Science Versus Mystery—Part 1

In the recent issue of Orion Magazine is a beautiful poem by C. Dale Young, titled “At Issue.” It's a paean to wasps. He wonders how a simple solitary wasp accomplishes the complex architectural task of building its nest. Obviously enthralled with nature's ways, Young writes, “I would like to research exactly how a wasp builds its nest, but I know this will only make it more difficult for me to ever again regard this act of the wasp as mysterious. There you have it: despite my love of science, I still, at times, prefer mystery over certainty.”

I have had similar thoughts over the years that I have lived in this wooded area, as I've observed the natural world around me, and found myself wondering about some critter I'm observing, or come upon a strikingly beautiful plant while wandering in the woods. Puzzled, I yearn to know what's going on. Why does that critter do that? What is the name of the wild flower? Why does it grow there and not up on the hill? What is that bird I hear singing off in the woods? What kind of hawk is soaring up there, and what is it trying to do?

These questions want answers. I would like to understand this wild world around me much better. I too often feel a stranger, when I wish to feel a comrade. I am amazed by the natural world and I'd love to really understand it, and even be a part of it. But as Young writes, would I lose some of my awe and wonder, if I turned to science for answers? I know there are legions of naturalists who have collected a treasure trove of data—just waiting for me to find. Would the certainty of all this knowledge erase the mystery? Would I become a little jaded and blasé, if I knew these things? Would I apathetically and unconsciously identify the bird that just called and then turn back to the mundane task at hand, without a pause to listen and appreciate? Would dry knowing replace the wonder?

There's a similar sentiment expressed by Iris Dement in a song, “Let the Mystery Be.” She's singing about wanting answers to the big questions of life:

Everybody's wonderin' what and where they they all came from
Everybody's worryin' 'bout where they're gonna go
When the whole thing's done
But no one knows for certain
And so it's all the same to me
I think I'll just let the mystery be.

She's asking questions like, What's it all about? What happens after I die? Is there a God? Why am I here? These are questions unlike: What is the name of that bird?, because they have no answers that we'll ever find anytime soon. But they are questions we are driven to pose—questions we'd really like answers to. Some people claim they have the answers. Dement feels otherwise. She's comfortable living with the mystery. As the Beatles sang, “Let it be.”

There are, however, other deep questions, the answers to which we readily turn to science. How did life begin? How did the universe begin? Was there anything before the Big Bang? What is the far future of the universe? Can humanity change its ways and avoid environmental disaster? These types of questions do have answers—answers we may someday come to know. Science points the way toward the answers, and, if we keep plugging away, they will come in time.

Back to Young's poem and his pondering whether to seek the certainty of science about the wasp's construction skills and technique, or dwell with the mystery: Do I have to choose between science's authoritative description or live with the wonder of my ignorance? Is ignorance bliss, in this case? I love to ponder the mystery of a natural observation I've made. I enjoy making up stories or speculating about what's going on. Admit my ignorance! Thrill over what I can see.

More on the mystery next time...