A few days ago, I idled away a few minutes in a local leisure centre car park waiting for Grandson. A slight breeze rustled the leaves of trees planted around the car park. I tried to imagine how a similar breeze had rustled through similar leaves a million years ago and will still do so a million years from now.
A familiar enough notion, but perhaps not something we often dwell on apart from quiet moments. In a sense, we can’t really dwell on it because it is well out of the range of human experience. A million years is too vast to contemplate. Yet we live in a universe which is so vast, so indifferent to our concerns, that perhaps it is best avoided except in moments of quiet contemplation.
The universe is too vast to be anything but indifferent, something many have realised for a long time. Vast and vastly indifferent. Almost as if vast indifference is some kind of universal absolute, a necessary feature of the universe without which it would make no sense.
And maybe there are times when we catch a glimpse of it, even in the breeze, in the rustling of leaves. Absolute Indifference.