I am currently a Graduate student—training to be a scientist— and I examine nature through the lens of mathematics, philosophy, thought experiments and real experiments. I believe that the encounter with nature, and its study and stewardship must simultaneously be rigorous and humanistic, not just rigorous. Since 2016, when I graduated with a Bachelor's degree, through my studies of the natural world and my broader reflections on human nature, two guiding understanding have gradually crystallized for me—understanding that shape how I see the world and what I hope to contribute.

The first is on of how knowledge itself is best pursued. I believe that true understanding, whether in science, ethics, or human life, begins not with speculation but with an honest and complete description of the entirety of individual and collaborative human experience. This is not merely about accumulating facts but about recognizing principles that are instantiated in our shared human experience and allowing theory to emerge naturally from them. Principles reflect a pattern, but patterns are not the same as principles. I believe there is a way to tell them apart—one that is more succinct and foundational than the usual appeals to repeatability and reproducibility (though those remain valid). Later, in my twenties, I began to see how the same principle applies beyond science; to how we live, how we relate to others, how and why we create and how we navigate moral and aesthetic questions. Theory-building, at its best, is not about forcing a narrative onto reality but about describing clearly what is observed and recognizing what has already revealed itself at both individual and collective levels of descriptions. In this worldview, therefore, one simply pursues 'what-is' questions for every aspect of our experience honestly, exhaustively and carefully—the answers to the 'how' and 'why' emerges as often surprising consequence of this inquiry. In essence, this is an expanded version of the scientific method—for our shared experiences, individual personal experience, factual experiences and emotional experiences—retaining all the successes of the traditional scientific method while avoiding some of the failings.

The second emerged more forcefully in my mid-twenties when I began to see the limits of reductionism in science. I recognized that many of our most elegant theories in physics are shaped by a tacit expectation: that the behavior of larger objects is governed exclusively by the behavior of the smaller objects that constitute them. But the world, as I have come to see it, is not always structured this way. Since then, I have been developing ideas to mathematically incorporate non-reductive elements into physical theories, particularly in foundational questions. I believe that some long-standing puzzles in physics may become clearer if we stop expecting reality to always conform to a reductionist lens, while still acknowledging both the proven and potential value of reductionist descriptions.