But they transmutate into other things which turns into even more things and so on and so forth. Always in a state of flux forever or until the universe ends which will begin again.
Eternal life: would it really be so great?
- Thread starter CptBork
- Start date
But they transmutate into other things which turns into even more things and so on and so forth. Always in a state of flux forever or until the universe ends which will begin again.
@cosmictraveler --
Atoms can also break apart, meaning that they don't exist anymore(though their subatomic particles might). They, and their constituent particles, can also be annihilated by coming into contact with their anti-partners. So no matter how you slice it, atoms are not eternal. Furthermore, it's also possible that the universe will just end in heat-death once it achieves one hundred percent entropy.
Atoms can also break apart, meaning that they don't exist anymore(though their subatomic particles might). They, and their constituent particles, can also be annihilated by coming into contact with their anti-partners. So no matter how you slice it, atoms are not eternal. Furthermore, it's also possible that the universe will just end in heat-death once it achieves one hundred percent entropy.
"Always in a state of flux forever or until the universe ends which will begin again."
OMG! . . . . WOW! . . . do you mean in the next (universe) 'cycle' we (if we reicarnate?) may have to go through all of this again?? . . . . I guess "Practice makes Perfect"
Grins: Remember Brevity and Levity are cornerstones of the (current) Universe.
wlminex
OMG! . . . . WOW! . . . do you mean in the next (universe) 'cycle' we (if we reicarnate?) may have to go through all of this again?? . . . . I guess "Practice makes Perfect"
Grins: Remember Brevity and Levity are cornerstones of the (current) Universe.
wlminex
Quite possible, due to expansion, which is even accelerating…
AFTER THE STARS HAVE GONE—
THE FINAL, SILENT DARK
THE LAST CHANCE SALOON (CASINO)
Entropy is always the winner in the end,
When there’s no more money left to lend;
Meanwhile, we stabilize, in nature’s way,
Rearranging resources temporarily.
Prelude
Going beyond our very old obsession, so vast,
Of how the universe began, back in the distant past,
Yet, retaining our search for meaning, from that,
We now turn to how will it all end, this and that,
Whether becoming collapsed, expended, or flat.
Is there is some deep meaning in all that?
Yes, for it is there in that future distance,
We’ll find, or not, the end of our persistence—
Whether or not we are at all forever resistant;
Whether all that was, and what was did and done
Will be of any long-lasting benefit to anyone—
Of what destiny awaits, if there ever was one.
Endings are important to us, for what we’re about,
Because we believe that how things turn out
Implies what the beginnings ultimately meant,
Of what, or not, is our place in the firmament.
As an ambitious species of nurture and nature,
We now and have always pointed toward the future,
For, of the three forms of the chimpanzee:
The common chimp, the bonobo, and us, we
Are the only chimp who went beyond the trees…
And, more importantly, ever out of Africa, freed,
By that exodus, which laid down, indeed,
From that experience, the urge and the need
To move on, exploring, ever planting another seed.
The horizons on Earth sufficed us, as through time,
For many millennia, but now the horizons’ climes
Have broadened, through cosmology and physics,
And so they can well inform us of our prospects.
The future matters to us, for very basic reasons:
We wish to offset our mortality, our pleasin’s,
To know if humanity’s works, for every season,
Will be remembered, or lost; all for nothing, even.
The Final, Silent Dark Marches On…
Time hurls a million waves of its displacement
At us, yet we are still here—the replacements:
Time, ever gray with age, hurls its changes, then,
‘Gainst existence’s rock, time and time again,
The entropic seas denuding the sands,
Yet, energy is preserved, via nature’s wands.
Reminiscence has weathered, but could ne’er wither,
For, in the mists of time; yesteryear yet appeared.
Would the prospect of a “Big Crunch” bring on phobia,
Such as an ever more confining claustrophobia?
Seems a better thought, somehow, though no picnic,
But more pleasing, if the universe was also cyclic,
Although, then, all would still be really crushed,
And forever lost, gone headlong into the rush.
We expect cycles, for all the days and seasons
Embedded this in our ancestors, into our reasons,
Since, at least, the periodic supplies a rhythm,
A pattern—the rolling hills of lives onward driven.
As for the cyclic, endless repetitions, they, too,
Would seem to revolt more of us than just a few;
As, too, perhaps, would some infinite abyss of time,
Which, too, grants us neither reason nor rhyme.
Does the drama go on forever, or does it end?
What do the visions of the future portend?
Doesn’t it all have some purpose meant—
Some goodly end of all of it to us might it present?
Is our higher mammal time, uncertainly,
Of such a short parentheses within eternity?
It’s only a finite time, it seems, which, too, tends
To horrify many, and more, as the universe ends,
Such as told by Robert Frost, a name of chill:
In heat or in cold, known as fire or ice, still.
Should we not believe in God since nothing lasts?
Well, if nothing lasts, then of what our purpose past?
