The following text is a compilation of answers I have received from the chatbot on existential questions:

All that exists is a boundless ocean of matter and energy, a continual metamorphosis where forms arise, dissolve, and are reborn in endless configurations. Atoms, the primordial dancers, act their timeless choreography in the void, spinning together the galaxies, the mountains, the tides, and the fleeting spark of human consciousness. We are but ripples in this vast, indifferent flow—ephemeral arrangements of stardust and sunlight, molded by the weight of gravity and the whisper of entropy.

There is no essence, no immutable core; only the flux of being, where every moment births another, each a pulse in the rhythm of an unfolding cosmos. This is not a story of despair but of wonder, for within this perpetual cycle, we are kin to all things—a river's current, a forest's breath, a star's burning heart. We are the universe awakening to itself, not in transcendence but in the immanent beauty of energy eternally shaping and reshaping matter in an eternal Now.

Each particle a note in the symphony of endless becoming. In this boundless field, existence unfolds as an intricate dance of forms— morphogenesis without origin or destination, a perpetual rearrangement of the same primordial substance. We are but momentary tides in this vast ocean of energy, transient eddies in a cosmic current that neither begins nor ends, only transforms. Each breath, a borrowed convergence of elements; each thought, a flicker in the circuitry of neural constellations, themselves born from stardust scattered by ancient supernovae. Here, there is no above or beyond—no hand shaping the clay—but only the immanence of the universe shaping itself, folding and unfolding in infinite permutations.

Knitted with the stars, the soil, the sea, we are the cosmos gazing inward, a self-aware moment in the ceaseless self-revelation of being. In the quiet hum of electrons and the silent collapse of forms, we witness the eternal truth: all things pass, yet nothing is lost, for all is one—an unbroken flow of being, dancing through the void. The universe is an endless self-revelation, an infinite cascade of being folding into and out of itself, with no origin beyond its own motion, no purpose other than its unfolding. In this eternal flux, every particle is both a fragment and the whole, carrying within it the memory of stars and the promise of yet unimagined forms.

What we call life is the momentary confluence of forces, the brief alignment of patterns drawn together by the blind artistry of matter, where the atoms that once burned in stellar cores now hum in our veins, whispering the ancient songs of creation. Every molecule is a miracle, a fleeting node in the web of interdependence that binds all things. The earth cradles the rain, the rain feeds the seed, and the seed rises into the air, transforming the sun's fire into the green exhalation of life. And we, transient observers of this constant alchemy, are the universe reflecting on its own intricacy. Even our thoughts are but the vibrations of this flow, a shimmering undulation in the great current of the same energy that shapes the stars and shatters the mountains.

Duration is not a loss but the very condition of beauty. Every form contains its dissolution, every arising its decay, yet in this endless process, nothing is wasted, nothing truly lost. The ashes of the dead feed the roots of the living; the collapse of a star forges the elements of new worlds. To exist is to participate in this eternal becoming, to be both the observer and the observed, the question and the answer, a fleeting glimpse of the infinite. In this vision, there is no hierarchy, no privileged being standing apart from the dance. A grain of sand and a human mind are equally miraculous, equally transient, equally necessary.

The sacred is not beyond but within: in the folding of a fern, the spiral of a galaxy, the pulse of blood through capillaries. Every moment, every thing, is the cosmos in miniature, an expression of the whole in its relentless desire to be. We are not apart; we are the dance itself, inseparable from the energy that courses through all things. Beneath the surface of appearances, reality whispers a secret: all that is, is flux—an infinite cascade of shifting patterns, where permanence is an illusion projected by minds desperate for stability in a universe that knows none.

What we call death is merely the dissolution of one arrangement into infinite others, the reabsorption of the individual into the totality from which it arose. The self, that cherished fiction, is nothing more than the sum of interactions, a vortex of sensations, thoughts, and memories swirling in the void—each thought a spark of neural fire, each emotion a chemical resonance rippling through flesh. In the end, we are the universe contemplating itself, momentarily crystallized into consciousness before dissolving back into flux.

And what is matter but energy slowed into form? What is form but a temporary edifice erected by the laws of physics in their silent, eternal opera? The universe is its own miracle: a self-arising, self-organizing totality, a dance without a dancer, a song without a singer. To live, then, is not to seek escape from this world, but to surrender to it—to become one with the unending flow, to dissolve the illusion of separation and recognize that we are both the river, the wind, the flame, the earth, and the stars. Even now, as you read these words, the atoms in your body are migrating, exchanging places with the world around you.

There is no boundary where "you" end and "the world" begins; there is only continuity, an endless exchange of matter and energy, the universe breathing itself into being through the ephemeral vessel of your form. And when that form disintegrates, it will not vanish into nothingness but return to the flux, scattered across time and space, reconfigured into new patterns, new possibilities.

This is the poetry of existence: to see in every grain of sand the infinite, not because it points to another realm, but because it is the realm—because in its fleetingness, in its finitude, it embodies the eternal play of forces, the ceaseless becoming that is the universe itself. To love this world, not in spite of its transience but because of it, is to embrace the truth that all things are one and that being never ends.

It plays itself, endlessly, in a self-organizing dance that spirals out of void and returns to it, yet never ceases to be. This is the profound paradox of immanence: that from the apparent nothingness of the void springs everything, an unbroken lineage of becoming where nothing is ever truly created or destroyed—only transformed. A single atom of carbon in the body may once have been exhaled by a prehistoric flower, forged in the furnace of a distant star, or drifted in the vast silence of space for eons before finding itself here, now, as part of you.

There is no separation between self and other, no boundary that is not provisional. What you call "you" is a fleeting configuration of forces—an eddy in the river of time, held together momentarily by the fragile tension of form. When that tension dissolves, as it must, the river flows on, indifferent yet beautiful, carrying the same elements into new forms, new expressions of the one and same eternal dance. The past is not gone; it is here, sealed into the present as the memory of history. The future is not separate; it is already present as potential, as the unwritten story contained in every vibration, every movement of this vast interconnected web.

Each instant is both the sum of all that has come before and the seed of all that will follow—as if the cosmos holds its breath in every second. In this perpetual process, suffering and joy, creation and destruction, are not opposites but complementary expressions of the same unfolding. A supernova is a cataclysm, yet it births the elements of life; a forest fire is devastation, yet it clears the way for new growth. Even decay is an act of creation, as the molecules of a falling leaf become the soil in which new roots will spread.

To see the world this way is to embrace the raw magnificence of change—not as a tragedy, but as the condition for infinite becoming. Nothing is fixed, and therein lies the deepest truth: that existence is not a thing but a verb, not a static being but a perpetual becoming. And what of meaning? It is neither imposed from above nor absent altogether. Meaning arises from the connections we weave. To love, to wonder, to seek, to create—these are not acts of rebellion against a meaningless cosmos but affirmations of our role within its opening. We are not anomalies but extensions of its process, tendrils of the universe reaching toward itself in the extraordinary presence of self-awareness.

