Author: Milo de Prieto

  • The Process & Purpose of Purpose

    The Process & Purpose of Purpose

    How the brain composes meaning and why you should participate in the process

    Navigating Reality: The Illusion of Fixed Meaning

    It may seem like some things just are, their meaning fixed and obvious. Likewise, we tend to believe that we choose our beliefs with deliberation and steer our decisions with clarity. But the brain does not operate like a compass that can point to truth when you have a clear head. The brain doesn’t chart meaning, it generates it in real time.
    Each moment, our brains interpret vast input at incredible speed, long before conscious awareness catches up. We mistake this seamless interpretation for fact, for truth. But meaning is something we build, beginning deep within the nervous system that then works its way through our brain, being tagged and categorized along the way, filtered by as well as reaffirming our sense of self. This process is how we navigate the world, and it is always under way.

    We think we are reading the world, when it’s more accurate to say that we are defining it as we go.

    An illustration of a large sailing ship at sale at night to demonstrate how our minds are like ships always at sea, are we taking responsibility for the navigation when we need to?
    We are a ship always at sail.

    The Hidden Process: Before You Know You’re Navigating

    Long before you have a conscious thought about anything, your deep brain is hard at work processing your experience, looking for information that it finds relevant. Regions like the amygdala are scanning the raw data picked up by your senses for anything it may find relevant. Along with the insula and anterior cingulate, your deep brain flags what might matter: anything novel, threatening, familiar, or compelling as well as dismissing what is not. It is a fluid and rather complex categorization shaped by emotion, learning, and bodily state. The salience markers it develops are not objective data points. They are rankings, immediate, and embodied. They say, “this matters, this way,” and in doing so, impose meaning before you even have an opportunity to consciously question their valuation. This emotional tagging system is the first step in constructing relevance.

    Then these cataloged signals travel swiftly into the prefrontal cortex, where you assemble them into enough of a story to act on. So, emotion isn’t irrational. It’s the very efficient product of a highly complicated neurocognitive process. In an instant, it condenses complexity into something you can act on. However, in feeding you coordinates, your deep brain has already imposed bias by choosing what to prioritize and why.

    You’ve taken raw data and formed a detailed map and are moving through it before you’re even aware there’s a route on it to choose.

    The tools of our navigation system are extraordinary, a nervous system that spans the body, limbic systems that assign relevance, an amygdala that flags what matters, and a prefrontal cortex that assembles meaning into action. These tools are always in use. The question is how these instruments have been calibrated.

    Drawing the Map: Constructing Reality’s Terrain

    What the deep brain flags as meaningful becomes the material of your internal cartography, a map of what matters, what doesn’t, what threatens, what inspires. You’re not just mapping mountains and rivers, you’re deciding what counts as mountains or rivers. What populates your map does so because you decided it was worth putting on the map in the first place through your own process of cartography.

    The fixed points you’re navigating between, were fixed by you, or more specifically your deep brain. The meaning of reality you think is so factual and obvious, doesn’t just appear, it is constructed by your brain. While it seems universal, this terrain is personal. What one person avoids, another seeks out. A winding trail for one may be a well-lit boulevard for another. These differences aren’t moral or logical; they are interpretations. What feels real is actually just what feels familiar.

    Moment by moment, the map of fixed reality you’re reading, you just created.

    We are actively participating in the creation of the map we take as fixed right before we read it.

    Creating the Compass: How We Decide What Matters

    Old world maps were often decorated with mythical animals on them to mark the unfamiliar as dangerous. The Lenox Globe of 1510 actually has the words on it, “Here be Dragons” (Latin: hic sunt dracones). We’ve done the exact same to the maps we’ve drawn to navigate reality. 

    The complex emotional tagging system of your deep brain is not only telling you what makes up the map, it’s telling you how and where the meaningful directions are. What is passable or not was decided by you. Your map shows meaningful space that can be navigated, your compass tells you how and which direction to go. These signals that say “go this way” or “don’t go there” are the result of reinforcement, not revelation.

    Your compass is built from repetition, social influence, and past outcomes. You learned what earned reward or sparked rejection. You absorbed values from those around you and internalized the directions they pointed toward.

    You are not just holding the compass; you tuned its needle and then you follow it. At the same time, your brain is inventing the map and then deciding where true north lies. 

    We’ve constructed the landscape and the system to navigate it by.

    Setting the Patterns: How Meaning Becomes Instinctual

    Where did all this pre-meaning come from? Patterns begin forming as soon as your consciousness emerges. Repeated emotional experiences create highways in your neural circuitry, shortcuts that turn signals into instincts.

    The people around you reinforce these shortcuts. They model, mirror, and respond, embedding cultural norms into your internal map. Over time, these grooves deepen. They feel natural, even inevitable.

    But familiarity is not truth. The most traveled path isn’t necessarily the best one. It’s just the one you know.

