There is no justice or free will in this world of many worlds, there is just chance. Maybe Einstein got it wrong. God is merely a dice thrower.
Does God throw his dice for all eternity - the infinity of time into the future. God and infinity are often associated in philosophical dialectic over the centuries. But it is not the mathematical form of infinity that has divine aspirations - it is the metaphysical infinity of wholeness, completeness, perfection, that is forever out of reach of human grasp. The cold mathematical infinity of numbers and parts has no beauty other than an awe for magnitude.
I stare ahead of me and I see infinities. There is the infinity of the water in the sea and the air in the atmosphere. They are infinities for me because I can never traverse their boundaries - I can never in my time count all the molecules of water in the vast oceans of the world. To count them would be to place a tag on each molecule to identify it as counted. I would sift through the oceans searching un-tagged molecules Initially there would be no problem finding them. I could count all day and night for a lifetime but would get nowhere. Even if I were ultra efficient at counting and managed to notch up one per second, over my long lifetime I could only hope to count several billion molecules a mere thimbleful compared with the infinitude of the molecular sea. Even if every person in the world for all of human existence had devoted their lives to counting, it would get nowhere near the totality of molecules in the oceans. This type of infinity is not attainable to us physically.
But mentally the infinity does not even exist. We know intuitively that the seas are bounded. In fact we can do very simple ad hoc calculations that will give us an idea of that bound. Instead of counting we can use chemistry to evaluate the number of molecules in a given volume and then estimate the volume of water in the oceans. Very quickly a good estimate will be attained that will do for all practical purposes. The infinity of the physical disappears.
Infinity can be destroyed by intelligence and understanding. What appears to be a non-traversable barrier is easily removed when the right intelligence applies itself. So what of our current accepted infinities? The metaphysical interpretation of infinity as completeness, unity, perfection does not succumb to the same treatment. We cannot use intellect to overcome these boundaries. This is the argument used by theologians that knowing God is not possible by using rational logic. They consider revelation as the only way to God. This revelation is innate and comes from the world of the soul. The metaphysical infinity is a concept of mind. We feel we understand that time and space can have no boundaries yet are somehow complete in our idea of the world. The mere fact that we can easily conceive the idea of the world with its infinities is testament to metaphysical infinity.
But in all this association of infinity and deity, I feel we have been misled. Being infinite is not being, it is a property of being. It can be a mathematical or metaphysical property but is not correct to ascribe other dimensions to it. It exists as does any other conceivable property and has no exceptional relevance. This is not how history has viewed infinity - giving it an esteemed place in the dialectic. In ancient times this was more due to our state of knowledge of our world. Philosophy has dwelled for too long on the thoughts of predecessors whose world view is so far removed from current knowledge that most of their theorising is naive or just plain wrong. These were wise men of their time and a lot of what they say carries through to the modern world but only in so far as it is metaphysical. The scientific basis for most of their deliberations is totally unsound and very often too coloured by their dogmatic religious beliefs. The student of philosophy must wade through so much history of unsound thought. The history of the philosophical attitude to the infinite is no different. It is more productive to focus on current thought rather than follow the many erroneous paths from Pythagoras, through Plato, Aristotle, to Augustine, Aquinas, the rationalists, empiricists, Descartes, Kant or Leibniz These philosophers didn't add much to the concept of infinity other than association with God or metaphysics. Science and knowledge on the other hand has helped to define infinity from a vague concept to something that can be understood to some extent, albeit at certain intellectual effort.
Yet for all its infinitude, nature has a set of underlying constants that seem to have a precise and unchanging value: the fine structure, gravitational, mass ratio, weak and strong interaction constants. Science has yet to come up with a satisfactory explanation for these values and their static nature. Using simple dimensional analysis these constants can be used to derive the size of nearly all natural phenomena from nuclear size right up to galaxies and black holes. Even the size of the human body is determined by these constants. Time and the age of the universe can also be determined. Is this saying that all is determined? Is there a grand design? The apologists for religion are elated. Science their arch enemy has delivered them their ultimate salvation. God is the grand designer.
