What Do Chickens, April Showers, and Quantum Mechanics Have in Common?
April 17, 2025 | Issue #07 | April Showers
In this week's edition we’ll unpack:
What Do Chickens, April Showers, and Quantum Mechanics Have in Common? Spoiler: more than you’d think. This week, we’re sticking with the theme of the cosmic joke and unraveling how life’s quirks—big and small—are part of a much grander, and weirder, dance.
The Ship of Theseus – Identity & Change – An ancient thought experiment that still rings true today: if everything in your life changes, are you still you? A gentle dive into the nature of self, growth, and how transformation doesn’t mean losing yourself.
Words of Wisdom – Let the Strange Be Sacred
Like David Bowie says, “Go a little bit out of your depth.” Discomfort isn’t a detour—it’s where the magic begins. Trust the unknown. You’re not lost, you’re exploring.
“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts.”
What Do Chickens, April Showers, and Quantum Mechanics Have in Common?
For starters, they’re all unpredictable, a little chaotic, and oddly comforting, but only when you stop trying to control them. Take April showers—those spontaneous bursts of rain that show up out of the clear blue, uninvited, drench your plans, and leave everything feeling… oddly fresh. Cleansed. Then the sun re-emerges and it’s like nature herself hit the reset button on the day.
Then there are chickens— fluffy little agents of chaos. Feverishly pecking, scratching, darting every which way with what looks like no real plan, yet they’re somehow always on a mission. They move with this sense of tenacious urgency, like they’re searching for the meaning of life beneath a pile of old leaves.
And at the tiniest level of reality we have: quantum mechanics. Where nothing is fixed, outcomes are uncertain, and observation itself changes the result. It's like the universe is winging it in real-time.
Sound at all familiar?
“I am always doing that which I cannot do, in order that I may learn how to do it.”
— Pablo Picasso
In this modern world where we’re bombarded by endless input—notifications, headlines, moods, must-sees, hot takes—it’s easy to feel like we’re stuck in some kind of cosmic bi-polar weather pattern. One minute you’re up, the next it’s raining opinions, and you’re out here flapping around like a startled hen trying to make sense of it all.
But maybe that’s the trick:
It doesn’t always have to make sense.
Like in quantum physics, life isn’t a straight line—it’s a dance of possibilities and uncertainties. Our days aren’t ruled by perfect logic, but by tiny, invisible nudges: a kind comment, a weird dream, like the way light hits your coffee mug just right and you see the steam swirling up.And just like those quantum particles, we change when we’re seen. We react. We adjust. We perform. Sometimes, we don’t even notice we’re doing it—looping through routines, polishing up our lives, comparing, competing, curating, editing. Trying to be more presentable. More "together."
But what if we didn’t try so desperately hard, or burn ourselves out in a blaze of glory?
What if, instead of performing, we paused for one nanosecond? You don’t have to outrun the algorithm, over-compete, or solve the purpose of your existence. You can simply be here. Present. Curious.Because maybe, just maybe the point in all of this, is to stay open to possibility—to the rhythm of the rain, the randomness of quantum quirks, the comedy of chickens, and the curiosity of simply being alive. The world spins on, a little messy, a little charming—and so do we. And that? That’s more than enough.
So, let the rain fall, let the chickens do their thing. And let the quantum weirdness play out.
Fun Takeaway: You’re not behind. You’re not broken. You’re just a little soggy from life’s April showers and life isn't always neat or predictable—sometimes it rains out of nowhere, chickens act like philosophers, and nothing makes sense until you look back at it. Like quantum physics teaches us, the act of noticing can change everything. So today, notice joy. Notice the wonder. Let the rain fall, laugh with the chickens, and remember—sometimes the universe is weird on purpose.
Philosophy of the Week:
The Ship of Theseus
Imagine an old wooden ship, lovingly maintained throughout the years. Every time a plank rots, it’s replaced. Eventually, every single piece of wood has been swapped out.
Here’s the twist: Is it still the same ship?
Now take it a step further—what if someone collected all those discarded, original pieces and rebuilt that ship somewhere else?
Which one’s the real Ship of Theseus?
This ancient thought experiment has puzzled mankind for centuries, but for us, it asks something much more personal:
If everything about us changes over time—our thoughts, habits, appearance, even our beliefs—are we still the same person?
The answer might be... yes. And also, kind of no.
You are not who you were five years ago. And five years from now, you’ll be someone new again. But that doesn’t mean you’ve lost yourself—it means you’ve evolved. You’re not broken or inconsistent for changing—you’re alive. Growth is messy, non-linear, and often invisible until we look back.
So try to take a moment this week to notice how you've changed—big or small. Maybe it's a belief you've outgrown, a habit you've reshaped, or a new boundary you've learned to hold.
Ask yourself:
“What part of me has been replaced lately—and what part still feels like home?”
Growth doesn’t always shout. Sometimes it whispers.
And just like the Ship of Theseus, you're still you—even as the pieces shift. You’re not losing yourself. You’re simply refining who you are.
Day2Day Survival Tip:
Set One Tiny Intention for the Day —
Quantum physics reminds us that observation shapes our reality, and that we’re all just bundles of atoms bouncing through the day, responding to what we observe—so why not observe with purpose? Before you dive into your day or the to-do list, pause and ask yourself:
“What’s one thing I’d like to notice more of today?”
Maybe it’s peace. Maybe it’s a little more patience. Maybe it’s just not spilling coffee on yourself.
Whatever it may be, name it. Gently. It doesn’t have to be profound.
It’s just your little signal to the universe: Hey, I’m here. I’m paying attention.
The cool thing? When you set that one intention, the world has a sneaky way of echoing it back. Like quantum mechanics in motion—what you notice, notices you right back.
Words of Wisdom:
If there's one thing life (and maybe even chickens, rainy days, and the entire quantum field) keeps reminding us—it’s that growth doesn’t happen where we feel most comfortable. It happens in the in-between. The wobbly bits. The “I have no idea what I’m doing but I’m showing up anyway” moments.
Because staying safe might feel cozy, but it rarely brings out our magic. Sometimes, the most beautiful version of you is found at the edges of what you think you can handle.
Or, as David Bowie once said
“If you feel safe in the area you’re working in, you’re not working in the right area. Always go a little further into the water than you feel you’re capable of being in. Go a little bit out of your depth. And when you don’t feel that your feet are quite touching the bottom, you’re just about in the right place to do something exciting.”
Here’s to all you starmen, dreamers, and changemakers out there—keep floating in your own tin can.
P.s. If you want to go a bit further on this week's topics and continue your learning voyage, you may find these tools helpful:
