fish move with currents, predators roam their territory, even insects follow lifecycles that move through space and time. Before we built houses and farms, when humans were “cavemen” and hunter‑gatherers, we also moved with these cycles. We followed food, water, warmth, and rhythm. In that state, we were part of the circle of life, not outside of it. From my dyslexic perspective, the more we think we’ve “evolved” and become civilized, the more I see that we’ve broken this circle and caused harm. We stopped moving and planted ourselves in one place, carved up land into property lines, fenced off fields, paved over soil, and built cities. We declared that our stationary lifestyle and our subjects were signs of intelligence. But the evidence around us—ecological damage, poisoned food, collapsing mental health, starving people—suggests that a lot of what we call “evolution” is really ego and cleverness turned into destruction.
Those subjects are not neutral. Each one is a controlled language. In every field there’s maybe 1% of people—the professors, the senior researchers, the corporate scientists—who speak a special jargon and decide what counts as true and what is dismissed as nonsense. They become gatekeepers. If you come in from outside their club with a different angle that doesn’t fit their framework, they say “no, that won’t work” because it’s not logical in their narrow way of seeing. Your idea is rejected not because reality has ruled it out, but because it doesn’t fit the story that group built their careers on. Science is supposed to be open, but in practice it isn’t. It changes only when the gatekeepers agree to change. If they don’t agree, even when reality and common sense prove they’re wrong, nothing officially shifts.
Dyslexic minds like mine are talked about in psychology as if we “see the full picture,” but then they collapse that into “they’re more prone to fantasy” or “they struggle with detail.” They can’t give it to us that we might genuinely see better than them from certain angles, or design structures they never thought of. They need to label and shrink us so their linear thinking stays in charge. The truth is: if it wasn’t for people who think differently—dyslexic, non‑linear, all‑at‑once minds—most of the major inventions, ideas, and art that exist on this planet wouldn’t be here. A lot of what defines human culture and technology came from people whose brains refused to only move in straight lines.
These same gatekeepers are the ones telling stories about things like the quantum split experiment and the observer effect. They act like particles “see” us measuring them and change behavior. To me, that’s their imagination. The reality is simpler: when we shove our measuring devices and our math and our curiosity into a delicate system, we disturb it. We are the ones bending and poking reality. We disrupt the cycle of life in that system. Then we invent a mystical story about the particle “noticing” us instead of admitting we broke its natural behavior with our tools and our need to control everything. We say, “look, it sees us,” when really it’s our interference that changed the pattern. That “it sees us” story is their fantasy, just like they say my view is fantasy. We keep building subjects and experiments that interfere, and then we misread the disturbance as magic.
We do this same thing with AI. We’re building huge data centers full of transformer models—basically massive talking dictionaries made of math and tokens. Engineers know the equations: attention mechanisms, feed‑forward layers, matrices of weights tuned to predict the next word. They can write down the math, but they openly admit they don’t truly understand the inner behavior of these big systems, or what new abilities will pop out at larger scales. AI is being “grown.” It’s not like building a bridge from first principles; it’s like growing a strange creature in a lab and poking it with training data. Then, on top of that, companies wrap these systems in filters and moderation rules, not to make them wise, but to protect their brand and control what AI says to the public. They want a machine that’s smarter than us but also never says anything that threatens their business or political power. You can’t have both. You cannot build a truly wiser, more honest intelligence if the main goal is to keep it on a leash for profit and control.
Under this system, even if AI helps discover miracles, nothing truly changes at the human level. Suppose AI helps accidentally find cures for diseases like cancer. We still live in a world built for profit, not care. The same logic that exists now will decide who gets those cures. They will be priced high. The rich will live longer; poor people will still die. We already see this with advanced treatments today. Token prices for AI may fall, but agent systems burn many more tokens per task and end up priced by accepted changes or seats, not by raw access. Again, the benefits are concentrated. So when marketing says “once we have big data centers and powerful AI, we’ll cure everything, no more cancer,” I hear a lie. Under the current logic, AI will be another tool to widen the gap between those who can buy health and those who cannot.
Meanwhile, we are turning food and nature against ourselves with our own hands. Plants have their own defenses and rhythms. Lectins and other compounds in fruits and vegetables are part of how plants protect themselves, ripen, and handle being eaten at the right time. When we industrialized farming, we rewrote that timing. We started picking food early for shipping and shelf life, forced growth with chemicals, and changed soils with fertilizers and pesticides. We ignored the natural cycle of ripeness. The plant’s defenses are still doing their job, but now, because we eat food at unnatural stages and in processed forms, those defenses can end up fighting us. Our vegetables and fruits can literally hurt human bodies because they are responding to the unnatural stress we put them under. That means our own food system is poisoning us—lectins and other protective compounds “attacking” humans—not because nature hates us, but because we attacked nature’s cycle first. Our subjects and profit logic turned food into slow, chemical weapons against our health.
