Reality’s an information network, and you’re the quantum artist… Quit kidding yourself.
The facts are in.
No matter what we believe, a hundred years ago, we learned that time is personal, space a convenient creation, and everything in the universe rests on a supercharged bed of possibility. We ignore the truth. It’s too weird to control, and it’s not what we were taught.
It’s Albert Einstein’s fault. Initially, anyway. He tipped over the apple cart.
Until he made it obvious, we missed it, and we carried on just fine. We had our comfortable illusions. We had ’em for centuries.
Einstein proved that time is different for everyone, a useful illusion. It build sequential stories, keep them from jumbling up in one congested place.
It’s fiction, but at least we all see it the same way.
Before Einstein’s equations showed that time and its life partner, space, are created, Max Planck set the table. He showed that the world we see, touch and feel is built on a quirky foundation of particles, and he gave them a name: quanta.
Not as well-known today as other quantum pioneers, probably because he stayed in Germany under Nazi rule while his Jewish colleagues fled West, Planck was awarded the Nobel Prize in 1918, before the allies gummed up European politics, setting the stage for Hitler and, less significantly, Planck’s diminution.
Einstein got more ink, but Planck opened up the world of quantum theory, the science of tiny particles. Some are so small they pass through solid objects without changing direction, and none of them are “real.”
Our lives aren’t built on shifting sands but on potential sands. And you’re the quantum artist that makes it real.
Countless tests confirm that virtually everything we thought was true at the turn of the Twentieth Century was only nonsense, true only at a superficial level.
Everything we thought true is not.
It was useful, and we got used to it. We all chugged down the road together. This did not make it any less tommyrot.
Quantum theory shows us that billions upon billions of fundamental particles making up galaxies, planets, palm trees and your fingernails are so bizarre that they’re not material at all.
They’re bundles of energy that snap into form when “observed,” a hopelessly neutral term that disguises the fact that we make it all up out of sensations hurtling in huge volumes at breakneck speed inside our craniums.
So, you’re the quantum artist…
It’s all made up inside your head.
With external guidance, of course. Everything’s connected in an ocean of energy and information. You can use any of fifty ways to leave your lover, but you won’t really.
There’s no objective reality out there, just a sea of potential until we make something of it, which we never cease doing, even when asleep.
You’d call it an obsession, except this one’s essential, and you vanish if you manage to break the habit.
Even those who accept all that quantum theory’s taught us to be true know it’s next to impossible to routinely validate in daily life, but there’s more — or worse, depending on your point of view.
In 1964, John Stewart Bell introduced an eponymous theorem, variously extrapolated as “nonlocality” and “quantum entanglement.”
Bell’s Theorem, in short, tells us that it’s not just time about which we’re kidding ourselves. It’s space too. Like, there isn’t any. Of either.
So, what do we really have?
The answer is: you know, but what are you going to do about it?
You’re the quantum artist, and it’s up to you.
How will you be the quantum artist who creates a world?