Schrödinger's Brat
The superposition of human states
Last weekend, I flew to Denver to go backpacking in the Rockies with a few dear friends. Before I left, I gave myself a pep talk in which I swore to be prepared for anything, to remain steadfast in my curiosity, and to take on circumstances exactly as they might arise. I admire these characteristics in other people and prefer to think of myself as being capable of them no matter what.
It was aspirational, I suppose. After an eight-mile hike up to our first campsite, we were promptly greeted by a lightning storm that would have beguiled even Zeus himself. My attempted nonchalance was razed to the ground in minutes, and I noticed myself beginning to vocalize my discomfort. My friends, on the other hand, maintained a healthy level of acceptance as we boiled water for dinner in the most torrential conditions. I excused myself to eat in the tent alone, both to escape the downpour and to battle my demons.
Sulking into my waterlogged chili, I felt antagonized by the sky, but mostly disappointed in myself for succumbing to the aspects of my personality I resent: defeatism, temperamental-ness, self-pity.
I often wonder if I’m a walking contradiction. Someone who craves optimism but whose baseline veers in the direction of doubt. Someone who strives to please her peers but who allows her emotions to become their problem. Someone who appreciates the easygoing but is often herself reactive — who values fundamental goodness but who doesn’t always do the right thing.
How, I ask myself, do these dispositions coexist in me? I’m fairly certain that my moral proclivities bend toward virtue, but at the same time, my vices act as their formidable sparring partners.
As Walt Whitman states in Song of Myself, “Do I contradict myself? Very well, I contradict myself. (I am large, I contain multitudes.)”
I owe you an explanation for the ridiculous title of this week’s installment. If you’re not familiar with Schrödinger's cat in quantum mechanics, allow me — someone who isn’t even sure what quantum mechanics is — to explain it.
First, it’s worth noting that Schrödinger's cat is a thought experiment that doesn’t scientifically prove anything, because it was never part of a real scientific theory. This seems to be a common point of confusion due to the eagerness with which modern scientists approach the experiment’s possibility. Given that context, it’s borderline poetic that Erwin Schrödinger simply used this hypothetical experiment to demonstrate how easy it is to misinterpret quantum theory.
In the experiment, you place a cat in a box with a meager, but effective dose of radioactive substance. When the substance decays, it releases a poison that kills the cat. The tricky bit about this is that quantum theory allows particles to exist in a superposition of states at the same time, meaning that atoms can be in a combined state of decay and non-decay. Because our poor cat is trapped in a sealed box that the conscious observer cannot peer into, the system upholds a combination of two possibilities; the cat isn’t either dead or alive, but simultaneously dead and alive.
I know what you’re thinking, dear reader. This isn’t a thing in the tangible world where we have order and rules and classifications. If anything, Schrödinger's cat is more philosophical than scientific, though it does combat the concept that quantum particles only collapse to a single state when perceived by a conscious observer — key word being conscious.
Revisiting this thought experiment got me to wondering if these same ideas can be applied to human behavior. Do our intrinsic natures also exist in a superposition of states, whether or not we believe that’s possible? And does the conscious observer — either within the self or outside of it — wrongly attempt to collapse us into a single state?
The whole truth, I think, is that all humans have destructive capacities and lapses in integrity, no matter how dutifully we try to follow the path of righteousness. We are not machines. We cannot be programmed for perfection, which is perhaps why we’re all working so hard to conjure it through technology. Even the most self-assured characters have to engage in life intentionally, and that territory comes with equal amounts of hard work and failure.
Much like quantum particles, we’re not confined to a single state. Where we have impulses for generosity and care, we also experience urges to punish, to spoil, to take revenge, to be greedy and selfish and naughty.
While this fact is, admittedly, a little dizzying, it also proves that we can be just as constructive as we are destructive — and as long as we’re aware of our shortcomings, we hold the power to act on them.
Which is to say, stop beating yourself up for having a mental breakdown during an alpine monsoon at 8000 feet of elevation. I’m sure that the next time it happens, you might even enjoy yourself.
Relevant Reading
“Always the beautiful answer who asks a more beautiful question.” —e.e. cummings
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