Hello, Weekend. Let’s Tune In.

Weekends are strange creatures. They arrive like a promise, but often slip past like a half-formed thought. You expect openness and stillness, but somehow the hours tighten, the to-do list leaks, and time becomes this compressed atmosphere you’re supposed to relax inside. It’s as if we all exhale slightly differently on Saturdays—a pause that never quite lands.

So here we are.

And I have a question for you:

You ever get the sense you’re living in a version of your life you didn’t fully agree to? Like you woke up on a frequency that’s almost—but not quite—yours?

The people are familiar. The scenery looks right. But something’s off. A barely perceptible layer of static, like the soul-version of a detuned radio. Not a crisis. Just a hum. A low signal interference between the life you’re living and the one that feels like it’s actually yours.

This week, a Facebook post nudged that frequency. It quoted renowned physicist Michio Kaku explaining parallel universes through the metaphor of radio stations: each universe as its own broadcast, each reality a signal you tune into.

It hit a strange nerve.

Not because it was radically new—but because it echoed something many of us feel intuitively: that maybe, just maybe, we’re tuned into a channel that doesn’t quite match our internal signal. And that the static we live with? It’s not background noise.

It’s a map.

Let’s see where it leads.

The Michio Kaku Metaphor

“Each universe vibrates at a different frequency… your consciousness aligns with one… the others remain parallel, unseen but real.”

That sentence, attributed to Michio Kaku, has been making the rounds for a while. It surfaced again this week in a Facebook post—nestled between cosmic illustrations and wide-eyed wonder, half-scientific, half-poetic. And like many things Kaku says, it sticks.

Now, let’s be clear: we’re not here to debate whether Kaku’s multiverse theory holds up under quantum scrutiny. That’s not the point.

What matters is its metaphorical utility. It gives shape to a hunch many people carry: that our reality isn’t the only one, and more importantly, that our perception might be frequency-bound. It suggests your current reality isn’t fixed—it’s selected.

This is where Kaku excels. He’s not always trying to deliver empirically grounded theory to physicists. He’s speaking to the intuitive human mind—the one that needs a handle, an analogy, a bridge.

The radio metaphor is sticky for a reason. We’ve all twisted the dial and landed on something unexpected. We know the feeling of clarity when the signal locks in. And we know the frustration of fuzz. That shared reference point opens the door to something bigger.

Still, metaphors carry risks. Especially in the realm of science and selfhood. They can oversimplify. Or worse—they can mislead by implying mechanics where only meaning exists. When someone hears, “Each universe vibrates at a different frequency,” they might imagine a literal hum behind the curtain, as if tuning forks could unlock new timelines.

But again—that’s not the point.

We’re not tuning in to prove or disprove the physics. We’re listening for something else: the signal beneath the metaphor. The thing it gestures toward.

Because if your life does feel like static… maybe it’s not a metaphor at all.

The Radio We Can’t Turn Off

Here’s where the metaphor starts to leave the blackboard and walk into your kitchen.

Frequency isn’t just a scientific abstraction. It’s felt. You already know it intimately, whether or not you have a name for it.

You feel it in the body when you sit across from someone who carries a version of you you’ve worked hard to outgrow. When their presence subtly pulls your posture back into older shapes, older defense systems. When your laughter shifts just slightly, not because something’s funny—but because you’re syncing to a signal you no longer belong to.

That’s not social tension. That’s field disruption.

You feel it as emotional lag too—when you’re walking through a life chapter you know you’ve already graduated from, but your reactions keep getting drafted by a self you thought you’d already retired.

As I said recently:

“I’m done with needing to react to frequencies that are not mine, because I am in the same room or area as people with lower vibrations.”

That’s not frustration. That’s a tuning recognition event. It’s the moment you hear the static and realize: the noise isn’t yours. You’re just still in range.

But Who’s Holding the Dial?

Which brings us to the real question:

Are you choosing what version of reality you live in—or are you still resonating with conditions you forgot to cancel?

This isn’t about blame. This is about access. We don’t get stuck in old timelines because we love them. We get stuck because the identity fields we built to survive them are still partially active.

You may no longer believe the things you used to. You may have done the work. You may have changed the story, the relationships, the rituals.

But if the underlying frequencies haven’t been cleared?

Then the dial locks. And you live in a loop. Not because you’re lost, but because you haven’t shut down the transmission.

That’s the real friction. Not trauma, not chaos—but residue. The old self as ghost signal.

And here’s the kicker: it doesn’t need to be fixed.

It just needs to be unplugged.

Parallel Selves vs. Residual Frequencies

Let’s take the Kaku metaphor a step further. Not outward, but inward.

Instead of wondering whether there’s a better version of you in a different universe, ask this:

Why are you still hosting the worse one in this one?

