I didn’t come across DBT-C in a training course or professional setting. What first opened the door wasn’t about children at all. It was a story in DBT Made Simple.

A therapist was working with someone who had just attempted suicide. The client asked for an extra weekly session. The therapist had originally said no. But now what?

They knew that offering a session after a suicide attempt—even from compassion—could unintentionally reinforce the behavior. And yet denying it could also be harmful.

Instead, the therapist followed DBT’s hierarchy of treatment targets:

1. Behaviors that interfere with life (safety first)

2. Behaviors that interfere with therapy or learning (what prevents growth)

3. Behaviors that interfere with quality of life (everything else)

So they said something like:

“I’m not doing this because of the suicide attempt, but because I hadn’t realized how much distress you were in.”

And then they added a boundary:

“If there’s another attempt, we’ll go back to one session a week.”

That felt tough. And clear. And kind.
And just what I needed in my parenting.

A Therapeutic Model for Meltdowns

I kept returning to that page. It wasn’t just therapy—it was a model for how to show up to crisis with a child.

• No threats.

• No overcompensating.

• No collapsing into guilt or control.

Just presence, clarity, and a structure that holds both of us.

That led me to DBT-C, Dialectical Behavior Therapy adapted for emotionally sensitive kids—what Dr. Francheska Perepletchikova calls supersensers. And honestly, most three-year-olds fit the description.

The Surprising Parallel: Threenagers, Teens, and BPD Traits

The more I learned, the more I saw something no one had told me before:

Many of the emotional traits that show up in young children—and again in teenagers—mirror some of the same dysregulation patterns seen in adults with BPD.

• Extreme language: “I’ll cry forever!”

• Splitting: “You NEVER help me!”

• Despair spirals: “Nobody cares about me!”

• Fear of abandonment, need for control, identity confusion

That doesn’t mean our kids have BPD (i.e. Borderline Personality Disorder, or the main diagnosis DBT is designed to address). But it does mean that a treatment model developed for emotional dysregulation—with decades of evidence behind it—might be exactly what we need in the messy, real-time moments of parenting.

If DBT has shown it can help people regulate that level of intensity, then maybe it could help me… and my child. And maybe, without even realizing it, this journey is part of why I’m becoming a therapist myself, in addition to parenting.

Three DBT Principles That Have Been Guiding My Parenting

1. Spotting Maladaptive Patterns Early

Maladaptive behaviors provide short-term relief with no long-term benefits—like drug use or self-harm in adults. In kids, this looks like tantrums that get immediate attention, dramatic declarations that control the room, or meltdowns that avoid difficult tasks. The behavior “works” in the moment but teaches unhelpful patterns for life.

This helps me not treat every tantrum like a crisis. Sometimes the priority isn’t intervention—it’s presence. If I react instead of regulate, I just reinforce the same circular pattern we’re both trying to outgrow.

My daughter knows that she can come to me for a hug or support anytime, but she needs to come to me and not scream for me to come to her. And I will repeat this over and over again. This maintains connection while preventing manipulation patterns.

2. Life is Dialectical

My child isn’t “good” or “bad.” They just are. Some behaviors are helpful, others aren’t. That’s it.

This distinction—between who they are and what they do—is the difference between guilt (which can lead to growth) and shame (which usually leads to shutdown). I can say, “It is ok to feel sad. I understand that. But it is not ok to scream in a restaurant, and we must leave.” That invalidates the behavior and not the child or the emotion. It does not cause the level of dissociation and disembodiment that happens when we invalidate emotions.

It’s not always easy. But it’s essential and maybe even simple.

3. Change Requires Acceptance

The paradox at the heart of DBT is simple and real:

You can’t change what you haven’t first accepted. And acceptance comes from mindfulness.

DBT is basically Cognitive Behavioral Therapy + mindfulness. As Donald Robertson shared with Sam Harris, CBT represents ‘the closest western adaptation to Buddhism’ with deep ‘parallels between Stoicism and Buddhism.’ But I like how DBT’s founder Marsha Linehan weaved in mindfulness in a more direct approach, being a Zen Master and having to deal with BPD symptoms herself.

Mindfulness helps me notice when I’m resisting what’s happening. Sometimes I have to stop trying to fix it, and just say to myself: “Yes. This is what’s happening. It’s big for her. She’s not doing this to me. She’s in it.” That pause—just accepting what is—often opens space for something new.

As a friend of mine who is a mother of 4 and grandmother of 3 sometimes says: “Dealing with children is like dealing with a drunken friend. You cannot expect them to be rational”.

What Mindfulness Means

In PlayfulProcess terms, there are two ways of responding to something: from the place of form or the place of being. From the place of form, we get trapped in reactivity patterns if we do not anchor ourselves in being. So, whenever I feel the familiar constriction of reactivity, I try to pause.

That might look like:

• Saying nothing and just breathing with her, even if she does not want to engage

• Waiting until we’re both calm before trying to teach anything; like that, even though she says “I will never calm down,” there is no history of anyone who could stay in an emotional state forever

• Softening my tone without softening the boundary

When I hold presence, she finds her way back faster. When I don’t, we spiral together. It’s not perfect. But it’s more real. And it’s teaching me, too.

How I’m Blending DBT with Other Tools

DBT-C gives me structure. NVC (Nonviolent Communication) helps me lead with empathy. And “The Whole-Brain Child“ reminds me that her “upstairs brain”—the part that regulates—is still under construction..

I don’t use NVC as a script—I use it as a quiet checklist in my head when things are hard:

• What is she observing?

• What is she feeling?

• What need isn’t being met?

• What request could support her or the situation?

These questions shift me out of control mode and back into connection.
Sometimes that means journaling. Sometimes it means rewriting the story together. Sometimes, it means writing actual stories that I can read to my kid.

Resources I’ve Been Learning From

• Francheska Perepletchikova on DBT-C

• Nonviolent Communication by Marshall Rosenberg

• Donald Robertson on Stoicism and CBT

• Dan Siegel – The Whole-Brain Child

Let’s Keep Learning Together

Have you noticed patterns like these in your own parenting?
What has helped you stay present—or come back to presence—when things get hard?

I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments. Let’s figure this out together.

I’ve built something that combines journaling with tarot and I Ching—not to predict futures, but to process the present. It’s at journal.recursive.eco. Almost everything is free. The AI features cost 1 cent per exchange after 10 free interactions, because I believe in access over profit.

If that’s all you need, go explore. If you want the story behind it, keep reading.

The boring truth about journaling (and how I processed it)

Let me be honest: journaling bored me.

I’ve had long stretches of Morning Pages and other techniques. They helped—until they didn’t. Often they drifted into project planning or simply went stale. That frustration led me to build a simple journaling tool months ago: write in one window, dialogue with AI in another.

But I barely used it.

I’d open the page, feel pressure to write something meaningful about my day or my feelings, type a few tired lines, and close it. Or I’d fall into long, circular AI conversations. Something was missing.

Then I noticed a pattern. Whenever I pulled a tarot card first—or threw I Ching coins—writing came alive. I wasn’t facing a blank page anymore. I had a conversation partner. Not something mystical predicting my future, but a mirror offering better prompts than any journaling method I’d tried.

That’s what I built into the tool.

It’s journaling with a Jungian twist: symbols that lead you into corners of yourself you didn’t know how to reach. It’s also CBT-adjacent—loosening rigid narratives, reframing thoughts, opening alternatives. There’s a touch of esotericism too, which still challenges both my agnosticism and my faith.

But most importantly, it’s fun. Because processing life shouldn’t feel like duty.

Why symbols matter (especially when you’re stuck)

A personal moment made this clear.

Not long ago, my manager gave me a negotiation book. We thought it would teach tactics and leverage. Instead, it taught something far more uncomfortable: before you negotiate anything, you need to know what you actually want.

That landed hard. I saw how often we rush into strategies without clarifying values. We optimize without direction. We plan futures without understanding the present.

This is where symbols help.

Symbols bypass our defenses. When you pull The Tower, you’re not being told your life will collapse. You’re being invited to ask: What feels unstable? What needs to fall? What am I afraid of losing that I may have already lost?

As Jung knew, symbols aren’t signs with fixed meanings. They’re doorways. And unlike the detached “objective” stance modernity loves, symbols invite relationship—with yourself, with meaning, with mystery.

That’s why this tool exists. It grew out of my own needs, my own stuck places, my own boredom. It’s deeply tied to the practice—and the world—I’m trying to build as I move toward becoming a therapist.

My winding path to this tool

The path wasn’t straight.

I’ve sat with therapists who insisted my patterns came from childhood abuse I don’t believe happened. Others turned sessions into critiques of my partner instead of helping me clarify whether certain habits were addictions—or simply tools.

I’ve worked with tarot readers too. One advised me to focus on a single niche because it would be better for SEO. That may have been practical, but it felt completely misaligned. Tarot doesn’t work like that. Because of their symbolic nature, cards tend to reveal worldviews more than they deliver “pure messages”—and the same is true of readers, including ourselves.

These experiences didn’t make me reject therapy or tarot. They showed me how vulnerable it can feel to hand over interpretive authority—to let someone else define your meaning.

There are practitioners I deeply respect and would love to work with long-term. Some served me well in the past and taught me how to carve my own process. For now, I’m living that process myself.

The recursive spiral back to oneself

Over time, I learned something simple: external guidance matters—but it isn’t enough. The most meaningful practices help you become your own guide. That’s why this space treats tarot and symbols as invitations, not instructions. You bring your meanings. The tool facilitates the dialogue.

I’m expanding it slowly—adding public-domain decks, publishing my own, and eventually allowing anyone to create their own cards and meaning with ease. Because creating symbols is itself a form of processing.

