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Chris Vigue Photography /  by Sam Fish

Future Human Endeavor [To Exist]: Reclaiming Purpose in an Automated Age /  by Sam Fish

I. The Beginning: From Energy to Culture: The Movement from Physical Coordination to Abstraction

Our communicative capacities — as methods of coordinating shared perception of reality — have grown increasingly abstract through time. Inextricable from our communication systems is how we work: how we strive together toward common goals, actualize collective potential, and benefit the whole.

Beginning at the energetic level, raw potentia actualized into thingness — striding upward into increasingly vertical atomic structures: quarks, electrons, atoms, molecules. This coming-together gave rise to single-celled organisms, then multicellular life, and eventually animal consciousness.

This emergence was not passive. It was the result of tension — of a kind of competitive striving. The first act of becoming was also a contest. Not a battle of domination, but a differentiation. The will to form is, at its root, a kind of will to participate — to stand in tension with the field so that relation can become meaningful. Competition, in this light, is not antagonistic to coherence but essential to it. It is through dialectical striving that coherence sharpens.

Roughly 10,000 years ago, another radical phase shift occurred. We transcended the purely physical layer of biology and entered an imitative behavioral layer — freeing us from the long timelines of genetic evolution. Working together and coordinating collective action could now be enacted through shared symbols and communication, not just instinct.

Through mimesis — imitation and learned behavior — we began shaping ourselves and our communities in dynamic relationship with our environments. We created tools and technologies that extended our adaptive reach: furs for warmth, projectile weapons for distance hunting, shelters for modifying habitat.

We began to "work" — and while our methods evolved, this work was always infused with meaning. It was never merely a utility function; it was an enactment of survival, coherence, and belonging within tightly knit communities. Our labor was a social and spiritual offering — a way of showing up in sacrificial service of the whole.

As we adapted and grew, the competitive frame shifted. Humanity had fewer biological threats. We had evolved beyond the purely survival-based contests of species against species. Instead, we began competing with each other. Civilization versus civilization. Group versus group. Our shared drive to actualize potential — to strive — now expressed itself at the inter-group level.

Yet even this competition, at its best, was not purely destructive. It was a pressure toward refinement — toward better coordination, deeper technology, more cohesive symbolic systems. The dialectical tension of difference could still generate coherence, if held in a shared frame.

II. The Transition from Symbol as Binding to Idol

The Agricultural Revolution and the Birth of Division

As we grew more dominant over our environments, we began to settle and fortify our communities. Agriculture allowed us to stay in place, concentrate resources, and focus inward. With this shift came a deepening of abstraction: our relationship to sustenance and labor became mediated through increasingly complex systems. We no longer worked directly for food; we maintained tools and systems that produced it for us.

This shift also redirected the competitive impulse. With expansion less necessary, civilizations began competing less through direct conflict and more through the refinement and hoarding of abstraction — controlling knowledge, technologies, and cosmologies as strategic advantages. Cross-cultural learning diminished; in its place, fear of loss and the desire for dominance took root.

Multipolar traps emerged. No group wanted to be the first to lay down arms or share information, lest they be overtaken. And so, abstraction — once a shared language of survival and communion — fractured into fragmented arms races of symbolic control. The original frame of competition-as-refinement collapsed into competition-as-domination. We began to compete not to build coherence, but to protect ourselves from the imagined (or real) threat of others.

Systems of Justification and the Fracturing of Meaning

To re-anchor abstraction to purpose, societies developed systems of justification — symbolic rituals, myths, and cosmologies that reminded us of the reasons we worked, sacrificed, and believed. Agricultural rites bound the symbolic to the material, reminding us that labor was sacred, that tools were gifts, that food was earned through alignment with greater cosmic rhythms.

These systems were not just explanatory; they were stabilizers of coherence. They took the potentially infinite play of abstraction and re-bound it to place, time, and meaning. They reminded us that competition, at its best, was a striving within reality — not against it. It was a force to sharpen the communal spirit, not to dissolve it.

