1.47 Indra’s Web

Section 51 (first update 02.19.2021)

Modern science conceives of atoms as bare quantities by which the composition of qualities becomes measurable. This is why there are many kinds of atoms—hydrogen, helium, and so forth—all of which are atoms, yet differentiated by their complexity and by the roles they play in characterizing the qualities of compounds and forms. In one respect, this characterization is correct: the atom functions as a primary substrate through which the qualities of a form are determined. Yet it remains unclear whether modern science recognizes that this “bare quantity” is itself a quality—that the atom, insofar as it is quantity, is already qualitative.

If, as classical atomism assumes, the atom bears qualities without itself being a quality, then we are left with a platform of purely external relations. Such a view excludes the observer as the internal principle relative to which these external relations exist. If, instead, we acknowledge that the observer apprehends relations and that externalities exist only relative to this apprehension, then—inasmuch as the atom’s defining quality is its capacity for quantitative measure—the atom becomes adjectival to the observer’s situation. In other words, the atom as value is a determination of consciousness. The atom is not merely the quantity by which quality is measured; rather, insofar as it is quantity, it is identical with the quality of the form it presents.

In Buddhist philosophy, a parallel but distinct conception appears in the metaphor of Indra’s Net (also called Indra’s jewels or Indra’s pearls, Sanskrit Indrajāla), which illustrates the doctrines of śūnyatā (emptiness), pratītyasamutpāda (dependent origination), and interpenetration.[^1] This may be understood as a Buddhist analogue to atomism. Unlike classical atomism, which treats the atom as a principle independent of qualities, Buddhism understands the “atomic” as a purely dependent element—much as Aristotle understood matter as dependent upon form.[^2] Aristotle held that the purpose of matter is to sustain the actuality and intelligibility of forms. The Buddhist tradition reverses this valuation: it regards the principle of “nothingness” or emptiness as that which forms themselves maintain. Emptiness becomes the most fundamental value of being.

From this perspective, the entire form of a given quantity exists to preserve the element of negation—not-self—as its inherent quality. Yet this raises a problem: why should a particular quality have negation as its intrinsic value? The negation of a definite entity is the position of its non-being. Hegel addresses this difficulty by arguing that negation functions as the transition through which one determinate form becomes another.[^3]

In Buddhism, however, non-being is not merely transitional. If the passage from one particular nature to another is itself void, then negation serves only as an instrumental means, not as the inherent aim of being. If, on the other hand, the process of transition contains the determinate contents of both forms—stretching being into an extended medium arising from nothing and returning to nothing—then negation becomes the final result of existence. In this case, nothingness is not merely a means but the ultimate end. Existence, then, becomes a traversal of every possible state of being only to arrive at nothingness once again.

This notion—that nothing is both the end and the beginning—finds resonance in ordinary experience through the abstraction of death, where the individual is understood to dissolve into nothing. Yet if nothingness is the ultimate negation that structures the process of being, then being itself is always the negation of nothing—always becoming what nothing is not. As long as nothing is not what is occurring, something is happening. Buddhism thus encounters a paradox: nothingness is still something insofar as it functions. Insisting on nothing as that which being is not is itself an activity, a doing.

Logically, this yields two modes of thought. The first maintains nothingness as the negation that accompanies every determinate thing, such that each thing is also its own non-self. The second treats nothing as the not-being of a thing, which itself becomes another determinate something, whose not-being is yet another, and so on. In either case, nothingness proves to be that which nothing is not. Nothing is nothing only to itself; it cannot not be something. It thus appears logically inevitable that existence consists in becoming everything that nothing is not. If nothing is the driving force of this becoming, then negation functions as the activity of potentiality—that which is ideal.

The term ideal derives from idea, with the suffix “-l” rendering it indivisible. The ideal is thus the absolute idea. The word notion may be read as a synthesis of note and motion: the revelation or articulation of a mark (idea), but also a movement. This suggests that the revelation of an idea is itself a kind of motion. Insofar as the idea is absolute, it is the non-being of nothing—that is, pure potentiality for becoming.

