The Intuitive Scientist’s Way: Why modern science fails to solve the complex problems of contemporary life

My intention is not to “do science” in the conventional sense, but to practice intuitive science — a process of exploration, questioning, and synthesis guided by both knowledge and curiosity.

This is a space for exploration.

The writings here may contain mistakes, gaps, or incomplete details — and this is by design.

I work supradisciplinarily: I approach questions from many different perspectives at once, drawing from multiple fields and sources without being bound by any single discipline’s methods or conventions.

Over the years in my academic journey, I realized that the questions I truly care about — the ones that feel most alive and meaningful to me — do not fit neatly into my discipline’s boundaries, or any discipline’s boundaries. I had questions about humanity, time, space, cultures, politics, consciousness, the history of mankind, none of which can yet be fully addressed by the scientific method itself.

Even working with colleagues from multiple disciplines didn’t help, since we were all trained and authorized to operate within narrow slices of reality that are tightly regulated and validated by disciplinary gurus and authorities.

In fact, at some point, I felt that the very structures that were meant to support and guide me — my field, its frameworks, its methodologies — had turned into walls that restricted my movement. They were helpful for precision but inadequate for wholeness.

I discovered that these disciplinary structures were not neutral. By design, they ask us to focus, specialize, and reduce. Originating from a reductionist approach, they compel us to master small fragments rather than grasp living, evolving wholes.

Even interdisciplinary collaborations often fail because the participating disciplines still operate from isolated paradigms, unable to truly integrate their views.

Science itself, in fact, has been evolving by following an expansive approach. It has gradually expanded its context, moving from a focus on single domains to more complex forms of interaction across multiple fields, as seen below:

• Mono-disciplinarity: deeply studying a single domain.
• Intra-disciplinarity: specialization within subfields of that domain.
• Multi-disciplinarity: placing disciplines side by side without integrating them.
• Inter-disciplinarity: building bridges between disciplines.
• Trans-disciplinarity: transcending boundaries to address shared problems.
• Supra-disciplinarity: rising above all disciplines altogether, recognizing that no single framework can contain the reality we face today — and acknowledging their interconnections, blind spots, and common patterns.

While “supradisciplinarity” is not yet a widely used or standardized academic term, I intentionally use it to describe this way of working. I see its rarity not as a flaw but as a sign that this perspective is emerging and needed, reflecting the conditions of our time. This is part of my personal philosophy: to consciously move beyond disciplinary boundaries and walls, asking questions that are too large and too interconnected for traditional disciplinary frameworks to manage.

In today’s world, data is being generated continuously and at vast scale. But more data does not automatically mean more understanding.

In fact, reductionist approaches — which have served science so well for centuries — often lead us to break reality into smaller and smaller pieces until we lose sight of the whole. We scientists often focus on one branch of science, highly specialized, while knowledge itself emerges across the whole tree. Wasn’t knowledge supposed to emerge as a tree? One can easily lose sight of the big picture if committed too deeply to academia and specialization.

This is why systems and holistic thinking becomes essential. Let us remember the basics of systems theory:

• Systems are more than the sum of their parts (as Ludwig von Bertalanffy’s General Systems Theory reminds us).
• Systems exist within systems: reality is a nested hierarchy, with networks of interaction at every level.
• Systems are dynamic, self-organizing, and evolving.
• Reality itself is nonlinear, complex, and continuously changing.

I also realized that traditional scientific methods — involving rigorous, time-consuming study, detailed verification, peer review, and slow publication cycles- are invaluable for precision but inadequate for the kind of agile, holistic inquiry that my questions required.

If I wanted to answer even a single question properly, I would need to read thousands of pages, master dozens of vocabularies, cross-reference literatures from distinct fields. The path to knowledge acquisition had become so complex, rule-bound, citation-obsessed, and slow that it no longer supported learning or discovery — it had become a burden itself.

Therefore, I realized that a different approach was needed.

This led me to discover what I now call:

My curiosity begins with the questions that naturally arise from my own life, experience, and mind — not necessarily what society says it needs solved, nor what my field considers relevant and fundable.

I believe personal experiences are not isolated from the whole. Even deeply personal questions, when explored sincerely, can produce insights that are valuable to others and to society at large. The fact that they emerged from within adds soul, depth, and relevance to the field, and we can figure out answers to human beings’ deepest questions.

I believe we should not run away from the questions that arise from our inner being and instead focus on external priorities. I think focusing on inner questions connects us to others’ lived experiences and leads to exponentially beneficial outcomes because the answers touch lives.

Not to mention, I have never heard anyone talking about soul-deep questions, the heroine’s journey, or seekers in science. I have never heard of doing science to fulfill an inner craving and genuine curiosity. It has always been for the outer world and external needs.

So this is not a space of polished certainty. This is a space for sincere exploration. The writings you find here may contain mistakes, omissions, shortcuts — not because rigor doesn’t matter to me, but because I care more about moving quickly and openly, connecting ideas creatively, rather than getting stuck in endless detail and perfectionism.

If you notice something missing, incorrect, or worth exploring further, I genuinely welcome your feedback and suggestions.

Discovery flourishes when it is shared and co-created.

Thank you for being part of this journey — for your openness, curiosity, and contributions.

Remember: this method does not give you final answers — it invites you into co-invention.