When you design a card, name an archetype, and choose an image, you’re no longer consuming wisdom—you’re authoring it. Wisdom can’t be consumed; it has to be felt, processed, and embodied from within.

This tool exists so you have something you can return to on your own terms—a place to process with support, reflection, and gentle AI mirroring, without surrendering your inner compass. If a community forms around this naturally, I’d love that. For now, I’m content offering my process and opening the invitation.

Tarot, spirituality, and returning to the center

Tarot is considered spiritual by many—and I want to name that clearly. Across the spiritual paths I’ve explored, the ones that felt most real and ethical had something in common: they didn’t pull me away from myself. They returned me to my center.

They emphasized authenticity over obedience, integrity over certainty, courage over comfort.

That’s why thinkers like Paul Tillich (The Courage to Be) or Parker J. Palmer (Let Your Life Speak) feel deeply spiritual to me, even though they aren’t spiritual systems. They don’t tell you who to be. They help you listen for who you already are.

The paths that worry me are the ones that promise answers, certainty, or superiority—paths that ask you to surrender your inner compass in exchange for belonging. This tool is built in the opposite spirit.

Tarot, here, is not doctrine. It’s dialogue.
Not destiny—but discernment.

If it brings you closer to your own voice, values, and integrity, it’s doing its job. That, to me, is both therapeutic and spiritual.

The invitation

This isn’t fortune-telling. It’s reflective practice. It’s finding your ground in a world that profits from keeping you ungrounded. It’s choosing dialogue over dogma and process over product.

Use it in the morning. Use it when you’re stuck. Use it when you don’t yet know what you want.

Pay what you can, when you can. What matters is access to your own process. The most important thing you can contribute, if this resonates, is your own process—so that, over time, this can grow into a community.

I dream of people sharing interpretations, card designs, reflections, and supporting each other’s processing—just as I hope parents will build communities around my kids’ tools, creating safe and generative spaces together.

I have about thirty subscribers right now. I’m not trying to grow fast or be loud. I’m committed to building good tools for people who need them.

Because in the end, this is about trusting that you already carry the wisdom you need. Sometimes you just need better questions to hear it.

With care and curiosity,
PlayfulProcess

If you don’t want to read the story and just want the practical gift, here it is.

The actual tool is kids.recursive.eco.

This is a calm, locked-down viewing space designed specifically for children. Once a child is inside kids.recursive.eco, they cannot navigate anywhere else. There are no links out, no browsing, no recommendations, and no algorithm pulling them in unexpected directions.

You can also find clear instructions there on how to set up kiosk mode on your device, so your child cannot leave the app at all—not even accidentally. When kiosk mode is on, kids are fully contained inside this single experience.

You can mirror it directly to your TV, which means your child gets a big, comfortable screen while you keep full control from your phone, tablet, or computer.

Most importantly: kids.recursive.eco is fully COPPA-compliant. It does not gather any user data. No tracking, no analytics, no profiles. That’s intentional. I needed a space where children could watch content safely without being measured, optimized, or stored in a database.

To make that possible, I separated things into two spaces.

kids.recursive.eco is only for children.
channels.recursive.eco is for parents.

The Channels site is where parents can browse, star, and submit playlists and tools. That separation allows kids.recursive.eco to remain a clean, data-free environment while still letting parents collaborate, curate, and share intentionally.

And these are the two playlists I’m sharing as my free Christmas present to families:

Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood

Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood

If you want to create your own playlists or submit content, you can do that as a parent here.

I’m working toward parent-created full channels, but for now playlists give you a lot of control with content you already trust.

That’s it. If this already helps you, you can stop here 💛
If you want the story behind why these two shows matter so much to me, keep reading.

How I Changed My Mind About Kids and Screens

When my daughter was about one and a half, I was doing everything “right.” No screens. No exceptions. I followed every guideline carefully.

Then one day she was sick. We were exhausted. Nothing was working. And I did what most parents eventually do: I turned on a video.

Instead of relief, I felt guilt.

I remember rushing to my computer, anxious, asking myself whether I had just done something harmful. That question sent me down a long rabbit hole. I watched talks, read research, and tried to understand what actually matters when it comes to children and screens.

One moment that really stayed with me was finding a great Ted Talk, with a pediatrician who have been stufying media and children (Dimitri Christakis):

It helped me understand that it’s not just about how much screen time kids get—it’s about how content is made. The pacing. The tone. Whether it respects a child’s nervous system or overwhelms it.

That’s when I found Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood. And later, Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood.

Why Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood Still Rocks

Fred Rogers wasn’t just a TV host. He was a minister, quietly on a mission.

He actually disliked television. He thought it was loud, commercial, and often harmful for children. But instead of rejecting it, he chose to transform it. He started in commercial television and then deliberately moved to public TV so he could create content that was truly in the best interest of kids, not driven by ratings or advertising.

Fred Rogers worked closely with his mentor, Dr. Margaret McFarland, a highly respected child psychologist. They met regularly—often weekly—from the mid-1960s until her death in 1988. Together, they discussed child development theory in depth so that the scripts would reflect the real emotional concerns of children. Every episode was intentional.

What set Fred Rogers apart was his radical honesty with children. He believed deeply that children deserved the truth, presented in age-appropriate ways.

When he was young and curious about where babies came from, his grandfather let him watch a cat give birth to kittens. Rogers never forgot that moment. Years later, he honored it on his show, explaining to children how kittens are born and why honesty matters.

He didn’t avoid difficult topics. He created episodes about death, divorce, and war during the Cold War. He addressed the assassinations of Robert F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King Jr., helping children process national tragedies in real time.

At the same time, Rogers cared deeply about helping children distinguish fantasy from reality. After learning that some children had injured themselves trying to fly like Superman, he became even more deliberate about this boundary.

That’s why the Neighborhood of Make-Believe was always clearly separated from the real neighborhood. The trolley served as a visible transition. Rogers never appeared inside Make-Believe himself. He wanted children to know: I am real. The people I visit are real. Daniel Tiger is a puppet—and that’s okay.

All the characters were puppets or actors in costume. No cartoons. No impossible physics. No superpowers. Just feelings, conflicts, and resolutions children could recognize and work through.

Today, Fred Rogers is a cultural icon in the U.S. There’s a Tom Hanks movie about his life. But what matters most is this: he treated children with dignity. He believed kids deserved honesty, slowness, emotional safety, and help navigating the boundary between fantasy and reality.

That legacy didn’t end with him.

Daniel Tiger and the Power of Radical Kindness

Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood was created as the direct inheritor of Mister Rogers’ philosophy. It carries forward the idea of radical kindness—not kindness as performance, but kindness practiced daily, through repetition.

My daughter loves Daniel Tiger. And I love the structure.

Every episode has a gentle moral. But more importantly, the moral is turned into music. Simple songs. Repeated again and again. That repetition matters.

One song has become the chorus of our household:

“When you’re so mad that you want to roar, take a deep breath and count to four.”

Now, let me be honest: counting to four does not work for us. Four is not enough. We count to one hundred. And that does the trick.

But that’s the beauty of it. The song isn’t about the number. It’s about the process—breathing, slowing down, giving emotions somewhere safe to go.

Repetition is essential for kids. And honestly, it’s essential for adults too. Language learning. Emotional regulation. Habit-building. Music makes lessons stick in a way lectures never could.

Daniel Tiger doesn’t just teach emotions. It gives kids tools to express them creatively, socially, and gently.

And it’s beautiful.

A Small Moment, A Happy Ending

I’m writing this as I head out to meet a friend I haven’t seen in years—someone I knew before I moved to the U.S. I’m visiting Brazil, and I just left my daughter with a very tired grandma.

The tablet is mirroring the TV.
Daniel Tiger is on.
My daughter is calm.
Grandma is resting.
Everyone is happy.

Family holidays are a process.
This is my small Christmas gift to you—hoping it makes that process a little gentler.

🎄💛

P.S. kids.recursive.eco is completely free. I built it because I needed it, and I’m sharing it because other families might need it too. If you curate playlists you love, I’d be honored if you shared them. Maybe together we can build a library of calm, intentional content for kids.

Start here:
Kids’ locked viewing space: https://kids.recursive.eco
Browse parent channels: https://channels.recursive.eco/channels/kids-stories
Create playlists: https://creator.recursive.eco/dashboard

That moment led me to build something: A free tool for watching YouTube with your kids—no thumbnails, no algorithm, no rabbit holes. Just curated playlists you control.

You can try it here, or read on for the story behind it.

How YouTube Can Easily Spiral Out of Control

A while back, my daughter was watching a beautiful Mati & Dada episode. Within one innocent click — she was one step away from soft porn.

To be clear, she did not enter the website. But she could have. One click. You can test it yourself by clicking the ‘MatiDada.com’ link on their YouTube channel, this is where you’ll land:

And here’s the thing: after my own website was hijacked once (turned into gambling links overnight), I now understand that many abandoned websites get repurposed by bots. Porn sites, spam sites, gambling sites — they can attach themselves to old links that once pointed to lovely, harmless content. Something similar likely happened here.

But as a parent, the cause doesn’t matter. The risk does.

Jonathan Haidt writes about this in The Anxious Generation. He didn’t set out to write a book about Gen Z at all — he originally intended to write about political polarization. But the more he looked at the data, the more the crisis among young people pulled him off-course. The mental health collapse wasn’t a side note; it became the whole book.

And one of his clearest findings is this:

We are overprotecting children in the physical world and underprotecting them in the digital world.

That is exactly what happened in my home that day.

This tool doesn’t replace parental supervision — it’s not locked down, and it still runs in a browser. But it creates a safer middle ground. I am far more comfortable giving my daughter my own curated playlist, than handing her YouTube and hoping for the best.