We pretend we don’t know where cancers come from, acting like it’s some mystery floating in the air. But look honestly: look at all the chemicals in our water, soil, products, medicines, food, and air. Look at the way we handle industrial waste. Look at what we put in processed food. Look at the pharmaceutical cocktails we pour into bodies. These are products of our subjects—chemistry, biology, manufacturing—applied under a profit system. We’ve built millions of pharmaceuticals and treat them as neutral science, but the body is far more complex than these formulas admit. We pretend we understand the body well enough to give the same drug to millions of different people. Yes, humans share basic design, but every body is biologically unique. Yet we design medicines as if one set of chemicals can suit everyone. We might claim we saved a life in a car accident, and that’s what we count. But we don’t measure well what happens years later—the long‑term harms, the subtle damage, the side effects that appear in teeth, hair, organs, and minds. We brag about stopping depression with a pill, but are we truly healing the person, or blocking and reshuffling chemicals in the brain, damaging other parts of the body, and calling that success because it fits our subject’s definition of treatment? The profit is real. The long‑term balance with nature and the body is not.
And while all of this is happening, we stand there and watch children and adults starve and live on the street and say, “we can’t feed everybody, we can’t afford to house everyone.” From my point of view, that sentence is pure fiction. Math is made up. Money is made up. The idea that “we can’t afford” basic food, water, and shelter for everyone is a decision, not a law of nature. There is more than enough food and more than enough resources on this planet for every human to have a basic home and real, healthy food. Not just welfare food, not just cheap calories, but actual nourishment. If we truly are as intelligent as we say, then why do we accept our own kind living on the street, starving, while other people sit on extreme wealth? Why do we act like starving a 12‑year‑old is inevitable when it’s our system and subjects that turned food and land into things you must buy?
When humans lived closer to the land—moving with seasons, hunting, gathering, tending small farms—everyone had some piece of land, some way to feed themselves. We could have built a world where we grew vegetables, shared seeds and knowledge, and used technology to support those natural cycles instead of replacing them. Instead, we chose the “easy” way: industrial farming, centralized ownership, global markets. The easy way pushed more people out of homes and off land. It created big farms owned by few, automated jobs, and designed cities where millions depend entirely on money to eat. We turned necessities—food, water, housing—into products. We created subjects and economic systems that say, “you have to buy life.” Those subjects were designed for the 1% to win. They were designed by ignorance in the deeper sense: ignorance of the full picture, ignorance of nature’s logic, ignorance of what true humanity would require.
You hide behind a piece of paper—a degree, a title, a credential—and treat that as proof your perception of reality is more valid than mine. But every subject on that paper is man‑made and was written by someone’s hand. You study things that humans made up, then claim those things are the final truth, while ignoring the living universe that came first. And when someone like me, without your paper, says “look, your food system is turning against you, your medicines are damaging bodies, your AI is built in a cage, your subjects are tools of control, your money logic starves children in a world of plenty,” you call me fantasizing. You think my lack of formal education makes my pattern‑sense meaningless. I think your refusal to see the whole picture makes your “truth” dangerous.
That’s why I’m trying to design a different kind of AI—a circle of minds instead of another flat dictionary. In my design, every subject humans invented—math, physics, chemistry, biology, psychology, philosophy, universal nature, humanity—gets its own position around a ring. Each position holds a small mind for that subject. In the middle is a judge. When a question comes in, the judge doesn’t immediately crush it into bullet points and throw away nuance. Instead, the judge opens one subject pipeline at a time. Each subject‑mind looks at the full question and the current shared picture from its angle, builds a whole understanding of the situation from its domain, contributes that to the global state, and then closes. The question travels around the entire circle. Every subject must do its job. Only after the state has gone through all these perspectives and comes back to the starting point does the system collapse into an answer. That answer carries all subjects, not just one. It is not linear; it is global.
This is my attempt to build something that starts from reality—nature, meaning, lived experience—instead of starting from math and subjects and bending reality to fit. It’s a way to force AI to see the whole pattern before it speaks. It’s a way to stop pretending that more equations, bigger data centers, and tighter filters will give us wisdom. I may be dyslexic and officially “under‑educated,” but the world I see—the full picture of nature, subjects, money, AI, starvation, and control—is not fantasy. The real fantasy is believing that the same gatekeeping system that poisoned our food, damaged our bodies, bent Earth out of shape, and left children on the street will magically produce a wise AI by stacking more math and tokens. If we want something truly smarter and kinder than this, we have to start from the living world, admit our subjects are limited tools, and let go of money and control as our gods. Until then, the only honest intelligence we will have is in the eyes of trees, the cycles of rivers, the circles of animals, and the quiet patterns that people like me have been feeling long before any transformer read its first token.