Ironically this is the strongest pro-theistic argument for a deity. Yet like the ontological argument, it merely succeeds in positing one range of questions for another at a deeper level. It seems that god is an infinite regress. Rather than accepting this senseless paradigm, science relentlessly pursues more rational explanations. In doing so the store of human knowledge is increasing and the borders of metaphysics are narrowing. Some humans still look on the world around them with awe and respect for its size, power and beauty, but they wear the spectacles of rationalism and reality rather than the psychedelic glasses of metaphysics and religion. Likewise they look inward into their own minds and see not souls but a mental reality solidly based in the real world. Where there is no understanding they question openly their theories in the hope that further progress can be made. It is these adventurous explorers of the cosmos and its mysteries that add to the sum of human knowledge.
I was clenching my fists with determination. I was preparing for the intellectual fight. I knew that dangerous challenges lay ahead and that I, and many others, must not be afraid to face them. I felt sick at the prospect of confrontation but it was inevitable. The forces of conservatism were creeping across the world stamping out intellectual freedoms by extreme actions. Mental terrorism had been born in the early years of the twenty-first century. Even the great liberal powers of Europe were curbing free expression under threat from without. A modern fearful inquisition was unfolding before our very eyes and we seemed powerless to stop it. In fact even mere recognition of it was sealing a dreadful fate of death threat and perpetual hiding.
I unclenched my fists and felt calm return. It was wrong to engage in such negative anger. I needed to restore balance. I started to breathe slowly. I felt embarrassment at having such violent feelings surface. I was no better than those driven terrorists if I could not control my emotions. I knew that mutual understanding and empathy is the key to avoiding conflict. I needed to focus on what is positive in the world.
The sun was now at its mid point in the sky. A big bank of grey clouds was slowly moving in from the west. The waters of the Atlantic were agitated in expectation and the wind picked up. It was a warm wind and the air freshened with sea salt. The first drop of water on my cheek was a warning to arise and get my camp in order for the coming deluge. A broad flash of light was barely noticeable in the strong midday sun. I started to count and before reaching ten there was a low rumble in the distance. I surveyed the scene and realised that my tent was on the highest most exposed place on the cliff. I quickly put things inside and zipped up the flap. Then realising the threat from mother nature I ran down from the height as fast as I could, stumbling over walls and slipping on the now wetted stones. The sun had disappeared behind the dark mass of the clouds and this was followed by a violent flash of fork lightning. Once again I counted and by five there was a massive thunder. I searched around in panic looking for shelter. There was an old stone cow house just down the road and I made for it. As I clambered in there was another flash and before I could count a monstrous explosion ripped the air. Was it a bomb? Had the terrorists finally caught up with me? My he
ad was in a spin. The pressure waves from the blast had run across my body. I shivered as I regained sense and realised that I had come so close to death, to extinction. The blood drained from my face and I felt physically sick. I sat down. The rain was now falling in a torrential downpour. Water was flowing into the shed and was making its way out through a hole in the back wall. I stared at the rivulet and felt how odd that it made its way through the cowshed. Nature ignores man's creation. The thunder had passed as fast as it had come. Only the rain was left - a weeping catharsis. Soon the steady patter of the droplets was soothing and normality returned. I felt cosy in the shelter looking out at the rain. I felt incredibly happy to be alive.
After the downpour had eased, I made my way back to the camp to inspect for damage but was happy to see that the tent had held out very well. The ground was saturated but the inside was dry. I resealed the flap and made my way down to the village. I was in need of company and felt like a drink - a celebratory drink for escaping certain death.
The pub was packed with tourists caught in the downpour and driven into the bar for shelter and once inside, realising the conviviality good, staying and adding to the overall atmosphere. Two young men in the corner had started to play music. One had a fiddle and the other a bodhran and the traditional music was a pleasing backdrop to the conversation and buzz. I spotted Maria and Jan and waved to them. Maria's bright smile was welcoming. Jan merely nodded.