There is also a disturbing phenomenon researchers are beginning to document: violent or sexualized content rendered in kid-friendly animation styles. Parents may believe their child is watching something harmless, while the actual content is profoundly inappropriate. In Dopamine Nation, Dr. Anna Lembke describes a case where a 5-year-old molested a 3-year-old. The police investigation traced the child’s ‘instruction’ back to pornographic anime he had accessed through seemingly benign YouTube pathways.

I’ve also heard stories of violent or explicit scenes being animated in Looney-Tunes-like styles — familiar characters, bright colors, slapstick pacing — a disguise subtle enough that a parent glancing over might think everything is fine. But it isn’t.

The internet is not built for children.
We must build our own spaces.

Diving into the Tool

Ready to start? I’m featuring a playlist that we loved at home:

Degas & Monet; Ballet & Painting
A gentle curation of YouTube videos, still images, and quiet activities:

• An introduction to Degas with Mati & Dada, plus an introduction to Impressionism and Claude Monet

• Intentional pauses using Impressionist paintings

• A short ballet class and a painting activity to invite a more embodied, creative life

• And because it’s the season… a full hour-and-a-half Nutcracker ballet performance (sometimes you need 7 minutes, sometimes you need 90…)

I also curated supporting playlists from the featured creators:

• Mati and Dada: Amazing movies with amazing characters that go back in history to talk to famous painters.

• GVO Kids Ballet Classes

• Free School’s Biographies for Kids

And I’ve also used the tool to re-render some stories I had crafted with AI, a process I documented in this course. You can try it yourself!

• The Nest Knows Best: Bunny Coping Tricks: For little ones learning to sleep

• Please Do What I Need, Not What I Want: An NVC-inspired kids book

Creator.Recursive.Eco: What is it?

Creator.Recursive.Eco is a tool for watching YouTube intentionally — no thumbnails, no rabbit holes, no algorithm pulling your child into the abyss. That’s not a bug; that’s the design.

You can’t yet see the full playlist at once, the total length, or even all titles. I know — I consider those bugs too, and I’ll fix them over time. Right now, I’m prioritizing Report and Program for safety and proper attribution.

You can peek behind the scenes here to see what I’m currently building — but fair warning: development is slow because I recently realized my entire database structure needs to be re-thought from the ground up. That’s what learning looks like in real time.

Everything here is open-source, forkable, remixable, and waiting for collaborators. If you’re technical and feel called to help, you’re truly welcome.

• Discover my own playlists

• Create your own

• Publish them for others.

And if you want your playlist to appear in the public channel, you can submit it. I’ll review it manually (with love and care), though since it’s just me over here, it may take a bit.

If you feel moved, leaving a comment genuinely helps. I’m experimenting with playlists, courses, and other tools—feedback shapes where this goes.

Leave a comment

Recursive Gratitude

As I’ve been trying to explore in my Recursive.Eco work, I see meaning as a spiral — formulating a hypothesis (or a make-believe world), stepping outward, and letting meaning be shaped by experience.

Gratitude moves in a similar way. It begins inside, but it only completes itself when it loops back into the world as an offering. Receiving becomes giving; thanks becomes thanksgiving. Mutual giving becomes sharing. Hopefully, in a virtuous reinforcing cycle. So, I am sharing this tool as one small loop in the recursive spiral of gratitude.

I also want to offer some honest attribution as thanks giving. It’s easy to say “I built this alone,” but that’s not true. Claude Code has been my co-founder. GitHub, Vercel, and Supabase make it possible for a complete beginner to deploy things that can scale to tens of thousands of people for free. And then there’s YouTube, Google Drive, and the creators whose content makes these playlists meaningful in the first place.

I thank all of them. And— strangely — even the soft-porn websites that hijacked one of my favorite kids’ creators’ abandoned domain, because without that moment of shock, I may have never built this and would still be ungrateful to YouTube…

I couldn’t have done this alone. Culture itself is a recursive process. I build on what others left, so others can build on what I leave. In a way, we create as some spiders do: weaving our webs by spiraling through the structures that preceded us. We are never truly alone; we are just the latest loop in the thread that holds us all. Hopefully, a virtuously recursive thread that can create virtuous cycles instead of running around in circles or spiraling out of control.

My hypothesis is that by holding on to virtues, such as gratitude, and making virtue itself recursive, we have a better chance to live a life worth living.

In gratitude,

PlayfulProcess

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Now, O’Nolan is strengthening independent journalism, the free software movement, and a sustainable business, all working together in a positive reinforcement cycle. His free software is available to everyone, continuously improved by revenues from customers who pay for Ghost’s premium hosting services.

His journey has shown me that I can build my own vision the same way—trusting my internal compass to create tools for connection and human flourishing, without needing investors or traditional roadmaps to validate the path.

The Great Professional Identity Crisis

Here’s what I’ve learned about roadmaps: they’re written by other people, for other people’s destinations.

My husband was my first serious boyfriend. I was 19 at the time and I thought most ideas around relationships were hypocrisies. I hated the games. In the first 6 months, everyone around me said that I should play games with him, to hook him. Instead, I showed myself fully vulnerable, calling him in despair when I felt insecure that he didn’t want to be my boyfriend, even if I didn’t believe in having boyfriends. I guess emotionally focused therapists would call those calls “attachment requests”. Normal people would call me crazy.

Instead of trying to research methods to follow other people’s paths, I created my own. I decided that, if I hadn’t failed in any relationship before, I would choose to fail this one my own way, learn, and then decide whether to follow others. We have been together for almost 20 years now, so I still haven’t learned the importance of playing romantic games.

I feel the same about my business. I am doing things differently—I don’t have a formal business plan, a clearly defined target audience, or even a traditional “purpose statement.” But I want to be fully authentic. If I fail, I will learn and iterate.

Learning in Public and its Setbacks

I don’t have a product yet (maybe a couple prototypes), but I have this blog and you reading it. While many Indie Hackers are #buildinginpublic, I’m #learninginpublic. And that means sharing the setbacks alongside the wins.

Although it’s been only a couple months since I entered this solopreneur route, I can already pinpoint a couple of errors for which I am thankful. With each of them I learned, iterated, and hopefully grew.

THE-ONES-WHO-DID-NOT-DELIVER

Initially, I had grand visions of building a comprehensive platform for families and couples—something that would revolutionize how we connect digitally. I trusted 10 undergrads from a top Computer Science program to build it. They said they could build the whole thing in 12 weeks for $5,000.

They didn’t deliver.

But here’s what I learned: a platform like that would take years to build, and I needed to start small if I wanted to get anywhere. Luckily, I had enough experience so that the contract I signed was a great free option: I would pay only if they delivered. So no harm done—just learning and iterating. They taught me what a design document is, what Cursor is, and a lot more, which is now allowing me to get back on track. Thank you, THE-ONES-WHO-DID-NOT-DELIVER!

THE-GUY-WHO-STOLE-MY-WEBSITE

Discovering my website had been hijacked was initially terrifying. One day I logged in to find my site replaced with gambling links. I cried. I called a Software Engineering friend who had been my Empathy Buddy (an NVC practice) for both empathy and advice. I didn’t even have the courage to click the links.

But amidst this unsettling experience a clear realization surfaced: I saw my own emotional and mental limitations in this entrepreneurial journey. If I were going to do this alone, at least I would have to have the right tools with the right Customer Support.

After the initial shock wore off, I began searching for more secure, supportive hosting solutions. That’s when everything changed.

The Discovery That Changed Everything

Because of THE-GUY-WHO-STOLE-MY-WEBSITE, I discovered Ghost and its founder, John O’Nolan. I immediately got inspired, and I’m falling deeper in love with the story behind Ghost as I learn it and use it to host my PlayfulProcess website—a true Indie Hacker story.

To understand Ghost’s origin, you need to know about WordPress. On May 27, 2003, Matt Mullenweg and Mike Little introduced the first version of WordPress, built on an abandoned blogging platform called b2/cafelog. They made it Open Source, which means anybody could work with it for free. What started as a simple blogging tool grew into something much bigger. Today, WordPress powers over 43% of all websites.

But by 2012, John O’Nolan—who had been deputy head of the WordPress UI team—felt frustrated. WordPress had evolved from its humble blogging roots into a complex content management system. In November 2012, he wrote a blog post about his vision for something different: a platform focused purely on publishing, not general website building.

That single blog post went viral, reaching the top of Hacker News and garnering over 30,000 email signups from people who wanted this simpler publishing platform. No product, no company—just a vision articulated clearly and a simple email capture form. The post struck such a chord that when they launched their Kickstarter campaign in April 2013, they raised £196,362 in just 29 days.

Today, Ghost generates around $7.5M in annual revenue as a distributed non-profit foundation which gives away all of its intellectual property under a permissive MIT license. The company has no investors and, in fact, no owners of any kind. He’s living HIS dream instead of chasing “THE” dream.

What makes Ghost’s story so compelling isn’t just its success—it’s O’Nolan’s fundamental approach. Instead of asking “What’s the next unicorn I can flip for maximum profit?” he asked himself: “How can I build a company that I want to work for throughout my life?”

More than anything, O’Nolan inspired me to do what feels right without questioning. All of his decisions felt like a natural progression. He had an internal sense of direction about his next step. A very “Tollean“ concept that I am trying to live by.

My Own Vision: Building Recursive.Eco (formerly Jongu)

O’Nolan had his WordPress experience and vision for better publishing tools. I have my own vision: building a co-creation platform where people can choose collaboration over competition, starting with journaling tools that could be accessible to everyone and also serve as marketing for mental health professionals.

