The Universe: About Theories

I define the physical universe as all that I observe and experience, which I perceive to be outside of and beyond my conscious being. Its effects and impositions invoke within me a burning curiosity that compels me to const­ruct theories about what it is and how it works. [Português]

I am aware of myself. Consequently, I deduce that I must exist as a conscious entity. I am also aware of something that seems to be outside of me. It is a universe, in which I seem to be immersed.

This universe bombards my senses with information that conveys to me the notions of structure and process. What generates these notions does not originate from within me. It comes from outside of me. The external universe thus imposes upon me experiences and sufferings, which are not of my making.

Consequently, I deduce that the universe outside of me must be an objective reality that is not a product of my imagination or mental creativity. It thus must be self-existent and separate from me. This means that the conscious "me" must have its existence outside of the physical universe.

This "conscious me" is imbued with an insatiable curiosity to inquire about things that are outside my realm of observation and experience and beyond my ability to reason. It forces me to ask such intrinsically unanswerable questions as: Why do I exist? Why does the universe exist? Has it always existed because non-existence is a fundamental impossibility? If so, why is it the way it is? Why are the Laws of Physics as they are and not different? Or was there a beginning? Did the universe come into being as aliquid ex nihilo?

To my limited powers of reason, the idea of time as a continuum is easier to digest than the notion of something appearing out of nothing and time having a beginning. The first requires only continuity, whereas the second involves an ex nihilo act of creation emerging from a point singularity.

Creatio ex nihilo requires an agent of creation: a God. This demands that God pre-existed the universe, which prompts the question: who created God? And this gives rise to an infinite regression of creations. Singularities do not appear in nature. They are only thrown up by the mathematical language in which we try to express or model nature. Nature itself avoids singularities by including, within its laws, terms that are extremely non-linear and whose effects only kick-in at very close quarters.

Notions like 'nothing' and 'before time began' cannot be understood by minds that can only reason in terms of a cultural language that has developed from elemental experiences of beings whose evolution has been constrained to take place within the bounds of the terrestrial biosphere. Like the Hindu thinkers, I content myself by accepting that such notions are beyond human definition and intellect. So I put aside the unanswerable questions and focus my effort on satisfying my curiosity about the universe, and study it as I perceive it in the here and now.

If the universe be everything that is, then I [my conscious self] must, by definition, be part of the universe. However, the notion of the conscious observer is outside the scope of the theory that I expound herein concerning what I shall refer to as the physical universe.

Likewise, if the universe be everything that is, then Gaia — the great self-sustaining and self-adapting web of life that inhabits the Earth's biosphere — must also be part of the universe. Notwithstanding, though I must assume it to be entirely physical, I cannot ignore its obvious embodiment of concepts such as symbolic abstraction and projected functionality, which can only be brought into existence through acts of creative intelligence. So it too is beyond the scope of conventional physics.

Consequently, in this series of essays, I confine my consideration to what remains after the two above-mentioned aspects of the whole universe are excluded: namely, that which I refer to as the physical universe.

HH11K14L nebula used to represent the vastness of the universe. The act of studying the physical universe is call­ed science. Science reveals that the physical universe comprises phenomena which may be experienced by humans. The effects of such phenomena are conveyed to the human consciousness either dir­ectly via the 5 human senses, or indirectly by way of instruments able to transduce effects that can­not be sensed dire­ctly by humans into effects that can. There is no good reason to suppose that the physical universe be all that exists. What appear to us as discontinuities and singularities in the phys­ical universe strongly suggest that it is only part of a continuum, which extends into a much larger hyper reality, which is itself fundamentally beyond the reach of direct human senses or any possible kind of sense-extending scientific instrumentation.

My view of the physical universe is necessarily imperfect. I cannot see it as a whole from a celestial vantage point outside it. I can only view it from what must be a very disadvantageous peripheral position in space and time. My view is also ham­pered by the severe limitations of my five human senses. I have no all-seeing eye able to afford me a clear vision of the whole of reality. My view is also blurred by imperfect­ions in my perception of what the inputs from my physical senses are telling me. Finally, my consciousness is able to perceive of and construct realms of the imagin­ation, which are beyond reality. Such realms may, on occasions, cause my rigorous observations of the real world to be subconsciously coloured by wishful thinking.

All this means that, no matter how rigorous my observations may be, my view of the universe is necessarily subjective. The objective scientific view is an illusion. Bearing this in mind, my conscious perception of the universe seems, in its most general sense, to comprise notions of time, space, objects, motion, forces and waves. Theories are an attempt to understand the complex ways in which these basic notions relate.