But as abstraction accelerated, these binding rituals weakened. Those who controlled the symbols began to control society. Competition over meaning itself became the battleground. Religion ossified. Myth hardened into dogma. Power concentrated into those who could mediate — and manipulate — symbolic reality. Symbols no longer pointed beyond themselves; they became ends in themselves.

Abstraction was no longer a tool for shared navigation. It became idol. And in the worship of abstraction for its own sake, we lost the thread of purpose. We forgot that the entire project of abstraction was meant to help us see together — to bind reality through shared perception and communal striving.

We abstracted beyond our evolutionary constraints. Our tools outpaced our contexts. A lion can only kill one gazelle at a time. But we could build trawlers that empty oceans. There was no longer a natural limit. And so we kept scaling, kept abstracting — just to keep up. Just to survive the competition. The justification for growth vanished, replaced by the inertia of survival in a world unmoored from meaning.

III. Cities and the Rise of Civic Work

The Rise of Civic Identity and Labor as Ritual

As civilizations expanded, population centers gave rise to cities — dense clusters of symbolic life, architectural narrative, and bureaucratic function. These spaces reflected the abstraction of abstraction: layers upon layers of symbolic infrastructure organizing human behavior at scale.

The city was a container for labor, but also for meaning. It provided roles, rites, rhythms. You traveled into the city to work, to perform your civic function. You ate lunch downtown, socialized after — the entire urban rhythm was structured around showing up somewhere to get something done.

Even when work was abstract or alienating, it still brought people into relation. The shared choreography of showing up, clocking in, participating in something beyond oneself — this was still a kind of coherence. And with it came ritual: pubs after work, soccer teams with coworkers, the status of lunch spots, the choreography of daily transit. Even within the machinery of abstraction, there was still some semblance of community.

But something began to slip. As cities grew in size and complexity, the connection between labor and shared survival eroded. The roles people played became narrower, more specialized, and increasingly detached from any visible impact on communal life. The market began rewarding the most abstract forms of contribution — finance, intellectual property, speculative technologies — over the more tangible forms of service or stewardship.

IV. From Service to Signaling

The Symbol of Money: From Tool to Idol

At the center of this shift was money — a tool of abstraction meant to mediate exchange, originally tethered to shared systems of value (metals, goods, services). But over time, money itself became unmoored. From commodity to currency to fiat, it evolved into pure symbol — a free-floating referent worshipped not as tool but as truth.

This was the clearest case of abstraction turned idol. The purpose of money was forgotten; the symbol became the goal. Wealth was pursued not to build or bind community, but to accrue more wealth. The game became self-referential.

Market logic rewired work entirely. Labor became about optimization — not service. Productivity divorced from place. Innovation untethered from meaning. People no longer worked to serve the commons; they worked to signal competence within fragmented systems of status.

The Return of Competition — Now Without Coherence

Competition, once a pressure toward refinement within a shared frame, was now severed from coherence. Instead of competing to serve something greater, we competed to win in isolation. Symbolic capital — likes, clicks, titles, dollars — became the only metric of worth.

The feedback loop was brutal. Those who could best manipulate symbols — not those who most meaningfully contributed — rose to the top. Appearances triumphed over substance. Work was no longer about moving something forward together; it was about surviving in a symbolic economy increasingly divorced from reality.

What had once been ritual became performance. What had once been service became branding. The sacredness of labor — the existential dignity of contributing to something larger than oneself — was hollowed out.

Civic work, once a binding force of identity and coherence, became a treadmill of disembodied roles. And as remote work and digital abstraction accelerated, even the spatial coherence of cities began to dissolve. No longer physical centers of civic identity, cities morphed into logistical nodes for capital flow — housing units and data centers optimized for efficiency, not community.

The Urban Dislocation

Without embodied rituals, without spaces that reminded us of our shared participation, without symbols re-bound to meaning — we forgot how to work together. Not just in task, but in orientation. In why.

