This morning, whilst I was chopping vegetables for a casserole, I found myself watching a programme about space, and began to think about the idea that it is never-ending; in fact, it’s getting bigger. More infinite. Everything around me, in this present moment, is placed inside something (I can’t think of the word to describe it) that is so big, that it literally is everything. Little things, such as bacon sandwiches and your boyfriend from year ten, and the wet washing that just won’t dry pales into significance next to this gigantic, incomprehensible complex.
The idea of infinity is almost too much for a human mind to comprehend, purely because as humans, we are finite. We have a period on earth, where we form a very tiny part of the gigantic system, and play our tiny, yet not insignificant role; everyone has their place in this gargantuan system of existence. Moreover, everything we do is fundamentally finite, because we are finite in ourselves. We attend university, however that is finite; reading is a finite activity; even marriage is inevitably finite. And so as a result of this constant stream of existence that almost has a ‘death complex’ to it, the idea that space is infinite is incomprehensible.
However, whilst it is terrifying, it is also amazing; we cannot possibly know everything about the universe, and therefore for all we know, there could be a hundred parallel universes; there could be craters on different moons filled with jelly, and a planet populated with teddy bears and aliens, and Martians. Not knowing everything is terrifying; however liberating because it awakens the mind to the impossible, and even if it is scientifically impossible, it allows the mind to imagine that it is because we cannot ever possibly know.
Now I think that’s amazing.