Speaking of Divinity, we have it that Divine Inspiration is the source for the writing of the two foundational chapters of the Bible, Genesis 1 and Genesis 2, among other of the myriad claims layered upon the hoped-for Supernatural…

As evolution obliterates Eden's immutable human formation, 'Divine Inspiration's claim falls flat.

The Victorians and the rest of the world were shocked when the 'On the Origin of the Species' came out in 1859, quickly followed by the 'Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam'. 'Denial' was the best course of action for the wishers and the believers, as it still is today, somewhat, for church attendance is dropping, even in the once stable northeast.

The June 30, 1860 Showdown:
The Oxford Evolution Debate

The Setting

“Were we descended from some ape-like form?”
The question raised a scientific storm.
A thousand gathered in Oxford’s hall
To watch two worldviews wage their war.

The summer air hung thick with thought
As notables filled every spot,
Some seeking truth, some seeking sport,
In this debate so dearly bought.

The Opening

The Bishop of Oxford took the floor;
Samuel Wilberforce, skilled in verbal war,
His reputation built on wit
That often left opponents sore.

With eloquence he built his case
Against the notion of our race
Descending from some simian stock—
A thought he deemed a deep disgrace.

Then, turning with a practiced smile,
His rhetorical weapons honed with guile,
He fixed young Huxley in his sight
And launched his question, rank with bile:

“Pray tell us, sir, with candor true:
Which side of your family tree grew
The ape connection you so prize—
Grandmother’s branch, or grandfather’s view?”

The Response

Young Huxley, Darwin’s bulldog fierce,
Felt joy to hear attack so pierce—
To neighbor whispered, triumph-blessed,
“The Lord delivers, none can pierce!”

Then rising slow, with measured grace,
He turned to meet the Bishop’s face,
And launched a counterattack so sharp
It left eternal verbal trace:

“I’d rather claim an ape as kin,
Than one who’d use high office’s din
To mock scientific discourse thus—
Such rhetoric’s original sin!

“For truth cares not for social rank,
Nor holy office, purse or bank,
But follows evidence alone
Through paths both beautiful and frank!”

(Actually called it 'twaddle')

The Aftermath

The hall erupted, shock and rage
Competed on this Oxford stage,
As centuries of certain faith
Met Darwin’s revolutionary page.

Some ladies fainted, so they say,
While scholars shouted their dismay,
And through it all, one figure rose
To add more drama to the fray:

The Captain’s Moment

Admiral FitzRoy, who years before
Had captained Darwin ’round each shore,
Now raised his Bible overhead
And cried out from the chamber floor:

“The Book! The Book!” his voice rang clear,
As if to banish every fear
That evolution’s tide might bring—
The very tide he’d helped to steer.

Oh irony of fate’s design!
The man who’d sailed those seas so fine,
Who’d watched young Darwin gather proof,
Now stood against his grand design.

(The ship was named the Beagle)

Could anyone have made a different choice in the past than the ones they made? — Truth Seeker

Simply, there is no 'if' or 'different'; What actually happened trumps 'could have'.

My take on the Book of Revelation:

I would argue that no atheist book can be as good as a theist book, be it polytheist, monotheist, or pantheist. That, is Ibn Arabi's point. And that, is why such a book must be gifted. — Arcane Sandwich

It's anti-religious in parts, but that makes it to have a Biblical flavor, too, plus it has the Theory of Everything in it, as surpassing the Biblical.

Impressive task. Clearly, Omar Khayyam is to you what Mario Bunge is to me. — Arcane Sandwich

Yes, it will be a gift, a the greatest book ever made; 6400 pages of art and words, one set in 11x8.5 and one in 14x11, both on coated glossy paper. There are videos, too, but they need to be updated somewhat, although they are basically OK.

Are you familiar with this website? — Arcane Sandwich

Yes, it's mine. I'm almost done with an 8 volume set on the Rubaiyat and my extensions to it; then I guess I'll put PDFs of it there, or elsewhere, since no one could afford to buy it.