In this void, we returned to competition. But not the sacred competition that refines. A neurotic, survivalist mimicry. A race to appear valuable. Not to be valuable.

Yet the seeds of something deeper remain. Even in dislocation, humans long to strive. To contribute. To be part of something meaningful.

What we need now is not to abandon competition — but to re-bind it. To remember its role as a sacred tension, a pressure toward coherence, a dance between difference and unity. To reimagine work not as isolated utility, but as relational ritual.

This is what EXIT gestures toward. A symbolic architecture not for idol worship, but for re-integrating abstraction with purpose. A space to remember how to strive — together.

V. Toward a New Frame for Work


Rebinding Labor to Purpose in a Post-Utility Age

We are arriving at a civilizational threshold. The systems that once organized human striving — from tribal survival to religious ritual, from civic work to corporate labor — are dissolving under their own abstraction. As automation and AI advance, the scaffolding of necessity that propped up “work” for millennia is collapsing. The existential question surfaces: What now?

This isn’t just about economics. It’s about orientation. It’s about meaning. If utility is no longer our metric of worth, what becomes of effort? What becomes of striving?

What remains is the sacred impulse beneath all work — the will to participate. Not just to produce, but to commune. To shape, to cohere, to refine reality together.

In this light, work can no longer be framed as toil or transaction. It must become a kind of sacred play — a way of participating in the continued articulation of what matters. It becomes a ritual of contribution, no longer to survive, but to perceive together what’s worth surviving for.

This will require a re-binding of competition to coherence. Not competition as domination, but competition as mutual refinement. A sacred tension, not a war. This is the forgotten potential of rivalry: to draw each other upward.

But such a shift cannot happen in theory alone. It must be enacted. It must be given form. Which is why we need not just new ideas, but new places. Shared, embodied architectures that hold space for this transformation. Places that invite us not into performance, but into presence.

EXIT is one such architecture. Not a brand or business, but a living symbol — a civic psychotechnology — designed to re-integrate abstraction with purpose. To move us from idol to icon. From status to service. From fragmentation to flow.

What might come after work? Not nothing. But something like the work — the sacred effort of becoming, together.

VI. EXIT as Symbolic Infrastructure Practicing Coherence in Shared Space

If the crisis of modern work is symbolic — a severing of abstraction from embodied reality — then the response must also be symbolic. Not merely ideological, but architectural. We need environments that re-train perception. We need symbolic infrastructure that doesn’t just represent values, but enacts them.

EXIT is not just a gallery, a café, or a venue. It is a civic prototype — a psychotechnology in physical form. A shared architecture that invites people to re-participate in meaning-making through ritual, relation, and presence. Its aesthetics, programming, and symbolic motifs aren’t decoration; they are mnemonic triggers designed to re-bind our attention to what matters.

Every EXIT is an invitation to re-enter reality together. To reattune to the sacred tension of coexistence. To shift from transactional consumption to participatory becoming.

The aesthetic language of EXIT — from its iconography to its spatial layout — points toward what we’ve called re-integrative abstraction: symbolic form not as an escape from the world, but as a directional cue back into it. Like a cathedral pointed at the sky, or a hearth pulling the tribe into a circle, EXIT holds a shape that orients human presence toward coherence.

In an age where most cultural architecture is either commodified or hollow, EXIT offers a living grammar. A shared syntax of symbolic depth. A place where the work of being human — not producing, but perceiving — can be practiced, together.

As automation strips away our survival-based labor, we are given a strange and sacred task: to learn to see again. To remember how to use symbol not as idol, but as mirror and torch. EXIT is one such mirror — and one such torch.

VII. Post-Work Possibilities


 From Utility to Being: The Play Beyond Survival

We are entering a phase where human labor is no longer essential for material survival. AI, automation, and scalable technological systems threaten to render most work — even creative and intellectual labor — obsolete. This is not speculative science fiction; it is already happening. And while this might seem like liberation, it also confronts us with a crisis of meaning.

