Life as a Systems Network: Everything is a Node

Shower Thoughts

What if life is an enormous, interconnected network, where everything—people, ideas, emotions, objects, even fleeting moments—is a node? Each node connects to others through edges: interactions, relationships, or flows of influence. And these connections aren’t static. They shift constantly, their weight and significance entirely dependent on time and context.

A person is a node, shaped by the people and events around them, while also shaping others in return. A word or idea is a node too, carrying weight that ripples outward. Even abstract concepts like justice, love, or fear exist as nodes, sending waves through the system in ways we can’t fully understand.

If I had to put it into an oversimplified equation, it might look something like this:

Here, w_i represents the weight of a connection—its strength, its influence—and t_i is the contribution, the action or effect a node brings to the network. But this equation isn’t predictable. It’s not linear. The weight of a connection, the significance of an action—these things are fluid, shaped by a tangled web of circumstances.

Who you are, where you are, when you act—everything matters. A word spoken at the right moment might ripple through the network, shifting everything it touches, while the same word in a different context might dissolve into nothing. Timing matters. Context matters. Everything matters, but never in the same way twice.

And that’s what makes this system so alive. Nothing exists in isolation, and nothing stays the same. Every node is constantly being shaped by the network, while also shaping it in return. And this isn’t just speculation—this is the world. We’re not talking metaphor here; I am convinced this is how things work.

The wild part? The network is constantly expanding. The universe isn’t just growing physically; it’s growing conceptually, creatively, in every imaginable way. Every time something new comes into existence—a word, a poem, a molecule, a technology—it adds to the system. Once it exists, it’s there. Even if it’s fleeting, even if it’s destroyed, it was part of the web, and that fact doesn’t disappear.

This expansion isn’t just about the creation of things. It’s about what happens after. Because even when something is lost, it creates a new presence—a negative presence, which is different than an absolute absence.

The void before creation is null—it’s pure potential, untouched and undefined. But the void after creation is different. It’s a presence defined by its absence. A lack of something becomes a state, not “nothing.” The absence left behind carries history, context, and influence. Once something exists, even if it’s gone, its absence becomes part of the network, actively influencing it in ways we might not immediately notice.

Take a missing piece in a puzzle. Before the puzzle existed, the idea of a “missing piece” didn’t matter. But once the puzzle was assembled, the lack of that piece became significant, shaping how you see the entire picture. This is what the void after creation does—it becomes a part of the whole system, actively influencing it, even if invisibly.

And this is true for everything—relationships, ideas, even stars. A person’s absence, for instance, leaves ripples through the network of those they touched. A missing idea or lost creation shifts the balance of what’s remembered, rebuilt, or reimagined. Destruction doesn’t undo existence; it transforms it.

Even the universe respects this. Stars that burn out leave behind black holes, nebulae, or faint trails of light. These absences are not “nothing”; they are echoes, silent witnesses to their past.

If everything is connected, and so much of what we do is shaped by the network—by the nodes and edges around us—how much can we truly hold a person accountable for their actions? If we are all products of the system, shaped by forces beyond our control, can we separate someone from the circumstances that shaped them?

Perhaps accountability isn’t an absolute. Maybe it’s dynamic, shaped by the extent of what someone could have done within their context. In a network where timing, influence, and interaction constantly shift, accountability has to be fluid too. It’s less about blame and more about understanding: what forces shaped this node? How did it shape others in return?

And yet, in this sprawling network, there is space for agency. Moments arise where we can act deliberately, create new nodes, and shift the web in ways that feel meaningful. The voids left behind when we fail to act—or when we destroy—still carry influence. Maybe this is where accountability lives: not as a static judgment, but as a dynamic responsibility to recognize our place in the network and act accordingly.

It’s overwhelming, isn’t it? To think that we’re part of this vast, expanding system. That every moment, every action, every ripple, matters. That we’re not just shaped by the network, but shaping it in return.

Maybe I’m just overthinking it. But doesn’t this feel like the only way to see it? Life as a dynamic, infinite, unpredictable network. A web of nodes and edges, presence and absence, constantly expanding and evolving.

It’s messy. It’s staggering. It’s beautiful.

Or maybe I am just crazy.