For decades, cosmology has wrestled with the question of our universe's size, shape, and ultimate fate. Traditional Big Bang theory suggests our universe began as a singular, ultra-dense point that rapidly expanded, leading to the vast cosmos we observe today. Yet even now, no consensus exists on whether our universe is finite or infinite.
If our Universe is finite, it must have some kind of boundary — but what lies beyond that boundary? If it is infinite, how did it become so in a finite amount of time?
Cosmologists often discuss the observable universe, a spherical region about 93 billion light-years across, defined by how far light has traveled since the Big Bang. However, this observable patch may be just a small part of the whole.
Current models, based on general relativity, describe our universe that is expanding — but expanding into what? Itself? Space itself stretches, carrying galaxies apart, not moving through a pre-existing void. Still, these explanations often leave profound questions unanswered: Can "everything" be measured? Does "everything" even have an edge or center? What is the shape and size of everything? Perhaps we are asking the wrong questions.
Can our universe even have a 'shape' in the traditional sense?
Our universe might not be a sphere expanding into something else, but instead a unified shape where "edge" and "center" are relative ideas. It could possess a liminocentric structure—a seamless form where boundaries and centers blend together.
Liminocentric (adj.): Having an edge or border that is simultaneously a center, or internal areas indistinguishable from boundary areas.
In a liminocentric universe, every point is both the center and the boundary, depending on your perspective. This is not metaphor—it’s geometry. In the relativistic model of spacetime, every location is a local frame of reference, capable of describing the universe as if centered upon itself. There is no universal vantage point. Every observation is partial; every perspective is local.
There is no absolute “edge” of the universe to reach. All boundaries are contextual—emerging from the curvature and structure around you. A black hole’s event horizon is a boundary from one view, but not another. The observable universe is a limit not of space itself, but of light and time. What we call an “edge” is a local effect of geometry, not a global wall.
Likewise, there is no singular center everything revolves around. The center exists in every point, depending on where you stand. From any location, the universe can appear centered around you—and this holds true for every other location as well.
If all perspectives are local, no single viewpoint can be truly global. When we search for the universe’s edge "globally," we find no final boundary; when we seek its center "globally," we find it everywhere and nowhere at once. Globality is an abstraction, stitched together from local viewpoints. Edge and center exist only in relation to the observer’s position—meaning, they exist everywhere simultaneously. The universe is not structured around a privileged location but is fundamentally relative, liminocentric, and seamless.
We are part of the universe, and the universe, in part, exists within us. Any point within it could be considered its center; any point could be its edge. Reality, at its deepest level, is perspective-dependent.
To seek the edge is to find yourself at the center. To seek the center is to find yourself at the edge.
If you zoom in far enough at any point in space, you don’t escape outward—you descend inward. You approach the base geometry of spacetime: the ground state, the universe's underlying structure. The “bottom” of the universe isn’t far away—it’s always directly beneath your feet (and within your feet), wherever you are. It exist in all points in space. It is not a place, but a depth - the passive foundation from which structure emerged.
If the ground state is the bottom—the most foundational level of reality—then there is also a top: the limit of what can emerge from that base. The universe does not allow runaway infinities or absolute nothingness. Its structure has boundaries, not because it's confined, but because its foundation enforces coherence—the quality of forming a unified, interconnected whole. The most massive object, the highest possible energy density, even the peak of conscious experience—these all sit at the universe’s “top,” balanced on the stable “bottom” of the ground state. Like a tree that can only grow as tall as its roots allow, reality scales upward from its deepest structure—but never without limits.
This view dissolves the need for infinite regress or unreachable edges. The universe is whole not because it is unbounded, but because it is self-supporting. It begins from something rather than nothing, and it climbs upward from that root without exceeding what that root can sustain. Coherence replaces infinity. Structure replaces abstraction. Reality has depth, but not endlessness—relational size, but not boundlessness. What we call “everything” is a closed continuity of being, shaped from the inside out.
"Everything" isn't a thing — it's a relationship of things, a structured field of existences, not an object with an edge you can walk up to. When we say "everything," it sounds singular, like it should be one measurable object, but it's actually all the relationships between parts, without needing a container or shell; a oneness, rather than a one.
Think of our universe as a kind of "dance of the dancers". It isn’t that the universe contains the dance; rather, the dance itself forms and defines the universe. Every interaction, every motion, forms a step in this cosmic rhythm, and it is through this dance that the universe continuously unfolds. The universe is not a whole; it is a structured wholeness — ever-evolving, constantly being defined by the relationships and movements within it.
And because "everything" has no outside, "infinite" isn’t quite the right or necessary word either. It simply is — total, not boundless.
Infinity (∞) is a mathematical idea: an endless quantity, an ever-receding horizon. But "everything" might be complete without being infinite. It's not that it stretches on forever; it’s that it encompasses all that is, full stop.
'Zero' (0) is also a mathematical idea, and we know this doesn't truly exist in existence. Non-zero is the limit (Ø). Non-infinity (⧞) is the other limit. Both are destinations never arrived at, except on paper. The Universe structurally forbids true infinities and true nothingness.
That's why liminocentric fits so well: there's no absolute final border, no central dot — just a seamless existence where boundaries and centers are relative. And it means measurement is only ever of parts. We can measure galaxies, distances, energies — but not "everything" itself, because there's no external vantage point to measure it from.
Our universe doesn't need to be infinite to be complete. It doesn't need a boundary to be whole. It simply is: liminocentric, seamless, all-encompassing, and relational.
When we stop looking for edges and centers, we begin to see the beauty of a cosmos that has no outside — only inside, in every direction.