Visiting my Mum in Coatbridge, I take myself out on a jog down the 'the Lochs', as we know them round here - a crystal clear day, and a stack of podcasts in my iPod, to distract me from my aching forty-something joints.
In the 'Recently Updated' playlist I select In Our Time, the Radio Four ideas-fest with Melvyn Bragg, with the far-too-appetising title 'The Multiverse'. I think I'll have to listen again... but the gist of it is that science (or physics) is on a journey of expanding viewpoint - we used to think Earth was the centre of the universe, then we realised there were other solar systems, galaxies (billions of them), all coming from a "Big" moment (whether Bang or Bounce, they weren't agreed). And now, the physicists have some reasons to believe that, now they can approach the originating moment of the universe, they can describe what that originating moment took place in or alongside. One possibility is that this founding moment, which established the physical laws of our universe, that leads to us, is only one among many founding moments - which might create other universes with different laws of physics altogether. (Frustratingly, Melvyn never asked them the obvious sci-fi question, 'can you imagine what some of the different laws of physics could be?' Telepathy, telekinesis, teleportation, what?) So then we'd live in a multiverse, and we'd have to rename our 'universe' as a 'meta-cosmos' (said Sir Martin Rees. Neologasm!).
Problem is, they kept telling us that it would be literally impossible for us to apprehend any of these parallel or alternative universes, due to the absolute violence that causes each of these universes to be - the defiance of which fuels Philip Pullman's Dark Materials trilogy. (Though Pullman has clearly been talking to physicists: two of them today talked of their hopes of establishing the true 'granularity' of the universe, the ultimate 'atoms' of existence (below quarks, I think) - which is exactly what the Subtle Knife in the second book does: so finely made that it finds its way between the granules of matter, and opens its way into other universes. I so completely love those books). Another mind-blowing image from one physicist is that other universes may well exist with incredible proximity to our own - 'barely a millimetre away', said Rees - yet still fundamentally inaccessible. I know a few spiritually-adept people, and they'd throw their heads back and laugh at the mechanism of all this ('as if we don't know alternative worlds and forces and consciousnesses live among us!'). Sorry folks, but I'll still hug close to verifiable science, edge right out on the only branch I can trust...
And as I'm jogging up the park road, laughing to myself at this conjunction of the intellectually enormous and the domestically quotidian (my other thought is to remember to get my mum's Daily Record), I look over at one of the cars that's driven into the heart of the grassland - and there's a placid, contemplative woman, sitting next to man who is inhaling deeply from a foil tray. And what's the immediate thought? Well, are we both looking for the same thing - an escape from mental limitations, a connection to something bigger and more profound, an intimation of peace, harmony and coherence? Me with my iPod and my conceptual orgies, this guy with his crack cocaine?
Problem is, I was scared to ask. And there's enough of a gulf between social universes to be getting on with.
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