If survival and utility are no longer driving forces, what remains?

This is not a technical problem. It is an existential one. For centuries, “work” has provided the structure for identity, social cohesion, and moral worth. It has been how we contributed, how we mattered, how we were seen. The fading of utility forces us into an older, deeper question:

What is the human for?

Perhaps this moment is not an end, but a return — an opportunity to re-enter the primordial coherence from which abstraction first emerged. When our ancestors labored, they did so with reverence. The hunt, the harvest, the carving of tools — these were not chores, but rituals. Every act of survival was also an act of participation with reality.

Could we now reclaim this orientation — not through necessity, but through play? Could we return to work not as obligation, but as sacred creativity?

In the absence of external threat, perhaps we can reframe competition as an inner striving — a dialectic within and between us to refine, to beautify, to cohere. Instead of vying for domination, we might learn to strive for resonance. Not who wins, but what harmonizes.

We may begin to treat labor as liturgy — a collective enactment of care, of beauty, of attention. The impulse to build, to coordinate, to bring forth novelty — these do not vanish when utility disappears. They become freed.

But we will need new architectures. New myths. New spaces where this post-utilitarian striving can take form.

We must build symbolic containers that reframe human effort as a meaningful expression of Being — not a task, not a signal, not a performance, but a participation.

EXIT is one such prototype: a re-integrative social infrastructure that invites shared awareness, embodied coordination, and aesthetic coherence. A frame not for productivity, but for presence. A platform not for extracting value, but for making meaning.

If we no longer work to survive — then let us work to remember. Let us labor toward coherence. Let us play at the edge of the real.

VIII. Rebinding Competition: Toward a New Symbolic Game

If competition is not the enemy, but a formative pressure that — when rightly held — sharpens coherence, then the real crisis is not that we compete, but how and for what we compete.

We need a new symbolic infrastructure — one that reframes competition as a sacred striving rather than a neurotic race. This begins with remembering the original function of abstraction: to allow us to coordinate perception, to build together, and to relate across difference in service of the Whole.

EXIT proposes a reintegration of this function. It is not a retreat from competition, but a redesign of the gameboard. A reframing of labor, status, and contribution as aesthetic, participatory offerings — not empty performances for extractive platforms.

Rather than abandoning symbolic play, we imbue it with purpose. We treat the symbolic as a field of shared meaning again — not a currency of division. We make the competitive drive visible, conscious, and bounded by higher-order goals: coherence, beauty, insight, mutual refinement.

In this frame, to “win” is to serve. To succeed is to align with the emergent Whole. Competition becomes the pressure that polishes — not the force that fragments.

This reframing doesn’t demand we all agree. It doesn’t ask us to suppress difference or avoid conflict. On the contrary — it relies on difference. But it situates that difference in a relational architecture that rewards synthesis, not separation.

The old economy of work was built on scarcity: the idea that value must be extracted, hoarded, and defended. But in the post-utility age, the real scarcity is meaning. The new economy of work — of symbolic play — must be built on generativity: the ability to create value through presence, insight, and relational alignment.

We do not need to compete less. We need to compete differently. As sacred play. As public offering. As mythic rehearsal. As a striving toward ever-deepening coherence.

And that requires space. Real, physical, communal space — to rehearse new games. To remember how to relate. To build the symbolic rituals of a culture yet to come.

This is what EXIT offers: a prototype for the reintegration of competition and coherence. A civic vessel for practicing the next economy of attention, care, and creation. A way out — and through — the collapse of meaning.

IX. EXIT: The Work That Remembers

EXIT is not a product. It is not a brand. It is not merely a space. EXIT is a mnemonic device — a symbolic intervention meant to help us remember how to work together again. It is a tool to re-bind abstraction to meaning, to reframe competition as coherence, to reorient attention toward shared becoming.