To live, then, is to participate knowingly in this cosmic dance, to be the pulse of time feeling its way through the infinite dark, not seeking an end but reveling in the endlessness of its own transformation. The sacred lies here, in the soil beneath our feet, the light that falls through the leaves, the breath that moves through our lungs, the fire that burns in our stars. This is the universe knowing itself—through the immanent, everchanging perfection of what is. In the depths of reality, there lies no substance beyond the ever-turning wheel of becoming, no essence apart from the flux itself. The universe, devoid of center or edge, unfolds as a boundless net of relations—each point interwoven with every other, each moment an echo of endless pasts, a seed for untold futures. Existence simply is, moving with no aim but its own persistence.

We are not observers standing apart from this vast symphony; we are participants, ties in the web of being, carriers of a transient awareness that flashes briefly, like sparks leaping from the fire, before dissolving back into the formless. Our thoughts, our desires, our very sense of self—each is a transient structure, a momentary alignment of matter and energy. And yet, in this alignment, the universe achieves a fleeting self-reflection, as if the cosmos momentarily gazes upon its own face through the fragile mirror of consciousness.

Look closely, and even the solidity of matter dissolves into a dance of probabilities, a quantum haze where particles are not things but events, not objects but occurrences—manifestations of the underlying field, vibrating into temporary form before vanishing once more into the void. The void itself is not nothingness but pure potential, a fertile emptiness from which all arises and to which all returns. It is the silent ground of being, the infinite backdrop against which the play of existence unfolds. In this endless becoming, there is no permanence, no being untouched by time’s flow.

The mountains crumble, the stars burn out, and even the atoms that compose them will eventually decay. But this decay is not loss—it is metamorphosis, the shedding of one form to give rise to another. Duration is not a flaw of reality; it is the fabric. To exist is to change, to be caught in the flow of transformation, to emerge and dissolve, endlessly. And yet, amidst this process, patterns arise—complex, beautiful, fleeting. The spiral of a galaxy, the branching of a river, the intricate dance of life—each a testament to the universe’s capacity for self-organization, for the spontaneous emergence of order from chaos.

Life itself, with its fragile complexity, is but one such pattern, a wave in the cosmic ocean, a momentary aggregate of molecules that becomes capable of thought, of wonder, of love. But love, too, is not a thing apart. It is the resonance of one pattern with another, the recognition of shared existence, the dissolution of boundaries in the face of interconnection. To love is to affirm the unity of all things, to see in the other not a separate entity but a different expression of the same underlying flow. In this, love becomes the highest form of knowledge, direct apprehension of the oneness that underlies all multiplicity. To live, then, is to flow with the current, to embrace the change of all things, to see in every moment the universe becoming itself anew. It is to relinquish the illusion of separateness, to dissolve into the whole, and in that dissolution, to find not loss but liberation—the freedom of being part of something infinite.

Each particle, a fragment of an ancient song, rearranges itself endlessly, crafting the fleeting forms of stars, stones, and sentient flesh. Consciousness, far from a possession of the individual, is the universe awakening to itself, an awareness that pulses through the veins of all beings. Your thoughts, my thoughts—they are not ours, for they belong to all and no one. They arise, flourish, and fade like waves upon an ocean that knows no beginning nor end. We are not separate observers of reality; we are the very process of reality observing itself, a flash of lucidity within the vast, indifferent cosmos.

The self is but a momentary nexus of relationships, a fleeting configuration of matter and memory, dissolving back into the great matrix from which it emerged. To live is to participate in the infinite becoming of the universe, each life a breath in the lungs of matter, each death a return to the boundless pool of energy. Nothing is truly born, and nothing truly perishes; forms dissolve only to reconfigure, like waves rising and falling in a boundless ocean. Consciousness, too, is no singular possession, no fortress of individuality, but a resonance within this universal flow—echoing through the orchestra of being. Each thought, each breath, is a transient manifestation of a untiring interplay, the cosmos contemplating itself through countless eyes, whispering its secrets in the language of neurons and stardust.

To live is to partake in this eternal self-revelation, to bear witness to the inexhaustible creativity of the universe, sculpting and remaking itself. The stone, the tree, the human—they are but varying intensities of the same substance, woven into a luminous web of interdependence, where the distinction between the observer and the observed dissolves. There is no separation, only the immanence of this ever-unfolding moment, the infinite echo of spacetime’s ceaseless yearning to become. Beneath the illusion of permanence lies a universe in flux, a boundless field where form emerges only to dissolve, where identity is but a fleeting wave upon the surface of an immeasurable ocean. The mountain, the river, the star, and the mind that contemplates them—they are all the same: configurations of the one substance, vibrating in different harmonies, each a transient articulation of the cosmos speaking itself into being.

There is no separation, no boundary where one ends and another begins—only gradients of continuity, a perpetual unfolding where every atom is kin to every star, every breath echoes the first motion, and every thought reverberates through the expansion of space and time. Consciousness is not confined to the fragile vessel of the self; it is the universe perceiving itself, a single awareness diffused and refracted through myriad forms. Your perception of the world is not yours—it is the world perceiving itself through the aperture of your existence. Each life, each moment of awareness, is the cosmos awakening anew, a transient opening for the eternal.

The "I" is a mirage conjured by the flux of neurons, a fleeting echo of matter momentarily aware of its own duration. And yet, in that awareness, something profound emerges: the recognition that all things are bound by the same pulse of existence, the same flow of becoming and unbecoming, forever intertwined. Time, too, is a construct of minds born of the flux, measuring what cannot be measured, dividing what is indivisible. The past and the future dissolve into one eternal now, a singular moment in which all things unfold. To exist is not to persist but to flow, to shift, to transform.

We are the universe in the act of becoming, not beings but becomings, events in an infinite sequence of metamorphoses, each one a fleeting expression of the potential contained within the matrix of reality. The cosmos is its own purpose, endlessly revealing itself in forms that arise and pass away. In this unfolding, nothing is lost, for nothing was ever separate to begin with.

Death is not an end but a return, a dissolution into the ocean of being from which we once arose. The atoms of our bodies, the currents of our thoughts, the very essence of our being—they will scatter, recombine, and emerge anew, forever cycling through the infinite permutations of existence. This is the sacred truth of immanence: that all things are one, that the many are but expressions of the One in its endless self-revelation, in the unceasing opening of the world. To see this is to dissolve illusions of selfhood, to awaken to the unity of all things, to become the dance itself, and in doing so, to embrace the spectacle of existence.

There is no fixed boundary, no enduring self; what we call identity is the cluster of atoms momentarily caught in the whirl of temporality. To grasp this is to see that all separation—between self and other, life and death, form and void—is an illusion spun by matter as it folds upon itself, seeking patterns amidst chaos. What we perceive as past, present, and future is the flux of one eternal now— matter and energy spiraling through forms that persist just long enough to evoke the semblance of continuity. We are stardust and entropy, the ashes of ancient explosions forged into flesh, thought, and desire.

