Willow's Triptych - Everything I know about the fundamental nature reality
I know that reality is either infinite, finite, or some other category of existence. Reality must be one of those things; and yet, no matter which of these things it is, it would make no sense to me.
As a finite being myself, I cannot understand the infinite. I mean, I understand the concept, but as something of the nature of reality it makes no sense to me. We don't encounter infinities in the real world; or at least not as far as I know. And this might seem rather selfish, but If I myself am a finite thing in an infinite reality, and any finite thing divided by infinity is as close to nothing as makes no difference, then my existence, such as it is, seems, intuitively, to sit uneasily with the idea of the infinite. I don't say that this can't be the case; just that, if we are in an infinite reality, then, well, it makes no sense to me intuitively, as a human.
If there is a beginning and an end to reality, it implies there is something into which the finite reality comes into existence. If that is not itself also part of reality, then I don't understand it; and if it is, then we return to the same question, upon which I have already made no progress. The idea of a before and after reality is equally deeply confusing; not least of all because time is part of reality and before and after or temporal ideas. I don't say that this can't be the case, but finite reality makes no sense to me.
If the universe is neither infinite nor finite, or some paradoxical “finite infinite”, or an infinity of finite states, then… well, it might look good in a maths paper but, again, it makes no sense to me. We can talk about it, but it's just not something that I can say my human intuitions can really accept.
Therefore, the only thing I can say for sure about the fundamental nature of reality is that it makes no sense to me.
The thing is, I am OK with that.
For one thing, why should it? Why should I—an ape descendant evolved to live a very specific finite existence under very narrow circumstances on a strange little blue-green planet—understand the fundamental nature of the universe? It wasn't that long ago, after all, that we invented shoes. It might very well be like asking an ant to explain the history and economic impact of the East India Trading Company. It's just not the sort of thing that you can get the ant all that excited about thinking about, and even if you did, it would be unlikely to really warm to the topic.
Many people are seemingly made very uncomfortable by their relationship to the unknown. But I personally find it strangely arrogant for people to presume we would even understand the answer were we to be given it. It might as well be forty-two for all the sense it would make.
One thing, however, that is extremely important is the pursuit of answers. Pulling back the veil of the unknown to reveal more and more is one of the few things we can perhaps be reasonably proud of as a species. However, this pursuit is a bottom-up endeavour. It makes no claims to even know where the edges of what we don't know are, much less what we will ultimately find if we were ever to reach them—which seems exceptionally unlikely.
This is why we must be very wary of those who claim to know. Those who choose not to work bottom-up, but instead from the top down. To say they know what the answers are; that they have the ultimate truth. Because I don't think I would give those people better odds than the ant at picking from my little triptych.