Сергей Гладков
Model of Multidimensional Reality

Contents

Why the Human Being Needs a Larger Model

Model of Multidimensional Reality: The Contours of a Broad Hypothesis

The Rules of Honest Speculation

The Body and the Biological Basis

The Moment of Incarnation

Eleven Dimensions and Seven Subtle Levels

The Graviton Bridge

Evolution and the Increasing Complexity of Connection

Monad, Lessons and the Corridor of Destiny

Karma, Patterns and Reworking

Two-Way Connection During Life

Death, Dissipation and Return

Monad Development Scenarios

Assembly of the Model of Multidimensional Reality

Limits of the Model

What to Do with the Model of Multidimensional Reality

Appendix. History of the Development of the Model of Multidimensional Reality

Note on the Use of AI

Why the Human Being Needs a Larger Model

The Self-Observation of Life

A larger model does not begin with theory.

It begins with self-observation.

But self-observation here needs to be understood more broadly than the habit of looking inward and tracking thoughts or feelings. Sometimes a person is not observing one separate experience, but life itself: what is happening to him, why some actions open him up while others break him, why similar situations return, why someone else's successful path becomes a dead end in his own biography.

He looks not only inward.

He looks at his trajectory.

And sometimes the first large question begins with a very simple irritation.

A person looks at someone else's life and cannot understand why it worked out for that other person.

Not because he wishes the other person harm. Not necessarily out of envy in the crude sense. Sometimes it is not even envy, but tired bewilderment: after all, he did almost the same thing. He got up just as early. He studied just as hard. He took risks in the same way. He changed jobs. He tried to build relationships. He listened to advice. He repeated the rules that seemed reasonable to him.

But for one person those rules worked.

And for him they did not.

One person left a familiar place - and found his own work. Another left - and lost his footing. One started a business - and gradually rose. Another began with the same diligence - and found himself in debt. One decided to divorce - and through pain came out into a new life. Another made the same decision - and spent many more years gathering the fragments. One moved to another city - and seemed to enter air where it was finally possible to breathe. Another moved - and realized that he had brought with him not only his suitcases, but also everything he had wanted to escape.

From the outside, everything looks similar.

Inside, it does not.

It is here that a person first feels that the simple formula "do this - and you will get that result" cannot survive a meeting with life. It is beautiful while it is spoken from a distance. It sounds good in advice, in motivational books, in conversations with people for whom things have already worked out. But when a person takes this formula into his own hands and tries to apply it to his own biography, it suddenly becomes too crude.

He did "this."

But he did not receive "that."

Of course, one can immediately say: then he did not do enough. He did not believe enough. He did not work enough. He did not want it enough. He did not choose the right moment carefully enough. He did not repeat the steps precisely enough.

Sometimes that is true.

But sometimes a person knows that the matter is not only this. He feels that he did not merely make a technical mistake. He entered a process that had a different meaning for him. Someone else's path in his life became not a road, but a trap. Someone else's decision in his hands became not liberation, but a new dependency. Someone else's victory, repeated almost word for word, somehow turned into defeat.

This is how the first question of this book appears:

why is the same action not the same action for different people?

Why does the same process become right for one person and destructive for another?

Why can advice that saved one person break another?

Why does someone else's successful strategy, when transferred into another life, sometimes cease to be a strategy of success?

This question is not esoteric in itself. It does not begin with subtle bodies, not with the soul, not with hidden worlds. It begins with an experience familiar to many: "I did everything right, but life answered differently."

When Life Answers Differently

There is a particular pain in a situation where a person receives a blow not after an obvious mistake, but after what seemed to be a right step.

If he acted crudely, betrayed someone, was lazy, deceived himself, ignored the obvious, then the consequences can still be explained. There is a connection here: action - result. Mistake - payment. Inattention - loss.

But sometimes it is different.

A person gathers his strength for a long time and finally chooses himself. He says "no." He leaves a relationship in which he felt bad. He changes professions. He begins to speak more honestly. He stops agreeing to his old role. From the outside, all this can be called growing up.

And suddenly, after this, things become worse.

Not freer at once, not lighter, not clearer, but worse. Fear rises inside. External circumstances begin to fall apart. People turn away. Money runs out. The body fails. A strange feeling appears: as if the person had taken a step toward himself, and life had struck him for it.

In another biography, the same step would have looked like the beginning of liberation. In this one, it opens old pain, a family conflict, dependence, loneliness, an inner debt for which the person was not ready.

And the reverse also happens. Sometimes a person stays where everyone advises him to leave, and precisely this turns out to be not cowardice, but a necessary completion. Sometimes he does not accept an opportunity that others would call a rare chance, and later understands that he avoided a path that was not his. Sometimes he does something that looks illogical, and years later sees: only in this way could his life avoid collapse.

It is too easy to judge another person's process by its external form.

It is too easy to say: "You should have left," "you should have taken the risk," "you should have endured," "you should have fought," "you should have forgiven," "you should have started over." But these words become dangerous when we forget that behind the same action different people have different inner conditions.

For one person, leaving means becoming free.

For another, leaving means repeating an escape he has already made many times.

For one person, staying means faithfulness.

For another, staying means betraying himself again.

For one person, risk is maturation.

For another, risk is an attempt to prove to the world what has still not come together inside.

So the question becomes deeper. It is no longer only about the result. It is about correspondence.

What makes a process "mine"?

Why can the same step be exact for one person and premature for another?

Why does an outwardly right decision sometimes enter someone else's life as a mistake?

Someone Else's Route

The modern person has many other people's routes.

He sees them every day. Success stories. Biographies of strong people. Rules of productivity. Lists of habits. Advice from psychologists. Breathing practices. Courses on thinking. Promises: if you repeat the path, you will get a similar result.

Sometimes this helps. Someone else's experience really can become support. We learn not only from ourselves. We adopt ways of thinking, working, loving, building boundaries, caring for the body, not falling apart in crisis. Without the experience of others, a person would be much poorer.

But there is a moment that is rarely spoken aloud.

Someone else's route is never transferred into emptiness.

It enters an already existing life. Into a body that has its own endurance. Into a nervous system that tolerates strain in its own way. Into a family where some words are permitted and others are forbidden. Into a childhood experience where success may have been linked not with joy, but with anxiety. Into an environment where the same action is either supported or punished. Into a memory where certain decisions have already once led to pain. Into a character that does not merely choose, but protects itself.

That is why a person may repeat the form without repeating the inner structure.

He may get up at five in the morning, like someone successful, but if his life is held together by exhaustion, this habit will not gather him; it will finish him off. He may begin to speak honestly, but if there is no support inside, honesty will become not freedom, but a flash of destruction. He may forgive, but if forgiveness for him has always been a way not to feel pain, it will become not completion, but the continuation of an old submission. He may fight, but if fighting has long been the only way he feels alive, it will not lead him to freedom; it will entrench the war.

And then an unpleasant suspicion appears: perhaps an action cannot be understood apart from the person who performs it.

There is no pure deed.

There is a deed that has entered a concrete system of experience.

And if the system is different, then the meaning of the deed is different too.

When There Is More Than One Explanation

Ordinary thinking often tries to find one cause.

A person failed because he prepared badly.

A person succeeded because he was talented.

A person suffers because he has trauma.

A person repeats the same thing because he has a habit.

A person cannot get out because he is weak.

Such explanations are sometimes useful. They give clarity. They make action possible. They remove the fog. But the more attentively a person looks at his own life, the more often he sees that one cause is not enough.

In one and the same event, the body, past experience, family history, social environment, fear, hope, habit, chance, the language with which a person describes himself, and the meaning he gives to what is happening may all be acting at once.

