I don't have a very scientific mind, but I do enjoy reading about science when it's explained in a way that doesn't require an exceptional knowledge of math.
This is especially true of quantum mechanics. I know I don't possess the background knowledge or intelligence to gain a really authentic understanding or appreciation of what is happening in the world of physics, but everything I hear about what is happening in the discipline just seems so cool. Scientists have done a number of very interesting experiments that deal with light's ability to be both wave and particle; they have turned oxygen into a solid by focusing light through diamonds; they have manufactured gold (albeit out of platinum - not a good business plan, want-to-be alchemists); and they have made the same object appear in two places at the same time. Not two copies of the same object - the same object!
I suppose my first introduction to quantum physics was by way of an old thought experiment - the famous Schroedinger's Cat. If you are unfamiliar, the basic idea is this: if you were to put a cat in a box with a timed-release poison, until the moment you open the box to check on the cat, he exists simultaneously in two diametrically opposed states. He is both alive and dead at the same time.
When my dad first told me about this experiment in 8th grade, I didn't understand it, but I thought it was a really neat idea. To be able to be two totally oppossite things at once was such a totally novel and strange and subversive idea to my cliquish middle school mind. I still don't think I totally understand how Schroedinger's theory works in all its intricacies, but the more I learn and the more I think about it, the cooler it seems to me. It hints at the possibility or multiple worlds. I have images flash through my mind of Doctor Who and Sliders and Quantum Leap.
I think I also like the implications it has on Free Will. I'm not sure if I believe in Free Will or not, but I really want to (how's that for a paradox?) - the idea that, for even just a split second, multiple worlds exist seems to indicate a nexus of those worlds at each moment we make a choice. By choosing Option A instead of Option B, I am choosing World A instead of World B. The more I learn about the world of quantum, the more intertwined it seems the strands of science and philosophy become.
I'm sure that mixing up the ideas behind the two is a dangerous enterprise - in fact, This American Life recently broadcast an episode on the very subject. It's just too tempting not to. Even the name of this blog comes from a probably-misinterpreted law of physics (a story for another post!). When I hear about these rules of governance that affect the world I live in, I want to look at them through the lens of the type of thought that makes sense to me.
As far back as I can remember, I have always been very superstitious - very observant and respectful of ritual, especially when it comes to sports. This was more easily explainable when I still believed in God and the supernatural, but as a humanist, it became rather difficult to justify. Nevertheless, when I sit in a certain position and The Mets do well, I can't bring myself to move, no matter how uncomfortable I am. I learned to deal with cramps silently, because I was unwilling to sacrifice a rally to stretch for relief. I remember an entire two season span when I had to leave the room for every one of Roger Cedeno's at-bats, because he always struck out whenever I watched.
I wore the same pair of ratty orange shorts under my pants in every football game I ever played in; one time my mom tried to throw them away, and I had to search through the trash to get them back. I had the same foul-line routine for every freethrow I ever took, and the same pre-match warmup for every bout I ever wrestled. Now that I'm done competing myself, I have the same routine I go through with my wrestlers when they take the mat. I'm eager to pinpoint rituals that work and adhere to them religiously, whether it's wearing the same shirt to every JMU game or listening to the same song before every wrestling tournament. I am aware that my adherance to such habits is irrational and borderline obsessive-compulsive, but I simply can't bring myself to forgo the ritual - if my team lost, I would be saddled with the guilty knowledge that it was entirely my fault.
When I heard about the scientific principle called action at a distance, I felt a sense of justice and relief. It was a strange reaction, given that I can't recall anyone ever mocking me for my adherance to superstition. I guess I just enjoyed telling my rational mind to shove it. The basic idea behind action at a distance is that two objects or events, without any measurable connection and in entirely separate locations, can act upon each other in meaningful and profound ways. If you shoot two electrons away from each other at the speed of light, actions you take on one of the electrons are mirrored by the other - poke one and both react. It's crazy and I'm not sure that anyone understands why that happens - I certainly don't - but hearing that immediately brought to mind images of me sitting in my bed in 1999, in incredibly uncomfortable positions because the Mets were on a hot streak. The things I do matter!
This world works in ways not only mysterious, but also bizarre. The little bit I know about Superstring Theory makes it seem like a piece of bad short fiction out of one of those 1950s Sci-Fi magazines, but it also seems to be the most likely candidate to explain how our universe really works, and lots of very,very smart people back it with their full support. Every advancement in modern science seems to point towards things being connected in a deeply important way that makes physical separation seem trivial. "I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together" has always sounded intellectually and spiritually right, but it also now looks to be factually correct. That kind of connection is the kind of thing that makes me want to throw my hands in the air and dance everywhere I go, and it also makes me want to sit down and think until my brain melts. I can't claim to know much of anything about how the universe works, but I do know that it's a large and beautiful and unknowably complex thing that never ceases to amaze me.
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