I’m generally not all that concerned with either how the universe begins or ends. It’s not that I’m not curious, because I’m a bit of geek, but it’s more that I’m focused more on the now. But of course, how a culture views creation puts the rest of the culture into perspective. The United States has quite literally deified the Founding Fathers, faming them in song and story. In particular, George Washington seems to have sprung a hero-cult.
We see that George Washington ascends into the heavens to take his rightful place as creator of the United States, champion of all that is good and right. The Roman gods surround him, teaching Benjamin Franklin, preparing the way for our continual and righteous ascent as a world power.
Okay, that’s a bit cloying and jingoistic for my tastes, but you get the idea.
My personal cosmology follows closely to Hesiod’s. Before anything else, there was Chaos. Gaia — not only the Goddess but the very Earth herself, Eros, and so many others are spun out of this gaping void. The Universe spins itself into existance, and sets the stage for the Gods and many other players.
To me, this is comforting. I’m not a destiny person (Death and Taxes!), and that the universe came into being as a whim of the Great Outside, means that the shit that goes on in my life is not always of my own creation. We are whims of the universe and while connected to this universe, we are still whims.
I like whims. Whimsy is good.
In the great scheme of things, I believe that the universe happened, and part of the happening of the universe was the primordial gods coming into being, setting into motion a great family tree of the Divine.
But it all starts with Chaos and a great stir.