Tres Libri de Solve et Coagula is a literary triptych that explores the transformational rhythm of breaking and becoming. Across three distinct volumes—Fatherdom, Hellas, and Play—the series follows the alchemical cycle of dissolution (solve) and reconstitution (coagula), mapped across a deeper philosophical trinity: Logos, Eros, and Thanatos. These are not just themes—they are forces, archetypal energies that shape every structure we build, destroy, or dare to dance within.
Fatherdom embodies Logos—the structured search for identity, purpose, and patriarchal order. Hellas descends into Eros—not romantic love, but raw chaos, fragmentation, and the fertile dark where order breaks down. Play emerges as Thanatos—the trickster's liberation, where death is not an end but a release into creative disruption. Each book stands alone, yet together they trace the full arc of psychological and spiritual transformation.
This is not a self-help series. It is a mirror, a myth, a set of ceremonial texts for those navigating collapse and reassembly—within culture, within self, and within meaning itself.
Fatherdom is a meditation on identity, authority, and the weight of inherited structures. It explores the archetype of the father—not just as a man, but as a symbol of order, discipline, and legacy. Through reflections that are part memoir, part mythic inquiry, it examines what it means to become a man in the shadow of fathers—both biological and institutional. This is a book about building structure when none was given, and then questioning what that structure really serves.
At its core, Fatherdom is not a celebration of patriarchy, but a reckoning with it. It does not seek to destroy the father figure, but to refine it—to burn away false authority and find the truer essence within. It is the Logos stage: the architecture of meaning, the scaffolding of selfhood, and the necessary illusion we must believe in, if only to later outgrow it.
Hellas is the dissolution. A descent into entropy, loss, and the seductive pull of meaninglessness. It strips away the scaffolding built in Fatherdom and lays bare the abyss beneath our systems. Drawing from chaos theory, classical myth, and raw existential thought, Hellas does not offer a map—it offers a mirror, fractured and unrelenting.
It is a book about collapse—not with despair, but with clarity. The beauty of Hellas lies in its surrender. It teaches that meaning cannot be forced, that sometimes the most honest act is to let go. This is the Eros phase—chaos as creation, fragmentation as truth, and the silence between answers where the soul is tested.
Play is the third movement—the synthesis. After order has failed and chaos has passed through, what remains is not resolution, but a return to lightness. In Play, the trickster emerges. The jester. The child. The book embraces irony, recursion, absurdity, and the freedom that comes not from having answers, but from realizing you never needed them.
Structured around twelve archetypal stories, Play dances between fiction, philosophy, and personal narrative. It does not try to restore the world—it skips through the ruins, planting joy like weeds. This is the Thanatos phase—not death as finality, but as transformation. It is the sacred foolishness that emerges when we’ve stopped needing control, and start learning how to live again.
Together, these three works form my magnum opus—a single body of transformation shaped by three currents: Spiritus Ordinis, the breath of structure; Spiritus Chaos, the breath of dissolution; and Spiritus Fabula, the breath of reimagining through story. This is not merely a trilogy—it is a cycle of becoming.
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