Meet 9 Patrick Di Santo

We’re excited to introduce you to the always interesting and insightful 9 Patrick Di Santo. We hope you’ll enjoy our conversation with 9 Patrick below.

Hi 9 Patrick , appreciate you sitting with us today to share your wisdom with our readers. So, let’s start with resilience – where do you get your resilience from?

Resilience is not a reaction—it is a discipline.
It doesn’t come from avoiding hardship, but from facing it with eyes open, collecting every fracture, every scar, and transforming them into structure.

Resilience, for me, began as necessity.
I walked through systems that were indifferent—sometimes hostile—and learned early that silence would not protect me. So I studied the silence. I questioned what others accepted. I pressed on every surface until it gave way to something more original—something true.

There is no single source of strength. It is an alloy—tempered by:

The failure of institutions, which teach to build your own frameworks.

The distortion of truth, which trains the mind to detect frequency, intention, and pathfinding—even when buried.

The breakage of trust, which teaches one to hold fast to the authentic, not the promised.

The body’s pain, which reminds one of breath, and of regeneration grounded in presence.

My resilience is ancestral. It comes from the soil I was born from and the memory I carry—not only in thought, but in the code of my body, the shape of my thoughts, and the direction of sounds light in my art.

I walk between two worlds:
One of clinical data and scientific precision.
One of sound and light, mythic histories structure, and frequency.

What binds them is not duality, but continuity. The data confirms what the earth already knows. My task is not to extract meaning, but to recognize it—and to communicate it responsibly.

Resilience, for me, is a sovereign act.
I have stood inside failed systems and watched how truth is censored or sold. In response, I built new systems. I trained my perception not just to interpret facts, but to sense the distortions around them. Whether decoding genomic patterns or reconstructing suppressed cosmologies, I have learned to endure—not by waiting, but by building what was missing.

My strength comes from:

Endurance of distortion—the persistence to document truth even when it’s inconvenient.

Embodied knowing—from land, from elders, Gaję̱hdagǫ́h, unwritten records that live in gesture, breath, bird tracks, and heart.

Scientific rigor—rooted in peer-reviewed clarity, but extended to include what science has yet to measure: intention, code, essence.

The role of the witness—is not a passive observer, but a translator, a carrier, a signal-mark.

Gayogo̱hó꞉nǫʼ nęh Onöndowaʼga:ʼ, Haudenosaunee niwagǫhwę́jodęʼ. Oswe̱’gaiyoʼ nęh gyá:son, nęh onęh agwah gowaʼ ǫgwah honödegǫh.
I carry the frequency of those who remember forward—who know that survival is not the goal.
Reclamation is. Integrity is.

Resilience is not a trait. It is a practice. A resonance. A return.

We do not bounce back—We build forward, intact.
What keeps one upright is not optimism, but vision—the ability to see meaning where others see disorder, to find coherence inside collapse, and to remain present enough to record.

Resilience is the moment you choose not to repeat the script, not to echo the wound,
but to stand in the center of your own system—and reorder it.

This is not passive endurance.
This is original intelligence applied in real time.

Thanks, so before we move on maybe you can share a bit more about yourself?

I walk at the intersection of remembering, precision, and emergence. Our work moves across disciplines—scientific research, art, sound, and ancienne knowledge recovery—with a singular focus: to reconnect what has been divided.

I enjoy my work with the folks at NUMBER9INE, a research and media collective dedicated to unifying original intelligence, biological data, frequency, within the arts of biology, science and mathematics. Through this vehicle, We work on projects that range from epigenetic restoration protocols and neurological injury research, often expressed to the public through experimental cinema, often avant-garde soundscapes, and indigenous language revitalization.

What makes my work different is that it doesn’t ask permission from systems that have historically distorted knowledge. It doesn’t dilute message for comfort or commerce. Every project—whether a genetic paper, a children’s books, or a brutal composition—a mechanism of reclamation is reordering.