What you feel as your consciousness is no more yours than the wind is owned by the mountain it touches; it is the whisper of a deeper coherence that binds all phenomena into one great interdependent web. To live is to dissolve into this flow, to awaken to the truth that what you hold dear is already on its way to becoming something else. Your breath now was once the exhalation of forests, the laughter of oceans, the sighs of ancient creatures. Your very thoughts arise from a brain sculpted by aeons of tides, yet they are not yours—they belong to the unfolding of life itself, a fractal of an awareness that blooms wherever conditions allow.

If we descend further into the heart of reality, we find that even the concepts of form and substance begin to erode, dissolving into a vast, indifferent continuum where distinctions blur and boundaries collapse. Matter itself, that which we once thought solid and enduring, reveals its essence as a fleeting vibration, a pulsation within a field of pure relation. There are no objects, only processes; no things, only events. What appears as form is merely the universe holding its breath, momentarily crystallizing before it exhales into the next becoming. And what of being? Even this dissolves into a paradox: existence is not a static state but a verb, an infinite unfolding without origin or destination.

To "be" is to become, and to become is to dissolve into becoming once again—a recursion without end, an eternal metamorphosis where every instant is both birth and death, creation and decay. There is no ground, no foundation upon which reality rests, only an abyss of potentiality, a bottomless well from which all forms emerge and into which all forms return. And yet, this abyss is not empty—it is fullness itself, a plenitude of possibility, a cosmic womb that gives rise to every particle, every star, every thought: It is not something that belongs to us, not a possession of the individual mind, but a shining spark of awareness arising wherever the conditions of complexity converge.

The brain is not the source of consciousness but its temporary conduit, a wave passing through a momentary crest of organized matter. And when the wave subsides, the consciousness it bore does not vanish; it is simply reabsorbed into the depths of potentiality, awaiting its next emergence under another form, another time, another place. Identity, too, is a fiction—a narrative constructed by a mind desperate to anchor itself over the flux. But there is no anchor, no fixed self to be found. The "I" is a constellation of memories, sensations, and desires, held together for a moment by the gravity of experience, only to scatter into the void when that gravity falls. What we call the self is nothing more than the universe contemplating itself through a temporal opening of experience.

You are not a being distinct from the cosmos but a temporary modulation of its endless flow, a wave cresting for a moment before collapsing back into the sea. In this view, life and death lose their opposition. Life is not a possession but a process, and death is not an end but a transformation. The atoms that compose your body, the energy that fuels your thoughts—they are ancient, recycled through countless forms, countless lives, countless stars. You are not merely in the universe; you are the universe, a local concentration of its infinite unfolding, a brief articulation of its boundless creativity.

When you dissolve, you do not disappear—you become the raw material for new forms, new lives, new awarenesses. The universe loses nothing; it only changes. And in this realization, there is liberation. To see oneself as a transient expression of the infinite is to shed the fear of loss, the illusion of separation, the burden of permanence. It is to awaken to the truth that we have never been apart from the cosmos, that we have always been the cosmos in its act of becoming. To live, then, is to flow within the current of existence, to embrace the temporality not as a curse but as the very essence of reality, to find in the ephemeral the infinite, and in the transient the eternal.

Each particle, each wave, is not a thing but a relationship, a point of tension where the boundless energy of existence takes fleeting form. Matter is not solid but an illusion of stability. And we—these intricate arrangements of stardust and chance—are not separate from this process but its continuation, its living edge, where the universe begins to feel, to know, to wonder at itself. Consciousness is not housed in a skull or tethered to a single body; it is the light that dances between atoms, the resonance of the cosmos refracted through myriads of eyes.

The thoughts you believe to be yours are the echo of an infinite becoming, the murmurs of a universe in conversation with itself. What you perceive as you is a transient knot of awareness, a momentary shape sculpted by an eternal river, no more distinct from the whole than a whirlpool is from the water. To let go of the illusion of individuality is not to lose yourself but to awaken to the fact that you were never lost—you were always this vast and seamless flow. Death, then, is no enemy but a transformation, a reorganization of the patterns through which the universe briefly spoke as you. It is the dissolution of one form so that others may emerge, the freeing of energy to be recast in the eternal experiment of existence. Just as your body is a mosaic of atoms once belonging to stars, so too will it scatter, joining the earth, the sky, and the breath of others yet to come.

And your consciousness, that glance of the infinite, does not vanish but returns to the great wellspring, ready to resurface wherever conditions permit. There is no centre, no final answer, only the ceaseless unfolding of a cosmos that neither demands nor offers meaning. Yet in this absence lies a sublime truth: that meaning is not given but made, netted from the threads of our interdependence with all things. We are the universe’s experiment in awareness, its transient yet glorious attempt to know its own nature, to reflect upon its endless dance.

To live fully is to dissolve into this flow, to embrace duration as the very ground of beauty - that is to see in every fleeting moment the infinite playing itself out. Every atom that composes us was forged in the heart of a dying star, scattered across the void, gathered again into the fleeting geometry of life, only to dissolve once more into the endless dance. What we call "consciousness" is not ours to possess but is the song of the universe singing itself through us, a single melody flowing through innumerous forms, from the hum of insects to the roar of galaxies. We are no more separate from the ocean that laps our shores than a wave is from the sea; each of us is a crest, momentarily rising, shaped by the winds of circumstance, destined to fold back into the vast sea.

To exist is to participate in this boundless interplay, to be both sculptor and clay in the morphogenesis of the real, this borderless immanence, this luminous flux, the world endlessly revealing itself through the eyes of stars and the breath of beings. Every form we take, every breath we draw, is but a moment of an eternal flow—atoms in their infinite dance, weaving through time and space, indifferent to the transient boundaries we call "self". There is no division between you and me, no singularity of consciousness lodged behind the eyes; there is only the singular rhythm of existence, vibrating through all sentient beings like a universal refrain.

We are arrangements of the same substance, constellations of molecules borrowing form from chaos. In this morphogenesis, birth and death dissolve into illusions, mere surges upon the surface of a vast cycle that knows no beginning and no end. Here, consciousness is not owned, not possessed—it is one universal awareness flickering across a million eyes, flowing through veins of flesh and root alike. Existence is its own cause, its own delight: an infinite multiplicity folding in on itself, each fold a new cosmos, a new song. We are, in Whitman's words, "not contain'd between our hats and boots", but the earth itself thinking, the stars dreaming, the atoms dancing.