With consistency and patience, I am positive I will enjoy the ride and build something meaningful over the next couple of years. So I started building. Not the massive platform I originally envisioned, but smaller, focused prototypes that address real needs:

AI-powered kids’ story creation tools - For families separated by distance who want to create magical moments together, even when apart. Or simply for parents who know what they want to teach their kids, but want some creative inspiration to transform it into a story.

DIY short movie creation guides - Because meaningful content shouldn’t require technical expertise or expensive equipment.

A Vibe Coding Course for Mental Health Tools - Simple, accessible ways to create interactive AI-powered online tools with Claude.

Each tool reflects what I’ve learned: start small, focus on genuine connection, and make transformation accessible to everyone. When I build tools I need and share them openly, I’m simultaneously creator and user, learner and teacher—roles that traditional business models force us to separate.

Why Indie Hacking Calls to Me

This is why indie hacking resonates so deeply. It’s about creating your own path to freedom and building something meaningful without conforming to external expectations or giving up control to investors who might push you away from your authentic vision.

Gratitude is owed unexpectedly to those setbacks—to THE-ONES-WHO-DID-NOT-DELIVER and THE-GUY-WHO-STOLE-MY-WEBSITE. They weren’t really failures at all—they were tuition for the education I’m getting in real-world building.

I don’t have all the answers. I don’t know if Recursive.Eco will succeed or if my tools will find their audience. What I do know is that I’m following my internal compass, just like I did when I chose vulnerability over games in my relationship, just like O’Nolan did when he chose purpose over profit.

This slower, independent path also lets me pursue what truly calls to me: not just productivity tools or therapy apps, but creating infrastructure for recursive meaning-making. Following Joseph Campbell’s call to reinvent our mythology, I want to build spaces where personal growth and collective flourishing aren’t separate goals but the same recursive process.

The beauty of indie hacking isn’t in following someone else’s blueprint—it’s in trusting your own vision enough to build it, one authentic step at a time.

Want to join this experiment? Check out Recursive.Eco and help shape what digital co-creation could look like. Or explore the tools I’m building for deeper relationships and creative expression.

To learn more about the indie hacker community: Indie Hackers

This journey is far from over. I’m learning in public, building in the open, and trusting that authenticity will guide me to where I need to be.

Jongu is my response to this moment.

It’s not just a platform. It’s an experiment. A learning journey. A co-creation space designed to help people collaborate over competition—starting with the most fundamental unit of society: our relationships.

I’ve already hired developers to bring Jongu to life. But the why and how of this project are still evolving, and I want to build it with you.

So, whether you want to co-create features, shape the vision, or just explore the early prototype—I invite you to visit jongu.org and join the process. Drop in an idea for our logo (first draft below), or just read and reflect.

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What is Jongu?

Jongu is a co-creation platform where people can build, play, and learn together. It is structured around five core modules:

1. Jongu Cards – Interactive decks for relationships, personal growth, and storytelling.

2. Jongu Writing – Journaling, collaborative storytelling, and creative exercises.

3. Jongu Learning – AI-assisted, interactive learning experiences.

4. Jongu Creator – Tools to create and share custom content.

5. Jongu Humans – A directory and community hub for creators, coaches, and relationship professionals.

At its heart, Jongu is about secure attachment, creative play, and meaningful connection.

🔹 Imagine a couple creating their own relationship-building game.
🔹 A coach designing personalized learning paths for their clients.
🔹 A writer collaborating on an evolving story with a global community.

Jongu is designed to help us co-create, rather than consume.

From Machines to Meaning: The Evolution of Human Work

What does it mean to be human? The answer has changed throughout history.

🔹 In the Agricultural Age, our physical bodies were the primary tools of survival.
🔹 In the Industrial Age, the rise of manufacturing called for emotional and imaginative development.
🔹 In the Information Age, our analytical minds became the key to progress.
🔹 Now, with AI automating cognitive tasks, our next frontier is the Soul Age—where meaning, ethics, and human connection become the driving forces.

Jongu is built for this new era—where technology assists, but relationships and creativity lead.

Source: https://claude.site/artifacts/59a9e715-db0a-4619-9a30-0d1e115c099e

Beyond the Jockey: The Collective Wisdom of the Boiadeiros

Nova Lorraine, in The Jockey on the Horse, reminds us that AI is not an enemy to conquer but a force to harmonize with. A jockey and a horse must learn to work together—only by understanding the power beneath them can they move toward victory.

This is a beautiful metaphor for individual mastery of AI, but our challenge is even bigger. AI is not just one horse—we are guiding an entire herd.

In the vast grasslands of Brazil, no single cowboy alone can steer hundreds of cattle. The boiadeiros (Brazilian cowboys) work as a team, reading the landscape, coordinating their movements, and responding to a force much greater than any one of them. No single Jockey can meet the challenges of our times, but a collective of boiadeiros might.

This is the challenge we now face:

🔹 AI is not just a tool—it’s an evolving, dynamic force.
🔹 No single person can “control” it—we must learn to guide it together.
🔹 Our ability to co-create, to build ethical guardrails, and to align AI with human values will define the future of technology—and society itself.

Jongu is designed to foster this kind of collective wisdom.

We are not just training individual jockeys—we are learning to be boiadeiros together, developing the shared intelligence and coordination needed to guide these powerful new forces toward human flourishing.

Co-Creation as a New Social Contract

Most digital platforms encourage passive consumption and insecure attachment. We scroll. We compare. We react.

Jongu is different.

It is designed to strengthen human bonds rather than weaken them.

Inspired by Gottman’s Love Lab, Jongu will function as a living experiment—an evolving space where we study what actually works for human connection in the digital age.

🔹 What patterns lead to deeper relationships?
🔹 What tools help couples co-regulate emotions?
🔹 How can AI enhance rather than replace human connection?

By gathering ethical, privacy-conscious data, we can create a feedback loop for stronger relationships and more meaningful collaboration.

Why Open Source from Day One?

Most platforms are built in secret, then unveiled as finished products. Jongu rejects that model.

🔹 The code will be open source.
🔹 The development process will be transparent.
🔹 The community will shape its evolution.

The EU’s AI regulations recognize that openness leads to more ethical, human-centered technology. I believe the same applies to relationship-building tools.

Instead of waiting for experts to dictate the rules, we can design them together—as a community of learners, creators, and coaches.

Jongo: The Dance of Co-Creation

The name "Jongu" comes from Jongo, an Afro-Brazilian dance where participants take turns leading and supporting (watch).

It’s a perfect metaphor for collaborative creation—where individual expression thrives within a collective rhythm.

🔹 In Jongu, you’re not just a user—you’re a co-creator.
🔹 Your ideas, interactions, and contributions shape the experience for others.
🔹 The community holds space for creativity, experimentation, and play.

It’s neither purely individual nor purely collective—it’s a dynamic interplay between both.

How You Can Join the Process

Jongu is now live as a draft for collaboration at jongu.org. Here’s how you can participate:

🔹 Vote on the platform’s logo design – What symbols best represent co-creation?
🔹 Contribute to the Secure Attachment AI Manifesto – How should technology support human relationships?
🔹 Suggest new interactive exercises – What kinds of tools would help couples, writers, or learners?
🔹 Test the early platform and share feedback – Your insights will shape its development.

If you want a deeper role, message me to explore collaboration opportunities.

Final Invitation: Will You Build With Me?

Jongu is not a finished product—it’s a living experiment.

I could build it in isolation and present a polished version later. But that would contradict its core purpose.

Instead, I’m inviting you to shape it from the beginning.

Because healing, learning, and innovation happen in relationship.

Because the future isn’t something we wait for—it’s something we co-create.

👉 Join the movement at jongu.org
💬 Drop a comment below—what excites you most about this vision? What is a key concern? What could be a key unlock?

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The Entrepreneur's Paradox

I recently spoke with a friend who built a startup in Brazil. From the outside, she had achieved the entrepreneurial dream. But her reality was different.

"As I move towards my dreams, I feel like I'm building a new prison for myself," I admitted.

"That’s because you are," she replied.

For two years, she had wanted to leave her startup but couldn't. Even after selling her company, she felt trapped—bound by responsibilities to investors and employees.

This story is not unique. Many founders find that the freedom they sought transforms into a new kind of constraint. One told me, "Any idea is a five-year commitment. Entrepreneurship isn’t about loving an idea, but about loving the process of building it."

The Risks and Unknowns

If I were to leave my corporate job to pursue my platform full-time, I'd face uncertainties:

• Will developers execute my vision on time and within budget?

• Will people actually use and pay for this platform?

• How will I navigate financial instability?

• Would seeking investors just create a gigantic burden?

For therapists in private practice, the similar paradoxes exist. What initially appears as freedom can quickly turn into a new set of constraints. These patterns of unexpected constraint and freedom aren't just found in business contexts—they appear throughout history, mythology, and popular culture. They remind us that the relationship between structure and freedom is often more complex than it first appears.

Superman may have had superhuman strength, but Clark Kent’s day job at the Daily Planet was just as crucial to his mission. His work as a journalist gave him access to information, allowed him to stay connected to humanity, and provided a cover that let him operate effectively. Without his corporate job, Superman would have struggled to understand the world he was trying to save. In the same way, my corporate role provides me with structure, financial stability, and learning opportunities that make my mission possible.

There is a story from Paramahansa Yogananda’s lineage about his master’s master, Lahiri Mahasaya, and how he found his guru, the great Babaji, in the mountains. Overcome by divine ecstasy, Lahiri Mahasaya wanted to renounce the world—to leave behind his job, his family, and all responsibilities to devote himself completely to spiritual practice. But Babaji, instead of encouraging this, told him that in this era, the true disciple is one who remains in the world, fulfilling their duties while embodying spiritual realization. It is not through escaping responsibility but by engaging with it that one truly walks the path of enlightenment.

