Friday, August 5, 2016

The Philosophy of Infinity

When we study infinity, we should consider it as a primarily religious concept. Most planets discover, and employ, a term like "infinity" in spiritual fashion; it is a notable star system development, an expression of joy and cognizance, to postulate "ever expanding," which is the nature of existence and the true--and always original--meaning of infinity. In that sense, it's rather like "seeing God," recognizing the Spring's boundlessness.

Technocratic mathematics, as it is gradually severed from philosophy, achieves a decaying of concepts of infinity. Limit functions in mathematics, conceptually and practically useful, are something of a Pandora's Box, for they begin to trick people into thinking of infinity not as a constantly expanding everpossibility, but as a fixed numerical quantity, albeit one of prodigious size. Mathematicians "know" that this is not the case, but the division of labor cessates the philosophizing of mathematicians, rendering them forgotten, impotent technicians, and leaving philosophies of infinity in the hands of those who turn it, in the popular imagination, to simply "a really big number." Infinity in the mass consciousness becomes less of a spiritual expansion, and more of a definable quantity.

It is an aphorism in places beyond Terra that perverted infinities follow on the heels of perverted deities. Take, for example, the human-shaped Semitic death god: the finite, childish, petulant, and doomed plagiarization of life-concepts, trampling ever-flooding rivers and ever-breeding deities into a single petty tyrant. Only a few thousand years after his arrival, Terra's interpretation of infinity has become the finite "everything," and the concept is sterilized into a useful mathematical or entertainment tool, having lost all its meaning somewhere during Calculus I--for those who even noticed. These philosophical underpinnings are vital; they are intrinsic and profound, in contrast to the comparative mundanity of any given intergenerational struggle over violence or plague. The most basic accurate concept of existence involves understanding a number of things related to infinity. Let us cover these, as though we are new learners somewhere else:

Firstly, there could be no existence if existence were not always expanding. We know here that, to some degree, entropy and/or inertia doom any finite system. We also know that the insane religion of the fixed-creation--the Jenomic "Big Yahweh" cult--is rendered impossible by entropy and inertia. Therefore, reality is and must always be expanding.

Secondly, existence is infinitely subdividable (here, Zeno's paradox), and yet things move, ergo reality is a means by which paradoxes are overcome.

Because we can create--including conceiving of paradoxes, understanding the natures of the paradoxes, and simultaneously imagining the overcoming of the paradoxes--we know that reality's expansive, anti-paradoxical nature is fundamentally connected to our minds.

Concepts like the verse (contrasted to the singularized Jenomic "universe" popularized after infection here), or the actual definition of infinity (ever expanding), are fractally reflected in healthy minds. Some arts, some creativities, and some loves, for example, are constant explosions of expansion, never definable as anything except "more." This mirrors the way existence expands. Do one of those movie-style camera pullbacks on the solar system, then the galaxy, then the galactic cluster, then the supercluster, etc., until you're at the very edge of the universe. Imagine empty blackness beyond, and then imagine the universe's edges constantly exploding outward, creating empty space that is actually space (instead of the "nothingness" that we can imagine as being beyond the bounds of the universe), filled with trace particles of reality, which eventually coalesce into stars and galaxies, and so forth. That's something like how actual material and temporal existence grows, impossibly and forever.

Allahs and Blankfeins and Big Bangs and such are antiversal, antilife, anti-creativity, and so forth, which is why it is a glaring symptom when popular concepts of "fixed" infinity gain power. Endless expansion, impossibly undefinable love, plenty of new habitable planets, creative paradoxes: anathema to evil. So many of evil's rationales depend on resisting versal expansion. Not only producing sequels and preventing growth and exploration, but encouraging the quiet inner death of the mind, are the bedfellows of the evil moderns. Realize how profound it is to be told, "There are edges that can't ever be beyond." That is hell--even if it takes trillions of years to find out, to explore and get bored with every planet, finity is hell. The singular jealous God and his handmaid's-tale-heaven did it for thousands of years; so too can tales of initial explosions eventually running out of steam, or scientific prognoses of no life "beyond the grave." That most subtle implication--that it will or can even end--convinces you that it's worthless anyway. That shapes your behavior in profound ways, even if you're based or woke or a skeptic or whatever else.

One of your birthrights as Terrans is the concept of real infinity. You have discovered it; it is yours. Boundless and forever expansion. Every wrongness out there in the local media climate includes a component of false boundary--a limited existence, in which you will eventually grow so bored that existence would be the most profound of tortures; or, a powerlessness in the face of paradox, in which you are a mindless pawn, unable to ever take part in Achilles reaching the tortoise. Yet you can imagine such a race.

Close your eyes, and reflect on 0.5 centimeters, 0.25 centimeters, 0.125 centimeters, 0.0625 centimeters, 0.03125 centimeters, and so forth, until the numbers dwindle so close to zero that you can no longer make out the blur, and think deeply on how those subdivisions can go on forever, can always be divided, and how, truly, Achilles will never catch up. Imagine the single molecule of air in front of Achilles' outstretched sandal, the hero's muscular body frozen in exerted time for an eternity, as the air molecule is necessarily subdivided; as his toe-tip passes through first half the molecule's diameter, then half of the remaining half, half of the remaining half, et cetera. Then shake yourself loose, and imagine a fat man at a roadside stop, bald and sweaty, dressed in dangling coverall denims that reveal his reeking armpit hair. Imagine him tugging a bunch of denim loose from the space between his buttocks, dropping a beer can in the yellowed grass as he steps over a tortoise on his way to the men's room. Paradox conceived; paradox resolved.

In one lifetime, it seems hard to view a bounded universe as a threat, since it would take a googol years to begin exploring it, but the part of you that is not dazzled by such trans-human numbers recognizes the threat, and reshapes your character appropriately. Two googol years being delighted with the bounded universe, two googol years losing your enthusiasm--and then a googol googol years suffering repeats, followed by another such sum, ad infinitum. That prison is not out there--do not fear it, and for god's sake, don't fear the fear of it either, because that would be even dumber. There will always be newness, hope, exploration, and light.

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