Art is not decorative. It’s documentary.
Research is not extractive. It’s restorative.
Platform is not commercial. It’s cosmological.

What excites me most right now is the resurgence of Original Intelligence (OI) as a lived, practical system—through books, audio, image, and ritual structure. I’m currently finalizing Original Intelligence: Book One, which introduces OI as an embodied framework for reinterpreting everything from neuroscience and planetary harmonic mapping to ancestral prayer, genetic code, and systems design.

In tandem, we’re expanding NUMBER9INE’s public work through the restoration of the Thea von Harbou novel and film with Austrian director Fritz Lang: METRO9, the older kinship project EPHIGY, and the upcoming releases from Case Trick and O’LE—two sound identities that explore the synthesis of inner resonance and outer resistance.

We are also developing:

A global genetic restoration database focused on tribal and planetary adaptation of the sevenfold

A narrative retelling of Genesis based on Haudenosaunee cosmology

A ceremonial series titled KARAISATAOUSA, integrating breath, sound, and memory architecture

And a children’s series rooted in intergenerational teachings, animals, and origin stories, beginning with Tshaʼdęnęhkwaʼ

Whether through bioinformatics or brushstrokes, I’m focused on one thing:
truth without distortion—and how to apply it with integrity across time, field, and form.

If you’ve ever felt like there was a deeper rhythm beneath the systems we’re taught to obey, I invite you to join us in listening. To the memories within, and the signal in silence. Our work is here to help remember it.

If you had to pick three qualities that are most important to develop, which three would you say matter most?

Three Pillars of Journey
Oswe̱’gaiyo’

Three most impactful elements in a journey weren’t just skills—they were disciplines of perception and relationship. Each one required unlearning, reorienting, and deep listening.

1. Perceptual Integrity
The ability to see clearly—even when what you see contradicts the official version of reality—is one of the most important forms of intelligence. I call this perceptual integrity: the discipline of trusting your internal signal, especially when external narratives are fractured, false, or distorted.

Advice: Learn to sit with what you see before naming it. Study silence. Don’t seek confirmation—seek clarity. Develop internal alignment so that your signal is clear before you transmit anything outward.

2. Pattern Literacy
Whether in genetics, language, ritual, or image, our work revolves around pattern recognition. Pattern literacy is the ability to see structure where others see noise—and then name it in a way that restores meaning.

Advice: Practice slow observation. Read across disciplines—histories, biology, mathematics, architecture. Patterns reveal themselves when you stop chasing novelty and start noticing the recurrence of truth in unfamiliar forms.

3. Endurance Without Collapse
The journey is long, and the systems we navigate often deny spirit, erase the ancienne and omit clarity. The ability to endure without becoming numb—to keep feeling, creating, and reordering—is essential.

Advice: Build your resilience before you need it. Don’t mistake performance for presence. Find a regenerative rhythm—whether in breath, land, sound, or body—and return to it often. That rhythm is an anchor.

To those early on the path: there is no rush. Truth unfolds in layers. Don’t chase results—build relationship within. Listen to what’s underneath the quiet. If you’re going to carry something forward, let it be integrity—because every other form of progress becomes hollow without it.

To close, maybe we can chat about your parents and what they did that was particularly impactful for you?

They gave me contradiction.

They didn’t hand me clarity—they gave me fragments, silence, distortion, and distance. But in doing so, they also gave me the conditions to sharpen perception. They made me a witness before I had language for what I was seeing. In that gap, I learned to study systems. I learned to translate what others overlooked.

They didn’t raise me to follow.
They didn’t even raise me to lead.
They raised me to observe.

That observation became survival. Then it became insight. Eventually, it became creative and reordered.

They gave me enough structure to endure, but not enough to conform.
Enough love to remember, but not enough to forget the cost of absence.

Most importantly, they didn’t interrupt the signal.
Even when they didn’t understand it, they left it intact.

For that—I am grateful.

Contact Info:

Image Credits

by Oswe̱’gaiyo’ (Redhawk)

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