Similarly, in Norse mythology, Odin, the all-father, sacrificed himself on Yggdrasil, the World Tree, to gain wisdom. He hung upside down for nine days and nights, enduring great suffering not to escape the world but to understand it more deeply. Through his sacrifice, he unlocked the runes—symbols of knowledge that would guide gods and men alike. He did not retreat from the world, but rather embraced his responsibility to it, using his newfound wisdom to lead and protect.

As I develop my platform while working my corporate job, I’ve realized something unexpected: my job provides freedom, not restriction. At any moment, I can walk away. Meanwhile, I earn a stable income, maintain professional growth, and have the space to build my vision without pressure to monetize it immediately. This allows me to iterate, learn, and preserve the integrity of my work without financial compromise. Like Odin’s sacrifice, my current position provides the foundation for something greater—it enables me to create from a place of strength rather than scarcity.

Redefining Freedom

J Krishnamurti offers a radical view of freedom: "To be free of all authority, of your own and that of another, is to die to everything of yesterday, so that your mind is always fresh, always young, innocent, full of vigor and passion." Freedom, in his view, isn’t about external circumstances—it’s about being free from conditioning and expectation.

True freedom is not the absence of structure but the conscious choice of the right structures. Entrepreneurs often replace one form of confinement with another. A thoughtfully chosen corporate role can, paradoxically, provide the conditions for genuine autonomy.

Krishnamurti also argues that "freedom implies absolute responsibility." This resonates with me now more than ever. My corporate job provides enabling constraints—predictability and financial stability—that allow me to pursue my vision without desperation. Instead of seeing this structure as a limitation, I now see it as a foundation.

Walking the Path of Freedom

Freedom is not a destination—it’s a process of alignment between our external circumstances and our deepest values. Sometimes, freedom means making peace with structure rather than rejecting it.

As Krishnamurti suggests, true freedom is not about escape—it is about radical responsibility for our own lives. And sometimes, paradoxically, a corporate paycheck can help fund that responsibility. Maybe Jongu’s best self will be as a non-profit… Or, even better, an art project!

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The Great Mental Health Access Paradox

Here's the thing about privilege: it's complex, layered, and different depending on where you're standing. In Brazil, I'm privileged. In New York, I was just another person wondering if I could afford both dinner and a City Bike subscription. Some people even started referring to me as a woman of color, even though I look very white by Brazilian standards. This spectrum of experience taught me something crucial about mental health care access.

The Uber Effect: When Old Rules Meet New Tech

Remember when getting a taxi on a rainy day was like winning the lottery? Then Uber came along and disrupted everything. While I don't love every aspect of how ride-sharing apps changed the industry (and some drivers might want to have a long conversation about that), it's a perfect example of how technology can democratize access.

Think about it: before ride-sharing apps, we needed strict regulations to ensure safety and quality. But once technology provided new safety mechanisms and quality controls, those same regulations became barriers to access rather than protections.

Sound familiar? Welcome to mental health care in 2025.

My "Wait, What?" Moment with Traditional Therapy

I started pursuing an MFT degree with stars in my eyes and dreams of providing remote therapy from Brazil while earning a U.S. salary (hello, geographic arbitrage!). But then reality hit.

After consulting with lawyers, I discovered:

• Insurance and Malpractice Coverage: Taking insurance coverage as payment or obtaining malpractice insurance for safety? Forget about it.

• Remote Therapy Limitations: Practicing therapy remotely from Brazil? Only be feasible if I operated a private practice, attracting my own clients and handling payments directly (essentially functioning as a coach).

• Supervision Requirements: Regulations, which had been relaxed during the pandemic, are tightening. California is updating its policies to mandate in-person supervision for licensure candidates by the end of the year. And it takes an average person five years to get licensure. That was the hardest hit, not only because of its short-term implications. Even if I established a practice in Brazil, ethical guidelines would prevent me from accepting Brazilian patients, and I could be one regulatory change away from losing my livelihood.

The Plot Twist: From Gatekeeper to Gateway Builder

Here's where it gets interesting. Just as telehealth was proving its worth during the pandemic (turns out you can cry just as effectively on Zoom), the mental health industry is facing its own Uber moment. But unlike ride-sharing, our goal isn't just disruption—it's transformation.

Three Paths Forward That I See for Myself

1. The Coaching Route: Less regulated, more flexible, but in Brazil, saying you're a coach sometimes gets the same reaction as saying you're a self-proclaimed spiritual guru and I don’t know if I am past caring for what people think about me…

2. The Social Work Path: In the U.S., social workers can provide therapy, unlike in Brazil. The field is mission-driven and embraces tech for better care. A great example is the University of New England's (UNE) SOS practicum model, where MSW students use simulation tools to complete part of their practicum, boosting access and skills. The program includes 16 weeks of AI-driven simulation followed by 16 weeks in an agency. This tech-forward approach makes training flexible and future-ready. Contrast that with MFT licensure, where I would need in-person supervision for hundreds of hours just to qualify. No flexibility. No tech-driven solutions. Just rigid rules built for a pre-pandemic world. While social work innovates, MFT regulation clings to outdated models, making access harder, not easier.

3. The Entrepreneurial Highway: This is where my heart is pointing, honestly, with all its promises to help address the current mental health crisis humanity is now facing.

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The Plot Twist Part 2: When the Former Goldman Analyst Meets the Relationship Advocate

I've turned my analytical skills toward an underserved facet of mental health: relationship coaching.

The Relationship Crisis as a Market Opportunity

Consider these insights:

• Delayed Intervention: Dr. John Gottman's research reveals that couples endure an average of six years of dissatisfaction before seeking help.
  Gottman Institute

• Persistent Stigma: While individual therapy has become more accepted, couples therapy still faces societal stigma. Many view seeking help as admitting failure, deterring proactive counseling.

• Untapped Market Potential: Platforms like BetterHelp and Talkspace have navigated complex therapy regulations, yet the $50 billion relationship enhancement market remains largely uncharted. The focus has been on therapy, whereas many couples seek guidance in:

  • Communication skills

  • Conflict management

  • Parenting support

  • Work-life balance

  • Financial planning

  • Pre-marital preparation

These aren't clinical needs - they're skill-building opportunities. The revelation here is powerful: by connecting couples with coaching tools earlier, we can prevent many relationships from ever reaching crisis point. And since coaching is unregulated (unlike therapy), we can innovate faster and reach more people without regulatory barriers. This isn't just a business opportunity - it's a chance to transform how relationships thrive.

That's exactly why we're building "The Operating System for Relationship Enhancement"

Introducing: "The Operating System for Relationship Enhancement"

For Couples:

• Personalized Matching: Connect with coaches and experts tailored to your needs.

• Diverse Support Formats: Access one-on-one sessions, group workshops, courses, and AI-driven tools.

• Affordable, Preventive Care: Invest in your relationship before challenges escalate.

• Seamless Transition to Clinical Services: Clear pathways for situations requiring therapeutic intervention.

For Coaches and Experts:

• Comprehensive Practice Management: Streamlined tools for efficient client management.

• Content Marketplace: Platform to offer courses and resources.

• Integration with Complementary Services: Collaborate with legal and financial advisors.

• AI-Powered Progress Tracking: Monitor and enhance client development.

• Ethical Guidelines and Support: Resources for appropriate client assessment and referrals.

The Future is Both Digital and Human

The best part? We don't need to wait for some distant future. We can build it right now, one line of code and one relationship at a time. I can see this starting as a prototype of an AI-powered relationship coach, trained in evidence-based approaches like Gottman's research on what makes relationships work. Imagine couples having 24/7 access to communication tools, conflict resolution frameworks, and guided exercises - all based on decades of relationship science.

The relationship enhancement industry is ripe for innovation—not to replace human coaches, but to scale their expertise, make it accessible, and help couples long before they hit crisis point. Think of it as having a relationship mentor in your pocket, helping you build stronger connections one conversation at a time.

And the best part about starting with coaching rather than therapy? We can launch, learn, and iterate quickly, helping real couples strengthen their relationships while we grow. No need to wait for regulatory approval or navigate complex healthcare systems. Just pure focus on helping couples thrive.

References:

1. Global Mental Health Market: The industry is valued at $423 billion in 2024 and is projected to reach $625 billion by 2033. (GlobeNewswire)

2. Access to Mental Health Care: Only 66.7% of adults with serious mental illness (SMI) in the U.S. received treatment in the past year, leaving one-third without support. (NIMH)

3. Divorce Rates in the U.S.: Nearly 40% of marriages in the U.S. end in divorce.

4. Size of the Continuing Education Industry for Licensed Professionals: It should be big, but I did not find the stat yet. The overall U.S. continuing education market was valued at $60.52 billion in 2022 and is projected to reach $93.25 billion by 2028, growing at a 7.47% annual rate, driven by increasing licensure requirements. (Arizton)

5. UNE SOS Practicum Model: The University of New England (UNE) offers a Simulation and On-Site (SOS) practicum model in its MSW program, allowing students to complete part of their practicum virtually, enhancing accessibility and skill development. (UNE Online)

6. Johnson, S. (2008). Hold Me Tight: Seven Conversations for a Lifetime of Love. Little, Brown Spark. Dr. Sue Johnson also explains that while individual therapy has become widely accepted, couples therapy still carries stigma, often perceived as an admission of failure, preventing many from seeking help. (Dr. Sue Johnson)

7. Gottman, J. M., & Silver, N. (2015). The Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work: A Practical Guide from the Country’s Foremost Relationship Expert. Harmony Books. Dr. John Gottman also highlights that couples, on average, wait six years before seeking professional help for their relationship struggles, making intervention more difficult. (Gottman Institute)

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As a teenager, I saw interviews with women saying they were happier after 30 because they accepted themselves and their bodies more. I didn't believe it then. But now that I am over 30, I do. I attribute it to maturity, but it might be something else (please comment if you have a take on this). I find myself turning toward others with curiosity, wondering what life is like for them. And even though I've heard it countless times before, I finally accept that perfection does not exist—in others or ourselves. So, we are better equipped to make peace with everyone, starting with ourselves. Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) reminds us that we are often our worst enemies and that reframing is healing. Age, I would argue, is a fantastic tool in this reframing and healing process. I guess I am also more open to seeing how "disordered" I am.

