When I first heard about the double-slit experiment, I thought it sounded like a koan.
A particle becomes a wave. A wave becomes a particle. And everything changes the moment you look at it.
That’s not just physics. That’s Zen.
The more I sat with it, the less it felt like science fiction and the more it felt like a mirror. Because Zen has been talking about this for centuries, impermanence, observation, form and emptiness trading places. It just didn’t use math. It used silence.
I’m not a quantum physicist. I’m a Zen practitioner. But the more I learn about quantum theory, the more I feel like they’re both pointing at the same thing: reality isn’t what we think it is. It’s deeper. Weirder. Softer. More alive. And we’re not just witnessing it, we’re shaping it.
Quantum Zen isn’t about proving Buddhism with equations. It’s not about hijacking science for spiritual points. It’s about wonder. It’s about standing at the edge of everything we know and bowing to the unknown, not with fear, but with awe.
Here’s what I know:
The world is not made of solid things.
It’s made of relationships.
Energy. Probability. Space between.
And so are we.
Zen says: let go.
Quantum says: nothing is fixed.
Zen says: stay with the breath.
Quantum says: the act of noticing changes the outcome.
Zen says: the self is an illusion.
Quantum says: even particles don’t know who they are until you ask.
If that’s not a spiritual teaching, I don’t know what is.
The deeper I go into both of these worlds, the less I care about labeling them “science” or “spirituality.” I just want to be present for the mystery. I want to sit in the intersection and feel the way reality flickers, between thought and no-thought, wave and collapse, self and space.
We don’t need to choose between logic and intuition. We can bring both to the cushion.
We can practice not-knowing as a way of knowing.
We can meditate with the same humility that physicists bring to the void.
We can let wonder guide us, into the atom, into the self, into the moment.
So no, this series won’t explain quantum mechanics in technical terms. And it won’t pretend Zen is just a metaphor for physics. It’s something else. It’s an offering. A doorway. A pause in the noise.
Because something happens when science meets stillness.
We stop trying to own the truth.
And we start listening to it.
When I first heard about the double-slit experiment, I thought it sounded like a koan.
A particle becomes a wave. A wave becomes a particle. And everything changes the moment you look at it.
That’s not just physics. That’s Zen.
The more I sat with it, the less it felt like science fiction and the more it felt like a mirror. Because Zen has been talking about this for centuries, impermanence, observation, form and emptiness trading places. It just didn’t use math. It used silence.
I’m not a quantum physicist. I’m a Zen practitioner. But the more I learn about quantum theory, the more I feel like they’re both pointing at the same thing: reality isn’t what we think it is. It’s deeper. Weirder. Softer. More alive. And we’re not just witnessing it, we’re shaping it.
Quantum Zen isn’t about proving Buddhism with equations. It’s not about hijacking science for spiritual points. It’s about wonder. It’s about standing at the edge of everything we know and bowing to the unknown, not with fear, but with awe.
Here’s what I know:
The world is not made of solid things.
It’s made of relationships.
Energy. Probability. Space between.
And so are we.
Zen says: let go.
Quantum says: nothing is fixed.
Zen says: stay with the breath.
Quantum says: the act of noticing changes the outcome.
Zen says: the self is an illusion.
Quantum says: even particles don’t know who they are until you ask.
If that’s not a spiritual teaching, I don’t know what is.
The deeper I go into both of these worlds, the less I care about labeling them “science” or “spirituality.” I just want to be present for the mystery. I want to sit in the intersection and feel the way reality flickers, between thought and no-thought, wave and collapse, self and space.
We don’t need to choose between logic and intuition. We can bring both to the cushion.
We can practice not-knowing as a way of knowing.
We can meditate with the same humility that physicists bring to the void.
We can let wonder guide us, into the atom, into the self, into the moment.
So no, this series won’t explain quantum mechanics in technical terms. And it won’t pretend Zen is just a metaphor for physics. It’s something else. It’s an offering. A doorway. A pause in the noise.
Because something happens when science meets stillness.
We stop trying to own the truth.
And we start listening to it.
Enlightened Life Fellowship 