The Unseen Architects: Exploring the Fundamental Properties of Life
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Before we dive into the fundamental principles that shape life, take a moment to pause and observe.
If you’re outside—or can step outside—lie beneath a tree and gaze up into its intricate canopy. Or look closely at the delicate structure of a flower, the organized chaos of an ant colony, or even the fractal spirals of a broccoli or cauliflower floret in your fridge. And if none of those are nearby, simply examine your fingerprint.
Spend a few quiet minutes in focused observation.
What patterns do you notice? How might they form? How does each branch of a tree “know” where to grow? How does an ant navigate its path? How do skin cells shape the unique loops and whorls of your fingerprint?
These questions lead us into today’s journey: the subtle, astonishing properties that define living systems.
A Simple Exercise in Complexity
To begin, let’s try something hands-on. Grab a sheet of grid paper—or, if you don’t have one, use this interactive tool: discover-automata.vercel.app
Set the number of states to 2, and start with a single filled square at the top—just one. Color it in, or set it using the emulator.
Rule 2: The Predictable Path
In each new row, fill every square whose upper-left neighbor was filled in the row above.
After a few steps, a simple diagonal line will emerge. The pattern is mechanical. Predictable. Dull, even. It follows a strict, deterministic rule—and its future is entirely knowable.
But life rarely plays by such tidy rules.
Rule 90: Complexity From Simplicity
Let’s try something more intriguing.
Begin again with just one filled square. This time, apply Rule 90:
A square becomes filled if exactly one of its left or right neighbors in the previous row is filled—not both, not neither.
After ten rows, you’ll see a sharp triangular shape formed from smaller repeating triangles. After twenty rows, those patterns expand into a web of intricate, fractal-like forms.
What’s remarkable is this: each square only “knows” about its immediate neighbors. There’s no central control. No blueprint. And yet—rich structure emerges from minimal rules.
Self-Organization & Fractals: Nature’s Quiet Blueprint
Return, in your mind, to that tree canopy, the flower, the ants, the fingerprint.
None of these systems are governed by a master plan. Each part responds locally to its environment, following simple rules. This is the essence of self-organization—order arising from the bottom up.
You may also notice something else: scaling.
A branch mimics the shape of the whole tree. A fern leaf resembles the entire plant. These are fractals—patterns that repeat at multiple scales. They’re not just mathematical curiosities; they’re central to how life constructs itself.
With nothing more than a grid and a few simple rules, you’ve just recreated core features of living systems: complexity, self-organization, and scale.
The Edge of Predictability: Life’s Beautiful Chaos
Now let’s take one more step.
In the emulator, try Rule 30—a rule known for its surprisingly chaotic behavior. It’s simple: a square becomes filled if the three squares above it match one of these combinations:
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Black, White, White
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White, Black, White
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White, Black, Black
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White, White, Black
Start with a single filled square and let the pattern unfold. At first, you might see symmetry or repetition—but keep going. Chaos emerges. Prediction becomes impossible.
You might wonder: can anyone predict what the 1000th row will look like?
No. Even though the system is fully deterministic, there’s no shortcut. The only way to know is to simulate every step. This is emergent complexity—order and disorder, born from simplicity.
Change a single square at the beginning, and the whole system can evolve differently. Sound familiar? That’s life.
Life at the Edge of Chaos
Like cellular automata, living systems exist on a spectrum—between order and chaos. Even when we understand the rules and the current state, the future can remain unknowable.
And that’s not a flaw—it’s a feature.
Think of this: you might not exist if your father hadn’t stopped at a certain shop one day to buy a pen—where he met your mother.
Life unfolds from countless fragile, unpredictable interactions.
The inability to perfectly predict outcomes might feel unsettling. In fact, this tension between fate and uncertainty our wisdom and our limited abilty to predict the outcom of our did is at the heart of most mythologies.
Even Legends Couldn’t Predict the Future
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The Buddha’s father sheltered him from suffering so he wouldn’t become a sage—yet that protection drove him to seek the truth.
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In Norse myth, Baldr’s mother secured oaths from all things never to harm him—except mistletoe. That one omission led to his death.
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In Antigone, just as people praise human brilliance in the beautiful Ode to Men (See page 15 in this translation). The tragedy begins to unravel—showing that wisdom alone can’t control fate.
The Freedom of the Unpredictable
And yet, unpredictability is also a source of freedom.
As Elphaba sings in Wicked:
“I’m through accepting limits
’Cause someone says they’re so.
Some things I cannot change,
But ’til I try, I’ll never know.”
The future is not fixed. It’s not all possible—but far more is possible than we assume.
What we call “impossible” often just means “unknown.”
In embracing uncertainty, we allow space to explore, to try, to fail—and sometimes, to be astonished by success.
Unpredictability also invites self-compassion. When our efforts don’t produce expected results, it’s not always because we failed. It’s because we exist in a system too complex for straight lines between cause and effect.
This doesn’t mean we abandon reason or effort. It means we acknowledge the truth: even our wisest choices may lead somewhere surprising.
And in that surprise lies the beauty—and the potential—of being alive.
A Final Note: Love Beyond Chemistry
Remember this moment from The Big Bang Theory?
Raj: “Are you saying you don’t believe two people fall in love?”
Ruchi: “Of course they do. It’s just that what people call ‘love’ is actually a series of biochemical reactions in the brain that fade over time.”
Raj: “Yes. Like the old song, ‘When a Man Has a Biochemical Reaction for a Woman.’”
— Season 11, Episode 7: The Geology Methodology
Ruchi’s view is scientifically grounded—but incomplete. From the perspective of complex systems, love can be much more than neurochemistry.
Yes, love begins with molecules. But it grows through interaction, memory, context, and care. In complexity theory, the whole can have properties that none of the parts possess on their own. Love, then, becomes something real and emergent—something we feel, but we cannot fully describe using only the chemical component that it is made from.
We know it’s more than a chemical spike. We live it.
Love is real.
Looking Ahead
Next time, we’ll turn to another emergent phenomenon—one that’s rarely questioned: money.
Through the lens of complexity, we’ll explore how markets behave like living systems—and what that can teach us about investing, inequality, and political change.
See you then.