Tag Archives: reality

Micro Infinity – Infinitely Tiny

We think we’ll find the tiniest essence of the universe.

But we are wrong.

The tiniest “thing” is not a string. Or a photon or a bit of energy.

The tiniest thing ever is infinity.

Infinite.

Infinity in a Sunflower

Photo by Depositphotos.com, Lizard

Over the centuries, we’ve all grown used to the idea of infinity at the macro level. It’s big. Big. BIG. HUGE. It’s bigger than we can ever imagine. It goes on forever in time and space. Rocketships can never reach the end of the universe. It’s infinite. It goes beyond the stars, and then farther, forever. It’s infinite. Bigger than Big. We’ve heard this for so long in all of our philosophies, our religions, our sciences, that we think we understand it. We ‘get’ it.

Of course, we don’t. Not really. It’s impossible to genuinely, truly grasp infinity from our human perspective — well, for most of us. I ask myself, just checking: who really, at a gut level, grasps infinity? The Buddha, maybe? Other rare metaphysical leaders?

I don’t grasp it. Neither does my sister or brother or lover or friends or — anyone I know. We just know it’s there. The infinite. The one. The non-duality. We believe it despite the fact that all physical life as we know it comes and goes, lives and dies. Inside an infinite universe.*

Infinity. It’s BIG.

Just as the universe is infinite in macro, infinite in time and space and any other dimensions we can conceive of, so also is it infinite in micro.

Infinity. It’s TINY.

Infinitely tiny in time and space and whatever other dimensions we may discover.
Our universe goes in all directions: forward, backward, sideways, up, down, in, out — big and small.

This occurred to me as I was contemplating the world as we know it, and though I have not yet seen micro infinity discussed by scientists, you can be sure I’ll be googling for that this week. I can’t wait to see what the mathematicians, physicists, metaphysicists and philosophers tell me about this. I promise to share.

What a journey this is — like exploring the net of a trampoline, bouncing, bounding, flying, falling into the net, and peering into the elastic threads that hold all of this together.

* “Universe” no longer describes the “all” as we know it, not with multiverses being discussed, alternate dimensions, and more to be discovered. So, I use “universe” to mean simply, the “all” as we know it, for now.

Finds of the Week

Places, videos, articles and great stuff I came across in my journey this week; in the spirit of sharing with fellow travelers, here are a few.

Interview with Michael Talbot on synchronicity and the holographic universe, shared with us by Thinking Allowed. This is from back in 1992, but not only still timely, but Talbot was able to articulate ideas in a beautiful way. He’s the author of The Holographic Universe.

Here’s a BBC video that explains time in an enjoyable way. Don’t you love it when filmmakers make science intelligible AND interesting? Cosmic Time The True Nature Of Time, Science Physics Universe Documentary, hosted by Michio Kaku, City University of New York.

Can you tell that I’ve been on a stretch of the journey that is searching for the fundamentals? I have.

Here’s another one: M-THEORY AND STRING THEORY – THE ELEGANT UNIVERSE – Discovery Science Space.

And a book I came across that I am still perusing which brings some of these thoughts into our own lives: Quantum Jumps: An Extraordinary Science of Happiness and Prosperity by Cynthia Sue Larson.

Of course, there’s more. If you are on a journey as I am, you know there’s more. That’s the beauty of stretching your mind and exploring consciousness.

 

Two-D Auditorium Paperdolls

I recently had a strange moment − one of those oddities that stayed with me and made me ask: is this how dimensions might look when you can’t see them?

I was in the audience watching Wayne Dyer, somewhat zoned out in the pre-lunch moments, when the view I had from row four shifted from the normal into a semi 2-dimensional view. I saw height and width but no true depth.

Imagine a room where depth is occupied not by full bodies and space. But instead, you have something like those old carnival shooting galleries. Have you been to any of those? There’s a backdrop and in front of it a few lines of tracks and tin duck silhouettes are moved back and forth along the track.

As the room shifted into this odd sight, with Wayne Dyer on one track, his posters behind him on another and then the blue curtain backdrop behind that, it was as if all of us were paper doll images set up along our parallel tracks. My track was row four and we, too, were flat.

I share this because I have since wondered if this helps to see what our world would look like from other dimensions (and yes, I am assuming they exist, though I have no way of knowing what they are or who’s there, if anyone).

In trying to imagine what 3-dimensional life might look like to that 5-dimensional being, or a 6-, 7-, or 8-? − I might come up with something like this − a world that is missing a dimension I’m accustomed to seeing. A world somehow not real. Flat. But not totally.

It was just a moment, but a curious one; I suppose everyone has these moments when the world shifts a bit and then shifts back again. Where would I go to read about them?

I ask myself. What is consciousness?

(c) DepostPhotos.com -njnightsky

(c) DepostPhotos.com -njnightsky

I watch a seagull dive into the calm surface of the Columbia River. Are we connected, this bird and I? Are we entangled in the folds of eternal consciousness?

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What are these ideas of consciousness that the world of physics and spirituality talk about so much and that I understand so little?