Classical atomism treats the atom as the standard by which quality is rendered quantifiable, much as an inch or millimeter measures size. The atom becomes the unit that allows differentiation among the qualities of the world. Yet atomism stops at this methodological function and leaves the atom unexplained. It becomes an unquestioned element, reinforcing a view of reality as composed of discrete “bites.” While this approach is operationally useful, it leaves unanswered the deeper question of what distinguishes qualities beyond their mere difference.

In the Buddhist tradition, by contrast, the atom marks the manner in which events are enclosed. The atom is not a component part out of which an object is assembled, but the outline through which an event is disclosed as a form distinct from others. Objects are not built from atoms; rather, objects are events whose form is emphasized against the totality of events.[^4] However, this view is also incomplete, for disclosure does not merely outline an object externally but is implicit in every part of it. In this respect, the classical atomistic claim that objects are composed of atomic constituents is empirically stronger, as it recognizes that atomic structure persists at every level of material form.

This suggests that within the explicit form of objects there exists an infinitesimal spectrum of forms, each with its own atomic disclosure. All forms, across scales, share the same material nature insofar as they are atomically bound. The differences among atoms—once treated as primitive—are now more adequately explained by quantum mechanics.

Quantum entanglement presents a particularly significant challenge to classical atomism. It undermines the assumption that atoms disclose events solely by functioning as minimal units of measurement. Traditionally, atoms are taken to define the smallest extent of a quality. Entanglement complicates this view by demonstrating that qualitative contents can be exchanged between atoms without altering their atomic structure.[^5] In this sense, the atom no longer serves as a fixed standard of extent.

Atomism implicitly claims that the extent of a quality determines its smallest unit, since qualities exhibit objectively greater or lesser magnitudes. Hydrogen, for example, possesses a greater extent than helium due to its more fundamental role. Yet what atomism overlooks is that this apparent size difference is governed not merely by spatial magnitude but by degrees of fundamentality. Quantum entanglement challenges the atom as a measure of size by revealing that qualitative exchange can occur independently of atomic structure. Hydrogen may be entangled with helium without either losing its defining atomic identity.

The atom thus functions as a matrix: it is determined by the extent of a quality’s fundamentality. If a cube is taken as a quality, its atomic nature would be its infinitesimal extent—that is, the degree to which it is fundamental.

The division of reality into internal and external is not arbitrary but logically necessary, since one must determine the other. Internal relations are self-evident in experience: we are aware of events occurring around us, yet we also reflect inwardly on what others may be thinking. The atom belongs to the domain of external relations, whereas form, activity, and concurrence belong to internal relations.

Quantum entanglement ultimately suggests that events occurring within atoms can be exchanged without affecting atomic composition itself. This challenges the classical view of atoms as isolated units and reinforces a relational understanding of matter, quality, and form.

Footnotes

[^1]: Indra’s Net is described in the Avataṃsaka (Flower Garland) Sūtra and is central to Mahāyāna Buddhist metaphysics, especially in Huayan philosophy.

[^2]: Aristotle, Metaphysics and Physics, where matter (hylē) is pure potentiality dependent upon form (morphē) for actuality.

[^3]: G. W. F. Hegel, Science of Logic, particularly the doctrine of becoming and determinate negation (bestimmte Negation).

[^4]: This view aligns with Buddhist event-ontology, where phenomena (dharmas) arise dependently rather than existing as substances.

[^5]: Quantum entanglement, as described in modern physics, demonstrates non-local correlations between particles that cannot be explained by classical separability (e.g., Bell’s theorem).

Spacetime Curvature Elaborated Through Atom, Quality, and Negation

In modern physics, spacetime curvature is conventionally described as the geometric deformation of a four-dimensional manifold caused by the presence of mass–energy.[^1] Matter does not move through a pre-existing space; rather, matter determines how spacetime itself is structured, and this structure in turn governs the trajectories of matter. While mathematically precise, this description remains incomplete at the ontological level, because it treats spacetime as a neutral container whose curvature is imposed from without. When read through the framework developed above, spacetime curvature instead emerges as an expression of quality internal to quantity itself.