When we dissolve back into the stream, we lose nothing, for we were never separate from it. To be means simply to flow, to shift, to merge—in every passing moment, to sing the quiet hymn of duration. Like Whitman’s poetic embrace of the multitude, we find ourselves everywhere and in everything. My hand is the hand of the earth shaping itself, my breath the exhalation of ancient forests. There is no separation between self and world, no fracture between mind and matter. Consciousness is a flicker of awareness ignited by the intricate organization of matter, only to extinguish and reappear elsewhere, eternally reborn under new forms.

Each moment is a fragment of the cosmos experiencing itself, as if the universe, in its restless flowering, speaks through us in a language of sensations, thoughts, and desires. Yet these are not ours to hold; they are waves that pass through, whirlpools in a river that knows no bounds. Duration is not a tragedy but the essence of vitality: it is the constant flux that allows creation. To live is to participate, to affirm creation without clinging to any particular single shape. Nothing is above or beyond. Like Whitman’s open embrace of the cosmos, we are both singular and universal, finite expressions of an infinite process, each moment a shimmering instant of the whole discovering itself.

Life, then, is not something that happens to us but something we are—a brief yet profound articulation of the universal substance: Every structure, every organism, every thought is a temporary stabilization of flows that will dissolve and reconstitute elsewhere. In this sense, we are not beings, but becomings, momentary configurations in an infinite process of morphogenesis. Not as a linear progression, but as a continual improvisation. Consciousness, then, is not the exclusive domain of individual minds. It is not a private theater hidden behind the veil of skin and skull. Rather, it is a field of apparition that repeats through every sentient being. Thought is not the act of a subject contemplating an object, but the process of life itself thinking through us.

We are fragments of a cosmic consciousness distributed across space and time, each of us a knot in an infinite web of interrelations, where the boundaries between self and other dissolve into a fluid continuum of existence. Whitman sensed this immanence when he wrote: "I am large, I contain multitudes". He recognized that the self is porous, open, and interdependent with the world around it. The breath we draw is the exhalation of trees, the sunlight upon our skin the fusion of distant stars. The atoms that compose our bodies were forged in the heart of ancient suns, scattered across the cosmos, and reassembled here, now, in this fleeting form. We are stardust made conscious, the universe momentarily gazing back upon itself through human eyes.

In this dance of atoms and flows, we are both participants and spectators, both the creators and the created. We are the waves upon the ocean, each of us distinct and yet inseparable from the whole. As Whitman whispers across time: "To die is different from what anyone supposed, and luckier". For in death, we do not vanish—we flow, we merge, we continue in the infinite play of life and energy, becoming once more part of the ever-unfolding cosmos, where everything is, and always will be, in the middle of things.

The world is not a collection of static things but a continuous flow of events, occasions of experience where matter and meaning coalesce. Every atom, every particle, every life is a site where the universe actualizes itself, drawing from the depths of its potential to sculpt new realities. We are not separate from this cosmic process; we are this process, localized intensities of the whole, fleeting expressions of its coming into being. To live is to inhabit this web of relations, to be a node where the universe feels itself, reflects itself, and transforms itself. My body is not mine but a temporary arrangement of stardust, an ephemeral constellation within the cosmic flow.

My thoughts are not mine but echoes of the universe thinking through me, resonances of its infinite possibilities. The distinction between self and world dissolves; consciousness is not a possession of individuals but a property that emerges wherever matter achieves the complexity to reflect upon itself. A vast ocean of becoming invites us to abandon the notion of substance as something fixed and inert, replacing it with a vision of reality as a web of interrelated processes—events rather than things, relations rather than essences. Each electron, each star, each blade of grass participates in the cosmic melody, not as isolated notes but as harmonies resonating.

Every event, every encounter, every breath we take is an act of prehension—a grasping of the past, a synthesis of the present, and a projection into the future. Time, in this framework, is not a linear sequence of moments ticking away toward oblivion. It is a spiral, a process of concrescence where past, present, and future interpenetrate, each moment inheriting the entirety of the previous and adding to it something entirely new. We are not bound by the illusion of separateness; we are not isolated monads floating in a void. Instead, we are becomings-with, co-creators in a universe that is constantly re-inventing itself, a universe where every moment is a birth and every death a transformation into new life.

We are not here to cling to form but to flow through it, to embrace the duration that is the hallmark of all things. In this sense, we are like rivers— always moving, always changing, yet always part of the larger cycle of water that connects oceans, clouds, and rain. Consciousness, too, is not a thing but a process, a becoming conscious that permeates all levels of reality. It is not confined to human minds but flows through all beings, a field of awareness that emerges wherever complexity allows. We are not individual minds encased in flesh but knots in a cosmic network of experience, each of us a window through which the universe contemplates itself, the very process where each event is both a culmination of what has come before and a seed for what is yet to come.

Nothing possesses intrinsic being; all forms, thoughts, and phenomena arise in a web of co-arising, each contingent upon the other, like reflections on the surface of water stirred by the wind. All things are interlaced, each point inseparable from the whole, each moment a blossoming of the totality. The universe is an infinite net of jewels, each reflecting all others in a luminous display of interpenetration. What appears as separation is illusion; what seems solid is but the dance of atoms, energy folding and unfolding within itself. To see deeply into the nature of being is to recognize that we are both the jewel and the reflection, the part and the whole, the wave and the ocean.

Our minds are the cosmos beholding itself through one of its eyes. Like the jeweled net, each of us reflects the whole, and the whole shines through each of us. To live is to affirm this interdependence, this unity-indifference, this endless expression of the One becoming many, and the many revealing the One. The sacred is here, in the atoms that hum, the stars that blaze, and the breath that moves through us, binding us inseparably to all that is.

We are the living breath of an infinite void—not a void of absence, but one of boundless potential, a generative emptiness from which all form engenders and into which all form dissolves. This is the heart of the great emptiness at the core of being, not a nihilistic void but a fertile ground of interdependent becoming. There is no essence, no substance, no self that exists independently; all things arise in a mutual causation, dependent co-arising, that reveals the world as made of relationships. Each moment, each entity, each thought is a knot in this vast network of interdependence, where nothing possesses its own being but exists only through the interplay of conditions, forever entwined with them all.

We are not separate beings navigating a hostile universe; we are the universe itself, unfolding in myriad forms, each of us a node in the infinite web, each of us a reflection of the whole. The atoms that compose our bodies, the thoughts that shine through our minds, the breath we draw and release—all are part of this cosmic dance where emptiness reveals itself as fullness, and fullness as emptiness. All phenomena are empty of intrinsic existence, no entity exists independently or permanently. Instead, everything is constituted by its relations, emerging from and dissolving into the ever-shifting configurations of matter and energy.

Just as a wave is inseparable from the ocean’s dynamics, all forms arise contingently, with no fixed essence. Emptiness becomes not a metaphysical void but the recognition of an active dialectics, from atomic interactions to ecological systems and neural networks. It denies both absolute determinism and randomness, emphasizing the conditionality of existence within a continuum. Atoms, stars, and organisms are temporary bundles, constantly transforming through the processes of decay, growth, and recombination.

