Infinity, love, radiation
Read the following with the background thought “All this is unrecorded truth.”
In the entire universe, astronomers tell us of billions of galaxies, and that each galaxy has billions of stars, and that many of these stars have planets. In all the vastness there are billions of other objects in space; there’s huge clouds of dust and gas, black holes and comets. Almost nothing, NOTHING is known about all of this.
Inside a glass filled with a carbonated beverage, we see bubbles grow in size at the bottom and on the sides of the glass. They get bigger until they break the bond and rise to the top of the liquid where they burst and disappear. Almost nothing, NOTHING of the travels of all the bubbles in all the glasses of the world is known-despite the fact that perhaps trillions of bubbles a day are thus “born”, live a short “life” and “die”.
In deepest jungles, on tops of mountains, in the depths of the seas, trillions upon trillions upon trillions of atoms move constantly crashing into each other. Almost nothing, NOTHING of these motions are recorded by any known agency.
Billions of people on this planet have thoughts, emotions, and sensations every day. They come and go in an instant. They are so fleeting that hardly one in a million is “important enough” to gain the attention of the mind “strongly”. Almost none, NONE of these thoughts are recorded in any fashion whatsoever. And no one complains about this.
Across the universe, twelve billion light years away may be a star so bright that even at that great distance it can still be seen. A few of its uncounted photons of light reach your eyes. Yet billions of light years away from both the star and you may be a deep cave which is straight but quite narrow and only on one night of the year does a few of that very same star’s photons penetrate to its farthest wall. The entirety of space is flooded with such photons from all the stars to all the eyes and walls and dust particles throughout the universe. Almost none, NONE of these photons leave a trace of having traveled these distances or impacted at their “final” destinations.
Millions of books have been written by human beings. Almost none, NONE of the wisdom of these books is known by anyone.
Ask yourself,What do I know, and what the heck does it matter?
In this immensity of time and space, why do I bother caring about anything when I consider the shortness of my life and the utter utter loss of information all around and within my life?
Of what import is a particular memory or record of something when it is one incident or object that has been duplicated or nearly duplicated a billion trillion times throughout the history of the universe? What kind of conceit is it that I feel that anything I have or have done or am is unique and deserves special attention and preservation?
Who cares? Who really cares that entire galaxies with billions of stars and billions of planets can be crushed into “the unknown” by a black hole, and that this happens uncounted times in the history of the universe?
With such magnitude of destruction, with such certainty of the eventual and complete erasure of everything human from the face of history, what makes me think anything is special enough to cling to? Who am I kidding?
What’s the deal with life? What’s so precious about billions of entities eating billions of entities so that billions more entities can be created to appease the hunger of billions of entities?
If God gave me the brain that could do it, and made it my job to track all this, would this be a good job? Or have I been given the reverse of this job, and I’m not very good at it?
Is my memory basically a child’s scrapbook filled with pictures of mud pies I baked?
In all this, ALL THIS, what really matters?
What really matters most: what I experience, how I experience it, or that during the experience I AM?
When I love, what is more important-the love radiating from me or the objects that are lit by it?
Do I need a memory to love?