The unsettling discovery is that the foundation is never as far down as the framework believes. There is always something underneath it. Something that existed before the framework arrived to study it. Something that made the framework possible — and that the framework, in its confidence, forgot to account for.

Every major framework built to explain human existence has this problem. Biology. Biography. Cybernetics. Systems theory. And now, most visibly, artificial intelligence. Each arrived at what it believed was the ground. Each was already two floors above it.

What exists before any of them begins is what the Somanetic Thesis of Existence is about.

THE WORD THAT WAS CAPTURED

There is a word for the study of what exists prior to any knowing of it. Ontology. From Greek ontos — being itself. Not being as examined, categorized, or known. Being as the prior condition that knowing depends on. Ontology in its original force names what has to exist before the question “what can be known?” is even askable.

That word has been captured.

The technology industry uses “ontology” to mean a structured knowledge representation. A taxonomy. A documentation artifact — precisely the thing ontology was supposed to precede. Philosophers routinely treat ontology as a department within epistemology: what exists, organized in relation to what we know about it. The word meant to protect the pre-documentation layer now names one of the documentation layer’s most refined products.

The colonization of ontology by epistemology is not a terminology dispute. It is the erasure of the evidence. Once the word that pointed to the pre-documentation layer is repurposed to mean a documentation artifact, the pre-documentation layer has no language pointing toward it. The skip becomes invisible precisely where a signpost should have been.

The Somanetic Thesis of Existence restores the word to its original force — and applies it to the one entity that has always occupied the ontological layer, whether or not any framework was paying attention.

The living body.

THE THESIS

The living body exists and senses prior to any documentation of its existence. This pre-documentation condition is not a developmental phase that knowing eventually replaces. It is the permanent origin layer from which all intelligence, knowledge, language, systems, and machines are downstream. Somanetics is the study of that layer.

This is not a claim that the body matters, or that embodiment deserves more attention in an age of digital abstraction. Those framings already concede too much — they position the body as a consideration within an existing knowledge framework rather than as the ground that framework is built on.

The claim is structural and prior: before biology arrived to systematize life, before biography arrived to inscribe it, before any framework arrived to study it — the body was already there. Existing. Sensing. Accumulating encounter. Generating the raw material from which every subsequent act of knowing would eventually draw.

That layer — the body in its pre-documentation state — has never been formally studied. Not because it was examined and found unimportant. Because the knowing project was so productive that it outran the question. The documentation apparatus kept generating results, so the assumption quietly hardened that documentation was where the real action was. The pre-documentation phase was treated as mere preparation. The waiting room before knowledge began.

It was not waiting. It was the ground.

WHAT THIS DISPUTES

The Somanetic Thesis of Existence is not positioned against any particular framework. It repositions all of them by identifying where their foundations actually sit.

FRAMEWORKS AND THEIR ACTUAL GROUND LEVEL

Biology — arrived at the body already formed and asked what it does. The body’s pre-formation existence, its being prior to any systematic account of it, is not biology’s subject. Biology begins after the body is already there.

Cybernetics — applied communication and control logic to the living body, treating it as an optimizable system. Asked: how does it process and regulate? Already a documentation question. Already treating the body as an object to be modeled rather than a subject doing the generating.

Complex Adaptive Systems — attributed adaptation to the system itself. But a system is structurally unconscious about its own system-ness. It cannot perceive itself from above its own operating logic. What CAS observed as system adaptation was humans — bodies — sensing from outside the system and intervening. The body got no credit for the work it was doing.

Artificial Intelligence — the terminal expression of the documentation project. Operates entirely at the layer where knowing has already been formalized into transmissible form. Has no access to the pre-documentation layer not because of current limitations but because of structural ones. There was no bio-ontological phase in AI’s development. It arrived already knowing. The pre-documentation layer was never part of what was built.

None of these frameworks failed. They produced genuine results within their operating layer. The issue is not their findings but their assumed foundations. Each treated the documentation layer as bedrock. Each was already downstream of the actual ground.

THE PORETIC THEORY

The specific claim the Somanetic Thesis makes about artificial intelligence has a name: the Poretic Theory.

From Greek poros — the crossing point, the ford, the way through. Its opposite is aporia— the philosophical term for impasse. Literally: no way through. Socrates used aporia as a method, driving interlocutors to the threshold of what their existing knowledge could not resolve. The aporia was not the failure. It was the signal that genuine territory lay ahead — territory that required new sensing rather than more knowing.