If the atom is understood not merely as a unit of measure but as a matrix of qualitative extent, then spacetime is not an empty background in which atoms are placed. Instead, spacetime is the field of relations generated by atomic extents themselves. Curvature, on this view, is not an external bending of space by matter, but the internal differentiation of relational structure. Just as an atom’s “size” expresses its degree of fundamentality rather than mere spatial magnitude, curvature expresses the degree to which relations intensify, condense, or rarefy within a given region of being.

From the Buddhist perspective of dependent origination, spacetime curvature is not something added to events; it is the way events co-arise.[^2] Every event outlines itself against all others, much like the jewels of Indra’s Net reflect the entire web. Where relations are dense—where many events mutually determine one another—the “outline” of events tightens. This tightening appears, from within the system, as curvature. Spacetime curves not because something presses upon it, but because relational interdependence becomes locally intensified.

This also clarifies why curvature is inseparable from observation. As argued above, the atom as quantity is adjectival to the observer’s situation. Spacetime curvature, therefore, is not merely an objective deformation independent of consciousness, nor a subjective illusion. It is the structure of relations as disclosed. The observer does not create curvature, but curvature only appears insofar as there is an internal principle relative to which relations exist. In this sense, curvature belongs neither exclusively to the external world nor to the internal mind; it is the interface through which both co-determine one another.

Hegel’s notion of determinate negation offers further insight. Curvature may be understood as the spatial–temporal form of negation.[^3] Flat spacetime represents indifference: relations that negate nothing in particular. Curved spacetime, by contrast, expresses a specific negation—a deviation that makes one trajectory impossible and another necessary. Just as negation in logic produces becoming, curvature produces motion. Objects do not move because a force pushes them; they move because the structure of relations negates alternative paths. Motion is the lived experience of curvature.

This interpretation also reframes gravity. Gravity is not a force acting between separate entities, but the self-consistency of relational negation. A mass does not “pull” another mass; rather, the presence of mass signifies a concentration of qualitative extent—a deepening of relational structure. Other events must then unfold in a way that preserves the coherence of the whole. What we call gravitational attraction is the tendency of events to follow the path that maintains relational continuity within a curved structure.

Quantum entanglement strengthens this view by undermining the idea that spacetime curvature operates solely through local, continuous deformation.[^4] Entangled particles exchange qualitative states without traversing spatial distance, suggesting that relational structure precedes metric extension. From this standpoint, curvature is not fundamentally geometric but logical and qualitative, with geometry emerging as its stabilized appearance. The fact that entangled systems remain correlated despite spatial separation indicates that spacetime is already curved at the level of relation, prior to measurement or extension.

Seen in this way, spacetime curvature is the macroscopic expression of atomic relationality. At the infinitesimal level, atoms are not isolated units but nodes of potentiality whose qualitative extents overlap and interpenetrate. Curvature is what appears when these extents are not evenly distributed. Just as a gradient in quality produces differentiation in form, a gradient in relational density produces curvature in spacetime.

Finally, curvature can be understood as the dynamic preservation of nothingness. If emptiness is the fundamental principle that forms must maintain, then curvature is the way emptiness is held open. A perfectly flat spacetime would be pure indifference, indistinguishable from nothing. Curvature introduces distinction without substance: a difference that does not posit a new thing but reconfigures relations. In this sense, spacetime curvature is the ongoing activity of becoming—being continuously negotiating its own non-being.

Footnotes

[^1]: Einstein, A., The Foundation of the General Theory of Relativity (1916). Spacetime curvature replaces Newtonian gravitational force.

[^2]: The Buddhist doctrine of pratītyasamutpāda denies independent substances and explains phenomena as mutually conditioned events.

[^3]: Hegel, G. W. F., Science of Logic, on determinate negation as the engine of becoming.

