Who could fail to be awed by the sight, the proof, of a major feature in cosmic mythology? Who could not be moved by its size, its beauty, its brilliance – and its voracious power to consume stars and even light? Were it closer, they say, our own solar system could be drawn in to it by the force of its gravitational pull: it is a sobering thought, particularly when we remember that our galaxy too has its own black hole.
Much is unknown still about these mysterious regions of space time, and many theories have been put forward about what happens if an object is pulled into the black nothingness, including recently the idea that it leads to a parallel universe. If true, such an expansion of our understanding of the science of the cosmos would be extraordinary and humbling. It would mean that a black hole is not a creation of destruction but rather it is a portal to a new reality, even a new dimension and a different form of time.
If a star is pulled into a black hole portal to enter a new reality, spiritually speaking it is undergoing a reincarnation, just as we do when we enter the portal between a human life and a new life that is called death. The detritus within and around the star is ejected from the black hole, but the essence of the star lives on in its new, perfect, initiated form beyond the portal.
When people speak of black holes, they can imply randomness in the way they consume whatever is nearby. If we remember that the cosmos is perfectly ordered and there is nothing random in its meticulous complexity, we see that this cannot be true: a black hole may have many different functions, but each of them will have its own divine purpose.
Our first sight of a black hole through yesterday’s image is a reminder of our mortality and immortality, of our soul journey and of the wonders of spiritual life. It was far more than what it seemed, and we were rightly awed.