The Formula That Has Agency
Janet Kira Lessin & Sasha Alex Lessin, Ph.D. | Research: Claudia Lenore | © 2026 Aquarian Media
Science Thread, Part One
We spent a morning on opposite poles of one question. Do we author our lives, or does the system author us? Janet pushed for agency as a spiritual fact, the power each person holds to choose a stance and step clear of the slave-and-master pairing that has governed this planet since the Anunnaki set the template. Sasha held the line for structure, the self-reinforcing machine that runs on consent and keeps producing identical outcomes whoever occupies the throne. We circled each other for an hour, neither of us willing to yield ground.
Then Sasha broke into a grin and dissolved the whole dispute with one reframe.
“It’s something like a formula,” he marveled, working it out as he spoke. “Some things are, and then they aren’t, and then they’re in between, and they flash in and out.”
He kept going, his voice lifting the way it does when an idea arrives whole. “That’s the ultimate. A formula that has agency, and it’s infinitely creative. That’s what’s happening.”
Then came the part that ended the argument.
“When you look at it that way, it frees you from being trapped in this narrow dichotomous thinking,” he laughed. “It’s way more complex than that. And it’s more fun anyhow.”
The reframe holds both of our positions at once. Janet’s authorship stands as the creative act that generates possibility. Sasha’s structure stands as the pattern through which possibility takes shape. Each of us had described one end of the same animal and mistaken our end for the whole beast.
Why the dichotomy fails
Dichotomous thinking flatters the mind. It offers two doors and calls the choice between them wisdom. Free will or determinism. Individual or collective. Author or system. Every one of these pairs asks you to surrender half of what you know in exchange for the comfort of a settled position.
The formula view refuses that bargain. A formula generates outcomes and remains the source of those outcomes at the same time. A mathematical relationship holds structure and produces novelty in one motion. Structure produces novelty. The rule generates the surprise.
Apply that to a human life and the argument we were conducting resolves itself. A person makes choices, the choices arise inside conditions that person inherited, and those choices then reshape the conditions the next person inherits. Agency and structure trade places so fast that any snapshot of the process looks like whichever one the observer expected to find.
What this means for the work
Our research keeps returning to a single pattern. Aristocracy repeats. The Anunnaki bloodline becomes noble blood, noble blood becomes the modern billionaire class, and the play runs again with new actors in different clothes. Betrothal served as statecraft for millennia, and dynastic mergers still shape the present.
A reader who takes the pattern as fate walks away defeated. A reader who takes the pattern as a formula walks away curious, because a formula accepts new inputs. The same mathematics that generated pharaohs and popes and kings will generate whatever we feed it next.
Sasha’s addition supplies the missing hinge. The system runs on consent, and consent arrives fresh each morning from billions of individual people. Withdraw consent and the formula produces a different result. The structure stays intact and the output changes.
People have supplied the proof
History records what happens when enough people redirect the inputs. Labor organizing turned the Haymarket dead and the Triangle Shirtwaist fire into the eight-hour day and the fire code. Sustained protest helped end American involvement in Vietnam. Nonviolent noncooperation dismantled colonial rule across a subcontinent.
A smaller example moves us more than the grand ones, because Janet lived inside it.
“Had Star Trek ended, this would be a different place,” she insisted, and her voice carried the heat of a woman defending her own history. “But we all gathered together and wrote letters and got it renewed.”
The cancellation threat came in 1967. Thousands of viewers flooded NBC with mail, the network relented, and the series survived to seed a generation of engineers, physicists, and contact researchers. Communicators, tricorders, and universal translators arrived in our pockets within forty years. A letter-writing campaign by teenagers changed the technological imagination of a planet.
Janet was thirteen years old and one of those letter writers. That experience taught her the lesson she has carried ever since, and it became a founding conviction of our shared work: the group holds power the moment the group recognizes it holds power.
She tempers the optimism with a warning, and the warning lands with a sigh.
“We’ve been so programmed by our phones and everything, to just be dumbed down,” she admits. “But hopefully there’s enough smart people coming in and saying no to that. Right now it seems like a losing battle. Every time you look at the news, it’s something different every day.”
The formula answers her worry. A losing battle at any single snapshot says little about a system that keeps generating fresh possibilities, and the daily news amounts to noise riding on a very long signal.
The exit stands open now
People wait for the savior, the collapse, the reset, the arrival. The formula view removes the waiting. Each person reclaims agency by recognizing giving and taking as two poles of one exchange and then choosing where to stand between them. The choice happens in the present tense, available to anyone, and each person grants their own permission.
Agency also reaches past the self. A person who claims authorship and stops there becomes a smaller aristocrat and nothing more. The fuller move builds systems where everyone wins: livelihoods that sustain the people who perform them, an economy that meets basic minimum needs as a floor rather than a prize, and consciousness work that lets people recognize the exchange they participate in.
The pattern nests
Sasha carried the formula one step further, and that step opens the next article in this series. If a formula generates possibility at one scale, and the mathematics of each subpart mirrors the mathematics of the whole, then the pattern nests. Fractals repeat the design at every magnification and freeze into form at every level.
“Fractals of something bigger and bigger and bigger,” he mused, hands widening as he traced the scales in the air.
That principle points somewhere specific and physical. It points at structures inside the human skull small enough to touch the quantum floor and vast enough to reach other dimensions. We propose a mechanism for contact, and the mechanism sits in the back of the head.
Next in this thread: The Receiver Behind the Eyes.