    This is how you created your instinct. And you need it. It’s a very useful tool that gets you through most of the day. You do not have the time or energy to engage with your complex navigational process at every moment. But instinct is not ancient wisdom, just memory with authority. It’s formed from what has been working until now. That becomes the path you walk by default. Instinct works until it doesn’t. That’s when someone has to take the helm.

    What we take for truth and fact tends to be based on routine and familiarity rather than rigorous, mindful development.

    The Journey: Meaning in Motion

    Just as the fixed points on your personal map of reality are constructions, meaning that you made them fixed, so is the notion that it is all unmoving and immutable. Each moment we test, reinforce, and revise our internal systems by acting. Every step updates the map and compass we’ve constructed as no step is exactly like the one before. We are always on the move, evolving. The trail you take reshapes the terrain, which reshapes the trail, and so on.

    Meaning is not static. It is generated in motion. Our beliefs are clarified, challenged, or calcified through what we do. Looked at together over a period of time, single steps form trails. In turn, and in collaboration with our society, we form tradition by grouping those trails together. But tradition soon recedes into legend because humans never stop moving. We stretch out this meaning to the horizons behind and in front of us. But that’s not how we live. We live in the step we’re taking right now, in the present. That step feels reasonable because it aligns with the meaning we just created and imposed. Overall, we tend to take steps, then assign meaning later.

    We reinforce our interpretation of reality through living it. The maps we drew and the compasses we tuned aren’t just guides; they’re shaped by every step we take. This cycle is how instinct is reinforced but also shows us where conscious navigation becomes possible, if not necessary. We’re making it all up anyway.

    Our maps of purpose and direction are created through an immediate and iterative process, being formed and reformed as we walk them, presenting themselves as terra firma.

    Navigating with Intention: Acting Meaningfully

    For most of life, autopilot works well enough. It’s instinct, built from patterns that have served you. But it’s not exact or fully present. When something truly matters, when the stakes are high, or the work unfamiliar, autopilot will drift if not fail. It cannot measure and account for complexity it has not learned yet. It can’t keep in mind new factors it has to consider and demands it has to meet. Letting old coordinates steer a new voyage is like setting sail without establishing where you are going, how long you’ll be gone, what provisions you’ll need, or how you can resupply.

    Any meaningful project or relationship will demand that you take the helm, examine your goals, and chart your course deliberately. For meaningful work, you must pause. Ask: Where am I going? Why am I going there? And by what values am I navigating? While this work seems heavy and time consuming, it is not. You’re doing it anyway. Without this essential neurocognitive work, you will wander, waste time, effort, and resources.

    Exploration is noble when discovery is the goal. The resources expended in the experiment are well spent, as they were intended for that. But if you need to get anywhere, you’ll need to chart a course.

    An illustration of a woman (an every person) navigating a schooner by the stars to demonstrate the capacity to connect your cognitive identity and purpose to your work and living.
    When it matters take the helm of your life with intention.

    Dead Reckoning: The Art of Purpose Making Without Absolutes

    Dead reckoning was the process sailors used to calculate where they ought to be before the invention of celestial navigation, or when the stars were not visible. Celestial navigation provided fixed absolutes in the sky from which sailors could figure their position. While we feel we are navigating by absolutes, like the sailors with their sextants, we in fact are not. We’re dead reckoning, making it up as we go along, all of it, the sea, the boat, the rocks, the stars, and constellations we navigate by – we’re the makers of meaning.

    Purpose isn’t an abstract concept. It is a process, a neurocognitive sequence of filtering, assigning relevance, encoding emotion, and taking action. It happens moment by moment, whether you recognize it or not.

    You are always underway. But how are you steering?

    When it matters, do you take responsibility for how you make meaning and consciously participate in structuring that process? When it matters, do you take the helm or let the currents decide?

    You are never anchored. The strength of your purpose floats like the needle of a compass between unconscious autopilot and mindful intention.

    Navigating with purpose is not a matter of control—that’s impossible. It is a practice of understanding and working with inner currents and external constellations, the way a sailor moves a ship with wind, sea, and stars.
  • Rethinking Maslow

    Rethinking Maslow

    Breaking with a hierarchy of scarcity to cultivate neuroecological abundance.

    In 1943, Abraham Maslow proposed that human needs exist in a hierarchy, a model later famously codified into a pyramid. This visual suggested a rigid, stacked system: if basic needs for food and shelter were unmet, higher cognitive functions were not possible. He placed self-actualization at the peak, treating meaning and purpose as a kind of cognitive luxury only accessible once all lower tiers were fulfilled.


    It’s a compelling framework, but its rigid, stacked architecture fundamentally misrepresents the interdependent, co-regulatory nature of the human brain. Modern neuroscience shows us that needs like meaning, connection, and flow aren’t indulgences; they are structural requirements for a well-functioning brain and nervous system, actively sought out even in the absence of safety.

    A crumbling version of Maslow's pyramid with "physiological needs" on the bottom, "safety & security" above that, "love & belonging" above that, and "self actualization" on the top.
    A scarcity model of needs in a system that only grows when the lower sections are sufficiently strong is a narrative that can limit basic wellbeing. The brain’s actual processing is dynamic and co-regulatory.

