Let me tell you what really makes me uncomfortable. Something that chaps my hide in a disconnected, trivial manner because there is nothing I can do about it.
I have a hard time reconciling the concept of a “singularity” which was the embryonic seed responsible for jump starting this putrid existence we call a universe and a solar system and a society and a blogosphere. Ever since that singularity met a trigger which initiated eternal multiplication and replication (sorta like Walmart) billions of years ago, it’s been one insult after another. The magnificent universe gave way, reduced, to Lady Gaga. Stop and think about it. Lady Gaga was the result, billions of years later, of a singularity encompassing all the matter in existence which deformed and cascaded down slithering slopes light years across and spawning natural laws and a self-perpetuating unfolding of physical reality, each series of “unfolds” empowering and propelling a new galaxy of unfolding, layers upon layers of new existences compounding on the old, exponentially accelerating and replicating until we were, have been, left with this rather large piece of interstellar real estate.
I have a hard time with the singularity.
Surely the origins of this universe are more exotic than a condensed mass of incomprehensible matter which was suddenly distended by an infinitely prolonged series of randomitudes. I just made that word up. “Randomitude.”
How do I define it?
Hmm. Think of a hypothetical spelling bee and the obligatory 10-year-old Asian wunderkind who walks up the podium a little too excited for our own good, and utters discreetly, “Randomitude. R-A-N-D-O-M-I-T-U-D-E. Randomitude, a phsyical phenomena in which an infinite reaction is precipitated by a random occurrence which thus initiates a series of other non-ending random occurrences, fueling themselves for eternity, or what passes for it, thus giving rise to natural laws and life and reality. Randomitude.”
Now that I think of it, perhaps the singularity isn’t such a bad proposition. If you define the origins of the universe through the lens of randomitude, it makes sense. Think of this universe as a nuclear reactor that has “burned” for billions of years. On a cosmic scale, this is isn’t so outlandish. A nuclear reactor perpetuating its own fission for billions of years. Like a star, except in the case of the singularity and the ensuing “nuclear reaction” called the universe, the fissionable material was not hydrogen or other naturally occurring elements. No, the fissionable material was not material at all. Not in the sense we think of something we can see or hold or demarcate in a 3-dimensional frame, but rather a concept, a state, of random. Random, by its very nature, is capable of happening spontaneously at any moment and if randomly opportune, will spawn further random occurrences that react and spawn reactions that eventually give rise to random existences, random life, random us.
The question is, how long did the singularity exist in this state of ultra low entropy? Perhaps the answer is incomprehensible and for this reason, randomitude was given enough time to appear and propagate its spawning infinite reactions. The answer can be viewed through a simple thought experiment. If you crack an egg in half and throw it into a bucket every minute of the day, how long will it take before random chance dictates that the egg will reassemble in the bucket exactly as it appeared before you cracked it in half? Assuming of course, you are eternal…how many billions, trillions, and beyond, years, would you need to break an egg every minute of every day before this random fluke reassembly of the egg occurred? A very long time, but in this context, it is not too difficult to imagine that the random burp that disrupted the singularity and fed its kernel to the popcorn maker which unfolded our massive universe, could have happened if the singularity held in place for an uncountable span of time. In this sense, randomitude is our god, our omnipotent designer. Randomitude gave us life.