The Cosmic Egg Theory

I read once (during the more prominent phase of my obsession with astronomy) that what we now know as the Big Bang theory was initially proposed as the Cosmic Egg theory.  It's a thoroughly amusing name for an idea that most people have become thoroughly familiar with.  It also seems to make virtually no sense.  After all...an egg?  How is an egg (even a cosmic one) even remotely related to the origins of our universe?

The thing about it is that it was made to represent how the universe began as what is effectively a singularity (I apologize if I'm incorrect, it's been a while since I've read up on that), a tiny "egg," so to speak, and then burst out of it, exploded outward and began cooling.  It has continued expanding to this day, and many believe that it will continue to do so for a while at least, if not indefinitely.  The premise of the Cosmic Egg theory (to the best of my memory) is that the expansion will slow down, then stop, until the universe begins to recede and condense, right back into that cosmic egg.

It is a theory of big bangs and big crunches in this sequence going infinitely forward through time, altering the property of space.  That makes me wonder, though.  In our own way, are we not merely a series of big bangs and big crunches, from the simple satisfaction of being so close in the singularity of the cosmic egg, to the massive explosions and tenuous bonds that with each time seem more and more strained as we hit a big bang, until we once again cool down enough to recede in a big crunch, to the solitude and peace of a cosmic egg.

In an odd way, is not the history of our universe really simply the history of us?  Or rather, is the history of us not a minuscule, fragmented representation of the greater, eternal history of the universe around us?  Even as we speak, or don't, when we are about to fall apart, the universe continues to expand around us, in the eternal pattern ascribed to it by those who profess of the accuracy of what is now known as the Big Bang Theory, but which I still prefer to see in terms of the cosmic egg.

Truthfully, astronomy has fallen out of my life to an extent where I could no longer reasonably pretend to be knowledgeable about theories of the beginning of the universe...I don't remember enough of the science to speak reliably on the subject.  This particular theory merely came to mind because of the beauty of language with which it was conveyed in the text I had read it and in its oddly appropriate correlation with my relationship.  For those who don't know, I'll attempt to delineate it as much as is possible in the space of a paragraph or so (for what is probably the first time I blog about this particularly clearly).

It's one of those things where we're either really, really good for each other, or really, really bad.  I don't know how else to describe it, and most anyone else who knows us particularly well agrees.  Things are either splendid or terrifying.  The past three days have been a span of time with ridiculous ups and downs, tremendous oscillations, and a couple of fears I don't want to have even considered not to mention written up on my blog.  With that, I will leave description behind and return to the elegance of universes expanding and collapsing upon themselves.

It's really a rather beautiful thought--universes moving, changing, expanding and collapsing, breaking and rebuilding, all of these vast and magnificent spans of time and space that we can't even fathom, all of them changing around us.  It's paralleled oddly well in everyday occurrences, in interactions between mere human beings.  Yet on whatever scale, there are cycles, there are patterns, there are vast movements and trends, the elegance of which is simply astounding.  The thought, in truth, greatly surpasses the homely name of the cosmic egg.