IDIC, Redux

Imagine a star in the sky, any star. It is a great big ball of hydrogen gas (some helium too). Its own mass is so great that it compresses its core with tremendous heat and pressure until it ignites a nuclear fusion reaction.

Through nuclear fusion (not fission as we use), hydrogen molecules fuse into helium, releasing energy each time. If the star is heavy enough it will eventually also fuse helium into things like carbon and oxygen. If the star is exceptionally big, it will fuse even heavier elements.

Such stars, when they reach the end of their lives, billions of years later, explode in dramatic fashion scattering all their fused elements into space. In a few more billion years, this material coalesces into another star, some planets, etc.

DELENN: We are all born as molecules in the hearts of a billion stars molecules that do not understand politics or policies or differences.

Over a billion years we foolish molecules forget who we are and where we came from.

In desperate acts of ego we give ourselves names, fight over lines on maps and pretend that our light is better than everyone else’s.

Babylon 5, “And All My Dreams, Torn Asunder” (s5:ep16)

Thus when you look at your own hands, or the cup of coffee you are drinking it is literally, and scientifically speaking, made from material that was fused in a nuclear reaction by stars that were destroyed many billions of years ago. This generation of stars is all but gone (the Universe is quite old), but we are their legacy. From ancient chemical processes, a near-infinite number of things have arisen. As the Vulcans in Star Trek would say: infinite diversity in infinite combinations (IDIC).

And yet, it’s easy to forget this.

We take our bodies for granted, as well as the things around us. We also assume they are permanent. A coffee cup is a coffee cup. Always will be. This gives rise to thoughts of “me” and “my things”. Survival becomes our primary motive. We are homo sapiens after all.

Evolution teaches us that we must fight that which is different in order to secure land, food, and mates for ourselves. But we must reach a point where the nobility of intellect asserts itself and says no. We need not be afraid of those who are different. We can embrace that difference and learn from it.

G’Kar, Babylon 5, “The Ragged Edge” (s5:e12)

But none of this is permanent. As the Buddha taught, we do not own anything. We don’t even truly own ourselves:

Rahula, any form whatsoever that is past, future, or present; internal or external; blatant or subtle; common or sublime; far or near: every form is to be seen as it actually is with right discernment as: ‘This is not mine. This is not my self. This is not what I am.'”

Mahā Rāhulovāda Sutta (MN 62) of the Pali Canon, translation by Thanissaro Bhikkhu

Thus, that cup of coffee isn’t really your cup of coffee. Your body isn’t really yours either. At most, you are borrowing that body (a gift from your parents, the universe, etc). That cup is in your care, but it will fall apart or go in the bin someday. Your children are in your care; you do not own them.

In time, like the stars that once forged the elements in your body, such things will be long, long gone. Dust in grand scheme of time.

P.S. Original IDIC post.