The hidden order of human yearning
In 1952, physicist David Bohm suggested something that would make most CMOs uncomfortable: beneath the apparent randomness of quantum mechanics lies an invisible order, a hidden reality where particles dance to music we can't hear. Bohm called it the "quantum potential," and it turns out he was describing something far more important than subatomic behaviour. He was mapping the secret architecture of human connection.
The teenager in Tokyo doesn't see a Nike ad and feel determined because Nike made her feel that way. She feels determined because that determination was already there, waiting. The mother in Manchester doesn't experience nostalgia because the campaign triggered it—the nostalgia was humming in her bones, looking for permission to surface. The executive in São Paulo remembers his inner drive not because advertising reminded him, but because something true recognised itself.
This is the lie we've been sold: that marketing creates desire. The truth Bohm stumbled upon is far more elegant - we're all already connected through what I call the "emotional quantum field." Not connected like a network (that's still separate points linked by wires), but connected like waves in the same ocean. What moves one of us moves all of us, instantly, across impossible distances.
Most marketing fails because it operates from the delusion of separation. Demographics. Target audiences. Personas. As if humans were isolated particles bouncing around in empty space, waiting for the right message to collide with them. This is Newtonian marketing in a quantum world - and it's why your conversion rates are terrible.
The campaigns that matter, the ones that shift culture, not just quarterly earnings, understand Bohm's insight intuitively. They don't broadcast to audiences; they tune into frequencies that are already playing.
That 1984 Apple commercial? It didn't create revolutionary feelings in millions of people. It detected a revolutionary yearning that was already rippling through the collective unconscious and gave it a face, a name, a moment of recognition. The ad was less transmission than revelation.
This is why focus groups lie to you. You can't ask people what they want because they don't know what they want until they see it reflected back to them.
The emotional currents Bohm described move below the level of conscious awareness. They're not opinions—they're deeper patterns of being human. Watch luxury brands if you want to see this principle in action. A Hermès campaign doesn't convince you that $5,000 handbags make sense. It assumes you already carry within you an understanding of beauty, craft, and the weight of objects that outlast their owners. The campaign simply provides a moment of recognition—"Yes, this is what I've been feeling."
The spectacular failures reveal the pattern too. When Pepsi tried to solve social justice with carbonated sugar water, the backlash wasn't about bad taste. It was about violating the hidden order of emotional authenticity. They attempted to hijack genuine feelings of social urgency and redirect them toward commercial ends. But emotions, like Bohm's particles, have their own inherent logic. They resist manipulation that contradicts their essential nature.
This changes everything about how we should think about marketing. Instead of asking "How do we make people want this?" ask "What do people already want that we can serve?" Instead of "How do we get attention?" ask "What attention is already seeking us?" Instead of "What message should we send?" ask "What signal are we receiving?"
The Coca-Cola "Hilltop" commercial worked because it appeared precisely when millions of people were unconsciously yearning for global harmony. The campaign didn't manufacture this desire - it detected it, amplified it, made it visible. Like Bohm's quantum potential guiding particles along their destined paths, there was an invisible emotional current already flowing through the collective consciousness. Coke simply became its voice.
This is the marketing most organisations are too afraid to practice: the kind that requires you to feel what your audience feels before they know they're feeling it. The kind that demands you become sensitive to emotional weather patterns that don't show up in your analytics dashboard. The kind that works not because it's clever, but because it's true. If Bohm was right - and the evidence suggests he was - then every marketing message exists within a vast web of emotional resonance.
A billboard in Times Square doesn't just influence the people who see it. It shifts the entire emotional field, creating waves that extend far beyond its immediate audience.
Truth cuts through noise like light through water. When brands lie, they create fractures. Disturbances. People feel it before they think it. Something's off. Something doesn't ring true. But when you speak with real feeling - when your words match what's actually in your heart - everything flows. The message finds its mark. Not because you're clever. Because you're honest.
The old game was about pushing. The new game is about connecting. Smart marketers know this. They're not broadcasting anymore. They're joining a conversation that's been going on forever - the quiet exchange of human feeling that happens beneath all the chatter.
Listen for it. Then speak into it.
Simply. Truly. That's where the future lives.
