What Quantum Physics Has to Say About New Years Resolutions

Last sum­mer, one of David’s res­i­dents at the nurs­ing home where he works gave him a book titled The Quantum Revelation by Paul Levy. This dense tome tries to explain quan­tum physics in layman’s terms. It’s one of those books that sits on the night­stand for months, because you can only read a few pages at a time. It takes time to digest and process what you’ve read. At this time of year, when we are mak­ing res­o­lu­tions to become the hap­pi­est, shini­est ver­sions of our­selves, quan­tum physics has a real lesson.

Before any­thing becomes real, it exists as pos­si­bil­i­ty. In quan­tum physics, this idea of pos­si­bil­i­ty is called super­po­si­tion, a kind of shim­mer­ing both/and real­i­ty. A par­ti­cle can exist in many states at the same time. It can be both here and there, both mov­ing and still, simul­ta­ne­ous­ly yes and no. It’s like you’re here read­ing this and sit­ting atop the Parthenon at once. The par­ti­cle is not con­fused, but open. Superposition is the nat­ur­al state of things before they are forced to decide exact­ly what they are.

Only when that par­ti­cle inter­acts with its envi­ron­ment does it set­tle into one out­come. The inter­change with light, heat, air, and even sim­ple obser­va­tion turns the particle’s pos­si­bil­i­ty into expe­ri­ence. This process is called deco­her­ence. The wave of what could be becomes the sol­id fact of what is.

This strange, beau­ti­ful idea feels deeply human to me.

We live in super­po­si­tion more often than we real­ize. At any moment, we are many selves at once. We are who we were, who we are, and who we might become. We are mul­ti­lay­ered, seem­ing­ly con­tra­dic­tive beings that simul­ta­ne­ous­ly hold courage and fear, faith and doubt, the urge to stay and the desire to go. These con­tra­dic­tions cre­ate the wide field of human potential.

But just like par­ti­cles, we can­not remain in super­po­si­tion for­ev­er. Life inter­cedes and inter­acts. A con­ver­sa­tion or book or song lyric changes us. A rejec­tion clos­es one door and opens many oth­ers. We speak up or hold our tongue. We get nudged towards one path or anoth­er by brave deci­sions and qui­et avoid­ances. This is our own form of deco­her­ence. Actions and acci­dents, expe­ri­ences and efforts define us.

In physics, quan­tum states are incred­i­bly frag­ile. Too much noise or inter­fer­ence destroys coher­ence. In our lives, our dreams, ideas, and cre­ative impuls­es need space to exist before they are forced into form. When we live in con­stant dis­trac­tion, when we con­sume more than we cre­ate, we col­lapse too, into ver­sions of our­selves shaped by pres­sure and oth­er peo­ple rather than pur­pose or plan.

Superposition teach­es us that not know­ing yet is not a fail­ure, but an impor­tant incu­ba­tion stage. We are allowed to hold mul­ti­ple truths at once. We are allowed to say I’m becom­ing instead of I am. 

But at some point, pos­si­bil­i­ty must become action. Silence becomes speech. Intention becomes move­ment. The goal is not to avoid col­lapse, but to col­lapse wise­ly. To choose envi­ron­ments, rela­tion­ships, and habits that reflect our deep­est val­ues, because they will help deter­mine which ver­sion of us becomes real.

And here is the qui­et mir­a­cle: when a choice final­ly emerges, the oth­er pos­si­bil­i­ties are not wast­ed. In quan­tum physics, deco­her­ence doesn’t erase the oth­er pos­si­bil­i­ties. It sim­ply makes one out­come vis­i­ble. It also sug­gests that the roads not tak­en are still play­ing out in par­al­lel exis­tences. Take a moment and let that sink in.

In life, every ver­sion we hypo­thet­i­cal­ly car­ry shapes the one we actu­al­ly live. 

What I’m say­ing is this: be inten­tion­al about the life you’re man­i­fest­ing. Slow down before defin­ing your­self. Protect your atten­tion like some­thing pre­cious. Create men­tal and phys­i­cal spaces where your best ideas can remain coher­ent long enough to grow. And when the moment comes to act, do so with inten­tion, know­ing that every inter­ac­tion helps decide who you become.

In the end, a mean­ing­ful life is not about avoid­ing col­lapse. It’s about col­laps­ing into some­thing that matters.