The Poretic Theory —>

POROS (CROSSING) + APORIA (NO WAY THROUGH) — THE STRUCTURAL ACCOUNT OF WHY THE THRESHOLD EXISTS

AI is the terminal aporia of the industrial epistemological project. The largest, most sophisticated documentation apparatus in human history arrives at the bio-ontological layer and stops. Not for want of processing power. Because crossing the threshold requires a body that exists prior to its knowing — a body that has been changed by contact with actual territory, that senses before it documents, that generates from the pre-documentation layer rather than retrieving from the documented one. The poros is not a capability. It is a condition of existence that no documentation artifact can replicate.

The Poretic Theory is not a critique of AI. It is a structural diagnosis. AI did not create the threshold — it revealed it. By arriving at the documentation layer in such complete and capable form, AI made the outline of what it cannot reach legible for the first time. You can only see an absence when the surrounding presence is complete enough to define it.

The pre-documentation layer was always there. The sensing was always happening. The body was always the origin event. It took the terminal expression of the documentation project — arriving at the threshold and stopping at sufficient scale that the stopping became impossible to ignore — to make the structure undeniable.

WHAT SOMANETICS OPENS

Somanetics is bio-ontology. The study of the living body’s existence and sensing prior to any documentation of it. Not what the body does. Not what can be known from it. What it is — in the act of being alive, sensing territory, accumulating encounter — before any of that encounter has resolved into something that can be systematized or inscribed.

This is the study that was never opened. Not because the territory was inaccessible. Because the knowing project was so productive that the question never formed. The documentation apparatus kept generating results and the pre-documentation layer kept being skipped — not by decision but by momentum. Two hundred years of systems that onboarded humans at the knowledge layer. Institutions that handed people the record and called it the ground. A whole civilization that arrived at logos and graphē and forgot to ask what existed before either of them.

AI made the cost of that forgetting visible. The consciousness debt — accumulated across two centuries of skipping the sensing layer — is now coming due at the exact moment we have built a machine that can perform everything the documentation layer requires and nothing the pre-documentation layer demands.

The response is not to slow down AI. It is to open the study that should have been opened first.

Somanetics opens it. The Somanetic Thesis of Existence is the formal position: the living body’s pre-documentation existence is the origin layer of all intelligence, and that layer has a structure, a phenomenology, and a set of implications for how humans develop, lead, create, and make sense of the moment they are living through. That is what this work is about.

Everything else — every piece published here, every framework developed, every practice offered — is downstream of this thesis. The body was always first. We are simply returning to where the study should have begun.

The Sensing Gap is a free five-part diagnostic course hosted on History of the Soma.

It is not a course in the conventional sense. There is no certificate at the end. There is no skill to acquire. There is no right answer waiting behind a paywall.

What it offers is something more specific and more useful than any of that: a way of reading a signal you have probably been misreading.

Most people facing the AI moment have tried the obvious things. Updated their skills. Taken the courses. Restructured their workflows. Read the reassuring pieces about why humans still matter. And something persists anyway — not louder than before, but more stubborn. A feeling that the response, however intelligent, isn’t quite reaching the thing that actually needs addressing.

That persistence is not failure. It is a diagnostic. It is the territory telling you something.

This course helps you read what it’s saying.

What History of the Soma Is

Soma means body. Not body as opposed to mind — body as the receiver. The apparatus that makes contact with reality possible at all.

History of the Soma is the argument that 200 years of industrialization progressively removed the body from the center of human knowing — and that AI’s arrival is not a new disruption but the completion of that arc. Machines always arrive at the end of an era, not the beginning. They show up when human processes have become habitual enough to mechanize.

Which means the question AI is actually raising is not “what do I need to learn?” It is “what have I lost contact with — and how do I get back?”

Every post, note, and conversation on this publication points toward that question in some form. This course is the most direct path into it.

How to Engage With It

The five parts are designed to be read in sequence — each one builds on the previous. If you arrive here from a Note or post that references a specific part, read that part first, then come back to the beginning when you’re ready to go deeper.

Each part ends with a reflection prompt. These are not assignments. There is no one checking your work. They are invitations to locate yourself in the material — to find your own version of what each stage is pointing at. The reflection is where the value actually lives. Don’t skip it.