For example, a person is afraid to begin something new. One can say: he is lazy. But on closer inspection it turns out that his body reacts to uncertainty as a threat. In his family, any standing out from the common line was condemned. A previous attempt ended in humiliation. In his surroundings there are no people who would support the risk. Inside, success is linked with danger: if it works, he will have to become visible.

And now what stands before us is no longer laziness.

It is an entire system.

Or a person does not leave a destructive relationship. One can say: he is weak. But beside this may be acting fear of loneliness, financial dependence, a family pattern of endurance, the habit of earning love, lack of external support, hope for change, guilt, the memory of what was good, and a body accustomed to living in tension.

This is not an excuse.

But it explains why simple advice sometimes does not work.

A person is not a flat object to which a universal recipe can be applied. He is more like a complex system in which one movement launches several levels of consequences at once.

This is why a larger model becomes necessary. Not in order to make everything complicated for the sake of beauty. But in order not to impoverish life down to one cause where several layers are acting.

The Inner Side of the Same Observation

The self-observation of life has a quieter side as well.

A person may outwardly live an ordinary life: work, talk, solve everyday tasks, make plans, grow tired, rejoice, become irritated. But somewhere inside, questions gradually gather that do not disappear simply because the day is filled with tasks.

This is not another path to the larger model.

It is the same attentiveness, only turned more deeply.

Why does the same thing keep repeating with me?

Not literally the same event. The people may be different, the cities different, the age different, the circumstances different. But the inner form is familiar. Again he has to prove his worth. Again the fear of being abandoned appears. Again the person chooses someone who cannot answer with reciprocity. Again, at the most important moment, he steps back. Again he finds himself in a situation where he must either betray himself or lose the support he is used to.

And then the question becomes not everyday, but almost fateful, though still without any mysticism:

what exactly is returning?

An event or a task?

Chance or an unrecognized inner knot?

Another question appears even more simply: why do I like one thing and not another?

Why does one person feel alive where another grows tired after ten minutes? Why do some activities seem to open an inner breath, while others, even useful and correct ones, leave a person empty? Why is one person drawn to solitude, another to people, one to order, another to movement, one to risk, another to preservation? This can be explained by character, upbringing, habit, temperament. But sometimes behind a taste there is more than preference. Sometimes it seems to a person that through "I like this" and "I do not like this," life is quietly showing him the shape of his own path.

This does not mean that every desire is true.

A person may want what is destructive. He may confuse his depth with a familiar dependence. He may call a vocation what merely gives him a quick way not to feel pain. But if one is attentive, some preferences have a special quality. They are not merely pleasant. They gather a person. After them he becomes clearer, quieter, steadier. Other things may be outwardly successful, but inside they leave the feeling that a person is moving farther and farther away from himself.

There is also a subtler self-observation.

Sometimes a person senses within himself not a loud command, not a mystical voice, not an external force, but an almost imperceptible inner knowing. A quiet direction. It does not argue, does not prove, does not press. It may be weaker than fear, weaker than habit, weaker than someone else's opinion. But when a person goes against it, he often understands later: I knew. Not with the mind, not by calculation, not through a ready-made formula. He knew in some inner way that is difficult to explain.

Such a quiet voice is easy to distort. It can be confused with anxiety, desire, pride, resentment, fantasy. Therefore this book will not declare it proof of the soul or of higher knowledge. But the very fact of such an experience matters. A person does not always live only by external causes. Sometimes he feels within himself a direction that has not yet become a clear thought.

And finally there is a question that may go unspoken for a long time:

why did I come into this world?

Not in a solemn sense, not necessarily religiously, not necessarily as the search for a great mission. Sometimes the question sounds very simple: what in me needs to be done? What must I understand? What must I stop repeating? What can I bring into life besides a set of survival, duties and accidental pleasures?

A person may brush this question aside. He may tell himself: one must simply work, raise children, pay bills, be normal, not complicate things. And all this really is important. But sometimes, amid ordinary life, a feeling of disproportion appears.

The world is too vast.

Life is too complex.

Consciousness is too strange.

Love, death, memory, pain, beauty, repetition, choice, chance, encounter with another person - all this is too great to easily agree with the thought that a person was simply born, held on for a while, and disappeared without any inner meaning.

Perhaps this feeling proves nothing.

But it opens a question.

And it is this question that makes the larger model not an ornament, but a need.

Where Ordinary Language Reaches Its Boundary

Up to this point we almost do not need esotericism.

We can speak in psychological language. We can speak in the language of the body, environment, family, memory, social conditions. This is already enough to show that similar actions do not have to produce similar results.

But there are experiences that still remain at the boundary of ordinary language.

A person may feel that his life has not only a set of events, but also a task. Not in the sense of a script written in advance that cannot be changed. Rather in the sense of a persistent question returning through different circumstances. He leaves one conflict - and meets it in another form. He changes people - and discovers a familiar tension. He moves - and sees that the main knot has moved with him. He achieves a goal - and understands that the goal did not answer the question for which he had been moving toward it.

Sometimes this is called a recurring pattern.

Sometimes - an unfinished task.

Sometimes - destiny.

Sometimes - karma.

Different languages give different names. And here it is important not to hurry. The word "karma" may become a deep image, or it may become a crude accusation. The word "destiny" may help one see a trajectory, or it may turn into a refusal of responsibility. The word "soul" may express a sense of inner depth, or it may return us to an unproven entity that the book has no right to declare a fact.

Therefore this book will be careful.

It will not begin by claiming that destiny and karma exist as proven forces. It will begin with human experience: similar actions produce different consequences; not only events repeat, but also tasks; life sometimes answers a person as if what matters is not only the deed, but also the inner and ancestral structure into which it enters.

And from here it is already possible to move toward the authorial model.

The First Form of the Larger Model

In this book I offer an authorial imagined theory.

It is not a proven scientific theory. It does not require belief from the reader. It does not cancel psychology, biology, social explanations or personal responsibility. But it offers a broader architecture in which one can imagine why the life result of an action depends not only on the external form of the action.

In its preliminary form, this architecture speaks of three sources of an individual trajectory.

The first source is the ancestral basis.

In a more earthly language, this can be connected with heredity, bodily organization, family history, stable ways of reacting, transmitted fears, the strength and weakness of the lineage. A person does not enter life out of emptiness. He has parents, ancestral lines, a body, a nervous system, inclinations, limitations, resources. In the language of the imagined model, this can be called the level of development of the lineage.

The second source is the environment of entry and development.

A person appears not in general, but at a particular moment, in a particular family, in a particular culture, in a particular configuration of the external world. In the strict sense, this includes social and life conditions. In the imagined theory of the book, the image of the planetary imprint of the moment of conception will be added here. Not as proven astrological causality, but as an authorial hypothesis that the moment of entry into material life can be thought of as a special configuration of conditions.

The third source is the personal program.

In esoteric language, this may be called the monad or the soul passing through another incarnation in the material world. But in this book such a word will not be presented as a proven fact. It will be used as an element of the authorial model: a way of speaking about the possibility that a person has an individual task that cannot be fully derived only from biology, upbringing and social environment.

These three sources should not be understood as a final explanation of the human being. This is the beginning of a speculative architecture.

It is needed in order to ask a question: can the life result of an action depend on how the action enters a person's ancestral basis, environment of entry and personal program?

And if so, why does someone else's right path not always become right for me?

How to Hold the Boundary

A larger model must have a foundation that is not esoteric.

This foundation can be formulated as follows: a human being is not a fixed entity, but a multilevel system for the stabilization of experience.

This formula does not require subtle bodies, cosmic fields, an immortal soul or a hidden observer. It says something else: the subject can be understood not as a thing inside a person, but as a process of holding the coherence of experience.

