There’s a rule in quantum mechanics that says a particle can exist in many states at once. Not here or there, but here AND there, suspended in possibility until something forces it to collapse into one reality.

So, instead of being in a single definite state, it exists as a combination or blend of all its potential states at once.

Maybe that’s not just physics. Maybe that’s us.

Life and it’s occurrences don’t collapse until we demand certainty but certainty can be a kind of death. Perhaps the beauty is in remaining suspended: in between, both/and.

Some of us follow the script. Some of us resist. Some live as anchors, steady and grounding. Others live as horizons, always moving, unreachable but necessary to remind us there’s more than what’s fixed.

Which are you?

The anchor, the horizon, the tide, the storm? Or maybe you’re the ship… Steering, drifting, carried, resisting… all at once. The master of your own sea, but never separate from it.

The paradox is the point. Superposition isn’t about resolution; it’s about expansion. About holding contradictions without forcing them to collapse.

Because maybe the truth isn’t in defining what we are, but in learning how infinite we can be when we cannot be measured.