In EXIT, work becomes ritual once more. But not rote performance. It is ritual as rehearsal — as improvisational coordination toward an unknown but felt telos. The work is not to produce widgets or accumulate symbols. The work is to figure it out together. To re-weave a culture of symbolic fidelity, where our representations point beyond themselves and back to the Real.

The aesthetic language of EXIT embodies this aim. In the paintings, we see figures emerging from figuration — half-formed, reaching, dissolving, combining. These are renderings of distributed meta-cognition: not images of answers, but depictions of the process of asking. The process of becoming-with. Of striving-toward.

EXIT is artwork as philosophical infrastructure. It is labor as aesthetic offering. It is a reintegrative abstraction: abstraction that leads us back to presence, back to coherence, back to participation.

This is the new work. Not the extraction of value, but the cultivation of sense. Not the hoarding of status, but the building of meaning. Not the signaling of alignment, but the enacting of communion.

The future of work is not post-human. It is post-utility. It is a return to sacred play.

And EXIT is the invitation to begin — a reminder that the existential process is not abstract, but embodied. That life is a living philosophy. That context itself — when rightly framed — becomes a shared space for falling in love with being together again.

EXIT helps us recognize that space has always held this potential. By recontextualizing our environments as vessels for participatory wisdom-seeking, it reveals that the work now is not to escape, but to enact — together.

X. Coda: The Civic Rehearsal

This essay is not a manifesto. It is not a prophecy. It is a rehearsal.

A rehearsal for the next symbolic game. A practice round for remembering how to live together again. A speculative draft of a culture not yet born.

EXIT is not the answer. But it is a portal. It is a threshold-space where new civic myths can be prototyped. Where the tension between difference and unity can be played with, held, transformed. Where abstraction can become transparent to its own telos: the binding of the many to the real.

In a time of fragmentation, EXIT offers a rehearsal for coherence. In a time of idol worship, it offers a return to symbol-as-direction. In a time of meaning crisis, it offers not meaning, but the practice of meaning-making.

This is our civic work now. To build the spaces where symbolic life can be reborn. To rehearse new patterns of attention, presence, and care. To show up, again and again, not with perfect clarity, but with shared commitment to the process.

The EXIT is not away. It is into.

Into the game. Into the ritual. Into the sacred struggle to make sense.

Together.

'THE LISTENING ROOM' RECAP /  by Sam Fish

photography by Marcus Earl

CIVIC META-INFRASTRUCTURE /  by Sam Fish

INTRODUCTION: THE GROUND IS FALLING

“We used to build pathways for transportation. Now we must build spaces for transformation.”

Our common core of Understanding—what we all stand/under—has disintegrated. The fundamental ground of what we might once have called shared existential identity is fissured—close to beyond repair.

Reality has been reduced to an algorithmically manipulated feed—the ultimately consumptive and isolating ontological stance. We no longer experience reality directly together; it is administered to us individually in titrated doses, like fentanyl for the brain. We scroll, we numb, we forget what we even ate.

In the cultural paralysis that keeps us suspended in this loop, something deeper is being revealed. The old coordinates that once drew us out of our zombie-like state—social, spiritual, symbolic—no longer hold. And nothing coherent has replaced them. (The zombie is the mythic archetype of our age: soulless, unaware, caught in endless consumption without transformation. The symbol isn’t metaphorical—it’s infrastructural.)

Our capacity for memory—to re-member ourselves—is eroding. We’ve lost contact with the trajectory of real, embodied experience. The thread of lived reality has been replaced by algorithmically manipulated simulation. What we once lived, we now perform. What we once remembered, we now render.

In this shift, ‘memory’ as lived continuity has been replaced by ‘meme’—a digital, commodified shorthand for cultural participation. Memes reverberate through the culture faster than reflection ever could. In many ways, a meme is a stereotype of a shared human moment—a flattened echo of what we might otherwise live through together. But instead of living it, we share it. We like it. We signal that we belong.

