By God, I mean a being absolutely infinite — that is a substance consisting in infinite attributes, of which each expresses eternal and infinite essentiality — Baruch Spinoza (1632-1677)
When time is of a magnitude too infinitesimal to measure, matter operates according to laws of physical science yet to be written. We simply do not know what passing perceptions a water molecule may have as the temperature, like Zeno’s arrow, moves incrementally toward the freezing point, and the water allies with a snowflake.
There is a sense that we might well call joyousness, if not at least relief, a sense that all life and matter must have, that we belong to something greater than what we can describe, or even clearly conceive. Every event provides an intuitive hint of a greater whole, of meaning. We belong to a tribe, or a home; to a landscape or a culture; to a life or a death; to a natural law or a God.
This sense, like no other feeling or emotion, motivates us to reason, to understand, and to look beyond. We ritual with this sense, conscious of our impotence, that we might never fully achieve it; yet never do we feel more powerful nor more aware that we are responsible for the reality we create.