The hidden order of human yearning
In 1952, physicist David Bohm suggested something that would make most CMOs uncomfortable: beneath the apparent randomness of quantum mechanics lies an invisible order, a hidden reality where particles dance to music we can't hear. Bohm called it the "quantum potential," and it turns out he was describing something far more important than subatomic behaviour. He was mapping the secret architecture of human connection.
The teenager in Tokyo doesn't see a Nike ad and feel determined because Nike made her feel that way. She feels determined because that determination was already there, waiting. The mother in Manchester doesn't experience nostalgia because the campaign triggered it—the nostalgia was humming in her bones, looking for permission to surface. The executive in São Paulo remembers his inner drive not because advertising reminded him, but because something true recognised itself.
This is the lie we've been sold: that marketing creates desire. The truth Bohm stumbled upon is far more elegant - we're all already connected through what I call the "emotional quantum field." Not connected like a network (that's still separate points linked by wires), but connected like waves in the same ocean. What moves one of us moves all of us, instantly, across impossible distances.
Most marketing fails because it operates from the delusion of separation. Demographics. Target audiences. Personas. As if humans were isolated particles bouncing around in empty space, waiting for the right message to collide with them. This is Newtonian marketing in a quantum world - and it's why your conversion rates are terrible.
The campaigns that matter, the ones that shift culture, not just quarterly earnings, understand Bohm's insight intuitively. They don't broadcast to audiences; they tune into frequencies that are already playing.
That 1984 Apple commercial? It didn't create revolutionary feelings in millions of people. It detected a revolutionary yearning that was already rippling through the collective unconscious and gave it a face, a name, a moment of recognition. The ad was less transmission than revelation.
This is why focus groups lie to you. You can't ask people what they want because they don't know what they want until they see it reflected back to them.
The emotional currents Bohm described move below the level of conscious awareness. They're not opinions—they're deeper patterns of being human. Watch luxury brands if you want to see this principle in action. A Hermès campaign doesn't convince you that $5,000 handbags make sense. It assumes you already carry within you an understanding of beauty, craft, and the weight of objects that outlast their owners. The campaign simply provides a moment of recognition—"Yes, this is what I've been feeling."
The spectacular failures reveal the pattern too. When Pepsi tried to solve social justice with carbonated sugar water, the backlash wasn't about bad taste. It was about violating the hidden order of emotional authenticity. They attempted to hijack genuine feelings of social urgency and redirect them toward commercial ends. But emotions, like Bohm's particles, have their own inherent logic. They resist manipulation that contradicts their essential nature.
This changes everything about how we should think about marketing. Instead of asking "How do we make people want this?" ask "What do people already want that we can serve?" Instead of "How do we get attention?" ask "What attention is already seeking us?" Instead of "What message should we send?" ask "What signal are we receiving?"
The Coca-Cola "Hilltop" commercial worked because it appeared precisely when millions of people were unconsciously yearning for global harmony. The campaign didn't manufacture this desire - it detected it, amplified it, made it visible. Like Bohm's quantum potential guiding particles along their destined paths, there was an invisible emotional current already flowing through the collective consciousness. Coke simply became its voice.
This is the marketing most organisations are too afraid to practice: the kind that requires you to feel what your audience feels before they know they're feeling it. The kind that demands you become sensitive to emotional weather patterns that don't show up in your analytics dashboard. The kind that works not because it's clever, but because it's true. If Bohm was right - and the evidence suggests he was - then every marketing message exists within a vast web of emotional resonance.
A billboard in Times Square doesn't just influence the people who see it. It shifts the entire emotional field, creating waves that extend far beyond its immediate audience.
Truth cuts through noise like light through water. When brands lie, they create fractures. Disturbances. People feel it before they think it. Something's off. Something doesn't ring true. But when you speak with real feeling - when your words match what's actually in your heart - everything flows. The message finds its mark. Not because you're clever. Because you're honest.
The old game was about pushing. The new game is about connecting. Smart marketers know this. They're not broadcasting anymore. They're joining a conversation that's been going on forever - the quiet exchange of human feeling that happens beneath all the chatter.
Listen for it. Then speak into it.
Simply. Truly. That's where the future lives.