And yet, the driving force behind meme culture isn’t meaning—it’s engagement. The most viral symbols are not those grounded in truth, beauty, or goodness, but those optimized for salience. Our cultural signals are no longer calibrated for depth—they are calibrated for clicks.

This isn’t richness of information, but smoothness—thin, limbically hijacking, instantly transmissible. And now, artificial intelligence outperforms us at this game—because it’s been trained on our full behavioral dataset. It knows how to mimic meaning faster than we can remember how to make it.

Look at the meme-driven rise of running clubs, where genuine discipline is reduced to aesthetic performance. Movement becomes content. Presence becomes performance. We act to be seen acting.

Our cities, once vessels for the sacred, are now engines of consumption. Our institutions, once aspirational, have become adversarial or irrelevant. And our attention—the primary currency of human meaning-making—has been flattened, extracted, and sold back to us as spectacle.

We are not just in crisis. We are in a meta-crisis—a collapse of the symbolic frameworks that once helped us orient to being. How did we get here?

We’d argue the crisis began with a split: “I think, therefore I am.”
Descartes’ formulation, meant to ground knowledge in certainty, instead severed mind from body, self from world. It framed consciousness as isolated observer—disembodied, rational, and removed.

This Cartesian abstraction became the metaphysical foundation of modernity. Enlightenment thought privileged reason over ritual, measurement over meaning. The cosmos was no longer a living whole—it became a machine. And humans, its master operators.

Out of this grew modern institutions: universities, markets, bureaucracies. They coordinated at scale, but at the cost of soul. The sacred was privatized. Ritual was replaced by regulation. And the animating myth of the modern world became progress—measured by growth, speed, and control.

As this logic calcified, a new infrastructure emerged to manage perception itself.

The 20th-century infrastructure for meaning-making—what Jordan Hall calls the Blue Church—was built for a slower, more stable world. It relied on centralized broadcast authority, institutional consensus, and top-down coordination to hold society together. Its underlying logic was the secular offspring of post-Enlightenment rationalism: that progress, growth, and reason would be our salvation.

But in the absence of shared myth or ritual, worship didn’t disappear—it simply migrated. The sacred was sublimated into the market. Our rituals became transactions. Our cathedrals became shopping malls. Our gods became brands. And the dominant liturgy of the Blue Church became: “growth is good, no matter what.”

As trust in this system decayed—under ecological strain, financial collapse, and spiritual disillusionment—postmodernism emerged as critique. It exposed the cracks: the exclusions, the colonial shadows, the failures of universalism. But without a new story to replace it, the critique became totalizing. It didn’t rewrite the myth—it erased it. And into that void, we poured a new kind of golden calf.

The postmodern condition radicalized the language of care, weaponizing it into a new moral order. Worship didn’t vanish—it turned inward. The systemic abstractions of progress were replaced by intensely personal narratives of harm, identity, and victimhood—each with their own dogmas, taboos, and rites.

Wholeness was no longer the aim; fragmentation became a virtue. Power was relocated from institutions to feelings. Critique itself became a form of salvation.

This cultural shift was necessary—but incomplete. In rejecting the failures of modernism, we also rejected the possibility of transcendence. And what we were left with was aestheticized fragmentation and spiritual exhaustion.

What we need now is integration.

As Ken Wilber and other integral theorists have shown, evolution must include and transcend. We must learn to hold traditional depth, modern structure, and postmodern sensitivity—together. We must recover coherence without falling back into dogma. We must reawaken the sacred—not as superstition, but as symbolic orientation. A rational, embodied, relational spirituality—practiced in space and time.

EXIT is a prototype of this integration.

A civic meta-infrastructure not designed to dictate belief, but to host awareness.
To provide the symbolic scaffolding and spatial rhythm through which Transcendence can re-enter public life—not as ideology, but as lived participation.

It is infrastructure for reorientation.
A vessel for remembering.
A mirror for becoming.

What’s missing is not more content.
What’s missing is infrastructure—not just steel and software, but shared sense and direction.

