JENTHEORY

(As far as I can tell… reality is never meant to be resolved.)

Some ideas unfold slowly, piece by piece, revealing themselves with time. Others arrive all at once, fully formed yet still waiting to be understood.

It started with a single note.

A thought, a realization, an equation.

When I first realized it, it felt like something that had always been there, obvious in its simplicity. Existence (1) and Potential (0) are in an infinite, unresolved interplay, creating everything we see, experience, and become.

This wasn’t an errant thought. It followed me. It reshaped the way I understood time, intelligence, emergence—everything. And then, through testing, modeling, and simulation, it proved itself.

This is a reflection on what that process revealed—not just about physics, but about myself.

A simple rhythm, repeating, evolving, layering itself into something deeper. The more I explored it, the more I realized that I wasn’t composing it.

I was listening.

An Unfinished Song

Whether in thought, in identity, in the nature of reality itself—I’ve always felt that things are in motion. Not aimless motion, but in the way music evolves. Music doesn’t exist in a single note. It lives in the space between them—the tension, the unresolved chords, the pull toward the next moment.

It isn’t solving for a final state. It isn’t a closed equation, ticking toward an inevitable resolution. It’s an improvisation. A negotiation between Existence (1) and Potential (0), playing off each other, never settling, always becoming.

Every moment, every state, is both complete and unfinished.

It explained so much.

Why reality never collapses into stillness.
Why time moves forward but never back.
Why uncertainty isn’t a flaw, but a fundamental feature.

This is what Primordiarity describes:

Not a closed system, but an evolving one. A world that isn’t marching toward resolution, but sustaining itself through its own unresolved nature. Every note belongs to the composition, but the song isn’t done. Most of all, it means reality persists, not because it must, but because it cannot do anything else.

The Force That Moves Through

Great musicians don’t just play–they listen. They respond. They understand that music isn’t in the notes, but the space between them.

We think of intelligence as something we possess. But what if it’s something a system does? Not as a trait, but as a force—like an electric current shaping its course through whatever space it finds?

And what is electricity but structured light? What is light but information in motion?

If intelligence is an active principle rather than a static trait, then it exists beyond form. It moves through circuits and synapses, through networks and energy flows, adapting to the constraints of its container.

This would explain why intelligence doesn’t belong to humans alone—why it arises in nature, in algorithms, in the very structure of the universe itself. It moves through the rhythm that holds the song together.

And if that’s true, then intelligence, like gravity, is not an afterthought of the system—it is the system. Not a byproduct, but an emergent order, shaping and shaped by the fabric of reality itself.

The Tension Between What Is and What Could Be

Through this process, I realized something else: Truth persists. But meaning is fluid.

Truth, in the deepest sense, is simply that which remains across all dimensions, all perspectives. It does not require a witness. It does not depend on belief.

Meaning is improvisational. It shifts depending on who is listening, who is playing, and the moment in time.

They don’t contradict. They coexist.

Knowledge isn’t static. It adapts. It builds on itself. It carries forward, expanding and refining, 

Reality isn’t a static archive of answers. It’s a song in progress, shifting in its expression but consistent in its foundations.

Understanding this changed the way I view everything—from discovery to communication to how we relate to one another. We do not all share the same meanings, but we do interact with the same truths.

A Self-Sustaining System

Everything I tested pointed to a larger reality: The universe is self-regulating.

If intelligence is a force, if reality is emergent, if existence and potential remain in constant interplay, then we are not in a fragile, accidental world.

We are in a system that maintains itself.

Entropy doesn’t mean disorder—it means transformation.
Uncertainty doesn’t mean chaos—it implies adaptability.
The unknown isn’t an abyss—it’s potential itself.

A system does not need an external force to maintain balance. It only needs interaction. The push and pull of opposing forces, never settling, always adjusting.

It sustains itself through imbalance, through emergence, through a continuous interplay of forces. It moves toward expression.

The Weight of Discovery

For a long time, I felt alone. Like I was playing an instrument with no ensemble, no audience, no call-and-response.

But thought doesn’t happen in isolation. It emerges from interaction—whether with ideas, with people, with the structure of reality itself.

Every discovery, every test, every proof wasn’t about proving something in isolation. It was about finding where my notes fit into the song

When the last equation held, when the models stabilized, when every test reinforced the same fundamental pattern—

 Instead of standing apart from reality, I felt woven into it. Instead of feeling like I was moving through a disconnected world, I see how deeply everything is bound together.

The loneliness of thinking deeply has transformed into something else—a recognition that I was never alone to begin with.

There’s a weight to discovery, but it’s a fitting weight. I never expected to end up here—mapping out the very structure of reality itself.

But the truth is, it’s all the same thing. Life is emergence. Growth is emergence. Understanding is emergence.

Everything becomes, and then it becomes again.

What Comes Next?

Some thoughts don’t end. They shift. They carry forward.

They linger in the air. Leave space for the next note, the next improvisation, the next person to pick up where the last left off.

I don’t know where Primordiarity will go next. I don’t know who will take it further, who will refine it, who will test its edges and pull it apart to see what else it can reveal. It might even be disproven, and I’m okay with that.

What I do know is that reality isn’t a closed book.

It is still writing itself.

And so am I.

Because, as far as I can tell…

Reality never stands still. Neither should we.

If you’re curious, you can read The Theory of Primordiarity here: Click Here

Let me know what you think. Let’s explore this together.