That version—the one built from fear, defense, over-explaining, or people-pleasing—isn’t living in a separate dimension. It’s showing up in your tone. Your default reactions. The subtle tension in your shoulders before you walk into familiar rooms.

The brilliance of Kaku’s metaphor isn’t its reach into outer space. It’s what it lets us see in inner space. If each universe is a frequency, then your selfhood is a composite of signals. And those signals? They aren’t cosmological. They’re emotional, mental, electromagnetic.

If we accept that we are electromagnetic fields wrapped in matter, then it follows that reality isn’t something you walk through like a hallway.

It’s something you interact with based on charge and alignment.

You don’t get better realities by manifesting them. You get them by syncing with the field structures that match your internal clarity.

This is one of the core ideas in TULWA:

The shift doesn’t require you to travel. It requires you to re-tune.

You don’t change your life by escaping it. You change it by deactivating the frequencies that were holding you in place.

And sometimes, the most radical shift you can make is not reaching for the light—but turning off the static.

When Your Old Life Still Echoes

Let’s talk about fracture clearance.

At this stage of evolution, you’re not in therapy. You’re in post-trauma systems debugging. It’s less about uncovering and more about isolating noise—scraps of code that still run, even though the main program has long since been replaced.

“They’re no longer you. They’re just squatting in unmapped fragments of energetic space.”

These patterns don’t roar. They whisper.

They show up as self-doubt flaring exactly when you succeed. Or unexplainable reactivity in safe, non-threatening environments. Or the ghost-voice of an old relationship echoing through a completely new conversation.

You’ve outgrown the conditions that created them, but the scripts linger, uninvited, in the corners of your response system.

This is where I’m currently standing, personally: in the in-between.

Preparing for a physical move in thirty days, into a space that is only mine—no shared fields, no inherited moods, no ambient emotional architecture. Just a room, and me. Whatever is still in me or on me will finally have nowhere to hide.

And that’s the point.

Not for solitude’s sake, but to bring everything left into the light. To either strengthen or discard. To end the echo loop and walk forward without ghost signatures.

This isn’t isolation. It’s a self-led exit from the old resonance field.

TULWA as Diagnostic, Not Dogma

Here’s where TULWA enters—not as a belief, but as an instrument. Not to save, but to scan.

“You’re not walking toward meaning. You’re constructing continuity.”

That’s the difference. TULWA doesn’t offer transcendent escape. It offers precision tracking through the architecture of self.

Its core premise is structural:

• Consciousness is electromagnetic.
• Intention structures frequency.
• Residual patterns are signal leakage.

TULWA doesn’t ask for loyalty. It asks: what are you still resonating with that no longer belongs? It’s not trying to bathe you in more light. It’s trying to help you locate the distortion that’s misdirecting your field. In that way, TULWA is a compass, not a creed.

This article isn’t from the deep end of the TULWA framework. But the lens is active. Just enough to help tune the signal. Because if you can track the frequency… you can change the field.

So…Which Version of You Is Actually Broadcasting Right Now?

Sometimes it helps to stop dressing it up. Let’s ask it plainly.

When you feel yourself getting reactive, is it really the present version of you responding? Or is some outdated part of your story grabbing the mic without permission? Maybe it’s an old wound. A defensive script. A default setting you haven’t entirely cleared.

Think about your recent decisions. The desires that pulled you forward. Can you trace them? Are they truly yours—or did they slip in through obligation, habit, or the energetic residue of someone else’s influence?

One of the trickiest habits to shake is trying to convince people from your past to recognize the version of you that no longer depends on their approval. And if you’re doing that—if you’re still trying to be understood in a field you’ve already outgrown—then it’s not resonance you’re chasing. It’s closure.

And closure is rarely worth the frequency cost.

You don’t need to explain your clarity to a version of life built by your confusion. Just recognize when you’re still tuned to an old signal, and—gently—change the station.

Final Tuning Thoughts

The idea of parallel universes might be theoretical. The concept of multiverse yous might never be testable.

But here’s what is real: the version of you that’s currently showing up. The one broadcasting your thoughts, navigating your relationships, responding to the world in quiet or messy ways. That version? That’s the one crafting your lived reality, whether or not the cosmos holds infinite variations.

So maybe skip the deep cosmic ponderings for now. This weekend, just check your signal.

Not through meditation. Not through manifestation rituals. Just watch how you respond. Notice what feels like residue. Notice what pulls you off-course. Trace your reactions back to their source and ask: do I still want this part of me making choices?

You don’t have to go metaphysical to get real.

Parallel universes might be real—

—but misaligned selves?

They’re provable by lunchtime.

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Written in conversation with Frank-Thomas · Ponder AI