A person does not merely receive impressions. He stabilizes them. He singles out what matters, holds connections, gathers a history, maintains continuity, experiences fragmentation, reassembles himself after crises, uses other people and external structures to preserve his own coherence.

This thought is needed by the book as an instrument of honesty.

When bolder ideas appear later, it will ask a simple question: where is the process here, where is the image, and where is the hypothesis? Are we turning a metaphor into an object? Are we calling a mystery something that can be explained more attentively?

It does not forbid imagination.

It does not make the book poorer.

It gives imagination boundaries within which it can become stronger. Because imagination without boundaries turns into arbitrariness. And imagination that knows its limits becomes a model.

Here an Objection Arises

Here the reader has the right to stop.

He may say: "But is this not simply fantasy? If you admit in advance that this is not proven, why read such a book at all?"

The objection is fair.

Moreover, without it the whole book would become too easy. Any larger model must pass through the question of its own status. And the answer here must be direct: yes, this book offers an authorial hypothesis. It is not a scientific theory in the strict sense and does not establish the structure of the Universe as a proven fact.

Then why is it needed?

Because a person thinks not only in proofs. He also thinks in models, images, hypotheses, preliminary architectures. Such a model may be useful if it does not demand blind belief, does not pass beauty off as proof, and does not replace life with a scheme.

The danger begins where a model forgets that it is a model.

This book will try not to do that.

It will not say: "this is how the human being is structured."

It will speak more carefully: "one can imagine the human being in this way; let us see what this model allows us to notice, and where it begins to break down."

Before the Threshold

This book begins with an admission: the human being needs a larger model not because he is obliged to believe in hidden worlds, but because attentive self-observation of life reveals too many mismatches for a flat explanation.

Similar actions do not produce identical results in different human trajectories.

Not only events repeat, but also inner forms.

One thing gathers a person; another empties him.

Sometimes there is a quiet direction inside that cannot easily be proven, but is difficult to ignore completely.

A larger model can take two paths.

The first path is to turn complexity into a new dogma. To name all levels real objects, declare imagination knowledge, replace inquiry with belief.

The second path is to build a speculative architecture and constantly hold the distinction between knowledge, hypothesis, analogy and authorial imagination.

This book chooses the second path.

There is one more foundation for this choice, and it is important to name it before entering the next chapter.

In this book I consider the world to be dual-aspect: material and spiritual.

Within the framework of this book, I proceed from the assumption that every stable phenomenon can be considered as having not only a material side, but also a corresponding metaphysical side.

This is not a conclusion of the natural sciences. It is not proof obtained from life coincidences, an inner voice or recurring scenarios. It is my starting metaphysical position: the assumption from which the further model will unfold.

The material description is necessary. It holds the body, heredity, environment, memory, family history, social conditions, the work of the nervous system, real causes and real consequences of actions.

But I do not want to assume in advance that this exhausts the whole human being.

The spiritual aspect in this book will not be presented as an established object. It will become the second horizon of the question. Not a ready-made answer, but a possibility of looking at the human being more broadly, without devaluing what is already explained by the body, the psyche and the environment.

Therefore, further on, scientific descriptions will hold the observable form and mechanism, while philosophical-esoteric language will hold the possible meaning, inner directedness and spiritual function of what is happening.

Further on, we will enter the authorial hypothesis of the multilevel human being. In it, a bold analogy will appear between the hidden multidimensionality of the physical picture of the world and the esoteric image of subtle bodies. In it, there will be a temptation to see proof where there is only a model. Therefore, beside every strong image there will be a boundary.

We will try to tell this hypothesis in such a way that it does not lose its force, but also does not cross the boundary of honesty.

The next step is to enter the first large hypothesis. The point where the modern language of hidden dimensions first meets the ancient image of the multilayered human being. Not as proof. Not as religion. But as the beginning of an authorial model that must itself show what it can explain, where its limits are, and why it was needed at all.

Model of Multidimensional Reality: The Contours of a Broad Hypothesis

After the Question

When a person begins to observe his life more attentively, simple explanations start to feel too narrow.

He sees that similar actions do not produce identical results. He recognizes recurring scenarios. He feels that some activities gather him, while others empty him, even if from the outside they may look right.

It does not follow from this that one must immediately believe in a hidden system of the world.

But something else does follow: the human being begins to need a larger model.

Not necessarily a final one. Not necessarily a proven one. Not necessarily one that can be presented as a scientific theory. But one that at least tries to hold together what falls apart in an ordinary explanation: body, lineage, environment, repetition, inner correspondence, meaning, time, destiny as an image of trajectory, and a personal task as a question rather than a ready-made answer.

A larger model almost always begins with a bold assumption.

It wants to gather everything at once. It feels as if, once a common image has been found, that image already explains the world. It takes scientific terms, esoteric maps, personal experiences, biological processes, cosmic analogies and tries to connect them into a single architecture. There is danger in this. But there is also force.

Because a broad hypothesis matters not only by whether each of its parts can be confirmed at once.

It also matters by the scale of the question it reveals.

In this book I propose to call such a model the Model of Multidimensional Reality.

The Desire to Gather the Human Being as a Whole

The idea of the Model of Multidimensional Reality does not arise from a desire to add one more mystery to the world.

Its initial impulse is simpler: the human being does not seem flat.

If we look at a person only as a body, the inner history is lost. If we look only as psyche, heredity, bodily organization, environment and biological sensitivity are lost. If we look only as a social role, a strange personal depth disappears: the feeling that life has not only external circumstances, but also a task. If we look only esoterically, there is a risk of naming an image reality too quickly and ceasing to distinguish where there is experience, where there is symbol, where there is hypothesis and where there is fact.

The proposed hypothesis tries to do something difficult: to hold everything together.

It contains the body and heredity.

It contains the moment of conception as a special point at the beginning of individual life.

It contains the idea that a person enters the world not only with a set of genes, but also with a certain configuration of conditions.

It contains subtle bodies as an image of the levels of the human being.

It contains chakras as a traditional map of the connection between the body and the inner state.

It contains the monad or soul as an image of an individual program.

It contains an attempt to connect recurring scenarios not only with habit or trauma, but also with a deeper task.

It contains the intuition that a person is included in the world more broadly than we are accustomed to thinking.

Such a construction cannot be presented as a proven theory. It joins different languages: physics, biology, psychology, esotericism, philosophy. Therefore it risks passing analogy off as mechanism, image as fact, inner coherence as proof.

But if the claim to being proven is removed, an important gesture remains.

That gesture says:

the human being needs to be thought of as a multilayered system, not as a lonely object accidentally placed in the world.

This is where the book begins.

Model of Multidimensional Reality as Architecture

The word "matrix" is important here not as technical proof, but as an image.

A matrix is not simply a separate cause. It is a structure of mutual arrangement among elements. In the proposed hypothesis, the human being is understood as the result of the intersection of several lines: ancestral, bodily, cosmic, personal, psychological and symbolic.

In a rough form, one can say this: a person does not appear out of emptiness.

He comes through parents, and therefore through heredity, ancestral history, bodily capacities and limitations.

He appears at a particular moment and in a particular environment, which means that from the very beginning his life is inscribed into a concrete configuration of the world.

He carries not only a set of reactions, but also an inner task, which esoteric language might call the soul or monad, while a more careful language may call it an image of an individual program.

He lives not only through events, but also through recurring patterns.

He not only acts, but also stabilizes experience: holds meaning, gathers memory, forms continuity, tries to understand why precisely these situations return precisely to him.

The Model of Multidimensional Reality connects these lines into a single drawing.

