For some time, a couple of weeks, probably from 31 May, there is a strange phenomenon that repeats itself in the workplace. Nothing that is really so shocking, but without a doubt it could be an anomaly. On all televisions you follow the live broadcast of a football match, always the same. Each time, at the starting whistle, the blue jersey players with vertical red bar launch the ball in lateral foul without any reason. From then on, the actions reply with mathematical certainty and all that remains is to count the number of goals, inevitably five. The colleagues get excited and shout, exalt, or they attach themselves, suffer, living a sort of marmot day. I admit that this is not happening to me, even if I would like to live as they do, following a canvas without surprises. Something apparently prevents me. It is the awareness that, repetition after repetition, the script could change. You cannot say it until the daily event is made. It is like that cat closed in a box that contains slowly release radioactive gas. Until the container opens, the cat can be both alive and dead. An subatomic particle can in fact occupy all possible positions on a wave function. Only when you go to measure it will it collapse on a certain value. Life before being lived is only probability. This is how I convinced myself that, repeating that game infinitely, Inter could defeat the Paris Saint Germain. What for my colleagues is a slap or a punishment, for me it is hope. It is Schrödinger’s Champions League.
It is an escape from the certainty of death, so what can look like chaos I try to live it as a balance in the making. The important thing is to hide at the time. It has happened even now, one hundred years after the admirable year of quantum physics, I cannot stay behind it and the delay takes its imponderable and unfortunately recurrent form, a hopeless pursuit, because as long as you try to accelerate, to make first, the segment you travel is never sufficient to cover the entire distance. It is a race on the trail of the infinity and half of infinity is however infinite.
On the borders of space-time, the contemporaneity of events is not at all obvious, it depends from the point of view. All this to others appears as a childish excuse. They talk to you about timetables, of responsibility, respect for those who are every saint where they must be, for work, for defined commitments, because life is made of precise and mandatory appointments. You say: you are right. Except that somewhere in the brain there must be an anomaly, something that does not work, the rooted sensation that in reality, as some theoretical physique supports, time does not exist. It is only an agreement and is measured in this weird way made of seconds, minutes, quarters and half hours, or complete, which are marked on a dial. But how do you measure something that does not exist? How do you build an entire existence on a fiction? Yes, you are right, on this thing about respect and everything else. It is that if you find yourself chasing your delay perpetually it is only to escape the feeling of nothing that pulsates in the heart. It is to rebel against an exclusively mental construction. The matter, in its depth, cares about time and consequent delays. Everything happens when it happens. It is the open -minded open -mindedness, to the inverted, to the inverting, even to the mystery. We must not be afraid of it.
Now there is no need to sink into mystical elderbractions, from Jedi of the third category, with the pop soul of those who can’t wait to rattle phrases of the type “to do or not to do, there is no try”, but the question of not being conditioned by fear is truly an ethical principle. He is a Christian architrave who usually do not teach you to doctrine. Don’t be afraid of the neighbor, of the other, because perhaps it is the only way to feel truly free. It is not seeing a priori, by human search for security, in the stranger an enemy. It is a mental leap that does not belong to this monkey in wise theory that to survive can only be malfidated. Who are you? What do you want from me? The first thought is that you do not come alone and the burden of proof is to the other. This is how you say goodbye from afar to arms raised to show that you have no weapons and up close you hold your hand to avoid hidden blades. The human demands certainties that the universe does not guarantee. The infinitely small free energy packages whose value or movement cannot be known at the same time. It is the difficulty of adapting to the undetermined that makes humans desperate seekers of certainties, as if life needed minimal quotas of epiphanies, sudden revelations that end up disconcerting existence. It is the response to the unprejisible that generates violence and war. It is the logic of not I trust and I shoot first.
It is the tendency to think for open and closed, for yes and no, for recognizable track codes, rejecting all the potential of minds that explore the infinite positions that are between one and zero.
The cat is never simply alive or dead. It is a probability. It is the choice to bet on God, or on something that resembles him, knowing that, if it exists, it is undoubtedly also plays dice, but secretly.