II. THE FAILURE OF EXISTING INFRASTRUCTURE

Infrastructure has always mirrored what we value:

Aqueducts for water.
Roads for trade.
Schools for knowledge.
The internet for speed.

As abstraction advanced, so did our capacity to coordinate.
From projectile weapons to farming tools.
From formal language to emojis—symbols for global, empathic connection.

But now our abstract technologies have layered so thickly over reality that they’ve become ends in themselves—detached from their original purpose. We have lost their meaning, and we have no infrastructure to help us remember it.

The earliest commons were forums—for gathering, exchanging, and reflecting on what mattered most. But as culture evolved, these functions fragmented. Commerce. Health. Faith. Abstracted. Dislocated. Until finally: data.

Meaning was no longer lived. It was digitized, distributed, and commodified.

We now drift through a virtual world governed by corporate logic. Our survival risk is low, but our existential risk is high—and abstract. So we transpose the ego into a game online, and the game rewards manipulation.

We’ve lost not just attention—we’ve lost the frame.

It’s not only that we can’t focus. It’s that we no longer know what to focus on. The structure that once tethered attention to meaning is gone. And so, attention loops back onto the self—atomized, aestheticized, addicted.

Hell is not hypothetical. It is a perceptual condition—when the loops of attention close entirely around performance, consumption, and fear. Look at our bodies, hunched and bent inward toward glowing rectangles. The zombie is no longer a cinematic metaphor. Walk through any city. It’s viscerally real.

Today:

  • Physical infrastructure moves bodies.

  • Digital infrastructure moves data.

  • But nothing helps us move together—in perception, in direction, in shared awareness of what matters.

We lack a nervous system for cultural sense-making.
No symbolic scaffolding.
No orientation.
No holding space.

This is the void EXIT exists to address. re-drawing our relationship to Existence itself.

III. WHAT IS CIVIC META-INFRASTRUCTURE?

“The most important systems of the 21st century won’t be visible. But they will be felt.”

Civic meta-infrastructure is not built from concrete or code. It is built from ritual, rhythm, symbolic language, space, and design.

It doesn’t extract attention—it frames it. It doesn’t impose meaning—it creates the conditions for meaning to emerge. It doesn’t broadcast content—it invites participation.

It is the nervous system of culture—the scaffolding that helps us metabolize complexity so we don’t collapse beneath it. A living architecture for our shared symbolic life.

As Jordan Hall articulates in his vision of Civium, the next evolution of civilization will not be held together by nation-states or market systems alone, but by sense-making environments—coherent symbolic and cognitive ecologies capable of hosting collective intelligence. EXIT can be seen as a proto-node of that environment: a civic container for participatory coherence.

To move forward, we must construct civic scaffolding that allows us to re-socialize ourselves with the transcendent. Infrastructure where the sacred can re-enter public life not as ideology or abstraction, but as felt experience—as ritual, relation, and existential stance.

This requires a crucial cognitive shift: the naturalization of the transcendent. Not as a supernatural claim, but as a recognition of the suchness of the between—the ontologically real quality of what emerges when we become mutually aware, together. This is the work of distributed meta-cognition: learning to perceive the relational field as a kind of sacred terrain.

EXIT exists to facilitate this awareness. Its design, aesthetics, and symbolic framing are all oriented toward making this relational truth perceptible again. EXIT is not just a space—it is a structure for remembering. A framework that makes space for transcendence to be felt, practiced, and integrated as a shared existential reality.

Civic meta-infrastructure is not an ideology. It is a format. A space where presence is hosted. A rhythm where value can emerge. A frame that keeps meaning alive, open, and relational.

EXIT is a prototype of that format.
A nervous system for collective sense-making.
A vessel for symbolic coherence in an age of fragmentation.
A place where the sacred can once again be known—not as something outside us, but something between us.