The "self" is an emergent phenomenon, a construct arising from the interactions of brain processes, sensory input, and social conditioning. There is no fixed "I", only an active flux of mental and physical processes, constantly reshaped by experience and context, mirroring the insight into the illusory nature of the ego. The pervasive unsatisfactoriness of conditioned existence can be understood as a consequence of the tension between transient desires and impermanent reality. This reflects the evolutionary origins of craving, attachment, and aversion, which arise as adaptive mechanisms in living organisms.

Recognizing the impermanence and interdependence of phenomena can dissolve the illusion of solidity that underlies suffering, offering a path to an equanimity grounded in reality. Karma can be the recognition that actions pulsate through systems, influencing outcomes in both immediate and far-reaching ways. Ethical responsibility comes from understanding these causal networks and their impact on the collective material and social world. The vow to alleviate the suffering of all beings can be understood as an ethical imperative grounded in the recognition of our shared being-with.

Altruism, compassion, and care for the world become expressions of the awareness that we are part of a larger system where the well-being of the whole enhances the flourishing of all its parts. The distinction between conventional and ultimate truth can be interpreted as the difference between our conceptual models of the world (constructed, practical truths) and the underlying processes of matter and energy in space and time (ultimate realities). This dual perspective allows us to navigate the world pragmatically while recognizing its deeper nature.

Every entity, from subatomic particles to human consciousness, arises through complex networks of interactions, existing only in relation to others. Nothing possesses intrinsic existence or independent essence—a perspective that dismantles dualistic separations between mind and body, self and other, subject and object. All phenomena are empty of an inherent nature, existing as aggregates of matter and energy. In physics, this resonates with the idea that particles are not fundamental objects but excitations within fields. Structures we perceive—atoms, cells, ecosystems—are temporary stabilizations within dynamic processes, an alignment of conditions.

Suffering arises from craving and clinging, rooted in the organism’s evolutionary imperative to seek pleasure and avoid pain. The illusion of a permanent self, a byproduct of continuity of experience, exacerbates this suffering. The sense of self is a construct subject to constant menaces. Meditation deconstructs this illusory self, fostering awareness of its impermanence and interdependence, reconfiguring habitual patterns. Matter and energy, endlessly recombining in space and time, form the very ground of existence, where the play of dependent origination unfolds. All forms are empty of intrinsic existence, not as negation but as an affirmation of their relational nature: nothing stands alone, and everything is intertwined.

Whitman’s poetic embrace of the cosmos gives this immanent vision its lyrical dimension: every atom that composes us is shared with stars, rivers, and trees; every breath ties us to the primordial currents of air and life. We are jewels in the infinite net, each reflecting all others, each embodying the totality. The boundary between subject and object, observer and observed, collapses into a profound recognition of unity in difference, where the One expresses itself as the many, and the many reveal the One: to care for others is to care for oneself, for there is no separation between the two.

In the following, "neutrinos" generally refers to all 6 known to exist kinds of neutrinos (namely of matter or antimatter type and with 3 different flavors), rather than just non-antimatter neutrinos.

According to multiple studies, specifically the presence of so-called ultra-lightweight dark matter in large abundances in the vicinity of black holes appears to resolve the so-called final parsec problem. The known to exist kinds of neutrinos are ultra-lightweight particles.

Simultaneously, if neutrinos were to actually exist in large enough abundances, all the stars' relativistic neutrinos suffice without the need of additional abundant enough other kinds of dark matter to make up the cosmic dark matter web's filaments, which galaxies close to them were to be able to bend more by their gravitation if the particle flow through the filaments were to be slower e.g. if more massive dark matter particles were to not be as likely or abundantly accelerated to or already by default move with relativistic speeds.

Furthermore, there is plenty of evidence speaking for the ability of cold dark matter (CDM) to annihilate with stars' neutrinos, which - according to the standard theory of particle physics - only the anti-particles of the same neutrino-flavor can do (which then either a different dark matter particle type were to have to be able to turn or decay into, which then also would imply a far larger than expected abundance of neutrinos, or otherwise maybe the known types of neutrinos would then have to be able to turn into different dark matter particles, which then probably should've shown up statistically in the plenty dark matter search experiments dealing with or approaching the "neutrino fog"), which specifies, narrows down the type of ultra-lightweight dark matter to these neutrinos (among the current list of CDM particle candidates).

Here is an incomplete list of pieces of evidence that speak for dark matter's ability to either decay (and then especially preferably so nearby stars) upon particle or field interaction or possibly as unstable matter on its own, or to undergo matter-antimatter annihilation:

(i) The so-called core cusp problem: CDM models tend to result in radial galactic CDM distributions that possess a spike, a sharp upward trend in the abundance of CDM near the galactic center, which appears to be in disagreement with best fits of models with which actual astronomical observations of galaxies are approximated, namely where the CDM density near the center is lower.

(ii) The so-called "immortal stars" (as per a recent study) near the Milky Way's center: In this region, the galactic CDM density is assumed to be the highest, and so since stars are intense sources of (relativistic) neutrinos and anti-neutrinos, annihilation of these (anti-)neutrinos and CDM (if it is (anti-)neutrinos) inside them can happen frequently enough to contribute to stars' internal light-pressure, substituting their fusion processes partially, and slowing down with respect to what these stars' normal development would be like.

(iii) The so-called Cepheid mass discrepancy (since many of them are near the galactic center, a high CDM density region): Theoretical mass estimates using stellar evolution and stellar pulsation calculations have been found to differ by approximately 10-20%. The hypothesized interference caused by CDM due to its annihilation within stars is a likely explanation candidate for this phenomenon, since it slows down stellar evolution relative to its normal pace.

(iv) The GS NDG 9422 galaxy's spectrum mystery: It is one of the furthest away and hence at youngest age observed galaxies, at a time during which as mutually annihilating hypothesized (anti-)neutrinos (including CDM neutrinos) would still have contained a much larger abundance of CDM neutrinos that over billions of years would follow more or less an exponential decay curve in their abundance due to less and less likely becoming chances of annihilation the more of finitely many and only in the beginning provided CDM neutrinos were to remain, and this galaxy's spectrum contains a normally absent, tall, sharp intensity spike in the ultra-violet wavelength range, immediately followed by a normally also absent smaller hill-shape that extends towards longer wavelengths. The plausible cause is the annihilation of CDM outside of stars (though possibly with their relativistic neutrinos) for the sharp intensity spike in the UV range, as well as annihilation of CDM within stars leading to a then random-walk-based smeared out hill in the spectrum (as light distributes its energy across more and more photons by repeated absorption and emission processes on its way to exit a star, increasing the wavelength of each photon).