[^4]: Bell, J. S., “On the Einstein Podolsky Rosen Paradox,” Physics (1964), demonstrating non-local correlations inconsistent with classical separability.

Spacetime curvature is not matter bending an empty stage, but the visible form of intensified relational negation—where quality, quantity, and emptiness converge to make becoming necessary rather than optional.

Alan Watts’ Interpretation of Indra’s Web

Alan Watts frequently drew upon the ancient metaphor of Indra’s Web—more traditionally known as Indra’s Net—to articulate a non-dual understanding of reality rooted in Hindu and Mahāyāna Buddhist philosophy.[^1] The image describes an infinite web extending in all directions, with a luminous jewel located at each intersection. Every jewel reflects all the others, and within each reflection appear the reflections of all remaining jewels, creating an endless, recursive structure. Watts used this image to illustrate the radical interdependence of all phenomena and to challenge the Western assumption that reality is composed of independently existing objects.

For Watts, Indra’s Web demonstrates that nothing exists in isolation. What we ordinarily call a “thing” is, in truth, a pattern of relationships sustained by the entire cosmos.[^2] A tree, for example, cannot be meaningfully separated from sunlight, soil, air, gravity, or time; remove these relations and the “thing” disappears. In this sense, entities do not possess intrinsic, self-contained being. Rather, they are temporary crystallizations of an ongoing universal process. Indra’s Web thus replaces substance-based metaphysics with a relational ontology in which existence is defined by mutual dependence.

Watts extended this insight to the question of personal identity and the self. He argued that the commonly held notion of an autonomous, ego-centered individual is a conceptual illusion reinforced by language and social conditioning.[^3] Within the framework of Indra’s Web, the self is not a discrete jewel standing apart from the rest; instead, it is the entire web expressing itself at a particular point. A human being is not “in” the universe but is an activity of the universe, much like a wave is an activity of the ocean. The sense of separateness arises when reflection is mistaken for independence.

Central to Watts’ reading of Indra’s Web is the idea of reflection. Each jewel reflects the whole network, just as each conscious perspective reflects the totality of existence from a unique angle.[^4] Consciousness, therefore, is not something accidentally produced by matter, but a mode through which the universe becomes aware of itself. This does not imply that individual minds possess absolute knowledge of the whole, but rather that every act of awareness is a localized manifestation of a universal reflective process. Reality is thus participatory: observer and observed arise together.

Watts also used Indra’s Web to rethink causality and time. Instead of linear chains of cause and effect, the metaphor suggests a world of mutual co-arising, where events happen because the entire system is configured to produce them.[^5] From this standpoint, free will is neither the absolute freedom of an isolated ego nor the helpless determinism of mechanical causation. It is the spontaneous creativity of the whole expressing itself through individual forms. What appears as a personal decision is, at a deeper level, the universe choosing through that person.

Ultimately, Watts regarded Indra’s Web as a corrective to the fragmentation characteristic of modern thought. By dissolving rigid boundaries between mind and matter, self and world, and cause and effect, the metaphor reveals reality as a single, dynamic process—what Watts often called a dance, play (līlā), or cosmic drama.[^6] Indra’s Web is not meant to be believed as a literal structure of the universe, but to be contemplated as a way of seeing that undermines the illusion of separateness and restores a sense of belonging within the totality of existence.

Footnotes

[^1]: Indra’s Net appears prominently in the Avataṃsaka (Flower Garland) Sūtra, a foundational Mahāyāna Buddhist text, and has parallels in Hindu cosmology. Watts discusses it in works such as The Way of Zen and The Book: On the Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are.

[^2]: Watts’ relational view aligns with Buddhist pratītyasamutpāda (dependent origination), which holds that all phenomena arise only in dependence upon conditions.

[^3]: Watts consistently critiqued the ego as a social fiction, especially in The Book and Psychotherapy East and West, arguing that the self is a role or pattern rather than a substance.