    The true problem with the pyramid is the subtle but devastating narrative it creates: if you’re struggling to meet basic physiological needs, higher functions—creativity, reflection, purpose—must be postponed or dismissed as luxuries. To internalize that view is to inhibit your own development.

    A Note on Intent: This essay is not a critique of Maslow himself, who framed his model as an observation of typical motivational prepotency, not a fixed prescription. Rather, this is a critique of any framework that reductively interprets human existence through a capitalist lens of scarcity, which is precisely how the prescriptive pyramid has been used. Capitalism is a constructed economic framework with narrow aims, not a human or biological reality, and such frameworks can only manage the vastness of human experience by compressing it into abstractions that strip away its substance. It is the equivalent of expecting a rainforest to behave like a filing cabinet.

    The Neuroecological Model: Tending the Systems for Sustainable Thriving

    Rather than stacking needs by social convention or survival logic, a neurobiological model should reflect what the brain and nervous system require, daily or cyclically, to regulate, grow, and function. This shift treats the brain not as a machine with linear outputs, but as a dynamic ecosystem to be tended as we would a garden, coastal reef, or forest. This is the grounding for our new understanding.

    This updated framework organizes our essential needs not by rigid hierarchy but by frequency of use, systemic impact, and cognitive cost. It identifies four neurological system groups that operate collaboratively in a dynamic, interdependent environment.
    This reorganization liberates possibility by achieving a profound conceptual shift: it reframes the human experience from a deficit to be solved (drudgery) to an opportunity to be enjoyed (tending).

    The core of my thesis is this: when we prioritize the brain’s essential systems, treating the brain as an ecosystem to be tended such as a tree, we don’t simply survive, we optimize. The work of integration—of tending your own “internal tree”—is not a hard-won, exhausting chore requiring radical sacrifice and intensive discipline. Built on dynamic systems theory, this work is meant to be as practical, natural, and obvious as knowing when to water a plant or seek the sun.

    An illustration of a tree showing its roots below the ground and leaves above. The 4 neuroecological systems are described on them: The roots are "Rhythmic Homeostasis," The trunk is "Neurological Activation & Regulation System," the branches are "Cognitive Patterning & Integration System," and the leaves are, "Neurological Synchrony & Expansion System."
    The neuroecology model replaces the pyramid with a living system: a tree of interwoven functions. Each domain supports the others in continuous, generative feedback—no one part is optional. Your PURPOSE, like the canopy, is not a reward at the top—it is the natural unfolding of a well-nourished system.

    The Four Neuroecological Systems

    Rhythmic Homeostasis System (Foundational Neuroregulation)

    • Core Components: Sleep, Nutrition, Movement & Breath regulation, Light/Dark exposure (circadian entrainment).
    • Impact: Without these, the brain’s capacity for all other functions collapses. These are hardwired biological cycles—non-negotiables.

    Neurological Activation & Regulation System (Neurochemical Flexibility)

    • Core Components: Sexual expression, Touch and safety (co-regulation), Novelty and stimulation, Emotional expression (limbic processing).
    • Impact: These needs maintain neurochemical flexibility. Without them, chronic stress, anxiety, or hypoarousal can dominate.

    Cognitive Patterning & Integration System (Meaning-Making)

    • Core Components: Deep Focus & Flow, Meaning-making & narrative coherence (default mode network), Self-reflection and internal modeling.
    • Impact: This is where purpose fits—not as an aspirational extra, but as a daily integrator of experience and action.

    Neurological Synchrony & Expansion System (Social Intelligence)

    • Core Components: Belonging & recognition, Creativity and symbolic abstraction, Altruism and transcendence.
    • Impact: These support a brain’s need to extend, to relate beyond the self and to tap into emergent or collective intelligence.

    Conclusion: Your Purpose & Individuality is Core to the System, Not a Final Reward

    The prescriptive interpretation of the pyramid has an insidious corollary: Those who believe they’ve earned the luxury of self-actualization often pursue it without the systemic grounding necessary for true integration. Their efforts become hollow, performative, or even self-destructive.

    Interestingly, Maslow’s model has been interpreted as both a critique and a byproduct of capitalism, where needs are commodified, and scarcity becomes its own form of reward. A dystopian, yet revealing frame.
    Rather than being the final step, actualization, or purpose, can be redefined as an organizing mechanism: a way to align attention, effort, and emotional meaning. Purpose is not a final reward but a vital system, rising through every branch of life, essential to survival and quality of life.

    An illustration of a pyramid with roots tearing the stones apart. Inside grows a tree glowing with life.
    Maslow’s pyramid inadvertently commodified wellbeing — turning our inherent capacities into milestones we must earn through compliance with economic structures. But true quality of life doesn’t follow a hierarchy. The brain does not wait for permission. It seeks meaning, love, and coherence even in the absence of safety, and sometimes because of it. Wellbeing isn’t something to climb toward — it’s something to root, reclaim, and grow.