Of all the things…

Of all the things I know, the one of which I am most certain, is just how insubstantial all the others are.  I understand (I don’t!) the Universe, but I know that I cannot influence it in any way.  The more I know about it, the less I understand – and that goes for everything in it.  I’ve bored you with this conundrum many times before, but if anyone could explain to me how something that is already infinite could possibly expand – and into what? – I would be as grateful as I would be amazed.  I cannot get over my belief that all of those who claim to know all of these things are, in fact, just making it up as they go along.  That they are aware that none of it makes any sense at all, but as long as it remains every bit as confusing as it is, the likes of me will just give into it: let it wash over them and never question.  It is unfathomable – like bitcoin – and not even whisky can bring it into focus.

Astrophysics is the learned practice of filling in the gaps in human knowledge – this being the same kind of knowledge that persuaded alchemists they could turn lead into gold, or at least sell the recipe – with utter bollocks.  They can say anything at all as long as it is confusing enough to offer no potential to be disproven.  If anyone should start to pick holes in their overarching hypotheses, they will simply point out that everything revolves around a theoretical particle which, to date, nobody has managed to identify although they know it exists and they have already given it a name.  It is called Clarence.  ‘And look, here is a telescope that is so powerful that we can see right back to the dawn of time.’  Well, no, you bloody well can’t, because the dawn of time started billions of years ago (I think) and however far you can see, it still happened billions of years ago.  Unless the Universe is a VCR tape, what I can see now is what is happening now.  ‘See that star over there?  Well what you’re seeing now is over a billion years ago.’  Well, no it isn’t, because I’m only 63 years old.  I can’t see before that, because I wasn’t born…’

And yes, I did just say only 63.  Only?  63?  Those are two words that I could never have imagined seeing side by side.  At sixty three years of age, you lose all right to be ‘only’ anything, unless it is ‘slowly falling apart’: only a few short years before you cease to be anything at all.

And then again you think, hang on, if everything is just a mass of particles well, I’m never going to stop being a mass of them am I?  Here I am, just flesh and blood, part whisky/part chocolate, but one day I will be space dust – although I definitely prefer being the former – and who knows, if I hang around for long enough, I might just make it to the dawn of time…