One of the most significant scientific confirmations in recent centuries is the atomic theory. While the concept of matter being composed of countless tiny, identical particles has origins in ancient Indian and Greek philosophies, substantial evidence supporting this theory emerged only in the 20th century.

Mathematical equations were developed by scientists to predict the behavior of various substances if they were indeed atomic in nature—specifically, how molecules formed by atomic arrangements interact. These predictions accurately reflect real-world phenomena, such as the behavior of gases, the formation of ice, and the diffusion of scents in a space.

The implications of atomic theory for our understanding of life and identity are profound yet often overlooked. This theory suggests that all events are the result of atomic movements—everything from rivers and stars to our own bodies and thoughts is simply a result of atomic interactions. There remains no evidence of anything beyond atoms influencing these movements, leading to the conclusion that life is a complex interplay of vibrations resulting in ever-evolving forms.

As atoms organize into intricate patterns based on their interactions—attractions, repulsions, and velocities—remarkable phenomena arise. While it may be easier to visualize this process with a river or a tree, it applies equally to a living creature, illustrating that even inanimate structures like a house of cards can be understood through this lens.

This leads us to ponder the nature of self and free will. These inquiries are central to our understanding of identity and worth. In many cultures, particularly in contemporary societies, our sense of value is tightly linked to our perceived responsibilities—how we act, our physical appearance, our societal status, and the praise or blame we receive for these factors.

To clarify the connection between atomic theory and self-identity, consider an analogy involving a house of cards. Constructing such a house is a delicate task requiring precision, mirroring the complexity of human beings.

When you build this house, the arrangement of the cards creates the structure, but the structure itself also influences the individual cards' positions. For instance, one card remains in place not due to its own properties but because of the entire house holding it there.

This analogy applies to us: our identities are shaped by atomic movements, yet our unique human structure—defined by our genetic makeup—exerts influence over those atomic interactions. Causality operates in both directions: atomic dynamics contribute to the emergence of a complex organism, while the organism's structure affects the behavior of its constituent atoms.

However, this understanding raises further questions about free will. If we liken ourselves to a house of cards, does it possess the agency to choose its form or actions? Clearly, it does not; a house of cards cannot will itself into existence. Similarly, we did not choose our identities—factors beyond our control shaped who we are.

Now, consider if the house of cards had a motor that allowed it to move. This addition doesn’t change the fundamental issue; it still follows the principles of atomic causation without exercising free will. Even if we endow it with consciousness, it operates under the constraints of its physical structure.

Next, imagine the house of cards possesses a complex internal structure capable of self-reflection and self-preservation. If driven by a program aimed at survival, it would still be bound by its design and the information it receives from its environment.

Thus, while it may appear that such a structure possesses agency, it operates within limitations defined by its nature and experiences. The house of cards, despite having a self-image, ultimately does not control its fate.

Let’s turn to humans. We often believe that our self-image defines us and is in charge of our actions, yet this internal narrative is frequently inaccurate. Our self-image might help navigate the world, but it doesn’t directly control our bodily functions or choices.

In many respects, the self-image serves an evolutionary purpose, assisting in understanding our experiences and formulating plans. However, it can also hinder our well-being and complicate our interactions with the world.

Certain individuals—Buddhist sages, philosophers, and enlightened thinkers—have recognized this disconnect and found ways to diminish the self-image's power. They understand that the self-image may not be a true reflection of agency, but rather a construct shaped by countless influences.

As an exercise, consider what it feels like to acknowledge that you did not choose your identity or your actions and that you are not inherently deserving of praise or blame. Reflect on the notion that your self-concept is merely an idea, not an absolute truth.

Coda: The Essence of Not Knowing

If everything is composed of atoms, what exactly are atoms? Atoms consist of protons, neutrons, and electrons, which in turn are made up of quarks. Yet, quarks might not be tangible entities but simply fluctuations in an overarching field of energy or probabilities.

What constitutes this field, and what gives rise to these probabilities? Historically, various philosophical and spiritual traditions have contemplated these questions, proposing that everything arises from a greater reality—whether that be a universal consciousness, pure being, or divine influence.

Ultimately, the profound realization is that we do not possess definitive answers. At the heart of existence lies a self-organizing mystery. After all our scientific inquiries, we can only conclude that something enigmatic organizes itself into dynamic forms that act within the world.

What occurs when we embrace this uncertainty and allow ourselves to accept that we do not truly understand our essence, the nature of the world, or much of anything at all?

In the Zen koan collection, the Book of Serenity, a dialogue captures this sentiment:

Fayan was on a pilgrimage.

Dizang asked, "Where are you going?"

Fayan replied, "Around on pilgrimage."

Dizang continued, "What is the purpose of pilgrimage?"

Fayan answered: "I don’t know."

Dizang concluded, "Not knowing is most intimate."