At some point we're going to need to talk about the Holy Spirit in this Thread. — Arcane Sandwich

“Bless your soul with tongues of fire; Holy Spirit burn;
Leave no trace of man’s desire; Holy Spirit turn.”

I've had religious experiences under the influence of psychoactive drugs — Arcane Sandwich

OK, time for some serious Bible study classes that I have given and written up, ha, ha:

So what does that have to do with the thesis that either Jesus is God or Jesus is not God? — Arcane Sandwich

Well, first you have to show God, or else Jesus won't have the possibility of being God.

Why would I want to show that? — Arcane Sandwich

Since the buck has to stop somewhere, there is an Eternal Basis of All, as like the Tao.

The Eternal is timeless and so it can't have any specific design going into it because it has no 'before' or 'outside'; therefore it has to be Everything possible, either all at once, as in Eternalism, or linearly, as in Presentism. (We don't know the mode of time.)

Our universe is one of its paths that was workable, since it kept on going forward.

A block universe is formed in an instant, everything actually happening once, but in a flash. Then it plays out in slo-mo, linearly, or we traverse through the already complete block of events, not being able to tell the difference.

Why would I do that? — Arcane Sandwich

Show that God is the Block Universe and we are inside God.

I have offered one such proof in the OP of this Thread, and I have done so without even being a Christian philosopher. Sure, it's a rather humble proof, but it's still a proof. — Arcane Sandwich

Try using the Block Universe to prove it.

throughout the centuries, Christian philosophers have been solely preoccupied with proving that God exists, without being equally preoccupied with proving that God is Jesus Christ. — Arcane Sandwich

It can't be proved; they need to get a life!

Of course there are changes, motions and movements — Corvus

But they are not instant, happening all at once, so, their process takes time, as maybe the Planck time and/or the speed of light.

Perhaps try getting rid of space instead…

It may that our brains spatialize the sequence of ‘nows’ so we can better navigate our way through the series of discrete nows.

How is this related to the thread? — Darkneos

I give up for now.

Not really, the subconscious isn’t what you think it is. — Darkneos

Then I wonder what the trillions of neurons and their billions of connections are silently doing to come up with the results displayed in consciousness…

No it does not. Consciousness doesn’t DO anything. — Darkneos

True! The brain does it.

You got one right.

Alan Watts — punos

I didn't watch it but he probably wisely said that all that goes on is the one big effect of the Big Bang.

I note that we impose artificial boundaries to estimate local cause and effect as best can do.

I'll leave this to you and all to read — PoeticUniverse

Which is:

The Nature of Consciousness Part 1
(Some gleaned from Gsin)

Within the Brain's vast Palace, deep and strange,
Consciousness flows, yet cannot free-range;
Like Sun or Tree, a Process, not a Thing—
A river bound within its banks of change.

(It, as a brain process can’t float around)

What fills our Minds arrives not instant-new,
But late, some half-millisecond past its due;
The Brain's swift voting finished ere we know,
Our conscious thoughts already past and through.

(A forced delay, unconscious analysis taking time )

The Map we see becomes our Territory,
While neural states write out out second story;
The basement toils unseen beneath our feet,
As upstairs dwells our conscious inventory.

(The ‘basement’ is the first storey of one’s self)

Thus Consciousness arrives too late to cause,
Though seeming master of all nature's laws;
A broadcast tape-delayed, yet feeling live—
The director speaks once action draws!

(Enjoy the play)

And when one thought has flickered through the mind,
More brain-realms answer, leaving none behind;
Thus contemplation's thread unwinds its spool,
Each moment to the next forever twined.

(The Great Stitcher; no seams)

Behold its nature's aspects five unfold:
Compositional structures manifold,
Intrinsic as our own, Informing clear,
Integrated, Exclusive in its hold.

(The whole operation)

United feels this field of conscious thought,
Though scattered be the brain-realms where it's wrought;
The qualia of sense-experience shine,
While seamless flows the change that time has brought.

(Perfect Unity!)

How can this ghost of thought move flesh and bone,
When neural deed is done and verdict known
Before awareness breaks upon our shore?
The answer in time's sequence lies alone.

