* Infinite? or Random? *
Our consciousness has no fine tuning for detecting and savouring Random. We are – I übeam – a creature of now.
The appreciation of Random needs a running awareness of the things that element it, namely the past measured against some yardstick of the future.
And both of these on astronomical timescales with an omniscience far beyond our human reach.
To say I am the product of random is rather sad. There is no call for the illusory sadness that comes from a fruitless search for meaning among extremely long odds.
Rather, let my heart leap for joy at every in-breath that gives it the strength to leap.
I don’t call it my pulse. My heart keeps its own rhythm.
The measure of joy is heartbeat by heartbeat of my clock of blood.
Joy and sorrow are the engines one of the other. And both know no limits.
I choose infinity