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I've been diving deep into the DSM (that's the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, for the uninitiated). It's essentially the encyclopedia of mental health diagnoses that professionals use to identify and categorize psychological conditions. The more I study it, the more I realize I'm on the spectrum for... well, almost everything. And guess what? You probably are too.

The DSM: What It Is (and Isn't)

Let's be clear: the DSM isn't a book about why people develop certain conditions—it's a guide to recognizing them. Like a birdwatcher's guide, it won't dive into the evolutionary history of why the bird developed those traits—it'll just help you identify which bird you're looking at and where you might find it.

Here's something fascinating: the DSM keeps changing based on what actually works in therapy, not just on new theories. Take psychosis, for example. We used to think there were five distinct types of psychosis, each needing its own approach. However, therapists and researchers kept noticing that their patients didn't fit neatly into these boxes. More importantly, they saw that flexible treatment approaches working across different types of psychosis often got better results. So what did the DSM-5 do? It turned these categories into 'specifiers' – more like different flavors of the same experience that can shift over time. This wasn't because someone discovered the 'true cause' of psychosis. It changed because therapists in the field said, "Hey, this other way of looking at it helps us help people better."

This focus on what works in practice rather than perfect categorization makes an interesting gap stand out: family systems. While the DSM has evolved to be more flexible with individual diagnoses (like discontinuing its multiaxial diagnostic system), it's still surprisingly quiet about family dynamics. You won't find 'dysfunctional family patterns' as a diagnosis, even though we know family relationships can be at the heart of both problems and solutions. It's like the DSM acknowledges that individual symptoms exist on a spectrum, but hasn't quite figured out how to capture the spectrum of family dynamics that often drive these symptoms. This is where practitioners like Gottman come in...

Gottman: When Science Meets Practice

One thing that strikes me about the DSM is how little it explicitly addresses family systems. Yet in real-world therapy, we know that relationships and systems play a crucial role in both problems and solutions, especially when issues are central to family life. This is what makes psychology fascinating to me—it's a constant dialogue between research and reality, between what we believe and what we observe. Clinical practice and research need to reinforce each other, and in many ways, psychology has done an excellent job of integrating both. It's not just about applying formulaic solutions; it's about understanding each unique situation and adapting our approach accordingly.

John Gottman exemplifies this balance between research and practice. He started by identifying patterns, like how he could predict divorce with over 90% accuracy based on certain behaviors. For instance, he found that stable couples respond to each other's bids for attention 86% of the time, compared to just 33% for couples who later divorced. He also identified the infamous "Four Horsemen" of relationship apocalypse: criticism, defensiveness, contempt, and stonewalling. But here's what's really fascinating: he observed that couples could experience all four horsemen and still have a healthy marriage—if they were good at repair attempts. A well-timed joke or a sincere apology could make all the difference in keeping a relationship on track. It wasn't about avoiding conflict entirely; it was about how couples recovered from it.

Together with his wife Julie, a clinical psychotherapist, Gottman transformed these research insights into practical interventions. Their collaboration bridged the gap between understanding relationships and actually helping couples. Studies show that couples who complete Gottman Method Therapy report a 75% improvement in relationship satisfaction.

What Economics Could Learn from Psychology

A science that, in my view, struggles to integrate practice and research is economics. Instead of endless debates about causation, we could focus more on developing practical interventions. And to do that, we need practitioners from the fields that are being researched.

No effective intervention in education can emerge without involving teachers. The same applies to health, sustainability, and all other subjects economics tries to study using randomized controlled trials (RCTs) or complex econometric models, often without real-world expertise. To create meaningful interventions, one must understand the nuances of the field—not just analyze it from a theoretical distance.

I don't say this to offend anyone—it's not my intention. I'm no PhD, but I completed a rigorous undergraduate degree in economics. I know economists are incredibly smart, and it breaks my heart to see so much human potential going into getting grants and mastering sophisticated models that often don't translate into real-world impact. There's almost a market failure problem here: an overproduction of theoretical knowledge with limited application. I would love to see all this brainpower redirected toward creating effective interventions.

Economics has long been dominated by abstract modeling, but solutions are not created in abstraction except for theoretical sciences like mathematics or philosophy. If economics wants to be truly effective, it must embrace a more applied, hands-on approach grounded in real-world expertise.

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The Bottom Line

Science is a process—not an endpoint. We will never have an absolute truth. Instead, we must refine our understanding through constant testing, iteration, and adaptation. Karl Popper taught us that a hypothesis can only be falsified, never verified. If we will never know what is ultimately true, then science should at least aim to create useful hypotheses that improve our lives. And, most importantly, actionable solutions. The world desperately needs that.

Instead of fixating on uncovering root causes, we should focus on discovering effective treatments. The most important question is not "Why does this happen?" but rather "What can we do about it?" We might still want to discuss chicken or egg dilemmas, but only if they will interfere with treatment. Whether in psychology, economics, or any other field, the goal should be to create interventions that make life better—not just theories that explain why things go wrong.

References:

1. American Psychiatric Association (APA). (2013). Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (5th ed.). Washington, DC: American Psychiatric Publishing.

2. Gottman, J. M., & Silver, N. (2015). The Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work: A Practical Guide from the Country's Foremost Relationship Expert. Harmony.

3. Popper, K. R. (1959). The Logic of Scientific Discovery. Routledge.

4. Metcalf, L. (2019). Marriage and Family Therapy: A Practice-Oriented Approach (p. 80). Springer Publishing Company.

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Then, in 2019, I moved to New York. I was mostly feeling lonely at first, but slowly, I started building a crew of acquaintances. One of them once said that the only thing he missed in New York was a good place to dance. My Type-A personality jumped right in, eager to problem-solve for him. I didn't realize I was actually problem-solving for myself.

The First Attempt: 5Rhythms

My first attempt was with 5Rhythms. I saw on their website that they had dances almost every night, but Tuesday nights were special. Tickets tended to sell out in advance. I wasn't sure if I was ready yet, but I gave it a try.

I arrived at a building on 13th Street, 6th floor. New York holds its transformative spaces in these hidden upper floors—chocolate factories, Non-Violent Communication workshops... This was no different. I arrived a bit late. Maybe it was my way of coping with the intrinsic anxiety of trying something new. The door was closed, and about 15 people were waiting to get in. The person at the front said that after 15 minutes, she could assess who showed up and, provided there was enough room, we could enter.

I stared at a pile of shoes loosely organized in a tiny corridor leading to the smallest bathrooms. As the door briefly opened, I peeked inside. At that moment, I was puzzled. It seemed like a wild garden of movement, people flowing like leaves in the wind. I wasn't sure if I could shed my rigid structure and bloom into whatever organic form was needed to fit in. Then, the doorwoman came back: "Jonathan said it's okay for you to come in." Jonathan was DJing that night. He was the son of Gabrielle Roth*, the founder of 5Rhythms.

Finding My Rhythm

I got in—but I didn't belong. Maybe it was the sheer number of people moving together in chaotic synchronicity. I guess that if the fire department showed up, they would have shut the whole thing down. There were probably over 100 people in the room. Maybe this is why the doorwoman looked resigned when she stated that Jonathan had allowed everyone to get in. I tried to move, but it felt unnatural. I was like water refusing to mix with oil. I bumped into people. People bumped into me. I left after about 10 minutes.

But something in me really wanted to try again, maybe on another day with a smaller crowd. And I did. As I kept showing up, I got to meet new people—and new dances: Ecstatic Dance, The Get Down (now called Body Language), and more. Each dance floor had its own flavor, its own community. I was no longer bumping into people. I was dancing in harmony with the music and the room. I realized that something in me needed to adapt to communicate with that community. After all, people had been dancing in that fashion for at least 50 years. I had just stumbled into a lineage I didn't understand at first. But I got curious.

What began as an experiment soon became my sanctuary, my twice-weekly pilgrimage into movement. Dance became a lifeline, allowing me to flow through emotions, rhythms, and shifting states of being. People say that Gabrielle Roth*, toward the end of her life, was working to integrate 5Rhythms into live theater, and I can totally see that. In the same way that theater served as a cathartic therapeutic intervention for the Greeks, it can serve that function for us today.

I met new people—people I connected with deeply, yet never exchanged names with. Some of the most intimate experiences of my life happened without exchanging a word, existing together in pure movement. I kept running into familiar faces on different dance floors, each space offering a unique rhythm. Over time, I realized that dance had become a home I never had. It was a form of self-expression, of belonging, of healing.

Integrating Parenting and Dancing

Through dance, I began to understand something profound about process: like life itself, dance isn't about reaching a perfect final position but about staying in flow with the continuous movement. As my family grew, my relationship with dance evolved too.

I learned to navigate bringing my daughter to dance spaces—asking DJs about kid-friendly sessions, teaching her about shared silence, embracing the occasional tantrum. Dance floors welcome all forms of expression; I've seen tears flow as freely as movement. Still, helping my daughter understand these spaces has been its own dance, a delicate balance between validation and gentle guidance.