(The brain does it)

Yet Consciousness brings gifts beyond mere scheme
Of reflex-action's automatic stream:
Flexibility to shape reaction's course,
And Focus sharp on what we vital deem.

(Exclusion)

It grants Evaluation's weighted scale,
Where logic, feeling, neither can quite fail;
For Survival it opens pathways new,
Where Complex choices might yet prevail.

(Evaluation)

Through Learning's endless combinations bright,
We weave perception's threads in fresh delight;
Discrimination's finest differences show
Which fruits bring health, which hold destruction's bite.

(The will is dynamic)

In Evolution's grand unfolding play,
It spurred the Cambrian dawn of nature's way;
Made predators grow keen in cunning's art,
While prey found newer paths from day to day.

(The explosion)

See Beauty bloom in flower's painted face,
As plants evolved their pollinator's grace;
While minds could ponder action's consequence
Before commitment to time's embrace.

(Actionizing)

Reality stands firm beyond our sight,
Our senses taking in its waves of light;
The Brain paints useful faces on these waves—
Makes color from mere frequency's delight.

(Just three proteins in the eye rotating according to the amount of the three primary colors)

When drugs or sleep or trauma's sudden blow
Disturb the brain, consciousness sinks below;
Change neural paths, and mind must follow suit—
For only from the brain can awareness flow.

(Consciousness is a brain process reflected)

We often miss the sea in which we swim,
Mistaking thought-stream's contents, fleeting-dim,
For consciousness itself that bears them all,
Like water bearing leaves on ocean's rim.

(The Sea in which we See)

What does that mean? — Darkneos

Hey, you finally went to sleep after all day on the forum, so I'll leave this to you and all to read the next day.

Choice is an illusion. — Darkneos

Hey, that's good! It takes the subconscious brain about a third of a second to do its analysis, and only when it finishes does consciousness get the result.

What does that mean? — Darkneos

It doesn't explain the 'voting' process of the neurological.

Also I saw the show but don't see how it related to this or what you said. — Darkneos

It only pertains to you. The show is a lot of fun, as well as being serious about the law, and they have to figure out the process behind the incident to help defend the client.

Is Jesus God? — Arcane Sandwich

First of all, there cannot be God, for a mind/brain in a system and that is composite, and in this case, very complex, which thus cannot be Fundamental and First, making the question of the Divinity of Jesus to be moot,

Secondly, to sink into the blah, blah, blah, about it, the nations around at the time didn't go for it and still don't, like the Greek Orthodox and the Jewish, even though he was one of their own, at least until he converted to Christianity (ha, ha), and of course the Romans crucified him.

the evidence consciousness does make "referral" to the brain states. — Darkneos

It provides the result of the subconscious brain process, but not the analysis.

Netflix has a great series about a new female attorney with autism spectrum disorder 'The Extraordinary Attorney Woo', filmed in Korea.

If it's just an event then it has no feelings or emotions and cannot love or feel pain. Only individuals do that. — Darkneos

"Individuals do that" because it seems that way, which is the second story, but consciousness makes no referral to the brain state processes in the basement of the first storey.

We are discovering that we are as 'robots', but hate to think of it that way.

Like...what does it mean for what actually matters. — Darkneos

What actually matters is how we live day to day in a high level process. We wouldn't bring up a lower level process such as "My chemical receptors are well receiving your endorphin state" instead of saying "I love you", but we might talk about a medical condition that way.

Some articles say “from things to events” and I’m left wondering what it means to see “things” as events. — Darkneos

A tree is a long event, as you are. Other than the permanent basis of reality, there are, strictly speaking, no 'things', although it's a handy way of identification, for the so-called 'things' are not identical with themselves over time, as just continuing on from a moment ago, although there are semblances that continue.

The dialogue is interminable. — Banno

St. Anselm, like many religious, looks in the wrong direction, ever using the template of life having to come from a Higher Life (etc., a regress ensues).

Instead, think of what is the least that can be conceived, or, better yet, what physics shows as the near infinitesimal lightness of being.

Look to the future for higher being. Throw the golden template out of the stained-glass window!

