The Quantum Fountain: A Material Autocosmology
By Caroline Dickey
Starborne: The Journal of Autocosmology, Issue 1, can be read in full at the above link. Each individual contribution will be shared here as well, one every week.
The Quantum Fountain: A Material Autocosmology
by Caroline Dickey
What is the universe up to? Is it a vast, indifferent expanse of material processes, or does it reveal an inherent directionality through its unfolding? While we cannot peer inside the universe’s “mind,” we can discern its tendencies by tracing the patterns that shape its evolution. Across all scales—from the quantum realm to the vast structure of galaxies—emergence arises from relationship. Interactions between elements generate new possibilities, driving the cosmos to evolve: particles form atoms, atoms coalesce into molecules, molecules organize into stars, planets, and, eventually, life itself.
At the heart of this generative process is the Cosmogenetic Principle—the interplay of differentiation, autopoiesis, and communion, the engine of the universe’s unfolding complexity. Differentiation fosters diversity and uniqueness, ensuring that no two entities are alike. Autopoiesis sustains the integrity of individuals, enabling them to self-organize and persist. Communion weaves these individuals into interdependent relationships, binding the universe into a vast, relational whole. Without differentiation, the cosmos would collapse into homogeneity; without autopoiesis, it would lose its capacity to sustain life; without communion, it would fracture into isolated units. Together, these dynamics drive the universe toward ever-increasing complexity.
But this unfolding is not merely about change—it is about the birth of the unprecedented. The universe does not simply rearrange what already exists; it generates what has never been before. Life was not inscribed in the cosmos from the beginning but emerged when conditions allowed, opening pathways to realities beyond prior possibility. This pattern of emergence marks the threshold where the qualitatively new arises. At each level of complexity, something more significant than the sum of the parts emerges—new forms of existence, new ways of being.
The cosmos is a wellspring of novelty. It is not a static structure or a machine producing predetermined outcomes. It is a living, open-ended process of self-organization, where each moment births new potential. The Cosmogenetic Principle reflects this dynamic: differentiation, autopoiesis, and communion work together to enable new levels of emergence, allowing complexity to deepen and possibilities to expand.
Imagine the universe as a fountain, endlessly bubbling forth new actualities from a sea of pure potentiality—a concept echoed in the very heart of quantum theory. But to truly grasp this, we must feel the shift within ourselves. It’s not just about understanding the universe’s dynamic nature; it’s about embodying it. We trade the comfortable perch of passive observers for the exhilarating, sometimes daunting role of co-creators in an ever-unfolding story. With each thought and each action, we reflect, participate, and shape the universe, becoming the very instruments through which it activates, celebrates, and evolves—a universe coming to know itself through our own imaginative awareness.
“The Quantum Fountain,” pictured here, is my meditation on emergence, relationality, and ceaseless creativity. Composed of found organic and manufactured materials—seed pods, wire, shattered ceramics, and feathers—it stands as experiential evidence that matter is never fixed but always in transformation. Each component existed first as something else, shaped by forces beyond my control, before being gathered into a new configuration.
I created this assemblage during a recent Deep Belonging course called Embodying Evolutionary Cosmology. Over the course of ten weeks, we gathered to explore what it means to embody evolutionary cosmology: what it feels like, sounds like, tastes like, smells like, looks like. As we collaborated, we did not merge into sameness; instead, our differences sharpened and deepened one another. Each discussion, exchange, and offering became an act of relational creativity, generating new thought, understanding, and expression. Like the evolving cosmos, we became a self-organizing system—an interplay of differentiation, autopoiesis, and communion, where individuality and interconnection fueled the emergence of novelty.
One week, we were given a powerful prompt: can you make experiential contact with the realm from which all matter is constantly foaming forth? I ventured to a local park with the singular intention of opening myself to the more-than-human beings and things within it. With that openness, I collected whatever I encountered—not through deliberate selection, but by following a sense of resonance, a quiet pull toward certain objects. This was not a process of choosing but of noticing, of allowing materials to reveal themselves as part of a larger unfolding. Some pieces caught my attention through their texture or shape; others seemed to insist on their presence, as if they belonged to something yet to be realized.
This act of intuitive gathering became the foundation of the sculpture. Just as the universe does not impose form but allows it to emerge through relationship, this piece arose through attunement rather than intention. I did not set out to make a fountain, nor did I have a predetermined vision. Curves took shape, elements found their place, and I followed. Every decision was neither a mistake nor a detour but part of an unfolding process—a dialogue between myself and the materials. Creation was not an act of control; instead, the fountain took form through discovery and responsiveness, arising from an openness to the materials and the conditions of the moment.
The Quantum Fountain does not just depict evolutionary cosmology—it performs it. Like all things in the cosmos, it is a temporary crystallization of relational creativity at work. It enacts the very principles by which the cosmos evolves, reflecting the fundamental truth that we, too, are part of this vast, generative unfolding. To create is to participate in the universe’s own creativity—to recognize that, like the sculpture, like the stars, like life itself, we are not separate from the cosmic process, but expressions of it.
Caroline Dickey is a master’s student in Philosophy, Cosmology, and Consciousness at the California Institute of Integral Studies. She wonders how human perception and creative expression participate in the unfolding of an evolving cosmos, with a special interest in metaphysics, process thought, and the role of storytelling in shaping ethical and imaginative life. She lives in Oakland, CA, where she balances philosophical inquiry with wandering the woods and gazing at the sky.