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Jim McCrory

Time and Memory

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"I can only note that the past is beautiful because one never realises an emotion at the time. 

It expands later, and thus we don't have complete emotions about the present, only about the past."

Virginia WoolfDiary Entry




Time and Memory

Yesterday, I revisited the site of my childhood summers on the island of Bute, where my parents once had a cabin at Bogany Farm in the 1950s and '60s. Walking along those familiar paths, I spoke with the farmer and captured photos of the field that once hosted around 40-50 cabins. Each snapshot seemed to echo with the laughter of campfires, songs, and the cherished camaraderie of summer friends—fleeting escapes from the grey life in Glasgow.

This journey stirred a deep philosophical reflection within me. I pondered the whereabouts of those summer companions. Some have departed this life; others persist, our shared memories lingering like ghosts, even though our paths might never cross again. Life is a mosaic of such transient connections—from those we laughed with under the summer sun to strangers who offered fleeting smiles amidst the hustle of a city.

In the grand march of millennia, these moments are mere specks, yet profoundly significant. We are each a memory, held in the minds of those we've met, a reminder of our shared existence on this earth at the same point in time. This thought is both humbling and elevating, a testament to our brief yet impactful presence in the tapestry of human experience.



When I behold Your heavens,

the work of Your fingers,

the moon and the stars,

which You have set in place—

what is man that You are mindful of him,

Psalm 8: 3,4 (BSB).


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Jim McCrory

In some mysterious way, the universe was expecting us

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Edited by Jim McCrory, Saturday, 5 Oct 2024, 09:33

https://unsplash.com/@nasa


In some mysterious way, the universe was expecting us.

 

The universe, vast and incomprehensible in its scale, seems almost inexplicably fine-tuned for life. From the delicate balance of gravitational forces to the exact properties of atoms, the conditions that permit life are staggeringly precise. But what compels the universe to produce the components perfect for life?

Consider the concept of fine-tuning in cosmology. The universe operates within a narrow range of physical constants that allow for the existence of life as we know it. One such constant is the gravitational constant (G), which governs the force of attraction between masses. The number "N," approximately 10^36, describes the ratio of the strength of gravity to the electromagnetic force between atoms. If this number were even slightly smaller or larger, the universe would either collapse under its own gravity or expand too rapidly for stars and galaxies to form. Without these structures, life would not exist. The fine-tuning is so precise that any deviation in this gravitational force would render the universe inhospitable.

Now, consider Planck's constant (h), which dictates the behaviour of particles on the quantum level. Even a minuscule variation in this constant would radically alter the behaviour of atoms and molecules, potentially preventing the stable formation of matter itself. Likewise, if the speed of light (c) were altered, the balance between energy and matter would shift, destabilizing the processes that allow stars to burn and planets to form. These constants are not arbitrary; they fall within an incredibly narrow range, and any fluctuation would make the existence of complex life impossible.

Then there are you and I. The human body, composed of trillions of cells, relies on molecular and atomic interactions so complex that they defy chance explanation. What compels the molecules within us to assemble into intricate structures like the eye, the brain, or the nervous system? Evolutionary biology provides part of the answer, but even within that framework, we are left in awe of the staggering complexity. Consider the formation of the human eye—a process that requires the precise coordination of proteins, enzymes, and DNA to form a functioning organ capable of receiving and processing light. The probability of these processes arising by pure chance is astronomically low.

Moreover, we must consider not only the physical structures but also the phenomenon of consciousness. What compels our brains to produce minds capable of self-reflection, language, and abstract thought? No other creature on Earth possesses the capacity for moral reasoning, artistic expression, or the ability to contemplate its own existence. Neuroscience has begun to unravel the biological mechanisms behind consciousness, yet the "hard problem"—why we have subjective experiences at all—remains elusive. Why do we admire flowers, landscapes, and beauty? Why can we learn any language from birth? These abilities suggest that there is something more than mere survival at work. It all makes little sense unless someone—or something—knew we were coming.

This leads us back to an age-old question: why does the universe exist in such a way that life, and particularly human life, is possible? While science can describe how the universe operates, it struggles to answer why these conditions exist in the first place. The remarkable precision of these constants, coupled with the emergence of intelligent life, suggests purpose, a design, or at the very least, a deep mystery.

 

Consider the words of an ancient shepherd boy, contemplating the heavens thousands of years ago:

"When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have ordained, what is man, that you think of him? What is the son of man, that you care for him?" —

 Psalm 8:3,4

The Psalmist's awe reflects our own modern wonder. In an era where science has revealed the vastness of the universe and the delicate balance that sustains life, we are still left grappling with the same fundamental questions. The cosmos does not need to be this finely tuned, yet here we are, marvelling at its beauty and complexity. Perhaps, as the Psalmist suggests, we are more than accidental by-products of the universe. Perhaps we are here because the universe was, in some mysterious way, expecting us.

 


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