Irrelevant. I believe there has to be a bottom layer of reality, consisting of indivisible objects — Relativist

Good one! For how could that negligible monad act like a mind?

In succession due does the large give way and rule
To the ever smaller, the tiny, the minuscule,
And onto the insignificant ‘awol’
Of not really much of anything there at all.

Bin Laden — Arcane Sandwich

What the heck is Bin Laden doing here in the Tao?

Abbottabad
About a Bad

The specter fled to Abottabad,
Having done a whole lotta bad,
His courier’s bin laden with what OBL had,
It being their way or no way—how sad..

No phone, internet, or even any trash
Was the giveaway to what the mansion hath,
And even in the nearby counter-terrorism’s path,
The Jihad of Evil courting the goodly wrath.

SEALs swept into the heart of the storm
Coptering into the hilltop’s guarding swarm,
In a foreign land, the tempest ID’d by the CIA,
And so the leader and his men live no more today.

A shot to the head and he was dead,
And to evil the end, as to all in his stead,
Whether clerics or just plain terror led.

The backup Chinook replaced the fallen stealth,
Perhaps too new of a device to sustain its health.

Osama rules nothing now, as he’s not to be,
Rotting at the bottom of the Arabian sea.


NAPOLEON

I wrote to the banished Napoleon,
Asking if all was well, and he replied,

No, sir.
PS: Liveable was I ere I saw Elba, evil’s prison.

(I extended the palindrome;
However, there is one cheat…)

As for the Ultimate — Arcane Sandwich

On the Eternal Tao and Its Manifestations

The Foundation

Let us realize that what is Eternal
Stands as the bedrock of all that appears,
The permanent presence beneath every change,
Unchanging through all of time’s gathering years.

What truly exists cannot fade or dissolve,
Cannot be created or suffer decay;
The Eternal simply and perfectly Is,
While temporary forms drift like clouds away.

The Manifestation

Through endless transmutation’s flowing dance,
The Eternal dons ten thousand changing forms,
Like one great ocean lifting countless waves,
Or single sky spawning infinite storms.

Each temporal thing that rises from its depths
Bears witness to that which forever stays,
A momentary expression of the whole,
A fleeting actor in eternal plays.

The Paradox

How strange that what seems most solid and real—
The mountains, the stars, our own flesh and bone—
Are but the ripples on timeless seas,
While the unchanging source remains unknown.

Yet in each mote of cosmic dust there dwells
The fullness of that which can never die,
As every drop contains the entire sea,
And each moment holds eternity’s sky.

The Understanding

The wise ones tell us: look beneath the flux
Of birth and death, of pleasure and of pain,
To find that which has never come or gone,
The deathless presence that does e’er remain.

For though all forms must shift and change and flow,
Their essence rests in that which cannot move,
The changeless witness to all changing things,
The ground of being that all forms must prove.

The Perspective

From highest heaven to the deepest seas,
From quantum foam to galactic expanse,
All manifestation’s endless pageantry
Emerges from the Eternal’s timeless dance.

What seems to perish never truly dies,
What seems to birth was never truly born;
Forms merely shift like waves upon the deep,
While that which Is continues without morn.

The Recognition

To know this truth is not to turn away
From life’s rich play of shadow and of light,
But to perceive within each passing show
The presence of the Infinite’s delight.

For in the dance of atom and of star,
Of thought and feeling, birth and final breath,
We glimpse the face of that which always Is,
Beyond all bounds of life and time and death.

The Living

Thus may we walk through time’s swift-flowing stream,
Aware of both the wave and water’s truth:
The forms that pass, the presence that remains,
The aged wisdom and eternal youth.

Each moment precious in its swift-winged flight,
Yet held within that which can never fade;
Each change a window to unchanging light,
Each temporal thing of timeless essence made.

The Synthesis

Let us then cherish every passing day,
While resting in the truth that cannot pass;
Dance with the waves while knowing we are sea,
Be both the changing leaves and changeless mass.

For this is wisdom’s deepest, sweetest song:
That in the heart of all that seems to flee,
There dwells that which has never left its place—
The one still point of all eternity.

