by Jeffrey Folks, American Thinker:
It seems that our universe is 26.7 billion years old, since the Big Bang at least, and that it stretches for seven trillion light-years in diameter. Those are just estimates, and it may be that the most recent Big Bang is just one of an endless series of contractions and expansions dating back far beyond our ability to envision. It seems the universe is practically infinite in time and space, and our lives are just one infinitesimal speck occupying one tiny space on one practically invisible planet.
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Not just that, but our lives are brief — infinitely brief in relation to those 26.7 billion years or the endless number of years that may constitute the true age of the universe. It is less than one septillionth (one trillion times one trillion) of the universe by any measure, and the thoughts running through my head for the last ten minutes are themselves just one 4,204,800th percent of one’s allotted 80 years of life. One’s thoughts and one’s life are nothing in relation to all that exists and has ever existed. Not a cheerful thought amid this holiday season.
This sense of insignificance is one reason why I read the Great Books. Knowing something of what has been written in recorded history, from Homer to Plato to Dante to Shakespeare to Austen and Tolstoy, expands my existence. Reading great literature and philosophy, I am in the company of the greatest minds of the last 3,000 years. That is still an almost infinitely small period of time, but it is something. It enriches my life and makes me more than just the one trillionth of a speck of dust that I actually am. I am an educated and inquisitive human being, and as such, my life becomes meaningful and valuable. Life remains infinitely brief, but it possesses some importance.
Likewise, my love of nature and of exercise and of music — and of rich Indian food — makes it seem as though I am living fully in this moment, even though I am still just that trillionth of a speck living out its one septillionth of time, and bound to be erased and forgotten in the grand scheme of things, and to be succeeded by others who will subsequently be erased and forgotten.
Considered in this light, it seems that most of us don’t matter a great deal. But in fact, we are all that matters in this, our singular place and time. Each human being is a precious and divine creation playing a remarkable role in a vast and timeless universe. Every moment of our lives, with their grand opportunities for learning, growth, reflection, friendship, and love, is something of great value. Our responsibility to make the most of our years and to be kind and decent and to shelter the weak is also great.
Within this infinite universe that renders us small, we have the ability and the duty to live large. We have the opportunity to create meaning and purpose and joy, and in doing so, we imprint a lasting impression of ourselves on that infinite universe.
We do count, and supremely so. Now is our moment. Out of the billions of years of time and the trillions of miles of space, we are the living — the only fully conscious creatures known to exist in the universe. We live, and we control the shape of things on this planet, the only planet known to contain intelligent life. We are the center of creation at this moment in time. We are divinely created humans who have the power to arrange our world as we wish, and we must not abdicate our role. We possess extraordinary qualities, and we carry enormous responsibilities.
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