I don’t know if anyone is reading this stuff or even if there is anyone else “out there”, but what else is there to do with spacetime than move it around into different patterns?
I was thinking about onions. The onion itself, of course, is a made-up object that has form, mass, and weight. Everything “physical” that we make up is like that. It’s like time, space, and matter. They always go together, and you can’t have one without the other two. It’s like an eternal menage a trois. You pays your money and you take what you get. The onion, however, has always made useful analogies whenever you need to explain layers. As soon as you start to peel an onion you run into concentric layers that get smaller and smaller as you near the core of the onion. The onion represents a complete exterior that can be reduced layer by layer, showing what is inside, which is a series of identical layers that get smaller and smaller.
Now, if the onion is itself an illusion, a collapsed wave function that represents an onion and that we have named so that it can always appear that way to our consciousness, the discovery of its inner layers must have been a similar process, but experienced as a sequence. As you begin to remove the outermost layer of the onion for the first time, you don’t know what you are going to find beneath it. But your observation collapses the wave function of the onion into a slightly smaller onion that is very like the whole onion you first observed.
Where is your observational creativity? Why, when you removed the outermost layer of the onion, did you not discover an alternate reality that was like another world in your hand? Why did you observe just another surface almost exactly like the surface you just peeled away? It’s kind of like experiencing the same/old, same/old that is typical of our general experience of life–you wake up in the morning, and all you experience is another layer of the onion you observed before you went to bed the night before. No matter how many layers of the onion you peel away, all you get is more onion. Remember, a layer covers something, that is, hides it from view until the layer is removed, but why is there only more onion found under layer after layer of onion skin?
I think that the dilemma is caused by our observation of the onion in the first place. What might we find if we didn’t already know what an onion is? What if we called it a “gazonk” and had no expectation at all of what it was made of? Imagine what you might find under the layers of skin. Every newly-exposed layer could be a new universe of meaning. Every time you peeled a gazonk, you would boldly go where no one has gone before. Every layer would be a new dimension of experience, a new realization of infinite possibilities. Think of it as a cosmic onion that contains limitless worlds. Why not?
Simply, because once you know what an onion is, it is always an onion. See the hidden equation there? You always find what you have already been taught to find when you observe an onion. An onion always equals an onion. There are no variables to change a known onion into a model of multiple universes. Without the variables, an onion cannot become a singularity. We overlook variables all the time. Because they don’t exist for us, we never experience a singularity. Variables are unknown factors that influence the outcome of an equation. Let’s stop running the same old equations that do not contain variables. Let’s allow for singularities. This means, everything that we experience happens on a case-by-case basis. There are no generalities, no statistical averages, and no common sense. Let’s stop living life as a fait accompli. Be curious, be playful, be open. You never know what you’ll find under the next layer of the onion.