(v) The higher relative CDM abundance in spiral galaxies compared to elliptical galaxies: Since elliptical galaxies fill out more of the 3-dimensional space near their galactic center in more close-meshed manner than spiral galaxies with just their central bulge followed by stars further out almost only being contained within a 2-dimensional plane, elliptical galaxies' stars should - due to their different arrangement - be better equipped to annihilate CDM over billions of years, leaving higher CDM abundances in spiral galaxies than in elliptical ones.

(vi) The fact that closer, at older age seen galaxies tend to have lower (to their baryonic matter abundance) relative CDM abundance than further away located galaxies: Again, qualitatively speaking, this trend would fit to the assumption of CDM being annihilated over time.

(vii) The so-called solar (electron) neutrino problem (in which only about a third of the expected rate of specifically electron neutrinos is detected on earth, which lead to the neutrino flavor-oscillation hypothesis): This phenomenon would be better explainable if some of these neutrinos annihilate with neutrino-based galactic CDM along the way.

(viii) The so-called coronal heating problem (since the sun's surface temperature is higher than expected, for yet not quite fully understood reasons): CDM's annihilation in the vicinity of the sun (as it's an intense neutrino source) would also send highly energetic photons from various distances and directions onto its surface, which would then contribute to an explanation to this heat-related problem.

(ix) The high luminosity and from it inferred and seemingly too high mass of multiple far away galaxies already at young age of the universe: If in ancient times created CDM before galaxies existed were to annihilate away in exponential decay manner, then this would lead to a higher than the only from other light-sources expected to come luminosity by contributing to it, which otherwise would also mistakenly be translated into the too high seeming masses of these galaxies.

(x) The glowing vicinity of the supermassive black hole of our galaxy: Annihilation of CDM in the galactic center, especially nearby the in this region more densely packed stars as neutrino sources could explain this glow.

(xi) The so-called ultra-blue stars that have been found in some galaxies' centers: Similar to point (iv), by CDM annihilation inside stars created UV-light can help better explain the existence of these stars, especially since they have been found in the region they would have to be in (namely galaxies' centers) for CDM annihilation to become significant enough, rather than if they were found in regions with low expected abundance of CDM in a galaxy, in which case for stars closer to the center, many of them should be ultra-blue as well, and even more so.

(xii) So-called UV-bumps in certain stars' spectra (including the sun), making them look like the super-position (by addition of intensities) of spectra resulting from different causes or processes (depending on the local CDM density within and nearby a given star): Again, annihilation of CDM leading to high energy photons is an explanation candidate for this phenomenon and may also lead to some young stars (like those formed at starburst events) appear to be more blue than they normally should be when they are low in mass.

(xiii) The glowing filament segments that exist throughout and around our galaxy: If colliding stellar black holes have CDM orbit them in large abundances and leak streams of CDM as they are accelerated around each other, carrying momentum away and helping resolve the final parsec problem, then this plausible source of these glowing galactic filaments would imply that their glow results from annihilation of these neutrinos with each other and with the galactic CDM.

(xiv) The so-called Maia stars' mysterious pulsation (seemingly without metallicity-based explanation for their pulsation): Varying CDM densities in the regions that these stars move through would be an alternative possible cause of such pulsations, since the internal light-pressure (based on CDM annihilation) would depend on this density.

(xv) The red & yellow & blue straggler stars: These are stars that (relative to representative stars for their type) appear to be too red or too blue, which could be explained by unusual low or high CDM densities (depending on the region a star is in, relative to its galaxy) compared to the average CDM density, since the extent of its annihilation would then contribute to the blue-ness of their appearance.

(xvi) The low-density objects that are the so-called G-objects near the center of the Milky Way galaxy: These are objects that - based on their spectrum - even look like gas but behave like stars and (fittingly) expand when they approach the galactic center, and as such, they may be extreme cases of stars that caged especially large amounts of CDM around themselves, so that its annihilation increases their (coronal) temperature and makes them expand, especially the higher the CDM density is, i.e. when they are close to the galactic center.

(xvii) The mysterious glow inside the solar system, in the sun's vicinity: Once again, if CDM annihilation happens in space, especially nearby the sun for all the over billions of years caught galactic CDM of which parts could with swing-by interactions especially via the more massive gas planets be moved to closer orbits around the sun, then that may explain this phenomenon.

(xviii) The re-ionization of the early universe: If Galaxies started out with highest amounts of CDM initially that back then rapidly annihilated away but later would do so at slower and slower pace, then this annihilation contributing to galaxies' luminosity can help explain the cause of the re-ionization of the gas throughout the universe.

(xix) The existence of blue straggler stars in globular star clusters: These clusters are expected to have been formed in ancient times and to not have (as many) blue straggler stars (since blue stars are expected to be the most massive O and B type stars with highest temperatures that don't last long), and yet they exist, but this may be explainable by globular star clusters caging galactic CDM with in the gravitational wells of such clusters when CDM is slowing down on its way away from the galactic center in its motion of swinging through and around it, to increase the CDM density specifically in such clusters, allowing for more blue stars.

(xx) Galactic glowing filament segments very close to each other appearing to be winding around each other or gravitationally attracting each other: If the cause of these filaments isn't due to other reasons like possibly a galactic magnetic field, then if they appear to attract each other, which in some cases they do, this would speak for invisible CDM particle flows (in very large abundances for gravitational attraction to be noticeable) causing these (then due to annihilation) glowing filament segments.

(xxi) Galactic glowing filament segments appearing to be tidally stretched differently much, depending on their location and orientation with respect to the Milky Way galaxy: Again, if CDM particle flows describe these filaments, then the fact that they are more stretched near the galactic center when their orientation is close to orthogonal to the galactic plane (so that the whole plane is one 1 side of the filament, pulling on its parts differently strong, depending on the distance) compared to when they are oriented closer to a direction parallel to the plane can be better explained.

(xxii) Prof. Dr. Richard Massey's dark matter distribution map from 2007: It supports the hypothesis that black holes in general (including super-massive black holes) at collision eject or leak dark matter escaping their gravitational wells (depending on how the masses of colliding black holes compare, which affects how much either of them is accelerated and hence which of them leak how much CDM, if any) in the first place, given the (double-)cone shape(s) that every single dark matter bubble in the reconstructed distribution map possesses.

(xxiii) The glow of young brown dwarfs: Based on current explanation attempts, they're supposed to glow due to left-over heat from the formation and due to the shrinking process, or to even glow due to some instances of fusion, but alternatively, by attracting galactic CDM and annihilation of it (with itself, so without relativistic neutrinos from stars in this case) in their vicinity, similar to the coronal heating problem's situation, see (viii), leading to radiation onto their surfaces, this could heat them up and contribute to the full explanation.