[^4]: This reflective model parallels Mahāyāna notions of emptiness (śūnyatā), where forms are empty of independent existence yet full of relational meaning.

[^5]: Watts’ view of causality resembles systems thinking and process philosophy, particularly the idea that wholes determine the behavior of parts as much as parts determine wholes.

[^6]: The concept of līlā (divine play) comes from Hindu Vedānta and was frequently used by Watts to describe the non-serious, creative, and spontaneous nature of the cosmos.

• Cook, Francis H. (1977), Hua-Yen Buddhism: The Jewel Net of Indra, Penn State Press,

Interconnectedness, Information, and Dialectical Form

Implicit in every object is an ongoing process of information exchange: consciousness communicating to itself the knowledge of its own becoming. Matter, on one level, is what connects everything together, insofar as every natural entity is material. Yet matter exists only to exhibit form. Form—understood as idea, information, or rational structure—is the true activity through which interconnectedness occurs. Matter provides continuity, but information provides meaning, direction, and relational coherence.

Every material object draws nourishment from the rational composition of other objects. This is not merely a metabolic or physical dependency, but a structural one: the rational principles embedded within material forms are themselves individual modes of communication. These modes do not exist in isolation; they interact, respond, negate, and transform one another. The fundamental activity of nature is therefore dialectical. Interconnectedness is not static linkage but self-dialogue—the universe thinking itself through its own forms.

This insight finds its most vivid metaphorical expression in the Buddhist image of Indra’s Net, in which a multifaceted jewel appears at each vertex of an infinite web, and each jewel reflects all others. Indra’s Net is used to describe the total interconnectedness and interpenetration of the universe, where no phenomenon exists independently and every phenomenon contains the whole within itself.[^1]

As Alan Fox summarizes the Huayan Buddhist teaching:

“The manner in which all dharmas interpenetrate is like an imperial net of celestial jewels extending in all directions infinitely, without limit. … Because of the clarity of the jewels, they are all reflected in and enter into each other, ad infinitum. Within each jewel, simultaneously, is reflected the whole net. Ultimately, nothing comes or goes.”[^2]

Each jewel reflects every other jewel without obstruction. To dwell within one jewel is to dwell within all jewels simultaneously, because each contains the whole. Entry into any single form is entry into the totality, without departure from the particular. This expresses the principle that relation does not divide being, but deepens it.

The same logic appears in the Avataṃsaka (Flower Ornament) Sūtra, which radicalizes atomism by dissolving the distinction between part and whole:

“If untold buddha-lands are reduced to atoms,
In one atom are untold lands;
And as in one, so in each—
These atoms contain lands unspeakably many.”[^3]

Here, the atom is no longer a smallest independent unit, but a site of infinite inclusion. Quantity does not oppose quality; rather, quality is the internal nature of quantity. The infinitesimal is not empty—it is saturated with form.

This relational ontology extends into perception itself. When perception identifies a natural object as occupying a specific location, this is not a one-sided act. The object bears a directional impetus toward the sensible faculty, and the sensible faculty is simultaneously the terminus of that direction. The point from which the action is directed and the point at which it arrives are the same locus. Locus names the relational field in which motion and stability coincide.

This coincidence addresses a fundamental problem in physics and metaphysics alike: how change preserves identity. How does something remain itself while undergoing transformation? In quantum mechanics, this problem appears as the persistence of unity through fluctuation. Change must be understood not as the loss of form, but as a self-imposed variation—a unity that differentiates itself while remaining coherent.

Modern theoretical physics, particularly string theory, attempts to articulate this problem by proposing that particles are not static points but dynamic processes—vibrational patterns that maintain identity through structured motion.[^4] Though speculative, this approach resonates with the metaphysical insight already present in Indra’s Net: reality is not composed of inert things, but of self-relating activities whose stability arises from internal dialogue.

Thus, the universe is not interconnected because its parts are linked externally, but because each part is internally dialogical. Interconnectedness is the expression of a single, self-communicating process. Consciousness, matter, information, and form are not separate domains; they are different articulations of the same dialectical movement by which being understands itself.