Its force lies in its scale.

Its risk lies in its speed.

If this architecture is accepted too quickly, the temptation appears to see a ready-made mechanism at once where, for now, there is only a general drawing.

Therefore, further on, the Model of Multidimensional Reality will be treated as an authorial speculative architecture: not as an established fact, but as a working image of the larger model.

Two Aspects of the World

Before moving further, the starting position must be named directly.

The Model of Multidimensional Reality proceeds from the principle of corresponding manifestation: every stable phenomenon may be considered as having material and metaphysical sides.

The material side describes the form, structure and observable dynamics of the phenomenon. The metaphysical side is not presented as an established object: it is introduced as a language of possible meaning, inner causality, informational connectedness and spiritual function.

Here the human being is understood not only as a biological organism, but also as a multilayered system in which the bodily, the psychic, the symbolic and the spiritual form different levels of one reality.

This is not a conclusion of physics. Not the result of laboratory experience. Not a hidden fact extracted from M-theory. And not a demand with which the reader must agree in advance.

It is the author's metaphysical assumption.

It arises from the sense that the material description of the world is necessary, but does not necessarily exhaust all the questions a person encounters. Science can study the body, heredity, environment, development, the work of the brain, patterns of behavior, the physical conditions of life. It does this where there are observable consequences, measurements, testable hypotheses and the possibility of correcting error.

But the boundaries of the scientific method do not imply that the spiritual aspect has been proven.

Nor do they imply the opposite: as if it had been proven that no spiritual aspect can exist.

Thus a space for philosophical choice appears. One can accept only the material description as sufficient. One can consider the question open. Or one can, as the author of this book does, try to build a dual-aspect model in which the material and the spiritual do not destroy one another.

It is important not to confuse this step with proof.

I am not saying: the spiritual aspect is established.

I am saying: let us consider what happens to the model of the human being if we do not close this question in advance.

The Model of Multidimensional Reality is born precisely in this space.

It tries to place two horizons side by side.

The first horizon is material. Here belong the body, heredity, the moment at which individual development begins, environment, real processes of regulation, scientific descriptions of nature and theoretical models of physics.

The second horizon is metaphysical and spiritual. Here belong esoteric maps of the human being, the language of subtle bodies, monad, karma, destiny, individual task and inner path.

The Model of Multidimensional Reality does not turn the second horizon into a scientific fact.

It tries to build an authorial bridge between the horizons.

Two Maps of Invisible Multilayeredness

At the center of the Model of Multidimensional Reality stands one especially strong analogy.

On one side, there is the modern scientific-theoretical language in which reality can be thought of more broadly than immediate experience. For example, M-theory is connected with an eleven-dimensional description. If one compares it with the familiar four-dimensional picture of space-time, then one is speaking of seven additional dimensions. In popular retelling this often sounds like this: the observable world may not exhaust the mathematical picture of reality.

It is important to say at once: this is not an everyday fact and not proof of esotericism. This is a field of complex theoretical physics. It does not speak about the human soul, subtle bodies, chakras or destiny. It was not created in order to explain the inner life of the human being.

But it gives a powerful image: the visible does not necessarily exhaust the structure of reality.

On the other side, there are esoteric and spiritual traditions in which the human being was described not only as a physical body. In different systems, ideas arose about subtle bodies, levels, sheaths, energy centers, hidden layers of inner life. These descriptions cannot automatically be accepted as scientific anatomy. They belong to another language: symbolic, practical, spiritual, cultural.

But they too carry a strong image: the human being is not exhausted by the visible body.

It is here that the central authorial analogy appears:

if modern theoretical thought allows an image of the hidden dimensionality of reality,

and esoteric tradition preserves an image of the hidden multilayeredness of the human being,

can one build an imagined model in which these two languages are compared?

Not identified with each other.

Not proving one another.

Not turning into a physical theory of the human being.

But compared as two forms of thought about invisible multilayeredness.

This is how the main bridge of this book appears:

seven additional dimensions as an image of the hidden dimensionality of the world

and

seven subtle bodies as an image of the hidden multilayeredness of the human being.

This connection is not a scientific statement.

It is the central authorial analogy.

A Careful Reminder from Quantum Physics

Here it is easy to take another step too quickly.

One may remember that quantum physics has long forced the human being to treat familiar images more carefully. Light and matter, under different experimental conditions, display wave and corpuscular properties. The wave properties of matter are not a recent conjecture: Louis de Broglie proposed this line of thought a hundred years ago, and the diffraction behavior of electrons was experimentally demonstrated as early as 1927.

For this book, what matters is not an imaginary mystical conclusion, but a more modest reminder: reality is not always obliged to fit into one convenient intuitive language.

Quantum duality does not prove the spiritual side of the world and does not turn the observer's consciousness into a physical mechanism. This boundary will be examined in more detail later. Here it is enough to hold the main point: the book's dual-aspect position is not derived from quantum physics. It remains an authorial assumption.

Why Seven

The number seven in this model can easily tempt us.

If one system speaks of seven additional dimensions, and another of seven subtle bodies, one wants too quickly to say: then they must be describing the same thing.

But this is precisely where pseudoscience begins.

A numerical coincidence does not prove the identity of entities. Structural similarity does not mean that we are looking at one and the same object. M-theory does not confirm subtle bodies. Subtle bodies are not physical dimensions. Esoteric tradition does not become physics because it can be beautifully compared with a modern mathematical image.

And yet the number seven can be used differently.

Not as proof.

But as an architectural bridge.

Within the authorial model, the seven subtle bodies will be considered not as proven sheaths of the human being, but as seven speculative levels of stabilization of experience. In other words, they will not be "things" hidden next to the body, but levels through which one can imaginatively describe different ways of organizing human life.

One level is closer to bodily stability.

Another - to emotions and desires.

A third - to thought, images and inner schemes.

A fourth - to connections, attachment, love, the pain of relationships.

A fifth - to expression, voice, meaning, the capacity to manifest oneself.

A sixth - to vision, intuition, inner orientation.

A seventh - to wholeness, task, the feeling of being included in something larger.

For now this is only a preliminary map. It cannot yet be accepted as a finished system. But it is already clear why it is needed: it allows us to speak of the human being not as a set of separate reactions, but as a multilayered process of stabilizing experience.

Thus the esoteric image begins to work inside the model.

Not as proven anatomy.

But as a structure of the question.

What Enters the Model

The Model of Multidimensional Reality holds the question of why the human being cannot be reduced to one level.

It includes an interest in the moment of entry into life.

It includes the image of lineage as a non-accidental foundation.

It includes the question of a personal program.

It includes the idea of subtle bodies as a map of the levels of the human being.

It includes the cosmic motif as an image of inclusion in a broader order.

But the status of these elements must be held clearly.

These elements enter the model not as established mechanisms, but as parts of a speculative architecture. Within it, one can compare the ancestral basis, the environment of entry, the personal program and the levels of experience in order to build a larger picture of the human trajectory.

This is not proof.

It is a way of thinking.

And the value of such a way is not that it closes the question once and for all.

It is that it gives language to questions that otherwise remain scattered.

Where Resistance Arises

Here the reader almost inevitably has an objection.

If this is not proven, why tell such a theory at all?

Why not leave only psychology, biology, social environment and personal responsibility? Why introduce the Model of Multidimensional Reality, subtle bodies, additional dimensions, monad, destiny, a cosmic image?

This objection is necessary.

Without it, the book really would risk becoming a beautiful system that connects everything with everything too easily.

The answer is not that ordinary explanations are "not enough" and therefore must be replaced by esotericism. No. Psychology, biology, social conditions, family history, the body, language, memory, culture - all of this remains important. The book does not cancel these levels.