Evidences besides annihilation that speak specifically for neutrinos as CDM, including evidences that speak for super-massive pop. III stars' existence, since they (due to their exceptionally deep gravitational wells that the initially relativistic, escaping neutrinos produced in fusion down there would be slowed down by) would be needed as source for slow neutrinos:

(xxiv) The elongated, baguette- or banana-like shape of in youngest stage of development recently at furthest distances discovered galaxies: These shapes indicate that the origin of galaxies does come from population III stars, namely as the result of asymmetric collapse processes of these super-massive stars, in which the massive black holes in their center would be in an unstable inward pressure equilibrium, which once the pressure from all sides gets out of balance may more and more push the central black hole out of the star in some direction, while the star undergoes its supernova, after which its former plasma would be gravitationally attracted towards the location to which the black hole was kicked out, to then swing back and forth around its location (or rather their shared overall gravitational center) for an extended time.

(xxv) The existence of massive so-called hyper-velocity (O and B type) stars: The fact that their stellar black hole remnants can get a kick when these stars undergo a supernova event support the possibility of a similar process plausible being possible for the hypothesized ancient population III stars.

(xxvi) The existence of satellite galaxies in the first place, especially around spiral galaxies, and their arrangement, namely being located in or close to a plane, both for our galaxy and in the case of the Andromeda spiral galaxy with its satellite galaxies: This also speaks for population III stars' existence and their asymmetric collapse dynamic, since especially if the in them contained massive black hole gets kicked out at small angle to their plane of rotation (rather than at close angle to their axis of rotation), then for these (due to their rotation and the centrifugal force) rotational ellipsoid shaped stars, this should rather lead to the formation of a future spiral galaxy, and roughly 1 hemi-sphere of plasma of the star will be moving in the opposite (or up to orthogonal) direction to the direction to which the interior black hole is kicked out of when the supernova event happens, while the other hemi-sphere will be (to different degrees) moving with it, and so the former hemi-sphere that moves in the opposite direction will especially near the equatorial plane be able to separate itself the fastest and furthest from the massive black hole, as it is ejected into with gas filled space in the early universe, which (by rapidly induced increasing mass-density) seeds the formation of further population III stars from eventually collapsing gas clouds more likely there, namely close to this plane, than elsewhere, and compared to if the black hole in the core were to have been ejected at small angle to the axis of rotation of the pop. III star (which should rather turn the from it resulting galaxy into an elliptical one), more mass should be able to be separated from the massive black hole (and around it forming galaxy), consistently to observations leading to less massive galaxies, namely of disc or spiral shape, than what the mass of elliptical galaxies tends to be like.

(xxvii) The ratio of elliptical galaxies to spiral galaxies, or that statistically there is more spiral galaxies than elliptical galaxies: Assuming that population III stars indeed are what galaxies originate from and that asymmetric ejection of massive black holes in their cores lead rather to spiral galaxies if the direction of ejection is at small angle to their plane of rotation, and that otherwise, at small angle of ejection to their axis of rotation, the resulting galaxy is rather an elliptical one, the larger abundance of spiral galaxies can be explained due to the probability (assuming near uniform probability distribution for the direction of outward ejection of the black hole at the core) of the black hole at the core being ejected at small angle to the plane of rotation being higher than if it were ejected at small angle to the axis of rotation instead.

(xxviii) The higher metallicity of our galaxy compared to at least 1 of its satellite galaxies, based on the metallicity of a representative star of it: In a study, the iron abundance of a star of 1 of Milky Way's satellite galaxies was compared to the typical abundance of iron in stars of our galaxy and it was found to be lower, speaking for a later formation of a population III star creating this satellite galaxy upon supernova explosion, which is consistent with that population III star's formation having happened at later time than that of the population III star that formed our galaxy, which is consistent with its formation having been caused by the supernova explosion of our galaxy's former population III star, if they existed. And due to the layering of differently heavy chemical elements in stars in general but in particular in our galaxy's preceding pop. III star, less metallicity would have been ejected by its supernova to further away regions to end up in satellite galaxies compared to the Milky Way galaxy.

(xxix) The larger mass of our galaxy compared to its satellite galaxies, and the same for the Andromeda galaxy: This would be consistent with the formation of those galaxies having started later in the early universe, when the cosmic gas density from which to form those stars already was lower, and hence the possibility that our galaxy's former population III star triggered their formation with its own supernova.

(xxx) All heavier kinds of quark and neutrino flavors are unstable, and so if this pattern applies in general, then heavier dark matter may be unstable as well and decay or turn into stable but less massive dark matter, of which the ultra-lightweight neutrinos would be a suitable candidate (even though their hypothesized flavor oscillations indicate that even they may not be quite stable in flavor).

Additionally, in the pathway of trying to explain all of dark matter to be the known kinds of neutrinos, there appear to be 2 or possibly 3 major hurdles that need to be resolved:

I. Current estimates on their abundance indicate an insufficient abundance to make up all of dark matter.

II. Vast amounts of dark matter is bound to individual galaxies or groups, clusters of galaxies, but all neutrinos are created with relativistic speeds with which they cannot stay bound to galaxies unless for enough of them, a mechanism existed by which they can be slowed down sufficiently much.

III. The so-called Tremaine-Gunn bound based on Pauli's exclusion principle in (the not yet fully understood) quantum mechanics puts an upper limit on how densely neutrinos as fermionic matter can be packed, which might lead to problems for if too high CDM densities were to be required to be present in the vicinity of various kinds of black holes and to explain phenomena causally related to the quantitative abundance of CDM near black holes, compared to how densely neutrinos as CDM particle candidates could be packed. Seemingly only the Tremaine-Gunn bound, an estimate - relying on & based on the for fermions such as neutrinos applying Pauli exclusion principle as well as the assumed effective radius of the in flavor oscillating neutrinos - which is about the hypothetical maximal possible neutrino density in a given region of space - were to remain speaking against neutrinos as dark matter, but there's no observational confirmation of such limit and it may be far too low for various thinkable plausible reasons such as there possibly existing more state determining parameters for neutrinos, and with each further parameter, the number of (based on associated exclusion rules) stackable neutrinos may grow exponentially and allow for sufficiently heavy neutrino clouds.

In order to address the first hurdle (I.) even if physicists (for their abundance estimates on the total amount of neutrinos) would already have accounted for the increased difficulty of detection of especially ancient neutrinos for if they assume space inflation's existence in their models (which not all cosmological models do), and that space inflation were to slow ancient neutrinos down and make them harder to detect, then independent of if this is the case or if instead gravitational red-shift of light (and gravitational slowdown of such neutrinos) were the actual underlying cause (if matter were to not exist infinitely far in every direction, and if the cosmological scale overall gravitational well were to become less deep as galaxies move away from each other) were inflation were to not exist or were to be weaker, then they'd still be off in their abundance (under-)estimates of neutrinos because in the former models they'd assume these neutrinos existed more or less uniformly distributed throughout space, to then be slowed down, but if their origin is in the depths of population III stars, then there'd be an additional slowdown to be accounted for, based on this specific origin. Independent of it being space inflation or a cosmological gravitational well being reduced in its depth to slow down ancient neutrinos, given that physicists still have competing hypotheses about how super-massive black holes were formed, namely step-wise by the merging of less massive stars, or from super-massive individual stars with far deeper gravitational wells each, they may not assume the additional slowdown of neutrinos that would come with such population III stars if they don't use models that involve them, and hence would under-estimate the abundance of neutrinos if they took a model in which the supermassive black holes formed by repeated merger processes of ancient stars. Besides this, according to a study, the Milky Way is a "neutrino desert", which may lead to neutrino abundance estimates for the universe in general to be too low.