Suppose we are scientists. We observe the wonders of nature. We then mentally separate what we see into phenomena. We speculate about what underlying mech­anism is producing a particular phenomenon. In so doing, we need to make some initial assumptions. We then test our assumptions by making controlled experi­ments in which aspects of the phenomenon can be more rigorously observed. We thereby verify — or at least substantiate — some of our assumptions. We now have an embry­onic theory about how nature produces the phenomenon we see. We cre­ate more specialized and precisely tuned experiments. The data from these allows us to put more and more flesh on the bones of our theory. Our theory thus con­tinues to develop, expand and mature until we can finally call it established.

Somewhere along the way, we encode our ideas in mathematical terms. This pro­vides us with a far more precise and efficient language in which to "discuss" our ideas. We name variables to represent the natural quantities involved. We relate these quantities with equations which represent how the different natural quant­it­ies affect or depend on each other. We may even have to invent some new mathe­matical notations and operations in order to be able to write down our ideas about the structure and behaviour of a new phenomenon. However, once we have done all this, we can subsequently derive — by mathematical manipulation — other con­se­quences of what we have observed. We then construct specialized experiments to explore, test and verify these mathematically predicted consequences.

Notwithstanding, there are four fundamental problems with all this.

The first concerns theory of mind. From what I can ascertain, science pursues what it sees as an objective view of the universe: the way it really is. To achieve this, the observer transports his mind to look from the point of view of any place or object. He may, for instance, transport his mind to the point of view of an electron, photon or black hole. He thereby — effectively or figuratively — imbues these inanimate objects with theory of mind. He looks at reality as if he were the electron, photon or black hole. But whether he does this by imagination or by mathematical transform­ation, what he sees is an illusion. An observer can only ever see from his own point of view in space, time and bodily scale: a point of view that is entirely subjective.

For example: an observer fundamentally cannot see or detect a photon in flight. And it can only theoretically exist in flight. So it can never be seen or directly detected. Its existence can only be implied by visible events that supposedly indicate its creation and annihilation.

The second problem is that we cannot verify all of our most fundamental assump­tions. We can only verify the consistency of what is built upon them. For example, Maxwell's equ­a­tions substantiate very strongly the universal constant velocity c with which supposed 'electromagnetic' waves must 'diverge' from a source. But that they also arrive at an observer at the same velocity c, independently of his speed relative to the source, is an assumption that we cannot prove. This is because the velocity of light from an origin to a destination cannot be measured. We can only measure the velocity of light over a round trip. This has far-reaching implications.

The third problem is to do with mathematics. Mathematics is a language govern­ed by the Laws of Thought. The laws by which we perceive the universe to work are not the Laws of Physics. In other words, the Laws of Physics, which really govern the universe, cannot be constructed from the mathematical fit-kit with which we try to formulate expressions to describe them. The act of codifying a theory in mathemat­ical terms gives it an air of unquestionable validity. This can motivate us to spend many years deriving consequential predictions with a misplaced sense of security. This is because any error in a fundamental assumption becomes propagated para­sitically throughout all our mathematical derivations.

For instance: mathematically-derived consequences in Quantum Mechan­ics demonstrate that time can go backwards in some circumstances. But this defies all directly observed evidence. In another case, mathematical derivations reveal that time does not really exist: 't' cancels out. I prefer the view that these paradoxes come from imperfections in our language of mathematics: not from nonsenses embedded within objective reality.

The fourth problem is to do with verifying our theory. A theory is really a description of the underlying mechanism that we think is responsible for the phenomenon we have been observing. However, it is usually possible to construct many different theoretical mechanisms that would produce exactly the same observations. So the mechanism that is really producing what we see could be any one of the many we have thought of, or perhaps — indeed most probably — one we haven't yet thought of. This is well evinced by how uneasily Quantum Mechanics and Einsteinian Relat­ivity sit together as purported descriptions of nature. Yet each has an uncanny dex­terity at predicting what has been later observed within its own jurisdiction.

Underlying all four of the above problems is the fallibility of our human perception. Our human perception is built from our elemental experiences of being and seeing, all of which take place exclusively within the confines of the terrestrial biosphere. Consequently, anything we may try to understand about the universe beyond — from the very small to the very large — can only be perceived in terms of our ter­restrial experiences. Even the most ambitious abstractions can only be expressed in terms of — or by analogy with — elemental experiences we have had as macro­scopic beings living on the surface of the Earth.

