If physics shows how worlds can be made to hold through measurement and formal constraint, living systems show something more primordial. Long before laboratories, instruments, or equations, worlds were already being enacted. Life does not wait for representation. It makes worlds by living.
This post turns to living systems in order to locate the earliest form of world-making: not in description, but in viability.
Life before description
A living system does not encounter an already given environment and then form a picture of it. It survives or fails. It maintains itself or collapses. What matters to a living system is not what exists in general, but what makes a difference to its continued viability.
This difference is crucial. An environment is not a world. A world is the subset of environmental possibilities that can register as relevant within a system’s constraints.
For a living system, to have a world is to have stakes.
Constraint as viability
The constraints that define a living system are enforced relentlessly. They are not methodological or conventional, as in physics, but existential. A breakdown in constraint is not an error; it is death.
This gives living worlds their distinctive character. Phenomena are not merely stable; they are urgent. Distinctions are not merely intelligible; they are consequential.
A nutrient is not an rememberable fact. A predator is not a data point. They are world-defining phenomena because they bear directly on viability.
Meaning without symbols
Living systems enact meaning without symbols, language, or representation. A stimulus matters because of what it enables or threatens, not because it stands for something else.
This is meaning in its most basic sense: constrained responsiveness that makes a difference to what can continue.
Nothing here requires interpretation in the semiotic sense. The system does not ask what something means. It acts.
The first worlds
Seen this way, the first worlds were biological. They were enacted wherever systems maintained themselves against entropy by carving up possibility into what mattered and what did not.
These worlds were narrow, local, and fragile — but they were worlds nonetheless. They had horizons, saliencies, and exclusions. They were not representations of reality; they were ways of holding reality open just enough to persist.
Continuity, not reduction
Recognising living systems as world-makers does not reduce human or cultural worlds to biology. It establishes continuity without collapse. Later worlds inherit and transform earlier constraints, layering new cuts atop old ones.
What changes is not the presence of worlds, but the sophistication of their constraint architectures.
What follows
If living systems enact the first worlds, then language does not create worlds ex nihilo. It modifies, narrows, and stabilises worlds that are already in play.
The next instalment turns to language as a world-making practice of a very particular kind — one that trades existential urgency for portability and coordination.
Worlds did not begin with thought.
They began with life.