Anamnesis.
RECORD
MODEL
MIRROR
SEALED
Anamnesis.
Greek for the unforgetting. Not an app, not a notes system — an architecture for a self.
I have journaled for years — by hand, in three registers: a monthly log, inner thoughts, three lines a day. Anamnesis is what happens when that record stops being paper. Every page is photographed, transcribed verbatim, and filed with its provenance intact. Nothing is summarised on the way in. A person is a history, not a snapshot, and the record is additive — it grows, it never overwrites.
On top of the record sits a living model of who I am and what I’m after — documents that evolve conversationally over time: the self-model, the patterns, the affirmations, the future self. The whole thing syncs both ways with a private vault on my phone, so the record is readable and writable from anywhere and the mirror never goes stale.
The interesting part is the panel. The record can be read through different lenses, each one built and tuned for a different kind of honesty: a worldview profiler. A ruthless decoder that strips the story I’m telling myself down to what’s underneath. A literary voice. A curator. A widest-aperture diagnostic that cross-references everything. Two standing jobs run in the background of every session: surface what’s been missed, and name the hidden blockers. I choose the mirror; the record doesn’t flinch.
The systems connect. Sky Above — the astrology engine I built and shipped as its own product — got a personal API and an MCP server, and Anamnesis speaks to it directly: one thing I made, wired in as an instrument of another. The boundary is hard and one-way. The engine feeds the record; the record never leaves for the engine.
It is deliberately therapeutic infrastructure. Speaking thoughts into a system that remembers everything I’ve written — and answers from it — turns out to be one of the more honest conversations available. My version of the Meditations, except it talks back and keeps the receipts.
It lives in a local repository with no remote, mirrors to nowhere, and has no interface beyond the command line — because it is only for me. There are no screenshots here and there will be no findings. What the mirror shows stays in the file.
Every handwritten page is photographed and transcribed word for word, and nothing is summarised on the way in.
Each entry is filed with its provenance intact, so the record can always say where a line came from.
Three registers sit side by side and the record only grows, because a person is a history, not a snapshot.
The self-model, the patterns, the affirmations and the future self sit on top of the record and evolve in conversation rather than being rewritten.
I choose the mirror: each lens reads the same record for a different kind of honesty, and the record does not flinch.
Under every session two jobs run in the background: surface what has been missed, and name the hidden blockers.
Sky Above speaks to the record through its own MCP server, and the bridge runs one way: the engine feeds the record, and the record never leaves for the engine.
The record syncs both ways with a private vault on my phone, so the mirror is readable and writable from anywhere and never goes stale.
It lives in a local repository with no remote and no interface beyond the command line, because it is only for me.