Orient Towards The Infinite...
When you realize a Satanic Death Cult Runs the World.
Physics, in its latest conspiracy theories, tells us something profoundly unsettling.
What we call solid matter is mostly nothingness. Atoms are tiny storms of probability. The stuff of the world is like music. Vibrations in quantum fields humming in a vacuum that isn’t empty at all. The void seethes. It flickers with virtual particles popping in and out like cosmic fireflies.
Atheists tell us a magical cosmic furnace forged the elements of the universe without meaning or purpose. Anyone asking for an explanation of the cause or reason for this greatest of all miracles is dismissed as a hostile witness or science denier. The Big Bang explains everything, we are told. So, just for the Hell of it, some factory created itself and then all the stuff of the universe out of nothing, compressed it into a singularity with infinite density, vomited it out of a Black Hole and the inert matter became conscious of itself with the benefit of time and random events. OK. that settles it!
Not that I don’t trust the science. I get it. Hydrogen folds under gravity, ignites, and forges helium. Massive stars die theatrically, exploding heavy elements, carbon, oxygen, iron blasts into space. Your bones were minted in stellar catastrophes. You are a supernova souvenir.
And yet, this explanation of the process leaves me as cold as interstellar space.
Cutting-edge physics hints that the universe may not be made of matter at all, but of information. Some theorists propose a holographic principle: reality is like a cosmic projection, a three-dimensional image encoded on a distant two-dimensional boundary. This one hurts my brain. The world is not like a theatre, but cinema itself. Light and code. We are not lumps of meat stumbling through space. We are patterns. Organized whirlpools in an insanely vast informational ocean.
Fifty trillion cells compose your body. Each one contains the entire script for you. Not a fragment. Every season and every episode. In a fractal framework, tens of billions of galaxies comprise the universe. Each one acting like a cell. Inflationary cosmology expands us even further. In a multiverse, each universe may be a cell. The immense mirrors the miniscule. The synapses in your brain resemble cosmic filaments mapping clusters of galaxies. Plasma currents traveling the barren oceans between stars echo neural pathways between thoughts.
It is fractal all the way down & out. As above, so below.
We humans, and the hu-niverse are mostly nothing. But not nothing. Never nothing. Structured emptiness. Pregnant absence. The silence between notes that makes the symphony possible.
If the universe is infinite, then aren’t we? We are not spectators in the theater. We are the production reviewing itself. When you contemplate the cosmos, hydrogen contemplates hydrogen. Star-stuff studies star-stuff. The universe performs an enigmatic loop: it bends back and asks, “WTF am I?”
Consciousness is a scandal. Physics can describe fields and forces, but the fact that there is experience at all is the great unsolved riddle. Some scientists suspect consciousness may be fundamental, not an accidental byproduct but a feature of reality as basic as space-time. If so, then the mind is not in the universe. The universe is in the mind.
God forbid we talk about God.
Infinity means anything we can imagine exists. We can imagine an infinite intelligence, so it exists. Imagination itself is real. The capacity to conceive of infinity arises from the same cosmic process that forged quasars. The idea of God is not imported from outside the system. It blooms from within it. If the universe produces beings who can conceive of the Absolute, then the Absolute is, at minimum, a structural probability encoded in reality.
God is the infinite set of all possible patterns, all possible universes, all possible minds. And if there are countless universes, as some multiverse theories suggest, then our cosmos may be a single frame in an endless film.
One universe is far too small to contain the mind of God.
Yet infinity remains ungraspable to us if we self-identify as finite. If we are finite creatures peering into bottomless depth, we are like ants crawling on a copy of Hamlet. Magic and answers lie right beneath our tiny feet, but also beyond our grasp.
And yet, when you sit quietly, when you step out of the daily grind of grim clickbait, manufactured outrage, and the pathetic, petty churn of modern life, you taste something that feels outside time. Meditation and prayer are not escapes. They are re-scaling. Remembering that the noise is local, but the silence is universal.
To think about the universe is to practice a form of self-recognition. The atoms in your brain were once plasma in ancient stars. The space inside you mirrors the space between galaxies. The currents in your cortex echo the filaments stretching across cosmic voids.
We are holographic. Fractal. Mostly nothing, yet magnificently and miraculously, and decidedly not nothing.
The infinite may be beyond our comprehension. But it is not beyond our participation.
The universe is not merely out there.
It is in here.
So, if the news about a Satanic cult of baby-eating demons running and raping the world and our future is somehow making you blue,
You need only to re-scale your thoughts.
And orient towards the infinite.
May I share with you a magnificent quote from the great German poet Johan Wolfgang von Goethe:
"Until one is committed there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation) there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans. That the moment one definitely commits oneself then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way.
Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it.
Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it.
Begin it now."
I read this quote, quite by chance, where it was pinned up in a local copy shop. I read it when I was contemplating a very ambitious work, a book on mechanical movement for puppets and automata. I could not find a publisher for such a subject; I knew nothing about researching for a book, I was not a graphic designer and knew nothing about book design. And I didn't know of a good printer who might consider printing the book. But when I decided to, come what may, begin it, one after the other, things fell into place. I contacted other artists; they shared their work for the book. One artist showed me a beautiful book printed by a superb printer...he became my printer. I learned book design, and a museum book designer introduced me to her favorite graphic designer who taught me how to design the pages. The end was a 512 page book with 1500 color illustrations, costing a large part of my retirement savings. It didn't end there. The book was a success with thousands of artists who wanted to learn mechanical movement. And the book found me a husband.....an indefatigable German blogger whose blog concerns all things kinetic. I am now preparing to move to Germany to live with him, it is a huge risk. But God seems to help those who take risks.
The book is Figures in the Fourth Dimension, Mechanical Movement for Puppets and Automata.
Sure, I believe in evolution. But it's odd that it is promoted by the very scientists who also adhere to the idea that entropy always increases. It reminds me of an observation of Chesterton's:
"It is absurd for the Evolutionist to complain that it is unthinkable for an admittedly unthinkable God to make everything out of nothing and then pretend that it is more thinkable that nothing should turn itself into everything."