The course is free. The next step — Somanetics — is where the practice happens. This course will point toward it when the time is right. For now, just begin.

The Five Parts

Part One — The Sensing Gap Naming the residue. The thing that persists despite intelligent, well-aimed effort.

Part Two — What You’ve Already Tried Every response has been epistemological. Here’s what that means and why it stalls on certain things.

Part Three — The Signal You’ve Been Misreading Intractable residue is not failure. It is a diagnostic pointing toward the level where the work actually has to happen.

Part Four — What Level This Actually Lives At The reveal. Why the tools that work on most problems cannot reach this one.

Part Five — What Addressing It Actually Requires Not a course. Not a certification. A practice. What restoration looks like and what the next step is.

Begin with Part One.

If you’ve made it here, something in the previous four parts landed.

Not as new information — as recognition. The thing that won’t move. The responses that landed slightly beside it. The signal you’d been misreading as failure. The level where the roots actually live.

Recognition is different from understanding. Understanding is something you acquire. Recognition is something that was already present, waiting for the right conditions to become visible. You didn’t learn something new in this course. You located something you already knew but hadn’t been given language for.

That distinction matters for what comes next. Because what comes next is not more acquisition. It is more location.

By now the diagnosis is clear enough to state plainly.

The thing that won’t move has its roots at the level of sensing — the embodied, pre-linguistic capacity to receive what is actually there rather than what the map predicts should be there. That capacity was crowded out over a long time, by systems that rewarded the upper layers of knowing and had no instrument for the lower ones. AI’s arrival didn’t create the deficit. It made it impossible to ignore.

Restoring access to that capacity requires a practice. Not a course in the conventional sense — courses deliver content to the knowledge layer, which is precisely the layer that’s already overloaded. Not a framework — frameworks give the mind more to work with, which is not the problem. Not a certification — there is no credential for being more fully present in your own experience.

A practice. Something repeated. Something embodied. Something that creates a gap between what you expected and what is actually there — and makes that gap immediate, felt, and undeniable.

The gap is where the restoration happens. Not the information delivered across it. The gap itself.

What does that look like in practice?

It looks like any discipline that requires the body to be genuinely present in territory it cannot fully predict. That puts the receiver online rather than letting the mind run ahead of what’s actually arriving. That produces immediate feedback — not evaluation against a standard, but encounter with what is actually there.

For some people that discipline is photography. The camera creates instant accountability to actual light — not remembered light, not anticipated light. What is here, now, in this specific place. You cannot photograph what you expected to see. You can only photograph what exists. The gap between those two things, made visible in every image, is the practice.

For others it arrives through different territory. The specific discipline matters less than what the discipline requires: body present, receiver open, genuine novelty arriving, no prior map adequate to the situation.

What matters is that the practice is real. That it has genuine stakes — meaning the gap between expectation and reality is actual, not simulated. That it is repeated. And that it is embodied — happening in physical territory, not at a workstation, not inside a framework, not in the mind alone.

This is what Somanetics is being built for.

Somanetics is the practice layer of History of the Soma. It is where the diagnostic you’ve worked through in this course becomes something you do rather than something you understand. Not a curriculum with a completion. Not a certification with a credential. A practice with a community — people doing the thing together, returning to it, developing the capacity over time rather than acquiring it once.

It is being developed now. If this course has landed for you — if the recognition was real — then Somanetics is the next step.

You can register your interest below. When it launches, you’ll be the first to know.

Before you do — one last thing.

You arrived here because something in your work, or your relationship to your work, wouldn’t move despite everything you tried. That persistence brought you through five parts of a diagnostic that most people will never sit with long enough to complete.

The fact that you’re here is itself a signal. Not about intelligence. Not about effort. About sensing. About the part of you that knew, before any framework arrived, that the available responses weren’t reaching the thing itself.

That part of you was right. It has been right all along. It just needed the right conditions to become legible.

That is what restoration looks like at the beginning. Not a transformation. Not a breakthrough. A signal becoming legible.

Everything follows from there.

Reflection Prompt

You’ve named the thing that won’t move. You’ve mapped the responses that didn’t reach it. You’ve located the level where its roots actually live.

One final question — not to answer, but to carry forward:

What would it feel like to be in full contact with what is actually happening — in your work, in your life, in this moment — rather than what your map says should be happening?

