Hope Springs Eternal

So I know I should be studying now, but my mind is so racing with thoughts that I had to take a break and make a post.

I had a good conversation with my friend Ace today about some things. It was a good moment of personal reflection, which I think is necessary every so often. And whenever I do so, I always end up rekindling some of my thoughts and wonders about the world. Some are deep and provocative, some are silly, but no matter their classification, they always end up in my mind. And at the forefront tonight is the concept of eternity.

Eternity has always been mysterious for me. The thought of its existence can be only grasped in our mind, as is the case with the concept of infinity. Combining my curiosity about eternity and my appreciation of elegant writing, I have to look no further than James Joyce for a stunning description of eternity.

I read "Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man" in high school, and while it wasn't my favorite book, I enjoyed certain portions of it - specifically the portrayal of eternity as well as the villanelle in part 4 (I'm a sucker for highly structured poetry).

I don't remember too much about the overall story, but the part I'm referring to deals with the young protagonist being lectured amongst his peers by a priest about the damnation of hell and how it represents the physical and spiritual punishment of sin by God. And after reading the particular section, of which I am about to post, I was struck by the potency of the words, which were crafted into a beautiful yet dark portrayal of the unfathomable breadth of eternity. You can read the text below; I have inserted paragraph breaks in order to make it easier to read:

"Last and crowning torture of all the tortures of that awful place is the eternity of hell. Eternity! O, dread and dire word. Eternity! What mind of man can understand it? And remember, it is an eternity of pain. Even though the pains of hell were not so terrible as they are, yet they would become infinite, as they are destined to last for ever. But while they are everlasting they are at the same time, as you know, intolerably intense, unbearably extensive. To bear even the sting of an insect for all eternity would be a dreadful torment. What must it be, then, to bear the manifold tortures of hell for ever? For ever! For all eternity! Not for a year or for an age but for ever.

Try to imagine the awful meaning of this. You have often seen the sand on the seashore. How fine are its tiny grains! And how many of those tiny little grains
go to make up the small handful which a child grasps in its play. Now imagine a mountain of that sand, a million miles high, reaching from the earth to the farthest heavens, and a million miles broad, extending to remotest space, and a million miles in thickness; and imagine such an enormous mass of countless particles of sand multiplied as often as there are leaves in the forest, drops of water in the mighty ocean, feathers on birds, scales on fish, hairs on animals, atoms in the vast expanse of the air: and imagine that at the end of every million years a little bird came to that mountain and carried away in its beak a tiny grain of that sand. How many millions upon millions of centuries would pass before that bird had carried away even a square foot of that mountain, how many eons upon eons of ages before it had carried away all? Yet at the end of that immense stretch of time not even one instant of eternity could be said to have ended.

At the end of all those billions and trillions of years eternity would have scarcely begun. And if that mountain rose again after it had been all carried away, and if the bird came again and carried it all away again grain by grain, and if it so rose and sank as many times as there are stars in the sky, atoms in the air, drops of water in the sea, leaves on the trees, feathers upon birds, scales upon fish, hairs upon animals, at the end of all those innumerable risings and sinkings of that immeasurably vast mountain not one single instant of eternity could be said to have ended; even then, at the end of such a period, after that eon of time the mere thought of which makes our very brain reel dizzily, eternity would scarcely have begun."

I am still in awe of this portrayal of eternity, and it has made me think about my views on religion and spirituality. It seems to me like Pascal's Wager is a good bet.

And if James Joyce isn't up your cup of tea, you can always grasp the concept of forever care of "The Sandlot", my all time favorite movie. (fast forward to 2:02 if you want to cliff notes version)



As always, comments are welcomed and encouraged.

Cheers.