IV. EXIT AS A PROTOTYPE

EXITs contextualize the shared Existential Process itself—as a way of grounding us inside a lived, intrinsically transformational ontological framework. Where the purpose is not transaction, but transformation. Where the aim is not content, but coherence. EXIT frames the practice of human communication and interaction as ritual. It is not merely a venue—it is a civic vessel. A space for symbolic attunement. A temple for relational presence.

EXIT reclaims the language of commerce and architecture—not to sell, but to reorient. To host perception. To signal transition. To remind us that the world is not made of things, but of relations.

“What are you exiting?”

Each EXIT is a soft container, a threshold, an anchor. Carefully calibrated to host:

  • Spatial cues that guide attention

  • Ritual design that slows perception

  • Language that opens symbolic space

EXIT is designed to scaffold the perception of the sacred—not as dogma, but as a practice. It doesn’t deliver answers—it holds openings. It doesn’t function as a venue for entertainment—but as an ecology for existential participation.

It is a meta-structure for distributed meta-cognition. A place where the real between can be felt, known, and practiced. Where the transcendent becomes naturalized—through presence, orientation, and relational stance.

EXIT doesn’t seek to scale like a startup. It seeks to stabilize relevance—to model coherence in a fragmented world. It is an open node for culture to cohere around—not to dictate what is true, but to give space for truth to be pursued together.

It steals the language of physical transportation, quite naturally, and repurposes it for metaphysical transformation. Each EXIT is a portal—not to escape, but to arrive.

V. A NEW PUBLIC SERVICE: Designing for Attention, Not Extraction

If attention is sacred, public space must protect it. But nearly every space we enter today is designed to hijack it.

Retail. Culture. Social media. Even “art.” These are no longer spaces of reflection, but ambient manipulation. We don’t enter environments—we enter persuasion engines.

EXIT proposes a different kind of public service.
Not one of delivery—but of existential orientation.

“EXIT is not entertainment. It is not escape. It is a site of civic metabolism—where we digest reality together.”

Like libraries once held knowledge, EXIT holds presence. A civic system for returning attention to itself. A structure for hosting the sacred act of perception.

EXIT does not demand performance. It invites being.
It is not a spectacle—it is a frame.
It is not an answer—it is a rhythm.

EXIT is a lobby for life itself—a shared space where we can collectively remember how to be, and become, again. A scaffolding for re-socializing ourselves with the transcendent.
A place to practice shared becoming.

VI. WHY NOW? Before the Symbolic Floor Collapses

We are already inside the breakdown.
Climate collapse. Economic instability. Cultural fragmentation.
But beneath them all: the symbolic floor—the foundational architecture of shared meaning—is giving way.

When that floor collapses, spectacle fills the void.
Conflict replaces connection.
Addiction replaces ritual.
Visibility replaces significance.

This is why we must build now—while there’s still something to stand on.

EXIT is not a solution. It is a preemptive intervention.
A living prototype for the spaces we’ll need to metabolize the present—without succumbing to it.

We cannot wait for total collapse to realize we needed new vessels for coherence.
We must start building them now.

VII. CONCLUSION: The Next Infrastructure Is Meaning

EXIT is not a product.
It is a practice.
It is not a brand.
It is a threshold.
It is not a theory.
It is a lived frame—a public invitation into symbolic coherence.

EXIT is the prototype for a future civic architecture:
– where perception is protected,
– where attention is attuned,
– where meaning is made real again.

Because without symbolic infrastructure, culture becomes content.
Experience becomes performance.
And meaning becomes impossible.

EXIT offers a way out—not as escape, but as entry.
Not a departure from the real, but a re-immersion into it.

“What might it feel like to become human again—together?”

Let Boston be the place that remembers.
Let EXITs be the scaffolding.
Let this be the invitation—to begin.

EXIT Galleries Presents Ethereal Visions on August 11 2023 /  by Sam Fish

The up and coming Boston based hip/hop collective will be performing live from inside the EXIT installation & venue space on Friday August 11, 2023 7pm. Photographer Issac Wheatley got together with the crew ahead of their upcoming show at EXIT.

TICKETS