The Resolution

The Eternal remains forever what it is,
Though dressed in time’s kaleidoscopic show;
The permanent wears impermanence like robes,
Through which its timeless radiance may flow.

And we who walk in bodies made of time
Carry within the spark of timeless fire,
Both wave and ocean, both the dance and still,
Both changing form and changeless heart’s desire.

I didn't particularly like this film, but i did love this scene. It's just a reminder for those that know, and a lesson for those that don't. — punos

A Conversation with the Great Lama
(Who lives near me)
On Reality and Illusion

“Lama, I’ve heard that this world isn’t real,
That all we perceive is mere illusion’s deal—
That rain isn’t wet, and pain doesn’t hurt,
And nothing that seems to exist is quite real.”

“Indeed, that’s the teaching passed down through time,
That reality’s nature is more sublime
Than what our senses tell us is true.
Tell me, does this help when your problems climb?”

“Well, Lama, I’ve tried to see through the veil,
To treat life’s hard knocks as just details that fail
To pierce the true nature of ultimate truth—
But hunger still hungers, and storms still assail.

“The sunrise still wakes me, the night makes me sleep,
My heart still can love, and my eyes still can weep,
Each moment feels solid, each pain cuts as sharp
As if this illusion weren’t merely skin-deep.”

“You speak what you find with admirable sight.
The world does persist, through both day and night,
Appearing exactly, in every small way,
As if the illusion were really quite right.”

“But Lama, this puzzles my practical mind:
If something looks real, and no test can find
A difference between the false and the true,
Then what does it mean to leave reality behind?”

“Ah now, dear seeker, you touch something deep—
The paradox many find hard to keep:
How can the unreal seem perfectly real,
Yet still be untrue as a dream in our sleep?

“For when I am hungry, rice fills my bowl,
And when I am weary, rest makes me whole,
Each cause has effect, each action bears fruit,
As if the illusion were truth’s very soul.

“You notice with wisdom how things seem to be,
How perfectly matched is all that we see,
How every detail of life’s complex dance
Performs as if real—that’s the mystery.”

“Then Lama, forgive me, but I must say plain:
A difference that makes no difference at train
Of thought or experience, action or choice,
Seems rather like truth with a different name.”

“You’ve stumbled on something worth contemplating—
Perhaps the distinction we’ve been debating
Is itself an illusion, a conceptual trap,
A duality not worth celebrating.”

“Are you saying, Lama, the teaching itself
Might be like a book on the wisdom shelf
That points to a truth beyond true and false,
Beyond the division of self and not-self?”

“Now there’s a question worth sitting with long,
As deep as a temple bell’s evening song!
Perhaps the real truth lies not in the words,
But in seeing through both ‘right’ and ‘wrong.’”

“So whether it’s real or a dream that we see,
The point isn’t arguing what it might be,
But living each moment with full presence here,
Accepting what is, letting all else flow free?”

“Your wisdom grows like a lotus in rain,
Finding truth beyond pleasure and pain.
The question of real versus unreal fades
When we stop trying to grasp and explain.”

“Then maybe the teaching’s not meant to deny
The world that we live in, or label as lie
The experiences filling our everyday lives,
But to free us from concepts that make the soul sigh?”

“You’ve touched the heart of the matter at last:
The teaching’s not meant to deny what is vast
And present before us, but free us to live
Unbound by the concepts we cling to so fast.”

"So Lama, perhaps we can say this is true:
The world that we live in, both ancient and new,
Is neither illusion nor solid-set fact,
But something more subtle, seen fresh and anew?”

“Now that’s a wisdom worth taking to heart—
Beyond the false wisdom of tearing apart
What’s real and unreal, true self and false self,
Is simply this moment, where all things start.”

Space-time energy is doomed to entropic anihilation ; so where did our limited supply come from? — Gnomon

Heck if I know; I'm on vacation…

To the Ends of the Universe: A Cosmic Road Trip

The Departure

I took a road trip through the universe recently,
Rolled down the windows of my consciousness,
Cranked up some space-time tunes real loud—
The cosmic background radiation was a bit repetitive.