But it asks another question:

can one build an authorial model that holds them together and adds to them a careful language of individual task?

Can one speak of destiny not as a sentence, but as an image of trajectory?

Of karma - not as punishment, but as a recurring task?

Of the soul or monad - not as a proven immortal entity, but as an image of an individual program?

Of subtle bodies - not as physical anatomy, but as seven levels of stabilization of experience?

Of M-theory - not as confirmation of esotericism, but as an image of hidden dimensionality that helps imagine multilayeredness?

Such a reading does not require belief from the reader.

It requires only a temporary agreement to enter the model and see what it allows one to notice.

The Main Boundary of the Chapter

Now the main point can be formulated.

The Model of Multidimensional Reality is a broad authorial hypothesis.

It proposes imagining that the human being appears at the intersection of lineage, environment, body, consciousness, symbolic levels, cosmic order and personal task.

Its main risk is that it may sound like a physical-biological statement.

Its force may lie elsewhere: it becomes an authorial speculative architecture.

In this architecture, M-theory does not prove subtle bodies, and the coincidence in the number of levels does not become a physical identity. The monad and planetary imprint also remain elements of the authorial model, not established mechanisms.

All these elements can be used as the language of a larger model if the book honestly shows their status.

This is where the real work begins.

Because a bold hypothesis by itself guarantees nothing. It may become a living architecture of meaning. Or it may become pseudoscience if it begins to present itself as knowledge.

That is why the next chapter is needed not in order to add one more layer.

It is needed for the rules.

If we are going to unfold an authorial hypothesis, we must first understand how to do this honestly.

The Rules of Honest Speculation

A Table Holding Too Much

Imagine a table covered with sheets of notes.

On one sheet is written: genome.

On another: the moment of conception.

Nearby lie the words: M-theory, additional dimensions, subtle bodies, chakras, monad, karma, consciousness, fate, patterns, memory, attention, meaning.

If you look at these sheets from a distance, a powerful feeling may arise: everything is connected.

The numbers echo one another. The images answer one another. One language seems to continue another. A scientific word gives weight to an esoteric image. An esoteric image gives depth to a scientific word. Little by little, threads stretch between separate notes, and a pattern appears on the table.

In such a moment, it is easy to feel inspired.

And almost as easy to be mistaken.

Because the coherence of a pattern does not yet mean that the structure of the world has been found.

A beautiful correspondence can be fruitful. It can open a question, give thought a new direction, illuminate what had previously remained scattered. But it can also deceive, if we stop noticing the distance between an image and proof.

The previous chapter introduced the Model of Multidimensional Reality as a large authorial hypothesis. It brought into relation the hidden dimensionality of the physical picture of the world and the esoteric map of the multilevel human being. It introduced a dual-aspect view: the world is considered material and spiritual at the same time.

Now we need to take a step that seems less vivid, but on which the whole book depends.

We need to agree on rules.

Not in order to stop imagination.

But so that imagination does not replace knowledge.

Why a Bold Hypothesis Needs Boundaries

A person rarely goes wrong only because they have asked too large a question.

More often, the error begins later.

First an intuition appears. Then a beautiful image is found. Then several scientific terms attach themselves to it. After that comes the temptation to speak with more certainty than the grounds allow.

In this way, a hypothesis quietly changes its voice.

It began with the words:

"Can we imagine?"

And ends with the words:

"This is how it is."

Sometimes there is only one paragraph between these two phrases.

For example, one may say: in some physical theories, additional dimensions are considered. This is a correct thought, if the status of the theory is carefully marked.

One may say: in esoteric traditions, there are ideas of subtle bodies. This is also correct, if a traditional image is not presented as established anatomy.

One may bring two motifs together and ask: could one language help us imagine another? This is an acceptable philosophical analogy.

But one cannot, without additional proof, move to the phrase: additional dimensions are subtle bodies.

It is in this short transition that an image turns into pseudoscience.

A bold hypothesis needs boundaries not because boldness is dangerous in itself.

Boundaries are needed because the human mind loves completeness. It is pleased when separate elements gather into a whole. It feels an almost physical relief when a complex world becomes intelligible.

But inner relief is not a criterion of truth.

A system may be elegant and mistaken.

A model may be beautiful and unproven.

A metaphysical position may be profound and still remain a position, not a fact.

Therefore the first discipline of this book is simple:

do not hide the status of a thought.

What Science Can Do and What It Does Not Promise

In speaking about the spiritual aspect of the world, it is easy to place science in an awkward position.

People begin to demand from it an answer to a question formulated in such a way that it cannot be tested. Then the impossibility of an answer is used as an argument in whichever direction is convenient.

Some say:

"Science has not discovered the spiritual world, therefore it does not exist."

Others answer:

"Science cannot disprove the spiritual world, therefore it exists."

Both phrases are too strong.

The natural sciences work with observable evidence, measurements, testable consequences, reproducible procedures, and models that can be refined and corrected. This is not a weakness. It is the source of their strength.

The scientific method requires us to seek explanations that can be related to experience and subjected to testing.

This rule is sometimes called methodological naturalism.

It is important to hear both words.

Methodological, because we are speaking about a way of investigation.

Naturalism, because scientific explanation seeks regularities of the natural world and testable connections between phenomena.

But it does not follow from this that science has automatically proved the complete composition of reality.

The claim "only the material world exists" no longer belongs only to method. It is a philosophical position about what exists at all. It can be discussed, defended, criticized, accepted or not accepted. But it cannot be quietly presented as a simple consequence of scientific procedure.

Nor can the reverse move be made.

If the scientific method neither confirms nor refutes the spiritual aspect in its general form, this does not turn the spiritual aspect into a proven fact.

The boundary of a method is not secret proof of metaphysics.

In this book, the dual-aspect view of the world will be named directly: it is the initial authorial position.

Not a scientific conclusion.

Not a required belief for the reader.

Not a loophole that allows any claim to be protected from testing.

But the chosen point from which the further reflection begins.

Two Languages That Must Not Be Confused

Scientific language and esoteric language can meet in one book.

But meeting does not mean merging.

They do different work.

Scientific language asks:

what is observed?

what measurements are available?

what explanation can be tested?

what data could support or weaken the hypothesis?

can the result be reproduced?

Esoteric language often works differently.

It asks:

what image helps express an experience?

how does a person make sense of an inner path?

what symbols can speak about the connection between body, meaning, suffering, task, and wholeness?

how does a tradition preserve an experience that is difficult to fit into ordinary concepts?

Both languages can be important.

But they do not become identical simply because they are used side by side.

If a chakra is described as a cultural or spiritual map of a bodily-experiential zone, this is one mode of conversation.

If a chakra is declared to be a physical organ that controls a gland through an unproven channel, that is already a different claim. It requires data, a mechanism, and testing.

If the monad is used as an image of an individual program or as a question about the continuation of patterns, this is one mode.

If the monad is declared to be a proven entity that transfers the same subject between incarnations, that is already an ontological claim.

If the cosmos is used as an image of a person's inclusion in a wider order, this is one mode.

If the position of the planets is declared to be a proven mechanism for recording personality in the genome, that is another mode.

The main task of the book is not to ban the second mode forever.

It is simpler:

do not present it as the first without grounds.

Analogy Is Not Mechanism

Analogy has a special power.

It allows us to see similarity where before there were only separate fragments.

A city can help us understand a system without a single center.

Language can help us understand a stability maintained by many participants.

An ecosystem can help us see that order does not always need a governing observer.

M-theory can offer an image of hidden dimensionality.

The esoteric map of subtle bodies can offer an image of the hidden multilevel nature of the human being.