We cannot directly sense or experience an electron. We can only know about its ex­istence indirectly via consequential macroscopic experiences brought to us via sci­entific apparatus. So, in terms of what elemental terrestrial experiences can we possibly acquire a perception of an electron? Is it a super-miniature billiard ball? Is it a centre of stress within a field of force? Is it a fleeting vortex within an æthereal multi-dimensional fluid? Is it a thin atmosphere of negativity surrounding the nu­cleus of an atom? Is it a standing wave reflected to and fro within a quantum cavity in space-time? Is it all or none of these?

All our perceptions can be constructed only from the elements of our macroscopic terrestrial experience. These elements form the only language in which we can express or conceptualise anything. But we are trying to visualise concepts for which the language of our terrestrial experience contains no elemental notions through which these concepts may be adequately visualised. The language of our experi­ence within the terrestrial biosphere is only a minuscule sub-set of the language of the universe. In our end­eavour to understand the universe, we are therefore hope­lessly trapped within a superlative manifestation of the Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis.

My Own Personal View

It is with these problems in mind that I venture to construct an alternative yet al­most equally plausible perception of the universe. It is built from an even more restricted sub-set of elemental human experiences, namely, mine. Notwith­stand­ing, it demonstrates that there is always, necessarily, more than one way of per­ceiving something that is outside the jurisdiction of direct human experience.

My alternative perception of the universe is necessarily subjective, which avoids the potential error of being able to inadvertently place a pseudo theory-of-mind into an inanimate object of observation.

My only engine of perception is information flowing convergently towards the seat of my con­sciousness. Consequently, my only speculative construct is an abstr­act mechanism which brings that information to me. Mentally, I give substance to this abstract mechanism as an in-flowing æther. This I visualise, in my mind's eye, as what I call a velocity fluid. This can only exist while travelling inwards towards me, from all directions, at the speed of light. If it ceases to flow, it ceases to exist. It is concept­ually synonymous with the flow of time, which is not the same thing as a period of time that we measure in hours, minutes and seconds. It is instead the flow of the universe's dynamic present.

My view of reality is thus based on a single field of time-flux, which flows converg­ently from infinity into every centre of mass. In the sense of the mainstream Stand­ard Model of Physics, every particle with the attribute of mass is a sink-hole into which time-flux is continually converging. This makes the time-flux field complex-dynamical: comprising an astronomical number of cross-cutting converging flows. The so-called force-carrying 'particles' of the Standard Model materialise as energy stresses that are etched within this complex-dynamical time-flux field. While any mass-possessing particle is 'travelling' along a world line, it is in equilibrium with the complex-dynamical time-flux. But whenever it is perturbed by a directed exter­nal force, the time-flux resists its acceleration by means of inertial reaction, which, in turn, causes an energy-stress to be etched into the passing time-flux.

The converging time-flux, velocity-fluid, or æther, is a composite of 2 comple­ment­ary components, which imbue it with a slight spherical asymmetry. These compon­ents could be seen as negative and positive. However, I think that a more accurate concept would be male and female because they are complementary, not opposite. For the most part, the two components are not apparent. It is only when they are very close to their final point of convergence that the two complementary com­ponents separate into complex-dynamical standing-wave structures that are equi­valent to the mass-bearing particles and composites of the Standard Model.

I do not mandate that my time-flux æther be real. It may not exist at all. But neither may any of the cherished mechanisms of mainstream science. None of them ex­plains the universe completely or even acceptably. What is really going on out there in 'objective reality' may be — and probably is — something totally differ­ent, which is — and will forever remain — unknown, unknow­able and unimaginable. My view thus cannot be other than one of a cacophony of incompatible bedfellows. But it is my best shot at getting a handle of understanding upon the existence in which I find myself. It has no qualification other than that 'it works for me'.

However deeply scientists may probe downwards towards the final floor of reality, what they see necessarily becomes ever more distorted by the increasingly long, tenuous, convoluted channels through which they are constrained to observe it. Even if they could somehow obtain a clear view of the fundamental fabric of space-time, what would it be like? An orgasmic revelation of purity and beauty? I think not. I wager that it would be something disappointingly bland and uninteresting. Without form and void. A black line on a blank canvas. A melody played on a sine wave oscillator as opposed to a Stradivarius violin.

I do not think the pinnacle of scientific endeavour lies at the nanoscopic limits. Nor do I think that it is floating way beyond the outer reaches of the cosmos. I think that where it's at is right here at our macroscopic level of the terrestrial bio­sphere. Specifically, within the mind of man. Consequently, I see the universe merely as a simple catalytic framework upon which human minds are able to construct superior internal universes of beauty and diversity and as a channel through which these human minds can exchange ideas about their respective superior internal universes with each other in a perpetual endeavour of mutual betterment.


© 06 October 2006, 30 October 2023 Robert John Morton | NEXT
Poem: Time and Space and Me