Introduction to Infinity

Isn’t it cute? A vintage 1950’s Tommee Tippee sipper cup exactly like the one my mother said was mine. Not my older sister’s. Not my baby sister’s. Mine. The one I drank from even after I didn’t use the mouthpiece anymore. The only one Mom ever offered me.

The one I couldn’t look at because it scared me to death.

Infinity Cup
The innocent sipper.

I used to look at it. When I was a toddler, even at the worldly age of two, I could face that little Tommee Tippee with a smile.

One day, when I was three, I looked at what he was doing. Really looked. With a penetrating stare and eyes that grew wider and wider.

He was drinking. He was drinking from a cup like mine. He was drinking from a cup with his face on it… drinking from a cup with his face on it… drinking from a cup with his face on it… drinking from a cup with his face on it… drinking from a cup with his face on it… drinking from a cup with his face on it…

My heart and my breath started racing. Just like they did back then.

I knew with every cell of my being, every philotic thread connecting me and my soul to everything that is and everything that isn’t, that this went on


I was looking directly into Infinity. I could see Eternity.

Mom had told me not to look directly at the sun, but she hadn’t warned me about Infinity and Eternity. She never hinted that if I could see them, They. Could. See. Me. And that moment, my friends, is when I truly began to become who I am.

Well, that moment and the one on Christmas Eve when I was two.


Author: Sue Ranscht

I am a writer. Let me tell you a story...

17 thoughts on “Introduction to Infinity”

  1. The infinite regress, the dizzying abyss… My grandmother had a similar picture on her wall (not Tommee Tippee, who was and is unknown to us) and I remember being more fascinated than terrified, wondering where it went and what happened when you got there. Still wondering, in fact.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. How old were you when you recognized what you were seeing? Maybe it’s similar to Dr. Tyson’s “spaghetification” as you fall into a black hole. Maybe it IS falling into a black hole. And maybe, just maybe, you come out a white hole at the other end in a Big Bang of creativity


  2. The artist probably thought s/he was encouraging youngsters to drink out of “real” cups: “Look! Tommee has a cup just like you! And you can drink out of it just like he can!” All the while, the artist was actually traumatizing three year olds! Great post, Sue! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  3. You were obviously an unusual child ;o). As was I. But I turned out to be afraid of my own shadow. Literally. I was always being followed when I was outside. Very scary! That did pass, though. Right about the time that I discovered that there were monsters hiding under my bed. Oh joy! Must have been all of those thwarted shadows….

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Well, I got bigger. And then I devised certain rituals. But honestly, even now (!) I cannot let any part of me dangle over the bed. Completely odd, I know. But it’s the writer in me, really. I find her endearing and sometimes a bit annoying, too. 0)

        Liked by 1 person

        1. I like to imagine mine is integrated into my life, but then she takes over and doesn’t give a fig for my need to attend to my livelihood. She only journaled during my sailing days — strictly West Coast.


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