iesākumam izlasi šo.

Perhaps the universe is an expenditure without return, an exitus without reditus (pace Neoplatonism), an expansion without contraction, unto oblivion, usque ad mortem. Perhaps, it is the case, as Sean Carroll writes, that “the first few tens of billions of years of its [the universe’s] existence are a hot, busy, complex and interesting mess, which will be followed by an infinite stretch of cold, empty quietness.” Perhaps a future of emptiness “after a relatively exciting few years in our universe’s past.”
Perhaps.
If so, then, why not say that we can say now that by then it will all have been a good run? Good-bye. Good Friday pure and simple. Period, adieu. Requiescat in pace.
But not before adding merci, for the fortuitousness, from fors, fortasse, the bon chance, the felicity, let us say, the grace of the event, the event of grace, of having been afforded the opportunity to share in this cosmic moment. Good reason enough to lift a glass in its honor.
That’s why, and that why is “without why,” as the mystics said not too long ago, cosmically speaking.
(John D. Caputo)