Sometimes it hits me how savage everything is: the universe, the planet, humanity.
13.7 billion years ago, everything, all the things, exploded from a super hot, super dense point of infinite mass, and that explosion has been continuing since.
Everything that ever was and ever will be, every atom, every thought, every emotion comes from that one unimaginable moment of violence.
Billions of years later we are riding this explosion on a ball of iron that spins around its own molten heart, hurtling through the universe from the point of explosion, toward what we don’t know, or even think about.
With this cosmological heritage of chaos, is it any wonder we live our lives from one eruption to the next, doomed to relive an endless cycle of explosion and contraction?