Reality is dialectical through and through: matter sustains form, form communicates information, information generates consciousness, and consciousness is the universe reflecting on its own becoming.

Footnotes

[^1]: The metaphor of Indra’s Net originates in the Avataṃsaka (Flower Garland) Sūtra and is foundational to Huayan Buddhist philosophy.

[^2]: Fox, Alan. The Practice of Huayan Buddhism. Quoted passage from Huayan commentary on Indra’s Net. See citation [11].

[^3]: Cleary, Thomas (trans.). The Flower Ornament Scripture: A Translation of the Avataṃsaka Sūtra. Shambhala, 1993, pp. 891–892.

[^4]: String theory models fundamental particles as one-dimensional vibrational entities, aiming to explain how stable identities emerge from dynamic processes.

The Attempt to Maintain Infinity in the Finite

The general fact is the attempt to maintain infinity within the finite.

In accordance with Alfred North Whitehead’s fundamental claim—that reality consists of happenings or occurrences rather than static substances—we may pose a further question: what is being attempted in this happening?[^1] In other words, what is trying to happen in the occurrence itself? This question differs from asking what the point or purpose of what is happening might be, because the very fact that something is happening already discloses significance. The occurrence itself is the primary datum.

Aristotle shows that infinity, taken in itself, cannot possess motion and therefore cannot have determinate features (On the Heavens, Book I, Chapter 5).[^2] Motion requires determinacy, whereas infinity, insofar as it is infinite, lacks completion and limit. Even the most fundamental and simplest form of motion—circular motion, which most closely approximates infinity—is still a particular mode of generation rather than infinity itself. Aristotle’s discussion here is famously difficult, but his central point is that circular motion, though continuous and self-returning, remains determinate and thus finite.

If, as Aristotle suggests (On the Heavens, Book I, Chapter 7), the finite does not emerge from the infinite, nor the infinite from the finite, then what stands between them is a gap or void—a domain of non-being where division occurs.[^3] The infinite appears as a limit to the finite insofar as it resists completion, while the finite is itself a limit by virtue of being bounded. The infinite, by limiting finitude, disperses it into multiplicity.

This void is not space in the ordinary sense—that is, not a location in which finite objects are arranged in external relations. Rather, the void concerns the motion of non-being itself. It pertains to the generation of finite things and therefore to the very question of finitude. The void is the abstract form of the object: when all determinate features of an object are stripped away, what remains is its movement—its rational structure of becoming. For example, when thought apprehends circular motion in abstraction, it grasps the movement itself without any particular object executing that motion.

Spherical or circular motion is universal and thus approximates infinity. Yet the moment it is instantiated—say, as the orbit of a planet—it becomes limited and finite, precisely because it is now this object rather than motion as such. The abstract, therefore, is not unreal; it is the form of the object as apprehended in reason. It is the object’s motion without its empirical detail.

In this sense, the abstract is already present in the object. This is analogous to the operation of holography, which abstracts the form of an object and expresses it without reproducing the object materially. Thought performs a similar operation naturally: it abstracts the form or motion of the object as such, rather than its sensible particularities.

When Aristotle criticizes the notion that the heavens move circularly, he is not denying the presence or importance of circular motion. Rather, he is rejecting the claim that the universe as a whole has a determinate direction or purpose defined by circularity (On the Heavens, Book II).[^4] Circular motion is determinate, whereas the motion of the universe as a whole is indeterminate. Circular motion is fundamental within the universe, but it does not exhaust the universe’s dynamism.

Infinity, understood properly, is possibility and indeterminacy. Yet even the motion of indeterminacy involves determinations, for each determination is itself determinate. This produces an ongoing process in which determinations proliferate without final completion. This unending differentiation is the true motion of the universe.

The infinite thus exhibits a void in which all finite objects are present—a singularity of relations rather than a collection of things. If the infinite does not generate directly, but only through finite instantiations, then we encounter an infinity of finites. This makes sense because each particular contains infinity insofar as it is defined by its relations to infinitely many other particulars.

