The Question Remains

The other day someone described my last blog post as being “mental masturbation”. At first this irked me, but just a bit. Soon I smiled, then realizing the aptness of its title, “A Touchy Subject“!

The post touches on what seems to be a paradox, which is that the universe, being infinite, must be shapeless in its entirety.

But then the other night, something else occurred to me . . . something about what seems to be the one truly universal symbol (the perfect circle). It is a symbol that can be interpreted as “an idea”, and therefore ideas exists in their own dimension, and universally. Countless imaginary circles can be gracefully layered on top of each other. Each one can be minute beyond measure. But then there is the enormity too, and there in lies the eternal paradox?

An imaginary circle can be infinitely large, so one may argue that it “encompasses” an infinite universe. Yet this completely contradicts the theory of shapeless universe . . . both claims appear to be logical.

And so perhaps the imaginary aspect of the universe perpetually tries to encircle the entire universe, even if it knows it is pursuing the impossible dream? Eternal persistence . . . and in the process, life happens here, there and everywhere? It would seem so.

Anyways, as for me, I now feel like I’ve gotten a better appreciation for the concept of infinite looping, but I prefer the term “eternal braid”. I like the latter term because it reminds me of my faith in eternal love, and yet I loathe the #pray that pops up with the day’s rotten news . . . it just seems wrong . . . kind of empty?

I’ve been very fortunate to experience so much magic and plenty of love in my life. I’ve also seen and been a part of so much that is just plain rotten. In the process of creating art, (regardless of what you may think of how it looks), I’ve found this solitude of both magic and love. While I’ve been well trained in various aspects of the scientific method, I can’t help but sense that the universe is well beyond any of that . . . the unquantifiable . . . and it seems to be more of an art form than anything else, and a loving one at that.

As for “coming down to Earth”, what does all this mean? I wonder that myself, and that question has been around for a very long time now. It’s a disturbing question when you really think about it:

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