My daughter moves to her own rhythms, just as she has her own painting style—likely inspired by my husband, who prefers brushstrokes to dance steps. For her, both dancing and painting aren't segregated as "kid activities" or "adult hobbies"; they're simply ways to connect with those she loves.

Like dance, true art isn’t about perfection—it’s about presence. Our materialistic society reduces art to products, but children instinctively know better. To them, movement, color, and sound are not things to be mastered but languages to be spoken freely. If we make space for joy, we build deeper connections with one another. So here's my invitation, especially to parents anxious about their children doing the "right" kind of art: find what brings you joy first. Your authentic enthusiasm will naturally invite others—including your inner child—to join in. Whether that means spinning in circles or singing off-key, let it be genuine. Children are natural artists; they just need us to create a stage where they can be themselves.

Looking back, I see how dance catalyzed my transformation from a Type-A Brazilian who saw dance as performance to someone who flows between roles: mother, dancer, perpetual student of movement. Now when I step onto dance floors, what was once anxiety has become excitement—similar sensation, different attitude. I'm no longer searching for the 'right' way to move. I've found that I can bring a sense of home with me wherever I go, provided I have the courage to keep showing up, embracing the rhythm of life in all its messy, beautiful patterns.

To what do you want to keep showing up? Let's explore this together.

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References:

• 5Rhythms – A global dance movement that emphasizes personal expression and transformation through movement. Website

• Ecstatic Dance – A freeform dance practice that fosters community, healing, and nonverbal connection through music and movement. My go-to dance floor in the Bay Area. Find an event

• Tasha Blank – A DJ, facilitator, and founder of The Get Down (now evolved into The Drop), a dance event focused on full-body expression and communal joy. More on Tasha

*About Gabrielle Roth: Gabrielle Roth developed 5Rhythms in the 1970s as a movement meditation practice. Working as a movement teacher at Esalen Institute, Roth observed that all life moves in waves, patterns, and rhythms. She distilled these observations into five core rhythms: flowing, staccato, chaos, lyrical, and stillness—a wave that mirrors not just dance, but life itself. She believed that by moving through five distinct rhythms one could access deeper layers of self-expression, healing, and transformation. Over the decades, her method grew into a global movement, influencing conscious dance practices worldwide.

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The Dance of Connection

What I'm learning isn't just about fixing relationships—it's about understanding the intricate dance that we all perform in our attempts to connect. Here's what fascinated me: The first theory we explored was Imago Relationship Therapy. I'll be honest—it didn't resonate with me. The idea that relationships are primarily about healing childhood wounds felt oversimplified. Not because childhood experiences aren't important, but because relationships can bring so much more than just healing. As a parent myself, I'm also wary of approaches that overemphasize parental influence. While early experiences shape us, human development is far more complex, involving intergenerational patterns, historical influences, and even epigenetics. Rather than getting stuck in a victim mentality, we can acknowledge our past while embracing our capacity to evolve.

Then came the Gottman Method, with its compelling research about the "Four Horsemen" of relationship apocalypse: criticism, contempt, defensiveness, and stonewalling. But here's the beautiful twist—it turns out that these harbingers of doom can be overcome with one simple thing: repair attempts. Yes, you can show up with all four horsemen, but bring a dash of forgiveness, and everything might just be okay. (Maybe Jesus was the first couples therapist after all?)

The Gottman approach resonated so deeply that I've decided to get certified in both "Bringing Baby Home" and "The Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work." This feels especially important given their research showing that two-thirds of couples experience a decline in relationship satisfaction during the first three years after having a baby. I want to start working with families right away, as I see such a pressing need for this support.

The Attachment Revolution

Then I encountered Emotionally Focused Therapy (EFT), and something clicked. Perhaps because of my background in Nonviolent Communication and Focusing, EFT spoke directly to my soul. It's not just about solving problems—it's about understanding that our emotions need to be processed, not suppressed or rushed. EFT claims that emotions need to be processed so we can use them as compasses and not be encompassed by them in a reactive prison.

Sue Johnson, EFT's founder, built on John Bowlby's revolutionary attachment science. Before Bowlby, people thought emotional distance created independence. (Imagine hospitals in the 1950s allowing parents to visit their children only once a week!) His research showed something profound: secure attachment doesn't hinder independence—it enables it.

Why This Matters Now

We're at a crucial threshold as a society. Either we learn to move from mere cooperation to true collaboration, or we'll struggle to evolve collectively. And where does this transformation begin? In our most intimate relationships.

Think about it: if we can't collaborate effectively in our closest relationships, how can we expect to tackle global challenges like climate change? As Roberto Assagioli noted, "A couple is the smallest psychological group." It's our training ground for all other forms of human connection.

What I'm Learning About Love

Taking the DSM course alongside couples therapy has shown me something profound: much of human suffering stems from our struggles with connection. While biology plays its part, our emotional wellbeing is fundamentally shaped by the quality of our relationships.

The magic happens when we dare to reach out—what EFT calls "attachment bids"—and find ourselves met with warmth and understanding. It's not about perfect communication or never having conflicts. It's about creating a secure emotional bond that can weather life's storms.

When secure attachment creates safety in a relationship, we become vessels for each other's emotional journey. Through this sacred dance of holding space, each partner discovers their inner compass. What was once a maze of reactions transforms into a shared exploration—two people, navigating life together, yet guided by their own emotional truth.

Moving Forward Together

I'm still uncertain about pursuing licensure, given the complex bureaucratic landscape and my possible return to Brazil. But I'm certain about this: helping families collaborate and connect is my calling, license or not.

Whether through writing, teaching, or direct work with couples, I want to contribute to this evolution in how we understand relationships. Because at its core, couples therapy isn't just about fixing problems—it's about creating spaces where love can flourish and transform.

My Attachment Bid

What are your thoughts on relationships as vehicles for personal and collective evolution? I'd love to hear your experiences and insights. And if you're interested in exploring these ideas further, let's connect.

Best-Selling Self-Help Couples Therapy Books

1. Gottman, J. M., & Silver, N. (2015). The seven principles for making marriage work: A practical guide from the country’s foremost relationship expert. Harmony Books.

2. Hendrix, H., & Hunt, H. L. (2007). Getting the love you want: A guide for couples (20th anniversary ed.). St. Martin's Griffin.

3. Johnson, S. M. (2008). Hold me tight: Seven conversations for a lifetime of love. Little, Brown Spark.

Academic and Clinical References

4. Assagioli, R., Ferrucci, P., & Kuniholm, J. (n.d.). Psychosynthesis of the couple: Men and women in relationships (pp. 36-37). Cheshire Cat Books. Kindle Edition.

5. Bond, T. (2017). The compassion book: Lessons from The Compassion Course. One Human Publishing.

6. Bowlby, J. (1988). A secure base: Parent-child attachment and healthy human development. Basic Books.

7. Cottone, R. R. (2017). Chapter 16: Emotion-Focused Therapy. In Theories of counseling and psychotherapy: Individual and relational approaches (2nd ed.). Springer Publishing Company.

8. Dattilio, F. M., & Bevilacqua, L. (2006). Chapters 2 and 3. In Relationship dysfunction: A practitioner’s guide to comparative treatments. Springer Publishing Company.

9. Fletcher, K., & MacIntosh, H. (2018). Emotionally focused therapy in the context of addictions: A case study. The Family Journal, 26(3), 330–340.

10. Gendlin, E. T. (1981). Focusing (Kindle edition, p. 10). Random House.

11. Johnson, S. (2004). The practice of emotionally focused therapy: Creating connection. American Psychological Association.

12. Metcalf, L. (2017). Marriage and family therapy: A practice-oriented approach (p. 629). Springer Publishing Company. Kindle Edition.

13. Papero, D., Frost, R., Havstad, L., & Noone, R. (2018). Natural systems thinking and the human family. Systems, 6(2).

14. Stevens, B. A., & Arnstein, M. (2011). Chapter 9. In Happy ever after??: A practical guide to relationship counselling for clinical psychologists (1st ed.). Australian Academic Press.

15. Vazhappilly, J. J., & Reyes, M. E. S. (2018). Efficacy of emotion-focused couples communication program for enhancing couples’ communication and marital satisfaction among distressed partners. Journal of Contemporary Psychotherapy, 48(2), 79-88.

Online Resources

17. Doherty, W. J. (n.d.). Helping marriages last: Avoiding the divorce culture. Smart Marriages. Retrieved from http://www.smartmarriages.com/dohertyarticle.html

18. Doherty, W. J. (n.d.). Bad couples therapy: How to avoid it, and what to do instead. Smart Marriages. Retrieved from http://www.smartmarriages.com/badcouples.doherty.html

19. Gottman Institute. (n.d.). The 5 couple types. The Gottman Institute. Retrieved December 20, 2024, from https://www.gottman.com/blog/the-5-couple-types/

20. The Gottman Institute. (n.d.). The Four Horsemen: Recognizing criticism, contempt, defensiveness, and stonewalling. Retrieved January 10, 2025, from https://www.gottman.com/blog/the-four-horsemen-recognizing-criticism-contempt-defensiveness-and-stonewalling/

Let’s continue the conversation.

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I like to play with this ancient wisdom. And “play” is the key word. When life gets too puzzling (which, let’s be honest, is most of the time), I lean into the mystery—I make it even more puzzling on purpose. Something magical happens when I shuffle the cards: my adult self, with all its serious plans and important thoughts, takes a backseat, and my inner child comes out to explore. It’s like switching from reading a dense philosophy book to wandering through a mysterious garden.

