What if God were all this space, including the space we occupy?
It makes sense because then it’s not quite hard to imagine God to be omnipresent, omniscient, omnipotent. If He is all there is, then He is, knows, and has power over everything.
Growing up as a Catholic, I couldn’t quite make up my mind how God could be everywhere, if, like me, He had a body, with only a pair of eyes to see everything that was taking place in an infinite universe.
I have always taken it for granted that space is infinite, but then, now that I am thinking about it, how do I know that? Did I get that from science books or from my religion classes? Who has ever gone to the edge of the universe to determine that there is no such thing and that this vastness just goes on and on and on, ad infinitum?
But then since I was eighteen, in my search for more out of life, I’ve had many opportunities to explore what the enlightened call the infinity within. From Days with the Lord to PSI, from year-long weekly sessions with renowned psychiatrist Dr. Lourdes Lapuz to feng shui consultations with the late Paul Lau and now Hong Kong geomancer Joseph Chau, from reading (and watching) stuff like Star Wars, Neale Donald Walsch’s Conversations with God, James Redfield’s The Celestine Prophecy, and Rhonda Byrnes‘s The Secret to meditation classes under all sorts of gurus, yogis, and masters, I’ve come to believe there is more power in this space than I can imagine.
Sometimes, I try to simplify the whole concept of infinity, a concept I often interchange with God, by imagining the universe or God as a blank page, minus the edges, of course. In its emptiness, it’s just a piece of paper, edgeless and infinite though it is, but in it can emerge other concepts, from letters to figures, and all you need is a pencil to draw them out. Draw a cat figure on the paper and the paper disappears into the background. All you see is a cat, a concept that can exist purely on its own or at least pretend to. The material on which it exists is, after all, often perceived as irrelevant, so that if I were to ask you what it was, you would probably just say, “It’s a cat!” rather than a cat on paper. But without the paper, will this cat exist? Better yet, isn’t the cat just a part of the paper, a part of the paper that has now found a new meaning, a new expression, perhaps a new purpose, as a cat? Which is not to say that the paper had no meaning before somebody drew a cat on it. On the contrary, the blank page always has the power to be anything and everything. It is, simply put, a universe of infinite possibilities.
Limited in his nature, infinite in his desire, man is a fallen god who remembers heaven —Alphonse de Lamartine
Sometimes, when I meditate, I try to focus on the vastness within me. It can be an empowering tool to imagine yourself plunging deep into the core of the earth or soaring to heights in the infinite space. For most schools of meditation the practice is reconnecting to or establishing oneness with all there was, all there is, all there will ever be. In most cases, it entails emptying yourself out or focusing on the immensity of space, devoid of any extraneous elements, including your own thoughts, or the emptiness of silence, devoid of even your own voice, which, in a chanting meditation, you tend to lose, exactly the point of endless repetition.
Now that I’m no longer sure if the universe is infinite, then I believe that all that space the wise ones keep leading us to can only be God. After all, what else is there, from here to eternity, that can be all there was, all there is, all there ever will be but God alone? The question is, when our religious leaders said we were created out of the image of God, did they mean this physical body, meaning eyes, ears, nose, ears, arms, legs, and all? Or is the image after which we were patterned the infinity within, what many call the True Self, that quiet vastness that is boundless, borderless, and edgeless, inside all of us?
No wonder, meditation, like prayers, often requires us to close our eyes.