The Infinite Majestic of Being

(h/t Greg Rakozy)

The universe is too vast to comprehend; it's infinite, in fact. Yet I know that it is splendid.

By Sam Yang - Get similar updates here

We are a widening narrative that narrows back to a source — and through our interpretation of this lineage, we also create the Poet. It's co-creation; God created us, and we created God.

And when I say God, I am not using the specific personal God; I am using the universal ambiguous God, the God of philosophers and scientists, the God of Spinoza and Einstein — the beautiful truth — the underlying majesty that binds the infinite unknown.

We fixate on images of a heavenly grandfather in the sky. Or, alternatively, the Big Bang. Yet what was before? Some scientists believe before the Big Bang that created our known universe, there were other Big Bangs, an infinite number of Big Bangs. However, what was before the Before?

Human nature has difficulty with the abstract. It's either a quantifiable physical event, like an original Big Bang, or it's a person, the original Poet. Some wonder if this is all a simulation. That raises the question: who is the Creator? Is the Creator also a simulation? Who created the Creator?

And what if there is no original architect? Only infinite regression.

With our animal minds, we idolize originality. We worship the one initial source, but what if there is no initial? Would that hinder the grandeur? It may be, that is the grandeur.

Perhaps there once was a version of the universe which resembled a celestial body, that moved in some deliberate way. Perhaps it was more than once. In an infinite amount of time and space, everything is possible. Yet who could make this conclusion? And does it matter? When there were things before, and there are things after. That is the nature of Infinity. It does not have a first or a last.

Our minds cannot fathom. What was before Infinity? How did all that we know come to be?

And that is the majesty of life. We could very well have not existed; there could have been nothing and stayed nothing. How did it come to be that something came from nothing? Though it does not seem possible for matter to just appear, we are proof that it did.

We are then so fortunate to exist. What a beautiful existence, to be alive when the other option was nothingness — not even death, but a lack of existence. But here we are, light, love, and music. And what's more, life endures. Here we still are. Every moment a limitless blessing.

It's a cycle, the infinite majestic. If we are from stardust, we are a small but important part of the cycle of rebirth — giving rise to wondrous things, forming new bodies that didn't have a chance to exist before. Just as other matter converted to our being, our being will one day form new matter. We will one day form new stars, or perhaps a butterfly. We are the system but we also create the system. Then, in this way, we are eternal.

I cannot prove in any scientific way that life is beautiful. I cannot say with any certainty that the infinite majestic is nothing more than poetic language. Yet poetry exists. We have the capacity to find profoundness in the ordinary.

The universe is too vast to comprehend; it's infinite, in fact. Yet I know that it is splendid. My meaningful grasp comes from belief. I am no less than the moon and no more than dust in the moonlight.

Without faith, nothing makes sense — not even science. We do not know the science of most things; we take it on good faith. Faith in my value; value my faith.

The majesty of life is poetry. We find order in nature and artistry in the random. We find awe in how things came to being. Other animals see the world as it is, through one layer of reality — the sun, the river, and the trees. We view the world in its multiple layers — the sun, the river, trees, but also magic, science, and Radiance.

A sun that provides life, trees that provide shade, and a river which we can see through, drink, and immerse ourselves in. These natural joys are not lost on us.

The importance of the source, God or science, speaks to our gratitude for being alive. We want to understand the cause of our existence; we shape the unimaginable nonlinear into something our minds can perceive. So that we may appreciate it. So that there may be a recipient for our thanks.

Because literal words cannot express how much we value being here. So we create wonderful narratives. Or perhaps it was a wonderful narrative that created us. We are co-creators. Existence needs a witness and a witness needs existence. Yet what came first? And does it matter?

My search is not for my maker or what cosmic events lead me to being. I exist, therefore I belong. That is all I need to know.

In the everyday, from star to butterfly gazing, I seek the splendor of living. Not how we are here, not why we are here, or when will this end. But to enjoy being. I am inspired and thankful just to be here. Just to be.

Many of the questions that keep us awake arise from a desire to control. The human believes, the more we know, the more we can command. We believe nature is ours to master.

Even out of my hands, I have faith that the Infinite Unknown will remain unknowable, yet remain majestic. Yield and let go, and you'll sleep like a new babe. You are a child of the Universe. Have faith in existence.

That is what I have come to be-live.

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