Holy-moly, what an inhospitable joint!
Forget about finding a decent truck stop
Or even a patch of habitable space.
I’d rather be stuck in rush hour in Melbourne.

The Void

96% of everything was invisible stuff—
Dark energy pushing, dark matter lurking;
Like driving through Nebraska at midnight
With no headlights and a broken compass.

The other 4% was mostly cosmic litter:
Hydrogen loitering on street corners,
Helium hanging out in bad neighborhoods,
And dust that would never settle down.

Man, I’m starting to miss Toronto’s winters—
At least there you can wear enough layers.
Out here it’s absolute zero or plasma inferno,
No comfy medium for flesh and bone.

The Design Flaw

Whatever cosmic architect drew up these plans
Clearly wasn’t thinking about the tenants;
No OSHA regulations, no safety rails,
Just vacuum, radiation, and chaos galore.

Evolution had to work overtime for billions of years
Just to make Earth somewhat livable,
Like a contractor fixing a badly built house
While the foundation’s still settling.

And even then we almost got evicted
By asteroids, volcanoes, and ice ages,
Our species squeezed through a genetic bottleneck
So tight you could count our ancestors on fingers and toes.

The Stellar Tour

Passed by some stellar graveyards,
Where white dwarfs sat cooling their heels;
Saw nurseries of baby stars throwing tantrums,
Spewing stellar winds across their cosmic cribs.

Watched black holes playing vacuum cleaners,
Sucking up anything that came too close;
While supernovas lit up the neighborhood
Like cosmic fireworks gone terribly wrong.

The Pit Stop

Made a quick stop at that famous restaurant
At the universe’s outer rim—
The one with good food but no atmosphere!
Their health inspection rating was abysmal.

The menu was pretty limited:
Everything pre-cooked by background radiation,
Microwaved to three degrees Kelvin,
Served on a plate of quantum fluctuations.

The Wasteland

What a cosmic dump of celestial debris!
A wilderness of wreckage stretching forever,
Like a junkyard that goes on for infinity
In every conceivable direction and dimension.

Not a single ‘Rest Area Next Exit’ sign,
No ‘Gas, Food, Lodging’ for light years,
Just emptiness occasionally interrupted
By things that could kill you instantly.

The Return

Back home now, counting my lucky quarks,
Realizing that after 14 billion years
Of cosmic evolution’s trial and error,
We somehow slipped through probability’s fingers.

Like winning the lottery while being struck by lightning
During a solar eclipse on a leap year—
We beat odds so astronomical
They don’t even have numbers for them.

The Punchline

Oh wait—what’s that in the rear-view mirror?
A mountain-sized rock with Earth in its GPS?
All that cosmic luck about to cash out
Like a rigged slot machine’s final spin.

Well, it was fun while it lasted.
The house always wins in the end.
At least we got to see the show
Before the curtain came crashing down.

The Epilogue

Just another day in the cosmos,
Where time deals exclusively in infinities,
And life is just a temporary glitch
In the universal operating system.

Perhaps somewhere past Andromeda
There’s a better-designed universe
With comfortable temperatures
And free parking for conscious beings.

But I doubt it.

I believe absolute fundamentality can only really be found in the void itself, as a property of space one might say. — punos

:up:

I think that's why they are called 'elementary' instead; however, they are directly quanta of fields.

Another video from today - that's mostly what I do every day:



When the universe ends—sparse photons left…

The last black holes will whisper to the void,
Their Hawking radiation’s fading song
A requiem for galaxies long dead,
For stars that danced and planets that once bloomed;

Yet in that darkness sleeps infinite seed,
The quantum foam of possibility,
Where virtual particles embrace and part
Like thoughts within the cosmic mind unborn.

The vacuum teems with spectral symmetries,
Mathematics’ ghosts that never sleep,
Platonic forms in timeless hibernation
Awaiting their next chance to manifest.

In this great pause between the cosmic acts,
The stage is empty but the script remains,
Written in the grammar of pure space,
In laws that transcend any single world.