For those who love questioning what we really know about history, here’s an interesting debate: Some say Tarot was humanity’s first deck, brought to us by Hermes himself. Historians, trace it back to the Middle Ages—after all, they can only work with surviving evidence. But I find myself drawn to the older story. Maybe because it speaks to something deeper than historical facts—something timeless. The human quest for meaning leaves few material traces, yet it shapes our understanding just as powerfully. I respect the historical evidence we have, but I also know that the absence of proof isn’t proof of absence. Some mysteries exist beyond what can be proven, inviting us to look deeper.

The way I see it, Tarot works on three levels, aligned with the trinity found in many traditions¹:

• Spirit (Major Arcana): The essence of life itself.

• Soul (Aces): The quality that translates spirit into matter—and vice versa.

• Body (Minor Arcana): The realm of appearances and tangible experience.

I have good evidence that, in the never-ending cycle of the Hero’s Journey, I’m currently at Card XIV: Temperance—and my lesson is all about rhythm. Think about glass-making: sand must endure extreme heat to transform into something new. Shattering, melting, reforming—it’s all part of the process. That’s exactly where I found myself after a powerful encounter with Death (XIII) in a reading. When I asked whether or not to go to a Krishnamurti retreat in Ojai, I pulled:

Queen of Swords → Queen of Cups → XIII (Death).

Instead of resisting Death, I decided to lean in. Afterwall, it is part of the process and there was a part of me that really wants to let go. I went to the retreat and faced it head-on. It was as if my rational mind (Queen of Swords) and my intuitive wisdom (Queen of Cups) finally started having a real conversation. In that surrender, I discovered something unexpected—not an ending, but a process of continuous transformation.

When we let our old identifications die, we go back to being raw clay, so that life itself can lean in sculpting. Temperance reminds us that breaking and reforming isn’t something to fear—it’s how we refine ourselves.

A Change in Plans

(Or, How I Stopped Pushing Water Uphill)

Recently, I gave up on my plan to become a licensed Marriage and Family Therapist. What seemed like giving up was actually opening up to a different kind of process—one that aligned better with my authentic path. Maybe the process will lead me back there, but, in Tarot terms, I stopped trying to force water uphill—a very Temperance image. Some say that in Temperance, the water actually does flow upward, a symbol of spiritual elevation. But the force that moves it isn’t the individual struggling alone—it’s life itself. And I had been trying to do it all on my own.

My idea was to work as a therapist from Brazil, making good money in a low-cost place, contributing to others, and securing my future. It sounded perfect. But looking deeper, I realized I was chasing freedom by building another cage. How’s that for irony?

Now, I’m flowing with my passions, but here’s the plot twist: with great passion comes great responsibility (and some interesting shadows to deal with). Enter The Devil (XV)—not the guy with the pitchfork, but those sneaky attachments and fears that make us think we’re separate from life itself. The little voices that whisper, I deserve this and not that. I am special. I am in control. So, naturally, when I asked the Tarot about this post, I pulled:

XIV (Temperance) → XX (Judgment) → XV (The Devil).

This journey has taught me that true transformation doesn’t happen in isolation. It unfolds in conversation, in the stories we tell and retell, in the mirrors and spaces we hold up for each other. That’s the kind of space I want to build—a community where we honor the cycles of becoming, where we lean into process instead of chasing outcomes. A place where we can shed old identities, rewrite our personal mythologies, and embrace change as the only constant. What if we explored this together?

Fair warning: we might end up at The Tower (XVI), where everything we think we know about ourselves gets a major reality check. If Death is about our personal identities dying, The Tower is about the world dying to us. I can’t promise it’ll be comfortable. But I can promise it’ll be interesting. Because when we find a stable point of awareness, suddenly everything becomes interesting, as we loose focus in ourselves. When we stop seeing the world through our preconceptions, we step into The Star (XVII). And unlike Temperance, where water still flows within a container, in The Star, life flows freely—abundant and unconditional. And so, the journey continues…

After all, isn’t that what makes a good story? Not knowing exactly where it’s going, but trusting that the process is the point. Like any true art, we’re all just channeling something bigger than ourselves—whether we’re reading cards, writing stories, or just trying to figure out what to have for dinner in a loving and connected way.

Want to Give Tarot a Try?

If you’re curious, here’s where I’d start:

• Get this book: The Handbook of Tarot by Hajo Banzhaf. It’s user-friendly and process-oriented, offering spreads that actually connect everything—past, present, and future; spirit, soul, and body. It also provides an interpretation of each card in every possible position it falls into, making Tarot reading almost plug-and-play.

• As for decks, I’m not a huge fan of the classic Rider-Waite. Right now, I’m exploring The Tarot of Wirth—from which the pictures on this post came from. What I like about this deck is how it carries symbols from the Major Arcana into the Minor Arcana, creating a deeper structural unity. All the Nines relate to The Hermit (IX), all the Tens to The Wheel of Fortune (X), and so on.

This approach leaves more room for individual interpretation, which I appreciate. One of my biggest frustrations with the most famous deck, the Rider-Waite cards, is how it casts Swords—the suit of the mind—in such a negative light. Why is the mind framed as a problem, when it’s one of our greatest tools? Maybe it’s because we need to master the mind, rather than let it master us. Either way, I prefer a Tarot deck that allows for more openness in meaning, because in the end, maybe all of this needs to be re-signified in a personal mythology.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about this in the context of Jung’s Individuation—the process of becoming whole by integrating the unconscious. In a way, individuation is the creation of a personal mythology, where the symbols that shape us are no longer inherited passively but actively reinterpreted, woven into a narrative that makes sense of our unique path. And what better tool for that than Tarot—a system of symbols that invites us to engage with the unconscious, not as something to be analyzed from a distance, but as something to be lived? Perhaps my next step is to reimagine Tarot through that lens.

When you start reading Tarot, maybe you might encounter a moment just like I did when a Major Arcana speaks directly to you—resonating so deeply that you decide to follow its path. By fully living the process of that card, you may come to see where you are in The Hero’s Journey. Or perhaps you’ll realize that there is no fixed place—only a path. A path that leads not forward or backward, but into the present—the space from where we can look at the world (XXI) and ourselves (0) as a unified whole.

Want to Explore Together?

This is the space I’m creating: a gathering of fellow travelers who see life not as a series of destinations, but as a living, breathing process. If this resonates with you, let’s explore together.

Have you ever had a moment when life handed you a Tarot card—whether literal or symbolic—that changed your course? Care to discuss it with me?

References for future study:

1. Esoteric Psychology, Volume I (A Treatise on the Seven Rays Book 1), by Alice Bailey.

2. The Tarot Handbook, by Hanjo Banzhaf.

3. Symbolic Tarot of Wirth

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As I embark on my Master's in Marriage and Family Therapy (MFT) at TUW, I find myself at a crossroads both personal and professional. The path ahead is uncertain—I'm not even sure if I'll pursue licensure, given the complex bureaucratic landscape and the possibility of returning to Brazil. Yet, something deeper calls me: the desire to share knowledge, to create community, to truly embrace life as a continuous process of becoming.

A part of me believes it knows why I don't have all the answers. Today, it suggests it's because I lack a Master's degree in Psychology. Months ago, it was because I hadn't completed all the meditations in "A Course in Miracles." Years ago, it was because I hadn't read all the Philosophy books ever written. This part of me often promises that with enough effort, the future will be brighter, but it struggles to accept the reality of the present—the ongoing process of life itself.

I'll call this part consciousness, and the part that observes and accepts the unknown, awareness. In consciousness, opposing forces constantly battle. Without awareness, we are tossed between these opposites. But what if enlightenment is simply the profound acceptance of life as an unfolding process?

Writing demands balancing will and resistance. True creativity occurs when these forces harmonize, leading to a flow state—a moment where consciousness transcends self-identification and awareness simply observes. This state releases the Self from the prison of consciousness, allowing pure creation to unfold. Perhaps this flow state is process itself—not a destination, but a way of being.

I've experienced this flow state, and I came to believe that if enlightenment is real, it might be simply an extended process of awareness. Not something unearthly, but a state that allows consciousness to operate by its own laws while awareness holds space for love to enter. Earthly consciousness and heavenly awareness coexist, allowing me to be my true self in perpetual becoming.

My journey of healing found profound ground in empathy, particularly through the NYC Nonviolent Communication (NVC) community. They taught me that empathy is really just holding space for others. It is not problem-solving (although this can be a great sign of compassion). It is not sympathy (how can someone save a drowning man if they are also drowning?). Holding space is radical acceptance, a compassionate witnessing where we allow experience to unfold without judgment, where we create a container for transformation without trying to change or fix anything. The change and the fixing can come from the realm of consciousness, but it is the awareness that bonds us together and allows life processes to unfold. Perhaps this is what Einstein meant when he suggested that a problem cannot be resolved at the same level of consciousness that created it.

My encounter with Jung's autobiography was a revelation. I was struck by how little the book focused on external events, and how profoundly it illuminated the rich, complex inner landscape of human experience. It was a liberating moment—realizing that the most meaningful life occurs not in the external world of actions and achievements, but in the depths of internal reflection and continuous process.

Jung showed me that a true autobiography is not about exposing others or settling scores, but about exploring universal truths through personal experience. By diving deep into my own internal journey, I discovered that vulnerability becomes a gift. Everyone can potentially learn, grow, and see themselves reflected in honest introspection. The fear of potentially hurting others dissolved when I understood that sharing my inner process could actually be a form of collective healing.

Like Jung, I believe our personal stories are portals to universal truths—living, breathing processes of understanding and becoming.

The secret to a life worth living? To fully embrace the process. To watch the main character of your play as a partial, imperfect narrator, passionate yet unattached. To understand that life is not about reaching a final state, but about the continuous, beautiful unfolding of experience.

Will anyone read this? Perhaps. But more importantly, will we process together?

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