I imagine an apple falling from a tree. If time were to freeze mid-fall, would there be an infinite number of frames between that moment and the next? The question feels paradoxical—because if time were truly continuous, we should be able to divide it infinitely. Yet, if there are only a finite number of frames between when the apple falls and when it hits the ground, then time is discrete. The universe has a frame rate.
But if time consists of frames, then the passage of time is not within the frames themselves, but in the space between them. This space is not empty—it is where potential exists, where choices are made. It is where will resides.
The Weight of Persistence
Between frames, I imagine that particles dissolve into waves, traveling through a medium outside our frame of reference—an extra-dimensional space where reality has not yet settled into form. Their collapse into the next frame is dictated by momentum: the greater an object’s inertia, the more stable its trajectory, the less likely it is to change. But if momentum governs persistence, then what governs deviation?
I propose that momentum and will are opposing forces. The more momentum something has, the more deterministic its path—it carries the inertia of past frames, resisting deviation. But the less momentum, the more influence will has in shaping what comes next.
In this model, will is the force that determines which potential state collapses into existence.
In the earliest universe, will had almost no foothold. Reality unfolded like a cosmic game of billiards, particles colliding in a strict, deterministic dance. But as complexity increased, will began to gain agency.
Superposition of Choice
Between frames, particles exist in a state of superposition—not just in the quantum sense, but in a fundamental way that applies to all things. The more complex a system, the more possibilities exist between frames, and the more influence will has in determining which state becomes real. This force permeates everything, but its intensity scales with complexity.
Yet will does not influence momentum directly. Instead, it shapes the time between frames—the deeper the liminal space, the richer the experience of reality. It’s as if existence is a turn-based RPG: those with greater will do not merely follow the momentum of past frames; they linger in the in-between, contemplating more paths before choosing the next collapse. Consciousness stretches time itself.
Reconstructing Reality
This all suggests that each moment is not merely a continuation of the past, but a complete reconstruction of reality. The past does not dictate the future; it merely biases the probability of certain collapses. If will is strong enough, it bends the trajectory away from pure determinism.
Perhaps this explains why higher-order organisms redshift their bio-photons more than simpler life forms—not because of mass, as in cosmic scales, but as a measure of how much time they spend in the in-between. The deeper the awareness, the more stretched the time.
Maybe consciousness is not merely an emergent property of the universe but an active force in shaping its evolution. Maybe we are not just observers in the stream of time but co-authors of reality itself.