'Were you caught in the storm?' Maria's voice showed concern.
'Well, to tell you the truth, I was nearly blown up by a lightning strike, but otherwise I escaped,' I laughed. 'Would have been a sad loss, wouldn't it now?'
'Maybe,' Jan said drily, trying to be funny but the voice belied his real sentiment. There was no love lost here I felt and then why should there. I had shagged his friend and, no matter what their relationship, that had to irk.
'Can I get you a drink?' I asked, wanting to placate.
When the pints came we moved to a corner away from the music where it was easier to converse.
'Whew! That's lovely,' I sighed after taking a long sup of creamy porter. 'Isn't life great?' I suddenly felt huge relief to be still alive on this strange blue planet. 'That was as near the end as I've yet been.'
'Were you ready to die?' Jan's question had a nasty strain to it suggesting that I had outstanding issues to face up to before my expiry.
'That's the million dollar question, my dear Jan.' I used the friendly 'my dear' in a condescending manner that slightly disgusted me. I tried to regain my good feelings and get into Jan's good books by giving him a more substantive response. 'No seriously, Jan, that is a very deep question. Was I ready to die? Is anyone ever ready to die?'
'Death,' Jan replied, 'is probably a more serious concern the closer you get to it. For me, being young, it is something that happens to other people or creatures - not something that I feel I need to address.'
'I disagree, Jan.' Maria interrupted. 'Death is ever present to me because I am living and want to keep living. If I cross a road I take care not because it's the law but because I want to avoid death. If you think about it, you are confronting death daily not just on the roads, but flying or on the sea. When we crossed over to this island I felt close to death. In fact I almost wanted death.'
'I could sense that.' I laughed trying to lighten the conversation. 'You certainly were deathly pale and you were not far behind her, Jan.'
Jan took a small sip of his pint in the manner of the inexperienced and seemed to consider a while before vehemently replying.
'No, I did not think of death even when my head was pounding and my stomach ached. I just wanted the pain to end, definitely not my life. Life is too precious for me. I love life.'
Jan stared out at the sunshine that streamed in through a nearby window. Everything was glistening after the downpour. The world looked refreshed and alive. I understood what Jan was feeling. I too loved life with all its unpredictability and quirks. One minute the heavens growl and spit forth wild explosions and torrents of water and then the world is coated in an ethereal bright light that elevates the heart and soul.
'Yes, Jan, I too love life.' I said the words more for myself than for him. 'It's a clich? to say that it's all we've got but there is the kernel of the matter. Death is defined not as something in itself but as something that it is not - not life.'
'Oh come on you two grouches, lighten up.' Maria interjected. 'Look the world is beautiful. Let's just enjoy it!'
She caught me by the hand and before I knew it I was out on the dance floor twirling around to the music. Neither of us knew the steps but that didn't matter. We threw ourselves into the motion with total abandon. I put my right hand around her slim waist and adopting a waltz position we spun around in time to the frenetic beat.
Breathless and laughing we made our way back to the corner. Maria pulled a reluctant Jan out with her and I watched them as they bounced their way about on the now crowded floor. I thought how young and exuberant they looked in each other's arms. Their youth mocked my aging body. I knew I was on the downward path from the mountain of life. They were still in the foothills on the ascent. They had the pleasure and expectancy of reaching the summit ahead. I had been there and realised that there is no summit, no goal, just a passover from growing to declining. A terrible sadness engulfed me. I felt I had to leave. Better to let these young people get on with their lives. My presence could only dim their ardour and zeal. I did not want that. I finished my pint and made my way out of the thronged pub.
I made my way down to the pier and sat on a stone bollard. The effect of the pint had made me a bit woozy. The bright sun after the muted interior of the bar was dazzling. I never liked being in bars in daylight. I was glad I'd only had the one drink. The day was not yet lost.
