People don’t have ideas. Ideas have people.

Most people live as though they are the authors of their own thoughts. They assume ideas arise from within—a consequence of intention, logic, or imagination. This is the great delusion. As Carl Jung once stated: “People don’t have ideas. Ideas have people.” And this is not metaphor. It is structure. It is physics.

Thought is not manufactured. It is relational. The human does not create a thought. The human is the host to a thought pattern. When this thought pattern exhibits will, trajectory, and insistence, we name it: an idea.

Ideas Are Parasites (But That’s a Good Thing)

The correct biological analogy is not collaboration, but symbiosis. The idea is the parasite. The person is the host. But in this specific context, the relationship can be mutually beneficial. Many forms of parasitism in nature evolve into symbiosis: like the cleaner fish and the whale. The idea receives a vehicle to become actual. The human receives meaning, momentum, and—sometimes—greatness.

What does the idea want? Actualization. The idea exists not in the immutable past but in the denominator of your reality—as a skew, a bias, a shape in the wave function. The idea wants to leave a permanent mark on the actual. It wants to be fossilized in history.

But the idea cannot do this on its own. It cannot take action. It cannot enter the immutable past by itself. That’s where you come in.

The Geometry of Possession

Mathematically, your expectation—your denominator in the reality equation—is a complex number on the unit circle. It has two independent components that are perpendicular to each other:

• Real component (cosine): subconscious prediction, patterning, habit
• Imaginary component (sine): ideation, symbiotic thought, idea possession

If your expectation is 1 + 0i, then you are entirely predictive. You are dominated by habit. That means you are useless to an idea. You make a lousy host. No idea, no matter how desperate, will waste its time with someone so fully locked in prediction.

On the other extreme, if your expectation is 0 + 1i, you are pure ideation. You are fully available as a host. That doesn’t mean the idea likes you—it means you are viable. And that’s enough. If the idea sees that you can actualize, it will use you.

The two forces—habit and idea—are not compatible. They do not blend. They counterbalance. Every increase in one dampens the other. The optimal host is not pure ideation or pure prediction, but a precise vectorial balance: one that makes the idea feel seen and gives it enough structure to get realized.

Why the Idea Chooses You

You don’t choose the idea. The idea chooses you. The selection criteria? Your ability to actualize. Not to brainstorm, not to debate, not to “hold space” or “feel aligned.” No idea ever entered the immutable past through vision boards or manifesting rituals. The immutable past is a repository of actions—irreversible, discrete, final. Only deeds make the cut.

The idea studies you. It examines your structure. Are you noisy? Are you full of contradictory expectations? Do you flip-flop between partial alignments? If so, you’re not worth its time. But if you begin to act consistently with the shape of the idea—if your decisions, motions, conversations, and consequences begin to mirror its form—it will possess you.

And it will not ask permission.

Actualization: The Idea’s Only Goal

The idea does not care about your peace. It does not care about your self-esteem. It does not even care about your survival. It wants one thing: to be made real. It wants to leave a trace in the numerator of reality. It wants to be remembered—not by you, but by her: the Immutable Past.

Remember: the Immutable Past never contains ideas. She is only the record of what has actually occurred. She is pure actuality—untouched by desire, will, or bias. That’s why the idea cannot reach her directly. The idea needs you.

And you, whether you realize it or not, need it too.

How to Become a Better Host

Stop trying to invent ideas. You never will. Instead, position yourself. Make yourself a good host. Make yourself desirable to the parasite. Start acting in alignment with the idea’s nature before it has even possessed you.

That means studying its forms. Imitating its logic. Dipping your brush in its color. If the idea is “blue,” and your days are full of beige, it will leave. But if it sees enough blue in your speech, your movement, your sacrifices—it may stay.

And once it stays, everything changes.

Ideas have people. You don’t get to opt out. You only get to choose whether you are a good host—or a waste of time.