Is a purpose really required, so constructive,
Or would that really be quite restrictive?
No realm could really be special or sent,
Its becoming being of some specific intent,
For, all has arrived here of causeless incident.
Is there anything wrong with the freedom to be,
Anywhere, any how, or at any time during eternity?
No.
Should we rail against the law of entropy,
The “heat death” of thermodynamic energy,
The second of its final laws, we see,
Because it would destroy all of futurity?
Well, there are so many ways for disorder to be,
Rather than any one ordered state specifically.
Would even a heaven on earth become a misery
If it, as it might, contain no more novelty?
Must there be an end to our revelry?
Can’t we, at least, hibernate eternally?
Will Shakespeare’s works live on, paternally?
Is this not a Wagnerian struggle for eternity?
Science Can Settle Whether a Last Day
Is Ever Going to Come this Way
…
(Want more, like what happens?)
THE FINAL, SILENT DARK
THE LAST CHANCE SALOON (CASINO)
Entropy is always the winner in the end,
When there’s no more money left to lend;
Meanwhile, we stabilize, in nature’s way,
Rearranging resources temporarily.
Prelude
Going beyond our very old obsession, so vast,
Of how the universe began, back in the distant past,
Yet, retaining our search for meaning, from that,
We now turn to how will it all end, this and that,
Whether becoming collapsed, expended, or flat.
Is there is some deep meaning in all that?
Yes, for it is there in that future distance,
We’ll find, or not, the end of our persistence—
Whether or not we are at all forever resistant;
Whether all that was, and what was did and done
Will be of any long-lasting benefit to anyone—
Of what destiny awaits, if there ever was one.
Endings are important to us, for what we’re about,
Because we believe that how things turn out
Implies what the beginnings ultimately meant,
Of what, or not, is our place in the firmament.
As an ambitious species of nurture and nature,
We now and have always pointed toward the future,
For, of the three forms of the chimpanzee:
The common chimp, the bonobo, and us, we
Are the only chimp who went beyond the trees…
And, more importantly, ever out of Africa, freed,
By that exodus, which laid down, indeed,
From that experience, the urge and the need
To move on, exploring, ever planting another seed.
The horizons on Earth sufficed us, as through time,
For many millennia, but now the horizons’ climes
Have broadened, through cosmology and physics,
And so they can well inform us of our prospects.
The future matters to us, for very basic reasons:
We wish to offset our mortality, our pleasin’s,
To know if humanity’s works, for every season,
Will be remembered, or lost; all for nothing, even.
The Final, Silent Dark Marches On…
Time hurls a million waves of its displacement
At us, yet we are still here—the replacements:
Time, ever gray with age, hurls its changes, then,
‘Gainst existence’s rock, time and time again,
The entropic seas denuding the sands,
Yet, energy is preserved, via nature’s wands.
Reminiscence has weathered, but could ne’er wither,
For, in the mists of time; yesteryear yet appeared.
Would the prospect of a “Big Crunch” bring on phobia,
Such as an ever more confining claustrophobia?
Seems a better thought, somehow, though no picnic,
But more pleasing, if the universe was also cyclic,
Although, then, all would still be really crushed,
And forever lost, gone headlong into the rush.
We expect cycles, for all the days and seasons
Embedded this in our ancestors, into our reasons,
Since, at least, the periodic supplies a rhythm,
A pattern—the rolling hills of lives onward driven.
As for the cyclic, endless repetitions, they, too,
Would seem to revolt more of us than just a few;
As, too, perhaps, would some infinite abyss of time,
Which, too, grants us neither reason nor rhyme.
Does the drama go on forever, or does it end?
What do the visions of the future portend?
Doesn’t it all have some purpose meant—
Some goodly end of all of it to us might it present?
Is our higher mammal time, uncertainly,
Of such a short parentheses within eternity?
It’s only a finite time, it seems, which, too, tends
To horrify many, and more, as the universe ends,
Such as told by Robert Frost, a name of chill:
In heat or in cold, known as fire or ice, still.
Should we not believe in God since nothing lasts?
Well, if nothing lasts, then of what our purpose past?
Is a purpose really required, so constructive,
Or would that really be quite restrictive?
No realm could really be special or sent,
Its becoming being of some specific intent,
For, all has arrived here of causeless incident.
Is there anything wrong with the freedom to be,
Anywhere, any how, or at any time during eternity?
No.
Should we rail against the law of entropy,
The “heat death” of thermodynamic energy,
The second of its final laws, we see,
Because it would destroy all of futurity?
Well, there are so many ways for disorder to be,
Rather than any one ordered state specifically.
Would even a heaven on earth become a misery
If it, as it might, contain no more novelty?
Must there be an end to our revelry?
Can’t we, at least, hibernate eternally?
Will Shakespeare’s works live on, paternally?
Is this not a Wagnerian struggle for eternity?
Science Can Settle Whether a Last Day
Is Ever Going to Come this Way
…
(Want more, like what happens?)