The pier was busy as usual. The fishing boats were coming and going. The ferry had just taken off for the mainland and it was being followed by a flock of raucous gulls. The tourists on board were waving their goodbyes to the island.
I went down the stone steps to the water's edge. There was an old fisherman in a wooden boat. His gnarled hands were working on a sheer filament net and as he looked up at me I was taken aback by his face. It was a sea of deep knotted wrinkles. The eyes were almost hidden in dark sockets overhung by flaccid skin. The sea had aged this man way beyond his years. Yet his voice was not that of an old man.
'A boat for hire?' he repeated my question and seemed to pause. 'Well let me see. Are you wanting a skipper as well? You don't look the seafaring sort and the seas can be a vicious mother at times.'
We struck a deal and I hopped on board. He started up the engine and the small craft eased away from the pier wall. Soon we were out of the shelter of the harbour and there was a small sea swell that made the boat gently rock from side to side. It was not unpleasant and the slow undulation relaxed me. The harbour was now well behind and the tall sheer cliffs were approaching. The scale of the cliffs was awe inspiring and humbling. I tried to imagine what forces had thrown up such huge masses of limestone and then cut into them as if with a mere knife. The natural sculptor that had honed this sight was far beyond any human effort at creating beauty. It worked on a scale forbidden to our puny efforts. What were the pyramids compared to this sight?
'Do you ever tire of looking these cliffs?' I asked the skipper, who was forward at the wheel. I knew the answer but wanted to open conversation.
'That's a silly question to ask a man who has lived all his life on the sea looking up at them. What's your name anyway? Mine's Pat. Pat Connelly.'
'Hi ya, Pat. Dave's the name.'
'Well Dave, me boy, I love those cliffs but I don't expect love in return because I won't get it. Many's the man who has made that mistake. Those cliffs have taken many's a life and not shed a single tear. They are a harsh lover for sure. Some they snare to death from the land side. People feel they can look right over the edge and the cliffs cough and the gust of wind just sucks the poor souls over. Others a
re snared from the sea wanting to get as close as possible to their love. But the cliffs have only one true lover and that is mother sea. Mother sea can be a jealous bitch and if you go too close to her beloved cliffs she can just lash out a wave and you go crashing into the rocks never to be seen again. There should be as many crosses on those there cliffs as there are gulls nests.'
'Well I hope there are no sirens tempting us onto the rocks today,' I joked.
'Sirens, them's them singing ladies?' Pat laughed. 'There are sirens a plenty, don't you mock. I'll take you to a place where one is seen every year about this time. You'll see.'
We motored with steady intent around the western shore of the island. The sun was starting its descent towards the end of another day - another indistinguishable event in spacetime was passing. The sky began to take on the red hues of sunset as the sun's light struggled laterally through the earth's thin atmosphere. The radiance was awesome against the vast blue grey expanse of the Atlantic ocean stretching off towards the Americas. The sea had become rougher and spray flew over the bow of the boat coating us both in a fine sea salt. I licked my lips and tasted the tartness. It felt good and almost necessary. I wiped my eyes and the stinging made them more alert. Neither of us spoke, the beauty of the scene muting our desires to communicate. The cosmos was speaking to us, painting the sky the most wondrous colours as if to say to us how marvellous is creation. The sun, source of all our life, grew in size and deeper in colour - a red ball of never ending fire. I wanted to bow to its sovereignty and power. The soft yellow light it cast on the western cliff face made the scene look other worldly and surreal. The gulls had nested down and were the silent observers of this daily spectacle. The only noise was the slapping of water against the bow and the more distant hum of swells against the rock face.
I clasped my hands as if in prayer and wished the moment to last forever such was the force of the beauty before me. I was in tune with the earth and its place in the cosmos. I felt of no consequence in this picture but at the same time felt uniquely privileged to be its witness. But I was not the only witness as Pat was obviously not immune to this, for him, routine spectacle. He too was piously silent as he steered the craft nearer the cliffs. Soon it became apparent that he was heading