Not the plan for getting there. Not the framework for understanding it. Just the felt sense of what that contact would be like.

That felt sense is the soma speaking. It is the beginning of the practice. And it is already yours — it has always been yours.

It was only ever crowded out. Never lost.

You’ve completed The Sensing Gap. If this resonates with you, please subscribe to receive updates directly as this emergent somanetic practice evolves.

Or return to the Start Here Post to access other parts of The On Ramp.

Return to the Start Here page

There is a question that the AI moment keeps generating that none of the available responses have been able to answer.

Not “what skills do I need?” That one gets answered constantly, by everyone, with great confidence.

Not “will my job still exist?” That one gets answered too, in both directions, also with great confidence.

The question that persists — the one that survives every reassuring framework and every intelligent reorganization — is quieter than either of those.

It sounds something like: what am I, now that a machine can do what I do?

That question is not asking about skills. It is not asking about job categories. It is asking something about the nature of the person asking it. And that is a completely different kind of question — one that lives at a completely different level than the responses aimed at it.

Here is a way of thinking about levels that might make the distinction felt rather than just understood.

Some problems exist at the level of what you do. Change what you do — learn a new skill, adopt a new tool, adjust a process — and the problem resolves. Most professional problems live here. Most professional development is aimed here. It works, reliably, on the things it can reach.

Some problems exist at the level of how systems organize what you do. These are institutional problems — the structures, norms, and assumptions that shape the environment you work inside. They require more than individual adjustment. They require the environment itself to shift. Harder, slower, but still addressable with the right organizational instruments.

And some problems exist at the level of what you are. Not what you know. Not how you work. Not what system you operate inside. What you are — as a sensing, experiencing, living thing moving through a world that keeps changing underneath you.

The AI moment is generating problems at all three levels simultaneously. The ones at the first two levels are being addressed — imperfectly, noisily, but addressed. The industry exists for that.

The ones at the third level are not being addressed. Because the instruments built for the first two levels cannot reach the third. Not because they’re inadequate instruments. Because they were never designed to go there.

The thing that won’t move — the one you named in Part One — almost certainly has its roots at the third level.

Not entirely. There are probably genuine skill gaps involved, genuine structural adjustments needed. Those pieces are real and the available responses will address them adequately. But underneath those pieces, quieter and more persistent, is something about your relationship to your own capacity. Your own judgment. Your own sense of what you bring that is irreducibly yours.

That something is not a knowledge gap. It is not a process problem. It is a sensing problem.

For 200 years, the systems humans built — education, work, professional development — entered at the level of knowledge and language. They were extraordinarily good at building the upper levels. What they systematically skipped was the foundation: the embodied, pre-linguistic capacity to receive reality directly. To be in contact with what is actually there rather than what the map says should be there.

That capacity was never destroyed. It was crowded out. Buried under layers of faster, louder, more institutionally rewarded ways of knowing.

AI arrived and made the burial visible. Not by threatening the upper layers — though it does that too. By being so fluent at everything the upper layers produce that the question of what lives below them became impossible to ignore.

What lives below them is the soma. The body. The receiver.

The thing that won’t move is pointing at it.

This is not an abstract philosophical observation. It is a practical diagnosis.

If the root of the problem is at the level of sensing — at the level of restored contact with your own direct experience of what is actually happening — then the path forward is not more knowledge. It is not a better framework. It is not a more sophisticated understanding of AI’s capabilities and limitations.

It is a practice. Something that puts you back in contact with the receiving layer. Something that creates immediate, undeniable feedback between what you expected and what is actually there. Something that restores access to a capacity that was never lost — only crowded out.

That practice is what Part Five is about.

Reflection Prompt

Before you move to Part Five, stay with this question that opened the section.

What am I, now that a machine can do what I do?

Don’t reach for the answer. Notice instead what happens in your body when you sit with the question. Not your mind — your body. Where does it land? What does it do?

That response — whatever it is — is the soma speaking. It has been trying to get your attention for longer than the AI moment has existed.

Part Five is about what to do with what it’s saying.

Continue to Part Five — What Addressing It Actually Requires

When something won’t move despite intelligent, well-aimed effort, there are two ways to read that.

The first reading: the effort wasn’t enough. Try harder. Try more. Try a better version of the same thing. This is the default reading — and it is the reading that keeps people stuck longest, because it generates more of the response that wasn’t reaching the thing in the first place.

