As a five year old, when I first learned about the concept of infinity, I didn’t take the time to really think about it. We learn that there are big and small numbers. And that some numbers get so high we can’t count them anymore. Infinity was as sure a fact as 1+ 1 = 2. My understanding was significantly skewed; I simply accepted infinity as an “end.”  I assumed there was a number before, but no number after. 

Years later on a camping trip in 5th grade, there was an observatory further away from the rest of the buildings, and an astronomer with a laser pointer taught us about constellations. I remember being told that there’s more stars in the universe, than there are grains of sand on all of earth. At the time, the most important takeaway from that night was the awesome laser pointer. But I kept going back to that fact and thinking “how would you know?” and “who counted the sand?”  My science teacher had taught us about rock formations earlier in the year, and my logic was that if rocks turn to sand overtime, then the amount of sand must always be changing. I didn’t get my first phone until 7th grade, so I had a lot of time to lay in bed and ponder about sand.

Even though I watch videos, and read, and look at all the demonstrations and animated comparisons, knowing the vastness of the universe often feels like forbidden knowledge I can’t hack into. If humans were cats, the concepts infinity and eternity would be laser pointers. That’s why cookie clicker games are so popular, and why there’s never enough money to satiate the billionaires. Maybe I’m looking at something purely computational and trying to force it into an anthropological box. But, in my opinion, people are often ruled by their fears or hopes of things that are eternal and infinite.  Perhaps my infinity is my need to be as informed as possible on everything all the time. This character trait isn’t helpful when I need it to be. So, I do my best to learn out of genuine curiosity rather than anxiety. 

I took this photo using my canon dslr camera. I was walking through a park in brooklyn, and there was a memorial with a garden of red and white tulips. This picture represents the feeling of insignificance you get when you realize how small the earth is compared to other celestial bodies, and the universe itself. The yellow tulip is the milky way..