But analogy does not transfer properties automatically.

A city is not a human being.

A human being is not an ecosystem in the literal sense.

An additional dimension does not become a subtle body simply because two descriptions can be placed side by side.

Seven levels in one scheme do not prove seven levels in another.

Analogy opens a question.

A mechanism must withstand testing.

This boundary is especially important for the Model of Multidimensional Reality. Its central gesture is built on a comparison:

seven additional dimensions

and

seven subtle bodies.

Within the authorial model, such a comparison is permissible.

It may be strong.

It may help organize the further narrative.

It may become the architecture of a reflection on the human being.

But it does not become a physical conclusion.

That is why the book will return periodically to the same formula:

structural similarity does not prove ontological identity.

Quantum Duality: A Useful Example and a Dangerous Temptation

Quantum physics turns especially easily into rhetorical ornament.

One only has to pronounce the words "wave," "particle," "observer," "quantum," and the text immediately acquires the appearance of depth. Sometimes a promise is added to this appearance: since physics itself is strange, almost any metaphysical claim becomes plausible.

But the strangeness of physics is not permission to say anything at all.

Light and matter really can display wave-like and particle-like properties under different experimental conditions. Matter waves were proposed by Louis de Broglie in the first half of the 1920s. The diffraction behavior of electrons was demonstrated experimentally in 1927. Later, interference effects were observed for atoms and complex molecules.

This is not the latest sensation.

It is part of the history of quantum mechanics.

And physics does not simply stare helplessly at duality. Quantum theory successfully describes and predicts the corresponding phenomena, even if the classical images of wave and particle, taken separately, do not provide a convenient everyday picture.

There is another temptation.

The word "observation" may be heard as if human consciousness, by its gaze, forces a quantum object to choose its behavior.

But in scientific conversation, the point is experimental configuration, measurement, physical interaction, and the coupling of a system with its environment. Quantum effects can become unobservable because of decoherence: interaction with the environment disrupts the possibility of seeing interference.

Therefore quantum duality can enter this book only as a limited analogy.

It reminds us:

reality is not always exhausted by one familiar way of describing it.

But it does not prove:

the spiritual aspect of the world;

subtle bodies;

the monad;

reincarnation;

the influence of the observer's consciousness on the physical result.

There is no impoverishment in this limitation.

On the contrary.

When analogy stops pretending to be proof, it becomes more honest and stronger.

What It Means to Build an Authorial Model

The Model of Multidimensional Reality is not a scientific theory in the strict sense.

But it is not obliged to disappear simply because it cannot immediately be turned into a set of experimental claims.

It has another task.

It offers a coherent architecture of the question.

Can we consider the human being as a system in which the material and spiritual aspects do not exclude one another?

Can we connect the ancestral basis, the entry environment, the personal program, the repetition of life scenarios, and the inner task without declaring this connection to be a proven mechanism?

Can we use subtle bodies as seven levels of a speculative map of experience?

Can we speak of karma not as cosmic punishment, but as a language of repeating incompletion?

Can we speak of fate not as a sentence, but as an image of an individual trajectory?

Can we speak of the monad not as an immortal observer, but as an ultimate symbol of a personal program?

The answer of this book will not sound like "yes, this is how reality is arranged."

The answer is more careful:

let us try to build a model and see what it can hold.

Where does it help us pose the question more precisely?

Where does it create unexpected connections?

Where does it begin to contradict itself?

Where does it return an entity that can be removed?

Where does it turn a symbol into a thing?

Where does it stop explaining and merely begin naming?

An authorial model has the right to exist if it does not require the reader to confuse it with proven knowledge.

A Few Rules Before the Road

Now the rules can be formulated directly.

First.

Do not present a hypothesis as fact.

Second.

Do not use a scientific term as an ornament meant to make the reader believe in an unproven connection.

Third.

Do not turn a symbol into anatomy, physics, or a biological mechanism without data.

Fourth.

Do not take internal elegance as proof of truth.

Fifth.

Do not bring back the hidden observer.

If an explanation requires introducing a separate, unchanging I that secretly governs processes, we need to check whether it can be removed while the model remains intact.

Sixth.

Do not introduce an immortal personality under a new name.

Monad, soul, trace, meta-personality, pattern - these words must not be used as masks for an entity accepted in advance.

Seventh.

Do not promise healing where there is only an image, a practice of self-observation, or a hypothesis.

Eighth.

Do not make the boundary of the scientific method into proof of metaphysics.

Ninth.

Do not make physical duality into proof of the spiritual aspect.

Tenth.

Preserve the reader's right not to accept the model literally.

These rules should not hang over the book like a prohibition sign.

They are needed as handrails on a difficult staircase.

Further on, the book will be able to speak more boldly precisely because it knows where the edge lies.

Here an Objection Arises

The reader may ask:

"Why read a theory that itself admits it is speculative? If this is not proof, would it not be simpler to leave it in the realm of personal fantasy?"

The question is fair.

Some fantasies really are better kept to oneself.

Not every coherent system deserves a book.

Not every strong intuition withstands meeting another person.

Not every image helps us see.

But between a proven theory and a random fantasy there is a space of disciplined reflection.

In this space, a person can build models that do not require immediate belief, but help ask questions more precisely.

Such a model can be used temporarily.

It can be tested for internal coherence.

One can look for places where it becomes too convenient.

One can compare it with existing explanations.

One can separate what is already known from what is only imagined.

One can let go of parts that do not withstand criticism.

One can preserve an image if it helps us see experience without turning it into dogma.

It is in this mode that the Model of Multidimensional Reality will unfold further.

Not as a finished map of the Universe.

But as an authorial attempt to walk the difficult edge between reduction and arbitrariness.

Which Level to Begin With

After all these distinctions, a natural question arises:

where should the model itself begin?

We could move at once to subtle bodies, chakras, the monad, the cosmos, fate.

But then the book would violate its own rules.

We need to begin with the most reliable level.

With the body.

The body is not an obstacle to a spiritual conversation.

It is not a lower step that must be hurriedly left behind.

It is the first way in which life becomes concrete.

Through the body, a person enters the world.

Through the body, one experiences fatigue and strength, anxiety and peace, closeness and threat.

Through the body, one encounters heredity, environment, age, limitation, recovery.

Through the body, experience gains density.

And if we want to build a multilevel model, we cannot begin with the invisible as if the visible no longer mattered.

The next chapter will begin with the body.

Not because a human being is reducible to the body.

But because a large model must first learn not to lose the ground beneath its feet.

The Body and the Biological Basis

The Morning That Begins Before Thought

Sometimes a person wakes up already tired.

Nothing has happened yet.

The day has not had time to present a single task. No one has called. No message has arrived that could spoil the mood. There has been no conversation after which one has to recover for a long time. Not a single thought about the future has appeared.

But the body already knows something before thought.

The shoulders are tense.

The breathing has become short.

The heart is working a little faster than one would like.

Sleep has left behind not clarity, but heaviness.

On another morning, the same person wakes differently. Outwardly, their life has not changed. The room is the same. The same city is outside the window. Unresolved questions have not disappeared. But the body is gathered. It does not demand an immediate explanation. It simply gives support: one can get up, make breakfast, leave the house, think about something difficult not from a state of defense, but from a state of presence.

Between these two mornings lies more than a difference in mood.

The body participates in what the world becomes.

When a person is hungry, a conversation is heard differently.

When they have not slept for several nights, someone else's phrase more easily turns into a threat.

When the back hurts, the distance to the store feels longer.

When strength returns after an illness, an ordinary walk suddenly becomes an event.

When breathing is free and movement comes easily, the future looks a little wider.

We are used to speaking about the body as if it were transport for the real person.