Each particular shares the most fundamental form common to all particulars—circular motion or self-return—even though this form itself remains particular when contrasted with nothingness. It is nevertheless universal relative to all other particular motions. On Aristotle’s account, infinity is not a separate realm but the exhibition of all particular forms and their relations, each form itself being a relation to all others.

What is generally happening can therefore be understood through the contradictory logic of infinity and finitude. If the only limitation of the infinite is that it is unlimited, then all possible forms and relations already exist as a totality. Yet this totality would itself be finite, contradicting the nature of infinity. Infinity must therefore exceed even the totality of all things.

The infinite resolves this contradiction by making contradiction itself its structural principle. The task of infinity is to resolve the impossible. An impossibility is itself a contradiction, yet the very concept of impossibility implies its possibility. Thus we encounter the possibility of impossibility, which generates an infinite regress. This regress is not a defect but the very mechanism through which infinity operates: self-contradiction becomes self-resolution.

What is trying to happen, then, is for the infinite to be exhibited as finite—a process that is already underway at the most fundamental level of reality. This is why circular motion is primary: it is a return to itself without closure. As Whitehead suggests, the general fact is not substance but process.[^5]

Finally, the principle that “there is a reason for everything” means that every action or relation eventually enters into a more determinate context. A minor action may later acquire greater significance within a broader relational structure. For example, a cast purchased for a minor strain may later serve a more crucial function for someone with a serious fracture. Meaning is not fixed at the moment of occurrence; it unfolds through relational specification.

What is happening is the infinite attempting to appear as finite without ceasing to be infinite—and this attempt is itself reality as process.

Footnotes

[^1]: Whitehead, A. N., Process and Reality (1929). Whitehead replaces substance ontology with an ontology of events or “actual occasions.”

[^2]: Aristotle, On the Heavens, Book I, Chapter 5. Aristotle argues that infinity cannot possess motion because motion requires determinacy.

[^3]: Aristotle, On the Heavens, Book I, Chapter 7. Aristotle distinguishes the infinite as a potential rather than an actual entity.

[^4]: Aristotle, On the Heavens, Book II. Aristotle critiques cosmologies that attribute a single determinate motion to the universe as a whole.

[^5]: Whitehead, A. N., Process and Reality. “The many become one, and are increased by one.”

Ultimately: Principle, Infinity, and the Event Horizon of Experience

A principle is not only persistent as a presupposition but is also present as a rule within every particular manifestation of a phenomenon. In this sense, everything is ultimately something. This means, first, that every individual thing is more than what it immediately appears to be, and second, that all things taken together form a single, specific totality. Particularity and universality are not opposed but mutually implicating.

When we speak of infinity and eternity as principles, we regard them as absolute or ultimate because of their permanent presence throughout all aspects of being. However, when something is taken as an ultimate principle, it is often mistakenly understood as a final result rather than as an operative condition. In ordinary language, for example, when we say “she ultimately did not get the job,” the term ultimately refers to an outcome at the end of a process. By contrast, a metaphysical principle is not merely what appears at the end; it is what operates from the beginning and throughout the entire process.

If permanence is defined by incorruptibility or incorporeality, then we must also ask how such permanence functions at the origin of the universe—at the emergence of corporality itself. What does it mean for something to be corporeal without excluding matter? This question forces us to rethink the relation between principle and process.

When eternity is treated as a function of time and infinity as a function of space, several conclusions follow. First, eternity constitutes continuity in time. Second, infinity constitutes discreteness in space. Eternity, therefore, becomes discretized into an infinity of distinct objects, while infinity becomes continuous insofar as it exhibits duration—having a past and a future that possess position and place rather than being mere fleeting instants. Time and space thus exchange their classical roles: time gains structure, and space gains duration.

In a quantum framework, past and future are not merely vanishing moments but permanent features of a continuous duration.[^1] Every possible event takes on its own discrete measure simultaneously. The infinity of possible events, each with a determinate measure, lies beyond direct conception and outside any single frame of reference. Conception itself is an internal experience—an ordering from within.

