Things are not things. They are processes.

Everything is a process.

Think of a whirlpool in water. It looks like a thing: it has a shape, it has edges, you can point at it. But there is nothing "inside" the whirlpool besides the water passing through it. If the water stops flowing, the whirlpool is gone. What we call a whirlpool is a pattern that repeats, not an object.

The Daturoma says everything works this way: a cell, a person, a company, a star. What we see as things are processes that have found a way to keep themselves up. The idea is not new — it comes from process philosophy, from thinkers such as Whitehead, Bergson or Simondon; what is new is the alphabet for describing it.

No one looks from above.

The same rules hold at any size: for an atom, a plant, a mind, a whole society. No level is more real than another, and humans are not a special case: we are one process among many.

That has a consequence that is both uncomfortable and useful. The imbalances we recognize out there — a bloom that grows out of control, an institution that turns rigid, a market that runs wild — are the same ones we can recognize in ourselves. The same alphabet works on both sides.

Four questions for anything.

To describe any process, the Daturoma asks four questions. Each one has two extreme answers, and those extremes are the system's eight poles. Nothing sits still at an extreme: everything swings between the two, closer to one or the other depending on the moment.

The eight poles fall into two halves. Four of them open — aggregation, liberation, stimulation, potentiation — and make up the yang hemisphere; the other four close — singularization, restriction, inhibition, normalization — and make up the yin. Each pole neighbors the other three in its half and its own opposite: that is the map of connections everything else comes from.

The landa.

A landa is a combination of four poles: the signature of how a process works. It reads like the layers of an onion: the first pole is the outer layer and the fourth is the core. All four layers are there at the same time; they are not steps that happen one after another. Between one layer and the next there is a wrapping — a wrapper — the outer one enveloping the inner. Four poles, three wrappers.

A pole can repeat, so not every landa answers all four questions: some speak of only two or three, and that does not make them incomplete. And not every combination is allowed: (So you like reading... huh?) each pole has to be a neighbor of the one before it on a fixed map of connections between the eight. Those rules yield exactly 512 landas, the complete catalog of ways to be a process.

Facing each question, a landa is in one of three situations: biased, if it carries only one of its two poles; in equilibrium, if it carries both and swings between them; or absent, if it carries neither, and then it says nothing about that question, which is not the same as answering «halfway». Only 48 of the 512 answer all four questions with one pole each: the Hamiltonian landas, and each of them lives entirely in one half, all yang or all yin.

To exist is to hold together.

A landa is like a photograph: it captures the shape of a process while that pattern lasts. But no landa lasts forever. A process passes from one landa to another, and when that chain turns back to where it started and closes, it traces a path: an arquema. Whatever mixes the two halves — opening and closing — does not fit in a single landa: it needs time, and that time is an arquema.

And nothing walks its path alone. Every arquema moves along piloted by another one around it: the organism by its environment, the person by the society that came before them. The Daturoma calls this mutual piloting of two arquemas systence, being-in-system. It is not something things have: it is what things are. To exist is systence.

One idea, many languages.

The Daturoma is not a single book. It is one idea — the landa — told across many fields: myths and religions, physics, an invented language with its own script, literature and its characters, society and its institutions, a company that creates value from its culture, the mind and its blocks, everyday habits, music, a programming language, teaching and mathematics.

Each project takes the same 512 landas and translates them into its own field. So one landa can be, at once, a hero, a chord, a character trait or an institution. They are not metaphors for each other: they are the same form, seen from different places.

It makes more sense by playing.

The easiest way to understand the Daturoma is to use it. In the Wrappertorium you combine the eight poles, build landas and see what comes out. You don't need to know anything beforehand: start with two poles and follow your curiosity.