The idea of a boundary in infinite space strikes me as one of the most dangerous astronomic, semiotic, and ontologic postulations espoused by modern science. I suppose it's not so much the idea of the boundary that bothers me but the idea of the center, that insidious "transcendental signified" around which our whole world is arranged, ordered, divided, and cornered. Although it is necessary for orderly functioning in society and science, to assume a center is to assume a limit. As Jacques Derrida so succinctly put it: "The function of this center was not only to orient, balance, and organize the structure - one cannot in fact conceive of an unorganized structure - but above all to make sure that the organizing principle of the structure would limit what we might call the freeplay of the structure...the absence of the transcendental signified (the center) extends the domain and interplay of signification ad infinitum." This does, of course, describe the orientation of semiotic systems but one can easily transpose the same logic into the realm of astro-physics. In order to "map" the cosmos, whether through a series of algorithms and permutations or through more tangible pictographic models, we must establish its center and therefore its boundaries. The concept of infinite space carries little currency in the arena of science, which seeks to situate this and that (whether it be a galaxy, a demographic, or a word) in relation to that and this, according to this logic which is founded upon that premise, and so forth. The center exists to guide us in these reasonings, but nothing has made us more blind.
At any rate, I'm so glad to hear of your wave-riding - an apt metaphor. My own crest seems far, far away, but of course there is no way to measure the wave until after the crest has come and gone. I am, however, awash in the literary sea you described; the M.A. program has left me little choice in that matter, but I find myself pulled more and more towards the theoretical rather than the literary. I would much rather read Foucault, Derrida, Heidegger, and Nietzsche than Donne, Milton, or Twain. I would rather engage ideas directly than through the winding symbolism of plot. Nevertheless, some things can only be explained through diegesis and denouement.
Still dubious of the cosmic center in infinite space. One could, conceivably, pick ANY point in the universe and find it surrounded by the same amount of infinity - no boundaries (remember that what we call the "edge" of the universe, or the outer rim of whatever matter is "expanding," is only the outer rim of what our limited instruments have detected). Of course, the assumption of "extension" or "emanation" connotes a
source or point of origin, whether it be the Big Bang or the Creator. But the age of
transcendental essence has passed. That one violent and creative moment is long over,
erased by the host of smaller cosmic dramas enacted in its place. There is creation
everywhere, "centers" everywhere, and each one nullifies all the rest. If the
center "could be" anywhere, then it is nowhere. It is all and nothing. The paradox is telescopic, extending from the vast and cataclysmic movements in deep space to the
fleeting daydreams of the childish fantast. Our perception is an act of creation. But such simple solipsism comes with its own "decentering." As you say, "the psyche creates a center of significance," but our psyches also perceive their own undoing: that there is creation outside of the mind, vast and monumental creation, creation that gives rise to our psyches themselves. It would be unarguable and foolish (although possible) to claim that the mind is the creative center of all existence. It is, more tenably, the creative center of all experience. But this situation is always unstable, as we perceive a wild and raving plurality of creations and alternate experiences, as we contemplate the finite nature of our own minds, and as we come to acknowledge the idea of relativism and the unknown. As we abandon God. The center is designed to be dismantled. A center is not necessary for existence, it is necessary for the fearful man to make sense of it.
I'm more than willing to read and engage your account of the last five years, no matter how lengthy it may be. My own recent history, I'm sure, will be met with some degree of disappointment. In the spirit of "catching up" (as opposed to autobiographical litanizing), I'll divulge the bare essentials (elaboration forthcoming and/or upon request):
