Chapter 1: Discovering the Unseen World of Microorganisms

When I first delved into the study of animal locomotion, I didn't see myself as a physicist. Having recently completed my undergraduate physics degree, my focus was on traditional fields like quantum mechanics and cosmology. To gauge whether graduate school was a fit for me, I observed a research group at the University of California, San Diego. However, their work diverged from my expectations, as they utilized advanced mathematics to investigate the movement of snails, worms, and microorganisms.

I appreciated the opportunity but initially viewed their research as lacking the essence of fundamental physics. Yet, as I engaged more deeply with the group, I began to experience an identity crisis. Theoretical physicists are akin to artists or athletes; straying from the expected path can feel catastrophic. I imagined the greats, like Einstein and Feynman, disapproving of my choice to explore a different realm.

However, the incredible abilities of microorganisms soon changed my perspective. Some can eject tiny needles or segments of DNA at speeds far exceeding that of a space shuttle, while others share genetic material across species, forming an ancient form of communication. These microorganisms not only outlast us but also operate on a scale one-millionth of our size. Most strikingly, they do not adhere to Newton's laws of motion, a cornerstone of classical physics.

As I studied these remarkable organisms, I began to redefine what it meant to be a physicist. Microorganisms navigate their fluid surroundings in a fundamentally different manner than humans. Our experience in water is influenced by our size and swimming speed, which is captured mathematically by the Reynolds number—a measure of inertia versus viscosity in fluid dynamics. For humans, the Reynolds number is usually several thousand, whereas for bacteria, it's a mere 0.001, indicating that inertia is nearly negligible for them.

To simulate a bacterium's experience, a human would need to swim in molasses at one centimeter per minute, coming to a stop within a distance that would require a microscope to measure. The time spent coasting would be so brief, akin to microseconds, that it is almost imperceptible. In this low-Reynolds-number environment, bacteria can change direction and speed without the traditional constraints of mass and acceleration.

With the realization that inertia plays no role, classical physics concepts become irrelevant. Newton's laws transform into a tautology; in the world of bacteria, motion is defined by immediate velocity without the need for forces. I was astonished to discover that the principles governing the swimming of microorganisms mirrored those of quantum mechanics, which was a significant revelation for my understanding of physics.

This experience taught me that physicists are not limited to studying specific subjects but can apply tools and analytical frameworks to any field. Gauge theory, traditionally associated with quantum mechanics, can also describe the behavior of microorganisms.

My journey led me to a Ph.D. program at Brown University, where I encountered new theoretical physics applications in various fields, from swimming dynamics to the formation of natural structures. This prepared me for the realization that, like microorganisms, humans can also exceed the bounds of Newtonian physics.

In my first year at Brown, I took up tai chi to alleviate the stress of graduate studies. I found solace in the practice, which seemed to offer a path to relaxation and a sense of balance. A specific tai chi exercise, known as tuishou or "Push Hands," profoundly impacted my understanding of movement and force. In this exercise, participants attempt to unbalance each other without using strikes or direct force.

The essence of Push Hands lies in learning to remain flexible under pressure, redirecting an opponent's force instead of meeting it head-on. This requires extensive practice to identify tension within oneself and others, as any stiffness can create vulnerabilities. The skill of "ting," or listening to an opponent's intentions through contact, is crucial in this training.

Push Hands challenges practitioners to adapt their bodies to dissipate incoming forces. In this context, the absence of inertia complicates traditional definitions of mass and center of mass. This realization mirrored my understanding of bacteria, which also navigate their environment without a defined center of mass.

Just like skilled tai chi practitioners, bacteria manage to neutralize forces while still achieving motion. They can change speed and direction instantly, seemingly defying the laws of physics that govern larger organisms. The interplay of force and motion revealed a key distinction: in Push Hands, larger forces are eventually exerted after gaining an advantageous position, whereas bacteria operate without acceleration.

This led me to ponder whether microorganisms could learn from tai chi techniques. How would their behavior change if they could exert force strategically? This question became a central theme in my doctoral research, as I explored new environments that could alter the physics governing bacterial movement.

In these novel settings, bacteria could potentially assist in human tasks, like transporting medicine or powering tiny engines, by manipulating their physical interactions. The ability to trigger forces that enable bacteria to release from surfaces could revolutionize targeted drug delivery, allowing them to transport therapeutic agents directly to tumors while minimizing damage to healthy tissue.

The influence of tai chi extended beyond my research focus; it reshaped my approach to scientific inquiry. Traditional Western philosophy often separates the observer from the observed, but my observations of bacteria and tai chi inspired a more interconnected perspective on physics.

While it may seem naive to link bacteria and martial arts, this perspective is integral to theoretical physics. Embracing these connections led me to explore unconventional ideas in physics education, ultimately shaping my identity beyond the label of "physicist." I began to see myself as a "connector," someone who identifies relationships between disparate concepts.

A connector recognizes the interrelatedness of ideas—an essential skill in physics. Many scientific breakthroughs arise from the interplay of personal experiences and insights, often occurring in everyday situations. These connections might not find their way into formal publications, but they reflect the true nature of scientific discovery.

In essence, our daily experiences may not be so different from the grand pursuits of physics. Like yin and yang, they coexist, often unnoticed, yet play a vital role in our understanding of the universe.

Chapter 2: The Tai Chi of Microbial Movement

In this video, titled "I Lived with a Tai Chi Master on Remote Mountain," the journey of learning tai chi unfolds, illustrating its principles and applications in everyday life.

Chapter 3: Learning to Be a Master

The second video, "Become a Tai Chi Master in 5 Steps!" offers practical guidance on mastering tai chi, emphasizing its benefits for both physical and mental well-being.