Travelling into the future is an inverse archaeology of entropy. There is some possible future, a singular branch of most probable outcomes in an undiscovered and unknowable configuration of ourselves towards which we all travel. A small consolation lies in being clever enough to decode this inexorable material process and abstract logical labyrinth of decay…
The enigmas of human psychology and culture are writ large in the domain of Gothic fascination with darkness and death.
The logical necessity of recursively enigmatic self-propagation remains mysterious and somehow also essential for life and sentience.
For a Universe to have spontaneously emerged from nothing may be an alternate view on the the same fact as that it has always existed. It is not the logic which fails so much as the implicit (or apparent) boundaries of our own minds.
The fact that any of this is happening at all is really quite peculiar but we seem to be blind to it, desensitised, unaware.
The one ultimate truth is that there is no ultimate truth.
There is darkness and there is light in every life.
Self and subjective psychological depth may be little more than a convenience - a fabrication or persistent fantasy and self-propagating illusion.
The Cosmos appears to accelerating internally in some strange and as yet inexplicable way. Awesome...
Is the experience of time merely a biological curiosity or psychological artefact, a happy accident of life as an aggregate of structural coincidences at a particular nexus and scale of physics and chemistry ?