As I write this I am in a hotel some nine miles outside Fort Wayne, Indiana. I’m attending a business conference in the Grand Wayne Convention Center, but this afternoon and evening is decompression. I took care of some emails and dealt with some other online issues.
This morning, driving to the conference, my companion and I somehow ended up discussing the subject of the divergent, parallel universes theory which believes that for every decision you make, a universe splits off where the other decision was followed. Now if this occurs for every decision I have made as well as all of your decisions that you have made, the potential number of parallel universes boggles the imagination.
And this theory maintains that these mirror universes are gravid with all potential possibilities. For instance, in one universe your decisions have led you to be a millionaire and in another you are homeless. In one parallel universe you are on death row and in another you are the prison warden.
Now I believe this is all bunk, but even if it was true, the reality of the existence of divergent, parallel universes makes no impact on you or me except for one distinction.
If the theory is true, then it dramatically improves our attitude toward our challenges in the universe in which we find our current conscience.
So, yes, in another universe, if the theory had any merit, I am a handsome devil with a head full of hair and a bank account big enough to choke a horse, but in spite of the fact that is not the universe in which I live, it could be unspeakably worse.
In one universe, I am one member of a faceless, starving mob fleeing an apocalypse. In another, I am already on my deathbed in a universe that never discovered pain killers.
Or even worse, they never discovered Coke Zero or Domino’s Pizza or ginger beer or (shudder) coffee.
And you know what? This universe that I find myself in isn’t really all that bad. On a scale of 1 (really, really bad) to 100 (unbelievably fantastic), I would put myself in the high 70’s or even in the low 80’s. That means I may not be living in an A+ universe, but a B or even a B- universe still beats the C, D, and F universes below me.
So how am I doing? I am fantastic! I can live in this universe and not gripe too much about how better things could be. One of my doppelgangers lives in a universe where alien monsters latch onto your face and burst out your chest. In another, one of my incarnations lives in a cosmos where Adolph Hitler won World War II.
And so I sit here listening to Louis Armstrong sing What a Wonderful World (Seriously! I’m not making that up), sucking down obscene amounts of Ceylon tea, and I’m having fun with a lot of friends, an awesome wife, three sons that define suave and intelligent, and I get to entertain you with my stories.
Yup. Things are just peachy keen compared to what they could be. So I sigh with contentment and plug away.
And maybe in this universe I can still end up with a full head of hair.