The Radius of Coherence
How far can your truth travel before it stops being true?
A little over a week ago, we decided to reach out to people for market research on the school I’m building. Within days, that decision became an updated website with the full vision, a request for stories, and yesterday—outreach to our first thousand couples and individuals exploring how relationships can be a path to transformation. I’m sitting here feeling the aliveness of it—how fast the inner is becoming outer.
There’s a truth I’ve come to trust in my body: inner and outer reality are not separate. They move together. When something outside me feels stuck, it’s because something inside me is stuck. And when I work on the inside, the outside shifts.
This is what I mean by coherence.
I’ve learned to trust it in the work of building Co·Awaken—a school for people to awaken through intimate partnership. Any source of friction, any gap, any stuckness—it’s because of something inside me. Uncontacted fear. Unfelt pain. Some part of my body I haven’t fully inhabited yet.
I’ve been working this edge in my Grinberg sessions. When the work feels stuck, I bring it to the session. We work somatically, directly in the body, on the thing inside me that’s creating the external obstacle. And I notice, reliably, that as I contact and inhabit more of myself, the corresponding pieces in how I orient to the work also shift. The external updates because the internal updated first.
This is the mechanics of coherence. Trust the field. Work from the inside out.
But coherence has a range. It can only travel so far before it loses fidelity—like a radio signal fading at the edge of transmission. The website, the writing, the workshops, the conversations—can they all be current expressions of the same inner truth? Or does the signal degrade as it travels outward from the body?
How far can my truth travel before it stops being true?
I’m calling this the radius of coherence.
The Radius Expands
The first version of the Co·Awaken website took me four weeks to build—pixel by pixel, section by section. Beautiful, but recently I noticed I’d stopped sharing it. It didn’t even mention the school I was building. The website was becoming a liability—something I’d have to drag along with me as everything else shifted. A growing gap between what I knew inside and what the world could see.
It was clear that I needed to migrate it to Claude Code—an AI that lives in my terminal, reads my files, writes alongside me, executes my ideas into existence. I did it in a week.
Last week, my thought partner Erica and I spent three hours at the whiteboard in my office, mapping what’s next for Co·Awaken. Arrows everywhere. Circles around the words that mattered. By hour three, something clicked—the workshops, the path, the whole roadmap suddenly had shape. I felt the clarity land in my chest before I could explain it.
Less than a day later, that clarity existed on our website. A coherent page that talked about everything—the pillars, the path, the roadmap—emanating the same frequency I’d felt standing at that whiteboard.
This is what it looks like when the radius of coherence expands. Ideas and insights that move through me get shared at higher velocity and volume. Not a faded echo. Not lagging months behind. Current.
I want the same for my writing.
In my first year as a father, I would sit in tea ceremony at 7 AM—my quiet hour of peace—and something would land. A truth I could feel in my chest. I would walk out thinking: I need to write this down and share it. And then Ember would cry, and Kiki needed sleep, and by the time I had thirty minutes to myself three days later, the insight was gone. I couldn’t even remember what it was. Only that it had mattered. Only that it had slipped through my fingers—like trying to describe a dream the afternoon after.
Now, with AI intimately baked into my workflow, I can finally conceive of a different reality. One where something that lands in my body during morning practice can exist on Substack by afternoon. Where the radius of coherence extends not just to the website, but to my writing, my notes, my social presence—every surface where my truth might touch another person.
I’m not there yet, but I know I will be.
Extension of Self
Last week I walked my dear friend Katara through everything I’d built. The web development tools. The terminal and tmux setup. The Chrome extension that clips conversations directly into my notes. The way I can start with a messy ChatGPT thread and end with a polished draft. Tool after tool, I demoed what this deep integration with AI had made possible.
She was the first technical person I’d shown any of this to. And I could feel it in both of us—an electricity, a turn-on, the kind of energy that happens when you’re witnessing something that changes what you thought was possible.
When I finished, she leaned back and asked: “So what is AI to you? Like, actually?”
I sat with the question. What came was: it’s an extension of Self.
Before my deep dive with Claude Code at the beginning of the year, the Self stopped at my skin. My inner world was vivid—rich with insight, vision, desire—but slow to reach the world. Everything beyond my body felt like output. Representations of me, but not me.
Now that membrane is thinning. What I know inside can exist outside almost immediately. And something strange is happening to my sense of Self in the process.
I feel more here. More landed. More connected to the surfaces I touch. When the website reflects what’s true in me now, I don’t experience it as separate from me. It’s not a representation—it’s an extension. The same way my voice is an extension of my body, the same way my writing has always been an extension of my mind. The radius of what I call “me” is expanding to include the forms my truth takes in the world.
This is how I orient to AI right now. Not as something I use, but as something I extend through. A way for the Self that is already reaching—already wanting to emanate further into the world than my body alone could carry it—to actually arrive.
The radius of coherence is the radius of Self.
P.S. The school I mentioned — Co·Awaken — is in its early days. Right now we’re listening. If you’re in a partnership and sense there’s deeper territory available — or yearning for that kind of partnership — we’d love to hear your story.