Bananas, Bosons & Being

Why- the eternal question?

I've long been obsessed with identity—what makes each of us uniquely ourselves. Beyond family, love, and respect, we must forge our own bonds, guided by instinct and judgment. Trusting my gut—to size someone up and categorise them mentally—has always felt both necessary and scary.

Since childhood, I've been drawn to physics and the hunt for the universe's smallest parts. The Higgs boson—the "God particle"—was thrilling yet sobering as if the ultimate prize had been won (even though mysteries remain). Physicists moved from atoms to electrons, protons, and neutrons before finding the Higgs. Could we pursue a similar quest to uncover the basic units of personality? What separates me from the market stranger wearing my T-shirt and buying the gooey plums I detest?

This curiosity pushed me to philosophers and spiritualists asking “Who am I?” for centuries. In each essay, I’ll explore two themes that both distinguish us and unite us—bite-sized pairs I can process and you can follow, symbols of love I adore. So let’s begin.

Beats of wonder

I want to start the series with something that I myself have been struggling with- dealing with potential. People have always been talking about living up to one's potential, being an underachiever, being lucky in bagging a career, having no potential to have a relationship etc. Aristotle's doctrine of potentiality (dunamis) versus actuality (energeia) is the classic locus: a block of marble potentially contains a statue, but only the sculptor’s work brings that statue into being. Similarly, human potential refers to capacities—moral, intellectual, creative—that we carry but have not yet deployed. Some modern thinkers, like Rousseau, emphasize potential as the innate goodness and capacity for self‐development within each person, which society must nurture. 

We too often blur the line between potential and intellect—yet they are fundamentally different. Intellect is the realized act of knowing: the thoughts we think, the judgments we make, the insights we articulate. Potential, by contrast, is the uncharted territory of what our minds could achieve, given the right circumstances and resolve. The intellectually active person embodies their capacities; potential, however, remains an open horizon—an invitation to become more than we are at this moment.

With that distinction in mind, let's set intellect aside for a moment and explore potential through a simple market encounter. It's Thursday, and I'm at the weekly farmer's market—one of my favourite rituals, as I wander through the full sensory gamut of vegetables, fruits, and grains. At one of the four fruit stalls I visit, I notice someone painstakingly selecting plums—the one fruit I truly dislike for its gooey pulp and messy eating. I have a fixed fruit list, bananas, apples, and then a couple of seasonal fruits. I grab bananas by the bunch without a second thought, they are 8 pieces, I don't haggle and complete my fruit list. The plum guy is still selecting the plums. Their slow, deliberate search revealed a curiosity and internal rhythm entirely unlike my own. While I was exiting the market I ran into an old friend after years, he was going in and I was out, our rhythm matched otherwise we could have missed each other for a few more years. I thought that it was the internal rhythm and underlying curiosity that separated my and the plum guy's movements through the weekly market, and led us to our so-called fate. Today, through the lens of Rhythm and Curiosity, I want to examine how potential unfolds and what it reveals about who we might become.

I searched if the philosophers align with my concept of rhythm and curiosity if they have thoughts about these terms if not the connection. It was interesting what I came across, but let me define what I mean by these central terms.

Defining terms

Rhythm

Philosophers have long noted that human life unfolds according to intrinsic tempos—natural cadences that govern our perceptions, actions, and well-being. I found Nietzsche’s notion of the eternal recurrence can be read as a metaphor for this inner rhythm: as per him life repeats itself in cycles, and to affirm that cycle is to live in tune with one's deepest pulse. For me, this was similar to the rhythm or beat I had in mind. Similarly, Heidegger spoke of "being-in-time,” suggesting that our selves are defined not only by isolated moments but by the broader temporal flows in which those moments occur. This was a bit harder to understand (just like how to pronounce Heidegger!) Temporal flows are rooted in the physical world and not in the spiritual world, thus again coming back to the theme of time which is an intrinsic part of rhythm. In practical terms, each of us feels this rhythm in the speed at which we walk, eat, or think—yet when circumstances force us offbeat, we instinctively seek to return to our natural pace, whether through a mountain retreat or a quiet personal ritual. That underlying cadence shapes how we engage with the world and, ultimately, how we express our potential.

Curiosity

Since antiquity, curiosity—or wonder as Aristotle mentioned it—must have been heralded as the spark of all knowledge. Aristotle famously wrote that “men were first led to study philosophy by wonder”—a state in which we recognize our own ignorance and feel driven to explore. Later thinkers, from Francis Bacon- who was one of the first philosophers who insisted on science, argued that scientific knowledge is obtained after making observations and then utilizing inductive reasoning to interpret the observations. Similarly, Kant was primarily driven by a desire to understand how we acquire knowledge. These philosophers treated curiosity as an innate faculty guiding us toward new inquiries, whether in natural science, humanities, or art. If I want to visualise then, each person's curiosity forms a unique three-dimensional map of interests in our minds—one that pulls our attention where our inner mass of wonder is greatest. Though practical necessities may lead us to adjust our paths, curiosity remains the force that animates our inquiries and turns daily experience into a horizon of discovery.

