What gives? I keep forecasting the appearance of the post about “the work” of the residency. The simple hold up is that I just received the finished edition and I’ve not yet documented the pieces, so as soon as that’s here, I’ll fill in the blanks. In the meantime, let’s talk about the fabric of the cosmos.
Airing in parts lately on PBS is a series by that name—“The Fabric of the Cosmos”—the sort of programming that makes me salivate. Anything that can break my mind free of my own scale and sense of importance is grand grand grand. There are all sorts of great mind-benders contained in the program—ways to comprehend the distances between things in the universe, ways to think about time and space as variables instead of the constants that they seem to us in these bodies, on this planet. But the one that has me spinning is the relatively recent theory that the entire 3 dimensional world may be a hologram of one 2 dimensional map of information. This is contested by even more recent research, but still… it makes everything feel like a collapsible piece of origami. It makes my organs tickle.
I’m reminded of a fever dream I had when I was small. There’s no conveying it in words, because it was an extreme and very visceral experience, but the closest I can come is by saying that everything that ever existed seemed collapsed into a 2-dimensional sheet. Silent, heavy. A flicker of light or sound would appear in the periphery, and then everything became everything, all at once. The most sound and light and texture that can be imagined. It was terrifying. And then all would shut down and recompress, and the dream would repeat. After having given birth a few times, I’ve mused about whether it was actually an impression of childbirth. My own birth, that is. But the holographic universe as a concept is not that dissimilar.