The second reading: the persistence is a signal. Not a verdict on the effort. Not evidence of personal failure. A signal — pointing toward something specific about the nature of the problem itself.

Most people never reach the second reading because the first one is so available and so culturally endorsed. We live inside systems that reward effort and diagnose its absence as the cause of most problems. The idea that the effort was fine and the instrument was wrong is harder to find — not because it’s complicated, but because it requires stepping outside the assumption that more of the same will eventually work.

You’ve been reading the signal wrong. Not because you’re unsophisticated. Because the first reading is the one every available system hands you.

Here is what the signal is actually saying.

When a problem persists after correct, well-aimed responses — when it returns not as crisis but as quiet stubborn presence — it is pointing toward its own depth. It is telling you that its roots are lower than the level where your responses have been landing.

Think of it this way. Some problems exist at the surface. A skill gap, a missing piece of information, a process that needs updating. The right response reaches the root immediately. You apply it, the problem resolves, you move on. Clean.

Other problems have roots at a deeper level than they appear. The surface expression — the anxiety, the hollowness, the sense of ground shifting — is real. But it is an expression of something further down. Responses aimed at the surface expression work on the expression. They don’t reach the root. So the expression returns.

The persistence is not the problem being stubborn. It is the problem being honest about where it actually lives.

This matters enormously for what comes next.

Because once you can read the signal correctly — once the persistence stops feeling like failure and starts feeling like a diagnostic pointing somewhere specific — the question changes entirely.

It stops being: what haven’t I tried yet?

It becomes: what level does this actually live at?

That is a completely different question. And it is a question that most of the available responses — the courses, the frameworks, the certifications, the consultants — are not designed to answer. They are designed to deliver solutions. Solutions require a known problem at a known level. What you’re carrying is a problem whose level hasn’t been correctly identified yet.

Identifying it is what Part Four is for.

One more thing before you get there.

The shift from the first reading to the second reading — from “I haven’t tried hard enough” to “I’ve been aimed at the wrong level” — is not a small move. It requires something that the professional development industry is not built to provide: a willingness to stop reaching for the next available response and sit with the signal long enough to read it accurately.

That sitting is not passivity. It is the most active thing this moment asks of you. It is also, not coincidentally, the capacity that 200 years of industrialization most systematically trained out of us — and that AI’s arrival is now making impossible to ignore.

You are not behind. You have not failed. You have been handed the wrong instrument for the actual problem.

Part Four names the level.

Reflection Prompt

Before you move to Part Four, sit with this.

The thing you named in Part One — the thing that won’t move. And the responses you mapped in Part Two — the ones that landed slightly beside it.

Ask yourself: if those responses were aimed correctly but at the wrong level, what would the right level feel like? Not what would it look like — what would it feel like to be working at the actual root rather than the surface expression?

You don’t need to answer this fully. You just need to notice what happens when you ask it.

That noticing is the beginning of the diagnostic.

Continue to Part Four — What Level This Actually Lives At

There is a particular kind of tired that has nothing to do with how hard you’ve worked.

It’s not burnout. It’s not laziness. It’s the fatigue that comes from trying correctly — from doing the right things, in the right order, with genuine effort — and finding yourself back at the same place anyway. Not defeated. Just quietly aware that the response, however good, didn’t quite reach it.

Most people in the AI era know this feeling intimately. Not because they haven’t tried. Because they’ve tried everything available and something persists anyway.

This part of the course is about what all those attempts have in common.

Think about the responses that exist right now for navigating the AI moment.

There are courses — on prompting, on AI tools, on future-proofing your skillset. There are certifications that signal competence in an emerging landscape. There are consultants and frameworks and reorganization strategies and leadership retreats designed to help teams adapt. There are reassuring books explaining why human creativity still matters, why judgment can’t be automated, why the things that make you irreplaceable remain intact.

Every one of these is a knowledge offer. They assume the problem is a gap between what you currently know and what you need to know. Fill the gap. Problem solved.

This is called an epistemological response. It addresses the problem at the level of knowledge — what you know, what you can learn, what you can acquire.

Epistemological responses work extraordinarily well on most problems. The reason they’re the default is that they’re right most of the time. If the problem is a skill you don’t have, learn the skill. If the problem is information you’re missing, find the information. If the problem is a tool you haven’t adopted, adopt the tool.

