Wednesday, August 5, 2009


Quantum physics tells us that time, like all other dimensions, can be quantised. There is a minimum unit of time, as there is a minimum unit of distance, of matter, and it is these impossibly small increments of time that make up the continuum we experience.
At any given moment, in any ordinary day, there are literally billions of these time segments flying by. An analogy is those cartoons you see that work by flicking through the cartoon book, and on each page there is a picture of a dog or similar, and each subsequent picture is changed slightly, but if you flick the pages quickly the dog looks like its running.
In between these moments, what happens?. Nothing can exist without time. If we lose a spatial dimension, there still exists a perfectly valid two dimensional world with time, albeit devoid of life and matter as we know it. Time justifies not only our insignificant existence, but that of the dimensions that support the universe.
So in between these moments, what I suspect, is that for one tiny, almost inconceivable amount of time, there is perfect silence, perfect still, for the tiniest amount of time, before the universe turns the page and everything has moved ever so slightly, like in the cartoon dog analogy.For that period of time, the whole state of the universe is remembered, all matter is halted, all dimensions are paused, all photons stop, all vibration ceases, to then carry on again when the quantum time pause resumes.
Its these moments I live for.

No comments:

Post a Comment