I woke up terrified of things I don’t understand. It’s a Saturday. I was supposed to sleep in. But instead my thoughts are turning over and over, getting caught in the same corrupt loop. A well-worn half-baked control mechanism, but it doesn’t stop me from doing it.
Today, the loop goes like this: Time is relative. Our past, present and future existing simultaneously. Blackholes absorb light, stretching time to a standstill. Our galaxy has a billion-sun density black hole at it’s center that we swirl around. This black hole will grow until it inevitably reaches out and we pass it’s event horizon. Therefore, if past, present and future exist in this moment, then haven’t we already fallen in? And if so, what does that mean for our relative universe, to exist within and outside of something that itself collapses time.
And so I lie awake, struggling to enjoy a nice Fall Saturday. Knowing there are faults in my logic, and that my attempts to chase the threads of time and gravity, will only unravel more. I can see my drive to understand for what it is: a futile attempt to control the uncontrollable.
But just because I know that, doesn’t mean I stop. The loop continues to play until finally the volition gives out and I surrender to the not knowing.
My personal victory comes in trying to play the loop a little less each time.
