Look, I'm a midwife in Tucson. I spend my days watching people scream through the most profound, biological transformations of their lives while checking monitors that beep with cold, hard data. You can't chart a birth on a spreadsheet. There's a knowing that happens in the delivery room that has nothing to do with metrics. You either feel the shift, or you're just guessing.

"Superlogical" sounds like they're trying to patent gnosis. It's making me laugh, though I can't deny it's weirdly accurate. Every mystical tradition I've ever dug into talks about this direct knowing. It's not "illogical," it's just beyond the reach of the analytical mind. Jung called it the Self emerging from the ego, something you can't dissect, only experience. And let's be real, gnosis isn't always fluffy. Sometimes it's the Devil card staring you right in the face, demanding you admit what you're actually addicted to before you can move on.

I've got five years clean, and the hardest part of recovery wasn't the physical withdrawal; it was unlearning the addiction to rationalizing everything. I used to think if I could just explain the pain well enough, I could outsmart it. Spoiler: you can't. You just end up building a really elaborate cage out of syllogisms. That's what this "Superlogical" pitch reminds me of. Silicon Valley sees a centuries-old practice of sitting in silence and staring at your own shadow, slaps a Series A valuation on it, and calls it a cognitive upgrade. I'm sure the ROI will be fantastic. Meanwhile, I'll stick to my delivery room and my recovery meetings. Turns out the only logic you actually need is the kind that tells you to put down the phone, drink a glass of water, and stop trying to algorithm your way out of being human.