A few days ago, and to my surprise, as I was making
tea in the kitchen I remembered a professor of physics I had in college. Since
I had not drunk my tea yet, I could not accuse green tea for playing games with
my memories.
… My undergraduate studies were in biology and
chemistry, but I had always a fascination with physics. Perhaps it was my
curiosity, like with biology and chemistry, to know more about worlds that I
could not immediately see or touch with my bodily senses. Perhaps I believed
that I could learn more how to co-exist with what I could see and touch if I
knew more about microcosms and celestial orders.
The immediate consequence of my curiosity was to
take physics courses as electives, when everyone else was opting for “easier”
social sciences classes to raise their grade average.
The teacher I had for my second course, Advanced
Electricity and Magnetism (E&M II) was a notorious renaissance man. Not
only he often introduced Schrödinger’s Equation to sessions on Maxwell’s
Equations, but found a way to wet our appetites by explaining Quantum Physics’
Wave-Particle duality when talking about electric fields and magnetism.
And his view of the world went beyond science. One
day when he was explaining quantum events, he said:
“These exist
outside of physics and observation. They exist in our ways of facing new
challenges and opting for our path to understanding them. I want you to read
the book "The Garden of Forking Paths” by Jorge Luis Borges.”
We were overwhelmed with our courses so most of us
did not go to the library to see what book he was talking about. But a
classmate and I decided to find the book. Maybe talking about it in class would
help us get that better grade?
And we read, wondering about what we were reading. I
recall my friend stating “I think he made
a joke – this book has nothing to do with what he was teaching in class.”
Still, we decided to catch up with the professor and
let him know that we read the book, even if we never really read the entire
book.
“I am glad you did” he said. “What jumped at you?”
Well, we told him we did not know what the garden
was all about, and my friend read aloud a line he had scribbled in his
chemistry lab sheet book
“When the game
is chess, what is the only the forbidden word?”
The professor laughed.
“How does the
book make you think about quantum physics ?” he asked
We had no idea.
“Well, the
book is about multi-dimensional thinking as if giant a chess board of 4, 4
dimensions. And it is about a key concept – that of time. If you had read the
book in toto, you should have noticed that Borges never mentions the word “time”
– because it is the forbidden word.”
We received average grades for that elective course
we had taken.
… Decades later, when making tea, I recalled that
since forgotten moment. Always out of curiosity, I downloaded a copy of Borges’
book and read it after dinner, as now, I had time to read and see how an entire
life experience later, I could perhaps understand the chaotic story Borges’
told in 1941.
It did not take long to feel comfortable with the chaos
Borges proposed we have avoided in our daily lives. Indeed, the predictable is
perhaps our daily goal to comfort, even serenity. And what can be more
comforting than knowing that our watches’ prediction that 4 o’clock always
comes after 3 o’clock; that we make choices because we know what the
consequences would be; hence our will, free or not, is based on our ability to
become who we want to be.
The garden described in this book refutes and
rejects all predictability by proposing that time between our actions is never
linear, and that it bifurcates, forks into new unknown paths. Into new universes
as quantum physics frames it. That 4 o’clock is not assured to come after 3 o’clock
but it depends on what happened at 3 o’clock.
As such, the garden is a multi-dimensional chess
board, time is the forbidden word, and no player wins the game. Instead, we
explore new moves during the game with each move we choose and make.
Yet, I could not dissociate myself from the basic
need of every living creature to seek comfort. At least for a short period of “time.”
Perhaps between two bifurcations.
To achieve such a state of anti-chaos, I wondered
how I personally have experienced that halt and moment of relief. How did I experience
that stillness between two bifurcations.
The answer seemed simple: through photography.
Indeed, as a photographer I always stood between the
fleeing moment and my decision to frame that moment and make it still. All changed
after I pressed on the shutter release; all got affected by that click from a
vintage film camera; but all stayed on the film strip inlayed in silver and my joy
of preserving stillness. Women I photographed were older after that click; men
had already grown longer facial hair; and countries have disappeared.
Of course, another way to keep moments and decisions
still, is by forgetting them, hoping that our future decisions would not be
affected by past ones, especially if we felt they were the wrong ones. But
Borges, through one of the book’s characters, Dr. Stephen Albert, proposes
that:
"To
eliminate a word is perhaps the best way of drawing attention to it".
If the word is time, then we may not forget about
that moment. If the word is forbidden to use, we will remember it even more
vividly.
… This concept is challenging but it was not originally
created/expressed by Borges. Indeed, it was Edgar Allan Poe who in his book Marginalia (November
1844), wrote:
"If
you wish to forget anything on the spot, make a note that this thing is to be
remembered."
And, in a funny way, I wondered if my 60 years’ love
of photography was aimed to forget the trajectory of time or to remember when I
kept it still!
... I assume my professor of physics is not among
the living anymore. If he were, I would like to send him a note that reads:
“ I finally read the entire book.”
PS/ I took the photo atop this post in Marrakesh,
Morocco. I was walking in one of the souks looking to freeze moments on B&W
film when I saw this older man looking through the opening of la large paneled wooded
gate.
I turned my Minolta Autocord TLR camera side wise,
guessed the focusing distance and froze the moment without his knowing I was
taking a photo.
Hence, neither I interfered with his demeanor, nor
he changed his curious expression because he saw me taking his photo.
Time was frozen, and linear with no bifurcation or a
forking path.
January 12, 2026
© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2026