There is a driver.

There is a vehicle.

The driver thinks, chooses, loves, fears, makes mistakes, searches for meaning.

The vehicle carries them through the world, sometimes breaks down and requires maintenance.

This image is convenient.

And it is almost certainly too simple.

Because a person does not simply use the body.

They experience through it.

A person does not receive a body after their personality has already been fully formed somewhere else. Their first ways of meeting the world arise inside bodily organization: in the rhythms of sleep and wakefulness, in sensitivity to noise and touch, in the speed of recovery, in the reaction to the unknown, in the ability to withstand tension, in the need to come closer or step back.

Even the highest question about purpose is not asked by a bodiless voice.

It is asked by a living person.

A person who has a nervous system, memory, age, fatigue, habits, family history, lived events, and a body that never remains completely on the sidelines.

The previous chapter ended with a simple rule:

if we are going to speak about the invisible, we must first not lose the visible.

Therefore the conversation about the Model of Multidimensional Reality begins not with the monad.

Not with the cosmos.

Not with subtle bodies.

It begins with what is closest.

With the body.

What a Person Did Not Choose

No one chooses the starting point of their bodily trajectory.

A person does not choose the height they will have to live with.

Does not choose eye color.

Does not choose the pace of growing up.

Does not choose the inborn features of the organism.

Does not choose whether they will easily endure lack of sleep or need several days to recover after one difficult night.

Does not choose the first sensitivity to a loud voice, sharp light, loneliness, touch, a change of place.

Does not choose their parents.

Does not choose what combination of parental genetic material will become the beginning of their bodily trajectory.

This does not mean that destiny has already been written.

But it does mean that life does not begin from a blank page.

Two children may grow up in similar conditions and still meet the same world differently.

One quickly tires of many people and looks for quiet.

Another comes alive in noise and movement.

One takes a long time to get used to a new room, a new caregiver, a new routine.

Another switches easily and almost immediately begins exploring the space.

One reacts sharply to a remark.

Another seems not to notice it, and a few minutes later is busy again with their own affairs.

Such differences do not need to be explained immediately by a single cause.

Inborn features, early environment, relationships with adults, random events, health, learning, and family culture may all take part in them. Later, a person's own decisions will join them, along with their ways of coping with difficulties, their experience of success and defeat.

But the fact itself remains important:

a person enters life not as pure consciousness handed a standard shell.

Their bodily basis has features from the very beginning.

Everyone has their own range.

Not a ready-made sentence.

Not an unchanging scenario.

But a range of possibilities, vulnerabilities, and ways of responding to what happens.

This is visible not only in childhood.

One adult can work for several hours in a crowded space and preserve clarity.

Another needs a long silence after such a day.

One easily lives without a strict routine.

Another, after missing sleep and food, quickly loses the ability to make calm decisions.

One person wants to talk immediately after a conflict.

Another first needs to walk, feel the ground under their feet, return breathing to its ordinary rhythm, and only then look for words.

We often judge these differences morally.

We call one person strong and another weak.

One collected and another lazy.

One open and another cold.

Sometimes such judgments are only partly fair.

Because not every difference is the result of conscious choice.

Before choice, there is a basis from which choice is made.

Heredity Without a Sentence

One of the first levels of scientific conversation about the biological basis is heredity.

A person receives genetic material from their parents. The DNA sequence matters for the development of the organism. It participates in the formation of many traits and biological processes.

This is a real layer.

It does not need to be mystified in order for its depth to be seen.

But this is exactly where the first dangerous simplicity appears.

One can imagine the genome as a book in which the whole person has already been written in advance.

Here is the chapter on temperament.

Here is the chapter on illnesses.

Here is the chapter on abilities.

Here is the chapter on future mistakes.

Here is the chapter on love.

Here is the chapter on destiny.

All that remains is to turn the pages in the appointed order.

This image is attractive because it removes the anxiety of uncertainty.

If everything has already been written, a person does not need to understand why their life unfolded in exactly this way.

But biology is more complex.

DNA is not a finished literary text of personality.

It does not contain a detailed biography inside itself.

It does not store a list of future meetings.

It does not explain why two people with similar possibilities make different decisions.

It does not determine in advance who will one day risk changing professions, who will forgive an old hurt, who will remain in destructive relationships, and who will leave.

Even when a genetic feature noticeably affects the organism, a person's path is not reduced to one line of code.

The organism develops.

It interacts with the environment.

Cells specialize.

Systems regulate one another.

Experience leaves traces.

Learning changes the available ways of acting.

Relationships can intensify vulnerability or give support.

Chance does not disappear either.

Therefore heredity is better understood not as a sentence, but as one of the layers of initial conditions.

It does not determine the whole road.

It participates in the terrain through which one will have to walk.

Why the Word "Program" Requires Caution

In conversations about the human being, the word "program" is often heard.

It seems precise.

Genetic program.

Behavioral program.

Ancestral program.

Life program.

Karmic program.

But the same word quietly connects different things.

When a biologist speaks of a genetic program, they may mean a complex system of inherited information and regulation in the development of the organism.

When a person speaks of an ancestral program, they often mean repeating family scenarios: ways of dealing with closeness, conflict, money, power, care, fear, silence.

When a personal program appears in an esoteric conversation, the subject may already be the presumed task of incarnation.

These meanings cannot be placed in one box simply because a common word has been found for them.

In this book, the word "program" will be used carefully.

The body really does have biological organization.

Heredity really does participate in development.

The family environment really does transmit ways of responding to a person, even when no one formulates them aloud.

But it does not follow from this that karma, destiny, or the monad are already written inside DNA.

Nor does another conclusion follow:

that a person is a biological robot merely carrying out an instruction once loaded into them.

The robot metaphor can be useful only for a short time.

It reminds us that a significant part of processes happens without conscious control.

We do not give the heart a separate command before each beat.

We do not manually distribute hormonal signals.

We do not choose every muscle contraction while walking.

We do not decide which cell should renew itself today.

Even in behavior, much happens automatically.

A person may open an app without noticing when the hand reached for the phone.

May repeat a familiar phrase from a parent and only after the conversation hear its tone in their own voice.

May again choose the same way of defending themselves, although many times they promised themselves to respond differently.

But automaticity is not the same as complete preprogramming.

A robot, in the everyday sense, performs a given set of instructions.

A living person develops in an environment, learns, changes, creates new connections, makes mistakes, notices their own repetitions, and sometimes is able to stop and choose a different response.

They are not free from their basis.

But they are not exhausted by it either.

Regulation: Why DNA Alone Is Not Enough

There is another reason not to turn heredity into destiny.

In a living organism, what matters is not only what DNA sequence exists, but also how gene activity is regulated.

Epigenetics studies mechanisms and changes in the regulation of gene activity that are not connected with changes in the DNA sequence itself.

Such processes include, in particular, DNA methylation, histone modifications, chromatin organization, and other mechanisms connected with which genes become active and in what context.

This is not a secret zone of biology.

And not permission to add whatever one wants to science.

Epigenetics is important precisely because it shows the real complexity of the organism.

The DNA sequence matters.

But it does not work in emptiness.

A cell lives inside a tissue.

A tissue belongs to an organism.

The organism develops in time.

It is influenced by nutrition, stress, early-life conditions, toxins, illness, age, sleep, movement, and many other factors.

The connections between them are complex.

They depend on the developmental period, the specific tissue, the scale of observation, and the quality of the research.

One cannot take the word "epigenetics" and use it as a universal explanation for any human feature.

One cannot say:

if gene activity is regulated, then the cosmos writes destiny into the genome.

One cannot say:

if the environment affects the organism, then the position of the planets controls DNA methylation.

