I'm not sure - like most of us I guess. I think that a lot of the time, we try to explain and catalogue too much. Everything has to fit in a place and have a name. In our minds, because of all the laws and rules we are taught, there is no sense in not making any sense. It makes no sense to us that before or after, or time, as another poster said, could ever not exist. Because that would be a void. And what is void? Non-existence? Well non-existence would mean not thinking. And if we can't think it, then it can't exist, so we try and find other ways of making sense out of it. Eternity is one way. Parallel universes, endless cycles of repetition are others. Or even a universe within a universe within a universe...
I'd like it if eternity existed. It makes me shudder to think about nothingness, non-existence. And yet I have always felt in myself that I am more an atheist than anything else.
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Whether we write or speak or do but look
We are ever unapparent. What we are
Cannot be transfused into word or book.
Our soul from us is infinitely far.
However much we give our thoughts the will
To be our soul and gesture it abroad,
Our hearts are incommunicable still.
In what we show ourselves we are ignored.
The abyss from soul to soul cannot be bridged
By any skill of thought or trick of seeming.
Unto our very selves we are abridged
When we would utter to our thought our being.
We are our dreams of ourselves, souls by gleams,
And each to each other dreams of others' dreams.
Fernando Pessoa, 1918
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