I come to this discussion acutely aware of my own materialist understanding of the world. I am Western-educated in the old-school sense of the words, and I question all things that whiff of spirituality unless I’m presented with tangible validation of their factual existence—material evidence. This matter-based view of mine is deeply engrained, imprinted even, and I struggle to catch glimpses of the world as it exists in its deeper realms.

Sometimes I think I see it, or feel it, or tangibly sense consciousness. And my world is akimbo with this evidence, off-kilter as I analyze what I saw, felt or sensed. I stand, off-balance and teetering, because, you see, just recently I began to know on an intellectual level, that it’s there, or here—that an intangible consciousness is at work under, around and above all material aspects of the world; this is a new knowing and it pinches my mind.

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I seek out explanations of what this consciousness is.

I like the simple ones, those easy to grasp. “Consciousness is awareness: the two are synonymous….Consciousness is the potential for all creation.” says Deepak Chopra in The Book of Secrets.

So, I ponder his clear, simple statement: Consciousness equals awareness. Yes. We get that.  But then comes his zinger: it “is the potential for all creation.”  And later: It is “pure potential”. My challenge is not just to understand this intellectually but to really “get” it. I struggle.

Consciousness is a “field of pure potentiality,” and we, as part of consciousness, tap into that field, either intentionally or not.  Clearly, to be intentional about it is preferable.

In reading Peter Russell’s From Science to God and listening to his talks, I come to see his view that consciousness is in all things; all creatures and all systems down to the atomic simply have varying experiences of it. We humans like to believe ours to be the most evolved, but is it? I’m not sure if Russell thinks that it is, and I’m no longer so sure that I can believe it either, or that it matters who’s king of this particular hill.

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This change has happened rapidly for me. It was not so long ago that I looked for consciousness in my body; maybe my mind created it or, somehow, my heart, I thought, and I meditated on that. I could not find it.

I should have just picked up a book by Deepak Chopra or Eckhart Tolle or Peter Russell or Francis Lucille or so many others. They would have told me in a heartbeat that the spirit of all, consciousness, is not in a body, that it is instead nonlocal, everywhere, that it is not a thing residing in time and space.  They might have used terms new to me, like non-duality, as they explained the complexities of this realm. And my head would have been akimbo.

My sister told me the same thing, by the way, and she does not consider herself a philosophical scholar. She just knows. She told me that Sunday School misled us all those years ago. There’s no soul sitting cross-legged somewhere inside our chests, she said.  Consciousness is nonlocal.

As I read and study, trying to grasp this mind-altering change from matter to consciousness, from a mechanistic view of the world to one in which the intangible realm of consciousness creates all, I am often stopped in my tracks by the beauty of it. Of course, then I start up again.

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The vision slips.

The seagull swoops away, white against a pure blue sky.

And I yearn to see it again.

A Shift in Perspective

Sunset off HawaiiCopernicus revealed the big news – the sun does not circle the earth. It does not rise in the East and set in the West. It took awhile, some 200 years, but finally science and the rest of the world agreed and said, “Of course”. We are the ones circling, not the sun. How could it ever have been thought otherwise? And yet, we say the sun “rises” though we know it does not, that in fact, the earth spins and reveals the sun and then keeps spinning and faces away from the sun. Our language still, after so many centuries, has no everyday words for the earth spinning and thus turning to the light in the morning. Sunrise is what we say. And Sunset.

At Mauna Kea – the top of the world and the site of some of the most advanced telescopes on earth, I listened to a nighttime Star talk by park rangers and up-and-coming scientists. They, led by Pablo, a personable ranger and an engaging speaker, describe the stars moving overhead. In a talk that ranges from nebulae to zodiac signs and their constellations, Pablo points out our galaxy that is so gorgeously spread across the night sky. And it is heartrendingly beautiful to see the stars in such clarity and such numbers, accustomed as I am to a city sky with its few stars twinkling here and there in the night. And I am fascinated by the constellations and the clusters of stars I see in the sky.

As night progresses, the scientists on site talk about the stars passing overhead. And I think once again: it’s the language. We all stand here, knowing that the stars will not circumnavigate our world, that our world spins its view of them each cycle. And yet we say the stars pass overhead, the sun rises and sets. Language is always in flux, we know, changing with our changing understanding of the world. And yet this particular aspect of our language is slow to catch up with our world view.

I sit on a balcony in Hawaii the next morning watching the sun “rise” and I work at not seeing the sun rise but focus instead on the earth turning. It takes some effort, as I am so accustomed to the notion of our sun “rising” and “setting”, but soon I begin to see it, the movement of the horizon as it dips into the sun’s light. We dip and then dip further, as we make our slow revolution, revealing just a bit of the sun’s rays and then more and then, voilá, the globe of the sun appears. And we are in the light.

The earth has turned and I have noticed, but I still have no new word for sunrise.
I’m aware that there are deep and philosophical conversations about how much language affects our thinking. Or how much it does not. The discussion on that chicken and the egg proceeds at its own pace. For me, though, the question of the sunrise brings me to ponder some of the other aspects of life. Like consciousness and its effect on our world. I have no word for the way consciousness affects the world around me—is that maybe why I find it so difficult to perceive this influence?