I think I was on a journey to assess my thoughts with philosophy, so I peeled a banana while I typed in the search bar of ChatGPT and google to understand more about these terms.

Philosophical Genealogy of Rhythm

So I found that Plato and the Pythagoreans first pictured the universe itself as a kind of grand symphony, where numerical ratios governed the harmony of the spheres and revealed a hidden, cosmic rhythm beneath all change. This concept of Cosmic Rhythm for me was on the edge of physics and spirituality, some form of metaphysics, which I was not that keen to delve into. Then I found Nietzsche, reacting against static metaphysics, recast our existence as an eternal recurrence—a ceaseless, pulsating affirmation of life in which each moment returns again and again, insisting we embrace its rhythm fully. This was again playing with the cyclic nature of time, which I cannot 'see' in the physical world. So I looked for Heidegger, he then shifted focus inward, describing “being-in-time” as an ongoing unfolding, where our very sense of self arises through our temporal engagement with the world. Finally, Merleau-Ponty brought rhythm into the realm of embodied experience, arguing that our bodies, in their habitual motions—walking, breathing, speaking—express a tacit, pre-reflective temporality that underlies all conscious thought. Together, these thinkers trace a genealogy of rhythm from cosmic order to the intimate cadence of our lived, bodily being. Which was a validation for my theory of rhythm.

Philosophical Genealogy of Curiosity

Now my curiosity got the better of me as I went on to segregate my market haul, keeping each brinjal in a pattern of ups and downs, leafy vegetables in specific bags, etc. I kept searching on my phone out of curiosity though. I found Aristotle famously declared thaûma—wonder—as the spark that ignites our philosophical journey, for it is our surprise at the world’s mysteries that drives us to ask “why?” centuries before systematic science emerged. Why is one of my favourite questions to ask, and not always out of curiosity but also out of boredom! Why me! Anyway, Francis Bacon built on this impulse of thaûma by identifying the mind's "idols"—prejudices that cloud judgment—and championed empirical curiosity as the antidote, urging us to gather facts through observation and experiment to reform our thinking. Thus, creating a system to break down wild curiosity. Kant then delineated the limits of pure reason, warning that unchecked speculation could lead us astray, and placing curiosity within the bounds of possible experience so that it enriches, rather than confuses our understanding. Finally, John Dewey transformed curiosity into a pragmatic force, insisting that genuine inquiry must be grounded in the problems and contexts of real life, thereby weaving wonder, disciplined method, and practical consequence into a dynamic loop of learning. Well, it was nice to witness my curiosity getting structurally defined on my quest to find more about curiosity. 

Implications for Identity & Action

So how can I bring the rhythm and curiosity together? Can they be the building blocks of what helps construct- me? I think when Rhythm and Curiosity join forces they can become a powerful engine that can navigate us not only through the weekly farmer's market but also through the choices I make in relationships, career and other intellectual pursuits by forming my own personal habits through rhythm. While curiosity fuelling the extent I pursue the quest for meaning. Cultivating phronēsis, or practical wisdom, helps us navigate the tension between routine and exploration. By tuning into our natural tempo, we learn when to accelerate into creative or motivational flow and when to pause for reflection and reset. Thus our natural tempo works as a temporal compass for us, telling us if we are going too fast or too slow. When I found that two of the eight bananas I picked up were bad, I realised that I went a bit too fast with their selection. Similarly, by following the trails of our curiosity, we discover fresh interests that enrich our work and deepen our relationships, when a burst of inquiry will propel us forward rather than scatter our focus. My meeting with that old friend led me to make weekend plans with him- a mini-reunion over some drinks (plum cocktails maybe!)

Limitations & Open Questions

Yet this framework raises important questions. Can we truly train our rhythm, or does it inevitably snap back to its default cadence once external pressures ease? At what point does curiosity, once our greatest ally, tip into distraction or anxiety—chasing novelty for its own sake rather than meaningful understanding? And how do cultural norms, social expectations, or even our biological makeup shape the rhythms we inhabit and the curiosities we pursue? These open questions remind me that while rhythm and curiosity chart promising paths for self-discovery, they also demand ongoing reflection on the conditions that enable—or constrain—their fullest expression. 

Coming back to the farmer’s market, the time we took in the stalls and the contents of our baskets were entirely different—perhaps the plum picker was already imagining plum jam, while I bumped into an old friend purely because our rhythms aligned at that moment. This simple scene reminds us of the key distinctions we’ve traced: intellect as our realized thought, rhythm as our innate tempo, curiosity as our driving wonder, and potential as the horizon those forces reveal. Embracing both rhythm and curiosity—and practising phronēsis, or practical wisdom—allows us to honour our own cadence even as we follow new questions. So as you leave today's market of ideas, ask yourself: what is your rhythm asking you to explore next, and what curiosities will fill your basket? Which two themes will you taste-test in the week ahead?