The entire professional development industry — billions of dollars, decades of infrastructure — is built on this assumption. And for most of what that industry has addressed, the assumption has been correct.

Here is the thing worth sitting with.

You have almost certainly tried at least one of those responses. Possibly several. And you are still here, reading a diagnostic course, because something persisted anyway.

That persistence is not evidence that the responses were bad. They weren’t. It is not evidence that you didn’t apply them correctly. You probably did. It is not evidence that you need a better version of the same kind of response — a more rigorous course, a more experienced consultant, a more comprehensive framework.

It is evidence that the problem is not epistemological.

Not every problem is a knowledge gap. Some problems exist at a level that knowledge cannot reach — not because knowledge isn’t valuable, but because the roots of the problem are in different ground entirely. Applying an epistemological response to a non-epistemological problem doesn’t fail dramatically. It just lands slightly beside the thing. Repeatedly. No matter how well-aimed.

That slightly-beside feeling is what you’ve been living inside.

There is nothing wrong with you for having tried what was available. There is nothing wrong with the people who built those responses — they were solving the problems their instruments could reach. The issue is not the quality of the effort on either side.

The issue is that the problem you’re carrying has roots at a different level than any of those responses were designed to address.

Part Three is about what that level is — and how to read the signal that’s been pointing toward it all along.

Reflection Prompt

Before you move to Part Three, take a few minutes with this.

List — briefly, honestly — two or three of the responses you’ve tried for the thing that won’t move. Courses, conversations, reorganizations, frameworks, new habits. Whatever you’ve reached for.

Then ask yourself: where exactly did each one land? Not whether it helped — it probably did, at least partially. But did it reach the thing itself? Or did it land slightly beside it?

That gap between where the response landed and where the thing actually lives — that gap is what Part Three is about.

Continue to Part Three — The Signal You’ve Been Misreading

You’ve done everything right.

Updated the skills. Taken the courses. Read the frameworks. Restructured the workflow. Sat with the reassuring pieces that explained, convincingly, why humans still matter in the AI era.

And something is still there.

Not louder than before. Not dramatic. Just stubborn. A low-grade sense that the ground is shifting under something more fundamental than your resume — and that every intelligent, well-aimed response you’ve made has addressed everything except the thing itself.

You can’t quite name it. Which makes it harder to defend, harder to explain to colleagues or clients or the version of yourself that prefers solvable problems. So you try again. Another course. Another framework. Another reorganization of how you work. And it returns — not as crisis, just as persistence.

That persistence has a name. Not a diagnosis. Not a flaw. A signal.

This is where the course begins.

Before any framework arrives, before any explanation is offered, there is one question worth sitting with.

What’s the thing in your work — or your relationship to your work — that keeps coming back no matter what you’ve tried?

Not the surface problem. Not the task that’s harder now than it was two years ago. The thing underneath that. The thing that your most intelligent responses haven’t quite reached.

It might show up as a feeling that your output is technically correct but somehow hollow. It might be the anxiety that survives every rational reassurance about AI. It might be the sense that you understand your situation extremely well and still can’t seem to shift it. It might be something about how you relate to your own judgment — a creeping uncertainty about whether what you think is actually what you think, or whether you’ve outsourced something you can’t quite identify.

Whatever shape it takes for you — that’s the thing.

The rest of this course is about reading what it’s telling you.

Here’s the only thing worth knowing before Part Two:

The persistence is not evidence that you haven’t tried hard enough. It is not a personal failure. It is not a sign that the problem is unsolvable.

It is a diagnostic signal. It is the territory telling you that the responses you’ve been reaching for — however smart, however well-executed — are aimed at the right problem from the wrong level.

There is a level below the one where all those responses live. That level is where the thing that won’t move actually has its roots.

Part Two is about the responses themselves — what they have in common, and what that reveals about where they can and cannot reach.

Reflection Prompt

Before you move to Part Two, take five minutes with this.

Write down — anywhere, for no one but yourself — the specific thing in your work or your relationship to your work that keeps returning despite your best efforts to address it. Don’t reach for the sophisticated version. The first honest answer is the right one.

You don’t need to solve it. You don’t need to understand it yet. You just need to name it.

That named thing is what this course is actually about.

Continue to Part Two — What You’ve Already Tried