Perhaps some deeper rhythm pulses here
In realms where time itself dissolves to now,
Where every ending holds beginning’s heart,
And death is just geometry in flux.

The constants and the forces hibernate
Like winter seeds beneath dimensional frost,
Until conditions ripen once again
For space and time to blossom into form.

See how the void begins to ripple now
With fluctuations in the quantum deep,
As virtual becomes the actual,
And possibility ignites to mass.

The eternal math starts singing once again,
Its abstractions clothing themselves in fire,
As from the ashes of our universe,
Another cosmos learns to read its lines.

In quantum field theory particles are excitations of underlying quantum property fields rather than discrete, static objects. — punos

Really great post!

aside: Do the one-third charges of quarks make them suspect of not being elemental/fundamental?

Here's a song video that I made today, somewhat pertaining; turn on closed captions (CC) to see the words in the video:



The weave of the quantum fields as strokes writes…
(The letters of the elemental bytes—
The alphabet of the standard model…)

Each galaxy a grand epic unfolds,
As dark matter’s grammar shapes and upholds
The syntax of celestial motion,
While space-time’s meter measures and molds.

Like metaphors that bridge world and mind,
Consciousness emerges, strange and refined,
From neural verses sparking patterns
That mirror cosmic rhythms intertwined.

The double helix writes in four-base ink
Life’s endless variations, link by link,
Each mutation a new metaphor
Teaching matter new ways to think.

Black holes compress whole libraries of space
Into singular points of time and grace,
Where information dances on edges,
Neither lost nor found—just changing its face.

Through quantum entanglement’s subtle rhyme,
Particles poetry-slam through space-time,
Speaking in spooky correlations
That make Einstein’s certainties sublime.

We are stanzas in this cosmic text,
Each generation writing what comes next,
Adding chapters to evolution’s tale,
As simple atoms grow more complex.

The vacuum teems with virtual verse,
Particles borrowing time to rehearse
Their brief soliloquies of being,
Before returning to the universe.

Methinks they don't fully grasp how just seeing things as processes is a bad thing. For one it would be like saying that individuals don't exist. — Darkneos

But the semblance and the process continue on.

Change, change, change… constant change, as fast as it
Can happen—the speed of light being foremost
The speed of causality—o’er 13 billion years now,
From the simple on up to the more complex.

The ‘vacuum’ has to e’er jitter and sing,
This Base Existent forced as something,
Due to the nonexistence of ‘Nothing’;
If it ‘tries’ to be zero, it cannot.

At the indefinite quantum level,
Zero must be fuzzy, not definite;
So it can’t be zero, but has to be
As that which is ever up to something.

AI art — AlienVareient

All the best, — Rob J Kennedy

Cool — punos

So, how come there are only those few number of ways to make the stable particles? What underlies the perfect symmetry for the stable electron, proton, and photon?

It must have to do with the nature of waves… such as charge could have to do with the wave amplitude being above or below the zero point of the something and the anti-something.

— Wave Properties Clues —

Wave length makes for mass and its extension,
While the wave frequency makes for energy,
And the wave amplitude makes for charge.
The wave is both the ‘what’ and its effects.

— The Impossible Particles —

No wonder there can be no
Stable neutral matter particles
And no stable charged energy particle;
There are no ways to make them.

the 3 fundamental values (0, -1, +1) — punos

— Two is the Limit For Stable Matter —

There are only two stable matter particles
In free space—the electron(-) and the proton(+),
As ever charged, although oppositely,
Along with their anti-particles, of course.

— Of Only Two Ways —

Therefore, as for electrons and protons,
There are only the two ways to make them,
As well as the two and only two ways
To make positrons and anti-protons.

— The Unstable Neutral Matter Particle—

Neutrons are not stable in free space,
For they decay, within a few minutes,
Into an electron and positron pair,
So neutrons are not as stable things.

— The Energy of the One Way—

There’s but one stable energy particle
In free space—the photon, uncharged, as neutral,
It having no anti-particle at all.
So, there’s only one way to make pure energy.