One cannot say:

if early development is plastic, then it has been proved that the monad is fixed there.

Such transitions look smooth only because a scientific word has been placed between what is known and the desired answer.

But a scientific word does not automatically shorten the distance.

In this chapter, epigenetics is needed for a more modest conclusion.

The organism cannot be described as an unchanging mechanism fully exhausted by one initial scheme.

The biological level is already multilevel in itself.

It contains inheritance.

It contains regulation.

It contains development.

It contains interaction with the environment.

It contains time.

It contains plasticity.

It contains limitations.

And it contains processes that cannot honestly be reduced to a single switch.

The Environment Enters Not Only Through Thoughts

When people speak about the influence of the environment, it is easy to imagine something external.

There is a person.

There is the surrounding world.

The boundary of the skin runs between them.

The world presses from outside, and the person responds from inside.

But this boundary is not so simple.

The environment enters a person's life not only in the form of ideas.

It enters as rhythm.

As noise.

As light.

As the quality of sleep.

As the availability of food.

As the safety of the home.

As touch.

As the absence of touch.

As the possibility of movement.

As the impossibility of rest.

As the predictability of the adult nearby.

As chaos to which one has to adapt before words have appeared.

Imagine two teenagers.

One grows up in a home where a mistake can be discussed. Even an unpleasant conversation has an end. After a conflict, relationships gradually recover.

The other grows up in a home where it is impossible to predict what mood will meet them in the evening. An ordinary question sometimes remains ordinary, and sometimes causes an outburst. One has to scan the space constantly: listen to footsteps, guess the intonation, notice the slightest change in a face.

Both receive life experience.

But the second learns not only with thoughts.

Their body learns too.

It gets used to being on alert.

And years later, a person may discover that they do not know how to relax even where there is no longer any danger.

This does not mean that everything has been decided forever.

And it does not mean that any difficulty can be explained by one childhood scene.

But it shows:

biography becomes bodily.

The social environment does not remain exclusively social.

Psychological experience does not remain completely separate from physiological state.

A person may understand rationally that nothing threatens them and still feel anxiety.

May want closeness and at the same time tense up when another person comes too close.

May dream of rest and not know how to stop.

May long consider this a flaw of character, until they see:

some ways of responding once helped them endure the world.

Now they may get in the way.

But their origin does not make a person broken beyond repair.

It gives an opportunity to begin understanding oneself more precisely.

Five Stories of One Body

The body participates in a human trajectory in different ways.

Sometimes its role is almost impossible not to notice.

A person falls ill and suddenly discovers that familiar confidence was connected not only with strength of character. The world shrinks to the size of a room. Simple actions require effort. Plans that yesterday seemed obvious move into the background.

Sometimes the body speaks more quietly.

A person agrees to one more meeting, although already overloaded. Then they snap at someone close over a small thing. It seems to them that the problem is in the conversation. Only later do they notice: in recent days there has been almost no sleep, food, or silence.

Sometimes the body preserves a skill.

A musician returns to an instrument after a long break. At first the fingers do not obey, but gradually they find familiar movements faster than consciousness can explain each one.

Sometimes the body preserves alertness.

A person hears a sharp voice and tightens in advance, although the words are not addressed to them. The reaction arises before reasoning. Later they may ask themselves: what exactly did I respond to just now? This room? This person? Or an older experience?

Sometimes the body becomes a source of return.

After a difficult conversation, a person goes outside. Walks without a goal. At first, thoughts continue arguing with one another. Then breathing becomes more even. The step returns rhythm. The world regains distance. The problem has not disappeared, but it has stopped occupying all the space.

In each story, the body does different work.

It limits.

Warns.

Remembers.

Repeats.

Restores.

But none of these works turns the body into the sole author of human life.

The body does not write the biography alone.

It participates in its possibility.

Here an Objection Arises

Here an objection may appear from two sides.

The first reader will say:

"Why speak of a spiritual horizon at all? If the body, heredity, nervous system, environment, and learning explain so much, would it not be more honest to stop there?"

The second will object differently:

"Why linger so long on the body? If the book is devoted to a large model, why not move at once to the soul, the monad, and subtle levels?"

Both questions are important.

The first reminds us:

one must not introduce a new entity simply because one wants a more beautiful explanation.

If bodily, psychological, and social causes are sufficient, they must be recognized as sufficient.

Not every anxiety is a sign of karma.

Not every repetition is a trace of past incarnations.

Not every coincidence requires a cosmic mechanism.

Not every pain is a message from an invisible level.

Sometimes a person needs a doctor.

Sometimes sleep.

Sometimes safety.

Sometimes an honest conversation.

Sometimes professional help.

Sometimes time.

The second question reminds us of something else:

a physical description does not necessarily exhaust the whole meaning of human experience.

One can describe a biological reaction precisely and still not answer the question of what a person will do with their life.

One can study heredity and not reduce the sense of direction to it.

One can speak about the work of the nervous system and leave open the question of why certain tasks return in new forms.

One can recognize the power of the environment and still ask:

is there in the human trajectory not only causality from the past, but also direction toward the future?

This book does not demand that we immediately answer "yes."

It only preserves the right to the question.

The body need not be devalued for the sake of the spiritual aspect.

And the spiritual question need not be closed only because the body is real.

Neither a Shell Nor a Prison

In some conversations about the spiritual, the body receives an unenviable role.

It is called a shell.

A temporary vessel.

A lower level.

Heavy matter.

A prison of the soul.

Sometimes there is an understandable experience behind these images. A person encounters illness, age, limitation, dependence on sleep, food, pain. They feel how fragile freedom becomes when the body stops supporting ordinary life.

But for this book, the image of a prison is too poor.

If the body only interferes, it becomes unclear why it is through the body that a person meets the world.

Why touch comforts.

Why the voice of someone close can restore a sense of support.

Why movement changes inner state.

Why the beauty of music is experienced not abstractly, but almost physically.

Why fear tightens the chest.

Why joy is sometimes felt as an expansion of space.

Why loss makes the hands heavy.

Why, after a long period of numbness, a person one day notices that they want to walk again.

The body does not simply carry experience.

It participates in the form of experience.

And if later the Model of Multidimensional Reality will speak about several levels of the human being, the physical level cannot be placed below only out of habit.

It is not a draft.

Not a mistake.

Not a punishment.

Not a disposable container that can be neglected for the sake of a more elevated scheme.

It is the first level of concreteness.

The place where possibility becomes life.

What Biology Explains and What It Should Not Explain for Everyone

Now several thoughts can be held at once.

First.

A person has a biological basis.

They inherit genetic material from their parents.

Their development depends on processes of regulation, early environment, later life, and many internal and external factors.

Second.

This basis really does influence the trajectory.

It creates possibilities and limitations.

It participates in sensitivity, recovery, ways of responding, and bodily resources.

Third.

The biological basis is not a ready-made destiny.

DNA does not store proven karma.

Does not contain the monad.

Does not record the complete scenario of personality.

Does not cancel environment, experience, choice, and reworking.

Fourth.

Even a scientifically precise description of bodily processes is not obliged to answer all philosophical questions.

It can explain a mechanism and leave open the question of meaning.

It can describe causality and not exhaust the experience of direction.

It can show initial conditions and not turn human life into a text already read in advance.

Fifth.

An authorial model should appear only after these distinctions have been named.

Not instead of biology.

Not under the guise of biology.

Not as the secret completion of the scientific picture.

But as the next layer of reflection, whose status will be named directly.

Before the Question of the Beginning

We began with a morning that the body meets before thought.

Then we saw that the body carries features a person did not choose.

We saw that heredity is real, but not equal to a sentence.