Eternity...what a concept...

Why are we even bothering to talk about “eternity” when we can’t possibly understand the concept?

Eternity is an interesting concept, but little more than a concept. It is our way of referring to a state of being other than the one in which we are now living, and as such is unknowable so why are we even bothering to talk about it?

It’s easy to define this eternal state as one in which we live forever, since one of the obviously true qualities of our existence (as we know it) is its impermanence. The problem is this: How do we accurately define something of which we, as living beings, cannot ourselves have any knowledge?

Shakespeare called death “The undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveller returns...” and I think he got it right, never mind that it comes from a play with a ghost in a speaking role. I think that, like Hamlet’s father, our ghosts are dredged up from our memories and their actual existence is contradicted by our own reason.

Since we can only speculate about the nature of any state of being other than the one in which we’re living, let’s speculate. Here’s another way to look at eternity. 

Imagine for a moment that what we call “eternity” is simply a state of being in which linear time and temporal relationships do not exist. Eternal beings would see all of existence as happening at once, though “at once” is an entirely linear concept that such eternal beings as I speculate upon could only speculate upon.

These eternal beings would have no native concepts of, nor use for, “before” or “after.” If they possess a finite existence, as we would define such, they would only perceive the part of it that they themselves, individually (assuming that they even possessed a concept of “individuality”) are able to experience. I doubt that they would be able to discuss it other than conceptually, or hypothetically, as I am discussing “eternity” now.

In such a reality, “eternity” would be a state which is neither finite nor infinite, indeed these two concepts would have no meaning in this context. In our perception, existence has a beginning, a middle, and an end; but the eternal being would simply see all things as simply being, having none of these linear points to define them. This is not to say that the eternal being lives forever, but simply to say that concepts such as forever, indeed the ideas of beginning, middle, and end, would have no meaning to the eternal being. As we would perceive them, eternal beings may have finite lives or infinite ones; it would not matter. The eternal being would perceive all things as simply being, all occurrences as just happening. “Before” and “after” would have no meaning to a being that perceived time in this fashion, neither would “beginning” or “end, “now” or “later,” indeed “if” and “then” (as in the familiar argument “If this, then that”) would represent concepts of which the eternal being would be unable to conceive.

Would we even be able to perceive such beings? Would they be able to perceive us? I wouldn’t even speculate on the answers to either of those questions.

In Kurt Vonnegut’s novel Slaughterhouse-Five, Vonnegut conceived of a race he called the Tralfamadorians who perceive time differently than we do. One Tralfamadorian used a metaphor to describe the Human perception of time to his fellow Tralfamadorians; he compared humans to someone strapped to a moving railcar, wearing a helmet with a permanently fixed (and narrow) viewpoint that only allowed its wearer to perceive the rest of the world as the railcar rushed through it.

Vonnegut was using this Tralfamadorian view of our perception to give the reader an idea of Tralfamadorian perception, and I can think of no better way to describe my own hypothetical eternal beings’ perception of time.

Imagine yourself strapped to that railcar, unable to move or even turn your head, with your vision restricted by a hole in the front of a helmet you cannot remove. Imagine that your entire existence has been that railcar, moving through a landscape that you can only perceive through a small opening that always faces forward. Imagine that the railcar was moving when you were born, has been moving all of your life and will (in all probability) still be moving when you die.

You may have memories of what has passed before the opening, however imperfect they may be, but you can only see what’s right in front of you, and can only speculate on what’s to come. Anything you know, or think you know, about the universe must come through that narrow opening.

As to the nature of the universe that you can’t actually see through that opening, you can only hypothesize. Even if someone is standing beside you on the railcar, unencumbered by the restrictive helmet and eagerly describing the world rushing by, your understanding of their description can only be interpreted according to what you know of the universe, perceived from your limited and restricted viewpoint.

Let’s say that the railcar goes by mountain range, but you are unable to see it because it isn’t in the direction you’re facing. The observer on the car with you may describe it to you, but you've never seen a mountain; without any frame of reference how will you understand what they’re telling you? And if they use a phrase like, “The Earth rises up into the sky!” just how exactly will you interpret that? Levitation, perhaps?

Now let’s say that the observer is dishonest. He might describe fanciful landscapes that cannot possibly exist, and try to excite your belief in them, or he may describe a dull, featureless, barren plan and tell you to never mind the world to either side, that what’s tight in front of you is the best of all possible worlds and you should be content with it.

One other possibility that you might not have considered: Suppose that you yourself couldn’t see the observer? How would you know that they weren’t strapped to the railcar themselves, their vision restricted by an immovable helmet like yours? How can you ever be sure that their vision isn’t as restricted, or even more restricted, than yours? How can you even be sure that they’re looking at the same things you are?

In this case, it comes down to their ability to convince you of their vision. Which you can never check. You have to take it on faith.

Here you have a choice. You can accept what you’re told about the universe, or you can reject it; you can choose to believe it or not.

On a larger scale, you can accept the world either as you see it or as it’s presented to you (it really doesn’t matter which, as long as your own vision is restricted), or you can free yourself from what restricts you. What you’ve been told about the world may prepare you for the world you find once free, or it may not. You can’t possibly know. But just imagine...if you had lived your whole life strapped to that railcar, what wonders might you find once free of your fetters?

So...
be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray
or Mordecai Ali Van Allen O'Shea,
You're off the Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.
So...get on your way! 

 - Dr. Seuss, Oh, the Places You’ll Go!

(One final literary observation: It should be noted that Vonnegut’s “Tralfafadorians” appeared in several of his novels, and that each time their philosophy, their science, their perception of time, even their physicality were altered, sometimes radically, to meet the author’s dramatic requirements of the moment. This in itself is a rather Tralfamadorian concept.)

The Blues Viking
The opinions expressed here are mine and if you don’t like them you can get your own damn blog.


William Shakespeare, Hamlet, act III, scene I  (No Fear Shakespeare)

Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five   (Wikipedia)
Slaughterhouse-Five at amazon.com   
“Tralfamador” on Wikipedia

Sr. Seuss, Oh, the Places You’ll Go!  (Full text without illustrations)
Oh, the Places You'll Go! at amazon.com