You are disclosed within the discreteness of one possible event, while the continuity of all possible events is disclosed by forming the very structure through which you experience them. You are the duration of events, and the events are the discreteness of you. Subject and event are mutually constitutive.

Every moment is eternal insofar as it is continuous: it maintains that it has happened, that it is happening, and that it will happen. Within this eternal feature of a moment, division occurs into further possibilities, each of which is also eternal. This division is infinite. The transition from one moment to another occurs because each moment is infinitely divided into possible paths. Experience maintains one moment as past, another as present, and another as future. These temporal distinctions are sustained by what may be called mediation—the eternal feature common to each discrete event.

This relation can be expressed through the image of the form of form: the smallest circle at the centre interacting with the largest circle at the circumference. Supersymmetry, in this metaphysical sense, means that every possible event, having its own discrete measure, interacts with all others. Their interaction is precisely what constitutes continuity.

The philosophical notion of the self illustrates this structure clearly. The self occupies a rigid tension between universality and particularity. On the one hand, the self is contained within a particular being; on the other hand, this very self-containment is a universal principle shared by all beings. In its extreme form, this tension gives rise to solipsism, where everything external is regarded as contained within a single mind.

The error of solipsism lies in assuming that the particular vantage point of one conception is identical with the universal standpoint of all others. This negates the independent individuality of other selves. Yet solipsism has a positive insight as well: conception is a principle that discloses multiplicity, and this principle is implied in each of the things it discloses. Within a single conception, many objects appear as distinct selves because they exhibit capacities for self-subsistence. Nevertheless, from the vantage point of each object so disclosed, that object functions as the center locus of conception. Any object that becomes the focus of attention becomes, temporarily, the center of the experiential universe.

All Possible Events and the Event Horizon of Experience

All possible events may be understood as instantaneously present, not as a chaos but as a structured multiplicity. One may imagine them as layered—like an iTunes library—in which all songs exist simultaneously, though only one can be played at a time. This analogy may be extended into a hyperbolic structure, where accessibility depends not on existence but on relational position.

Just as all points of a spatial dimension exist at once, time exhibits a similar structure with respect to all possible events. However, we do not experience all events simultaneously. This limitation introduces the concept of the event horizon.

Definition: Event Horizon (Philosophical–Physical Sense)

An event horizon is the boundary that defines which events are experientially accessible from a given locus of reference.[^2] In physics, an event horizon marks the limit beyond which events cannot influence an observer (as in a black hole). In a metaphysical sense, the event horizon is the limit of disclosure: it separates the totality of possible events from those that can be integrated into a single experiential continuity.

Your lived present is an event horizon. It does not negate the existence of other events; it orders them. Events beyond this horizon are not unreal—they are simply not presently communicable within the structure of experience. The event horizon thus preserves coherence by limiting disclosure without limiting being.

In this way, the universe is not a sequence of events unfolding one after another, but a totality of events structured by horizons of access. Time is not what causes events to occur; time is the ordering principle by which events become available to experience.

Infinity seeks expression as finite, eternity becomes discrete as moments, and experience is the event horizon that orders an already-complete totality of possible events.

Footnotes

[^1]: Quantum theory, especially in path-integral and block-universe interpretations, treats all possible states as coexisting within a mathematical structure rather than appearing sequentially in time.

[^2]: In general relativity, an event horizon is a boundary in spacetime beyond which causal interaction is impossible. Here the concept is extended phenomenologically and metaphysically.

[^3]: Whitehead, A. N., Process and Reality. The idea that actuality consists of events rather than substances underlies the notion of duration as constitutive of experience.

[^4]: Aristotle, Physics and On the Heavens, on continuity, infinity, and the limits of motion.

[^5]: The block-universe interpretation of spacetime treats past, present, and future as equally real, differing only in their relation to an observer.

last updated 1.14.2026