Another Mystery

I'm still thinking about the wonder conversation I had with Nate the other day.

My junior year of college I spent much of my spare time at a house three doors down that was home to four of my girlfriends. Holly was a duel Physics/Philosophy major who probably had a headache 90% of the time—I mean, I would if I was trying to reconcile those two. We were out on the front porch one evening and she expressed the desire to keep wonder alive in her life—that, in spite of pursuit of understanding and insight, a sense of mystery was crucial. I couldn't agree more.

I've never been accused of being intentionally ignorant and hope to keep that fact for years to come. I have a Bachelor of Science degree—technically, I am a scientist. But there are many things in life that I don't want to know the science behind and I don't think that makes me “ignorant” I think that makes me selective. Creative processes, music, emotions, faith, touch: beautiful things made more beautiful by their mystery. I don't know why one person's touch can affect me more than anyone else's, I just know it does and in that it is a gift. I don't know why heartache can be literal, I just know what how it feels. There are things made predictable and safe by science—electricity, weather, seasons, gravity, chemicals—and then there are the muddled interactions that cannot be made predictable, that science only knows in shadow and theory. Often these are what make up what I love most in life.

Don't get me wrong—I love science. If you know me at all, you know this. But science and mystery are mutually crucial. Nate told me I was just holding onto childhood; I told him he was a condescending, cynical bastard. I'm not saying we should only live by our gut (Thank you, Stephen Colbert/George W. Bush for “truthiness”) but some mix of the two. Understand the place of science and the place of mystery.

There is a part in “Good Will Hunting” where Robin Williams' character rips into Will, saying, “So if I asked you about art, you'd probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo, you know a lot about him. Life's work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientations, the whole works, right? But I'll bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling; seen that." It's the difference right there; the science and the mystery. Places for both.

Song of the Day: “These Friends of Mine”--Rosie Thomas. I love this song more and more each day.

Also: Found someone to go see Erin McKeown's Grey Eagle show with me...guess who is also a huge Erin fan? Doug. Whoa. Here's to you, D.