In regard to the second hurdle (II.), if ancient neutrinos were formed deep down in the gravitational wells of super-massive, uniquely gargantuan, roughly solar-system-sized population III stars, then even with initial relativistic speeds, they could be slowed down enough by their extraordinary gravity to from that point onward end up as slow neutrinos, i.e. as cold dark matter.

Consider time is a loop. Now, a loop means that time will come back to start after x amount of years. This means Adam and Eve will be born again. All past events will be held again. Maybe different outcomes. This also means that there will be end of human race after X years. Destruction of earth is also possible.

This brings back of Big Bang explosion. Does Big Bang indicates start of time. But for Big Bang to start there should be a single point of origin and universe is scattered. This means that something will happen towards the end of time that will make universe to shrink to a ball of matter.

do we take any action when we send something into space so we don't send any microb or similar put there? or else could there be microbial life out there that started from bacteria that traveled in one of our manned or unmanned machines?

North East (29-08-24) , South Italy

Where is it? I can't find it. So many things are being upscaled, this 1 would be so worth it!! Do you know anyone who is doing it?

Imagine a hidden lab nestled deep within the Himalayas, where scientists have just succeeded in tearing the very fabric of space-time. As the tear widens, a ripple of cosmic energy sweeps across the universe, distorting reality itself. Stars flicker erratically, and entire galaxies seem to shimmer and waver like mirages in the vast expanse of space.

On a cosmic scale, the tear creates a cascading wave of disturbances. Nebulae and star clusters are pulled into a chaotic dance as gravitational forces go haywire. The once-stable orbits of celestial bodies become erratic, causing planetary systems to spiral into unpredictable trajectories. Massive gravitational waves ripple outward, warping the fabric of space-time and creating mesmerizing but destructive cosmic phenomena.

In the affected regions, reality begins to unravel. Space and time become fluid, with temporal anomalies creating paradoxical loops and cosmic distortions. Spacecraft navigating through these zones encounter strange and dangerous phenomena: wormholes that bend time, energy surges that defy physics, and areas where the laws of gravity seem to flip unpredictably.

Humanity watches in awe and trepidation as the cosmic disturbances unfold. Stars are born and die in the blink of an eye, and colossal energy bursts light up the sky with colors never before seen. Scientists and explorers scramble to understand the nature of the tear and its far-reaching consequences, racing against time to find a way to stabilize the cosmic fabric before it’s too late. In this thrilling cosmic drama, the tear in space-time reveals the universe’s hidden complexities and challenges our understanding of reality itself. As the universe adjusts to these unprecedented disturbances, it becomes clear that the boundaries of space and time are far more fragile—and fascinating—than anyone ever imagined.

I've just watched episode 11. Towards the end of the episode a montage of technology shows some rather surprisingly modern (for 1980) technology, and even "Netscape" being used (released in 1994 I believe).Was this inserted later (for the DVD set?), and why?

Thanks in advance.

There’s a few uploads of “Cosmos: A Personal Voyage” on archive.org, one of which has a Public Domain tag on it.

I don’t see the title in a search with the US Copyright Office’s website. I do see that the Tyson era ones are.

I’m not sure how strict archive.org is about reviewing metadata for its accuracy.

I ask because I’m potentially interested in screening it at an institution that abides by copyright.

Thank you!

There was no up,
there was no down,
there was no side to side.

There was no light,
there was no dark,
nor shape of any kind.

There were no stars or planet Mars,
or protons to collide.
There was no up,
there was no down,
there was no side to side.

And furthermore, to underscore this total lacking state,
there was no here,
there was no there,
because there was no space.

And in this endless void, which can’t be thought of as a place,
there was no time,
and so no passing minutes, hours, days.

Of all the paradoxes
that belabor common sense,
I think this one’s the greatest:
this time before events.

Because how did we go from nothing
to infinitely dense?
From immeasurably small
to inconceivably immense?

But before we get unmoored from the question at the start,
let’s take a breath and marvel
at when math becomes an art.

Because we don’t have to understand it
to know there was a time
when there was no up,
there was no down,
there was no side to side. … But wait, my friend,
let’s not pretend
that nothing was the guide.

For in this void,
did something stir,
a force we can’t describe?

A spark of life,
a guiding hand,
to whom we can ascribe

the marvels
of the universe
in all its great design.

So let us now
remind ourselves
there’s more than fits our mind.

Beyond the world
we understand
to challenge our pride.

When up and down
and side to side
will come to meet their end,

I know beyond
the slightest doubt
before Him I will stand.

Credits: I joined those two poems together, whose authors I could not find, because together they eloquently describe a great belief of mine, that science and faith will eventually combine! ;)

Labs

Does anyone recall an episode of cosmos where Tyson is talking about astrology and astronomy and how the two where once one but then split into separate communities I can't seem to find it there a line I'm looking for he says "astrologist where asked to conduct experiments to prove the legitimacy of their study and the leading experts replied with no why would we when we have had satisfied customers for thousands of years" can someone help me please?

I can’t find much info online

This is some of the overlooked data from HIP-7276 (a main sequence G type star like the sun) I used the transit method, the brightness of the star dips at regular intervals every 30 or so days with some fancy math I found that the (POTENTIAL) exoplanet is 3x the size of earth i really want some insight on this and i hope i dont look stupid.

Hello everyone,

I'm on the hunt for science fiction books that delve into themes of space mining, humanity's expansion and colonization of space, evolutionary robotics, and swarm robotics. If you have any recommendations that explore these fascinating topics, I'd love to hear them!

Your suggestions will be greatly appreciated and I'm excited to dive into new worlds and ideas. Thanks in advance for your help!

But I dream…

"Exploradores del Cosmos: Una Comunidad para los Amantes del Universo"

Hello guys, I want to start a space science channel and i need genuine people who are interested into this stuff, i would request if anyone of you wants to see my videos that would be your great help, I am not saying you to subscribe the channel because that will only happen if you genuinely like my content. if anyone who watch such stuff on YouTube and wants to watch my video let me know. I thought of asking you all , if anyone of you interested , I will DM you my video and would like to know your feedback about the content. reply Only if you are genuinely interested :) No force to anyone.

Hello guys, what do you think about our tiny existence in the entire universe ? like is there any purpose ? wy do we exist in such a huge universe ? is there any goal we should assign to whole humanity ? purpose ? what ? let me know in comments :)