Imagine the Abhidhamma as a masterful spreadsheet, breaking down every flicker of awareness and ripple of matter into their tiniest parts. Mind and matter aren’t seen as monolithic entities but as ever‐changing events—paramattha dhammas—each with its own flavor and function.

Mind (citta) shows up in momentary pulses of consciousness. Dozens of classifications—88, 121 or more—map every nuance: wholesome, unwholesome, neutral, bright, or murky. Accompanying each citta are cetasikas (mental factors) like feeling, perception, volition and attention. Think of cetasikas as the supporting cast that shapes how a thought arises, lingers and dissolves. This granular look leaves no stone unturned, much like modern neuroscience’s effort to trace neural circuits—but Abhidhamma did it over two millennia ago.

On the other side, matter (rupa) splits into 28 elemental categories. The four great elements (earth for solidity, water for cohesion, fire for temperature, air for motion) form the backbone. From here sprout derived phenomena—sound, taste, color—akin to today’s periodic table. Nothing in rupa has a soul; each bit is impermanent, conditioned, and interdependent.

Both mind and matter are bound by three hallmarks: impermanence (anicca), suffering or stress (dukkha), and non-self (anatta). Pinned down to their bare bones, experiences reveal a constantly shifting mosaic, rather than a fixed “self.” This perspective resonates with contemporary ideas in quantum physics and cognitive science: waves of energy and fleeting mental states, rather than solid, unchanging substances.

In a world obsessed with hard boundaries—biotech, AI, social media bubbles—the Abhidhamma’s analytical lens offers a fresh reminder that reality is more like a river than a rock. Not only does it foreshadow today’s mindfulness apps and meditation research (think Nobel-recognized studies on brain plasticity), but it also invites a closer look at everyday life: every breath, sensation or thought is a unique event, never to recur in the same way again.