“As above, so below, as within, so without, as the universe, so the soul.”
— Hermes Trismegistus
Dear Future Human,
In my last letter, I wrote that we live inside of patterns. I really meant that. The patterns aren’t just inside of us, in our familiar thoughts and automatic behaviors, we live within them.
Nature shows patterns that repeat across scales, not fractals in the strict mathematical sense, but similar organizational principles that manifest at different levels of complexity.
In mathematics, structures mirror themselves whether you are zoomed in or out. Nature is replete with examples. Many flowers show fractal patterns, with spiraling petals or repetitive structures whose individual components mirror the look of the larger whole. Tree branches grow in fractal patterns that help optimize multiple functions including light capture, water transport, and structural stability. Humans demonstrate similar organizational principles that repeat themselves at different levels of complexity.1
As we widen the lens of our perception, we can observe recurring mathematical principles and organizational patterns across the natural world, from the microscopic to the macroscopic scale. While the underlying mechanisms differ dramatically—quantum mechanics governing atomic behavior, classical physics determining planetary motion—nature repeats itself to optimize efficiency and stability. We see branching patterns in blood vessels, pinecones, and lightning strikes.
But what about the adaptive patterns of perception, thought, and reactivity that we have been examining so closely in the individual? What about the patterns of distortion that keep Mateo and Lucia (from our previous letter) arguing by the dishwasher, unable to hear each other without distortions? What about the patterns of numbness that keep us sleepwalking through our day-to-day routines?
What about the costs of these patterns?
Is it possible that thoughts, too, follow the same repetitive nature of fractals and that the distortions we observe in the individual, an inability to accurately perceive, and thus respond to, the present moment, spiral out into parallel costs within our family systems, communities, and even global society?
Looking at our current condition with clear eyes, the answer becomes hard to deny.
From Personal to Collective Patterns
Individual patterns don’t remain isolated within us. When Lucia brings her hyper-vigilance for criticism into her workplace, she projects it onto her colleagues, creating an atmosphere where they may walk on eggshells, each person adapting their behavior to avoid triggering her defensiveness. As Mateo’s conflict avoidance shapes his parenting, his children learn that difficult conversations are dangerous, carrying this unconscious lesson into their own future relationships.2
A family where one parent cannot tolerate imperfection becomes a system where everyone lives in fear of making mistakes. A manager who grew up believing that being emotional equals weakness, will affect his team’s ability to communicate authentically. Small individual patterns ripple outward, dictating the broader emotional climate of entire systems. The same psychological mechanisms, expressed at increasing levels of scale.
In recent years, we have witnessed unprecedented wildfires, record-breaking heat waves, and extreme weather events across the globe. We are seeing climate migration as some regions become increasingly difficult to inhabit. We are facing a complex reality that demands nuanced, multifaceted responses. Yet, mired in political discourse, these issues are often reduced to abstract debates that ignore their urgent and practical implications. While many factors—such as political interests, economic pursuits, and competing priorities—influence our collective response, the often-overlooked psychological patterns within individuals play a far greater role than we realize in shaping our societal inaction.3
Just as Lucia automatically perceives criticism to protect herself from threat, we collectively avoid acknowledging realities that would demand uncomfortable changes from us.
We know social media is harmful, especially to developing brains. Unlike climate change, that conclusion has been widely accepted, and is visibly obvious in the skyrocketing rates of anxiety and depression among young people who have never known a world without it.4 Still, we have made it the scaffold of entire economies.
It is heartening to see that many countries (France, Italy, Netherlands, Hungary, Several States in USA, China, Russia, Brazil, Argentina, Singapore, South Korea, Cambodia, Egypt, and others) have banned or restricted smartphones in schools, and thus access to social media, in the classroom. And according to the first evidence, to great effect.5,6
I have written before that the first and ultimate pain point—the one that underlies all of our adaptive behaviors as children—is the central terror and belief that “I am all alone.” This fear echoes through modern life. It is embedded in the compulsive pull of social media, the pressure to have the newest phone just to fit in, the dopamine-driven scroll loops, and the cruelty of online bullying. It also shows up in our longing to belong to clearly defined groups—cultural, religious, national, or ethnic. These identities offer a sense of belonging, a buffer against aloneness. But too often, they do so by excluding others, reinforcing division rather than connection.
When this childhood terror operates at a collective level, entire societies begin to function like Lucia and Mateo at the dishwasher—each group hearing threat and criticism where none may exist, each responding from old wounds rather than present reality. From inside our well-defined groups, it is easy to see people on the other side as enemies, extremists, or fools. We forget that our comfort and safety, especially in today’s connected world, depend on countless people we have never met. People whose names we don’t know, but whose work we rely on every single day. By being “a part of,” we soothe our childhood and evolutionary terrors; by being “different from,” we repeat ancestral traumas and reiterate tribalism into the present.
The Cost of Unconscious Culture
When individuals live unconsciously, families become collections of people managing each other’s triggers rather than genuinely connecting. When families operate this way, communities become networks based on the accommodation of our unconscious patterns rather than spaces for growth and authentic relationships.
When communities are organized by these same patterns, the macro mirrors the micro: societies default to collective reactivity, meeting new challenges with old circuitry. During the pandemic, many schools closed and shifted to remote learning—a shift that disrupted children’s development, social connections, emotional regulation, and access to safety nets. Rather than pausing to understand what this new reality required, institutions reverted to fear-driven control, and we missed the chance to respond in the best interests of our children.7
We design institutions that, often unintentionally, drain more life force than they restore. We develop economic systems that prioritize short-term comfort over long-term wellbeing. We generate cultures where people feel profoundly alone even when surrounded by other people.
The Possibility
Understanding these patterns, seeing how they repeat like fractals across every scale of human experience, also reveals opportunities for a meaningful life. The same awareness that would free Lucia from automatically perceiving criticism, or allow Mateo to recognize his conflict avoidance, can operate at larger scales too.
When individuals begin to recognize their unconscious patterns, families start communicating more authentically. When families become more conscious, they contribute to communities that can engage with reality more clearly. When enough communities operate this way, societies begin responding to challenges with wisdom rather than reaction.
Yes, the patterns that bind us run deep. But so too does the impulse toward awakening. As we each learn to pause, to notice, to feel, not just for ourselves, but for one another, we create the conditions for something wholly new. A fractal of consciousness echoing through families, systems, and societies.
The future human is not someone else.
It is you. It is us. Becoming.
Love, love, love…
Ronit
Brandon Pestano, “How Fractals Can Help You Understand the Universe,” BBC Ideas, November 2019.
The Bowen Center for the Study of the Family, “Multigenerational Transmission Process,” The Bowen Center, 2025.
Gail Hochachka, “Overcoming the Climate Awareness-Action Gap,” Ambio: Journal of Environment and Society, May 2024.
Jared Marsh, “More Social Media, More Depression: Study Links Cause and Effect,” BBC Ideas, May 2025.
Charlotte V. Campenhout, “Study finds smartphone bans in Dutch schools improved focus,” Reuters, July 2025.
L.P. Beland & Richard Murphy, “Ill Communication: Technology, Distraction & Student Performance,” Labour Economics, April 2016.
Taïeb Hafsi & Sofiane Baba, “Exploring the Process of Policy Overreaction: The COVID-19 Lockdown Decisions,” Sage Journals, March 2022.