Science Versus Mystery—Part 2

But I don't see the science-versus-mystery game as a dualistic, exclusive choice that I must make. If I go for science's story and facts, I don't necessarily have to abandon mystery and wonder. If I want to retain some mystery about the situation, I don't have to ignore what science can tell me about it.

To begin with, science is rarely certain. This is a mistake people often make. (Or worse yet, people reject science's story, because it isn't certain. Hey, it's only a theory, right? So let's reject the Theory of Evolution. Let's reject the theory of global warming. Our culture is inclined, out of naivety, to spurn science.) Scientists are clear that their theories are never the last word. They never reach certainty on much of anything—instead, it's at best a provisional understanding. Further study will uncover new data and information, so a revised understanding will emerge... a little closer to the truth, but never exactly spot on. The only certainty in the human realm occurs with dogma—either from religious sources or from people who consider themselves to be an unmitigated authority.

Thus, while I perceive science as not offering me anything certain and final, I nonetheless very often turn to it, when I encounter something in nature that I don't understand; something that is mysterious. My experience has been that once I do delve into science in order to learn what's going on, the knowledge I gain inevitably leads me to deeper wonderings; to more mystery.

For example, if I were to go seek what science has to say about how Young's wasp builds its nest—once that question is answered—I am confident that I would find a host of additional questions popping out. What's more, these questions would never have come to me, without that additional knowledge that science brought me. For example, How did evolution bring about this process? Why does the wasp use the specific materials that it does? Why has it chosen that particular location to build its nest—to avoid predators; to be closer to prey? Do wasps over in the next state use the same construction process, and why? Hmm, now that I know more about its nest—and maybe the fact this species of wasp rarely stings—let me get my magnifying glass and close in for a better view. What details am I now missing, that I'd then see?

So I don't see mystery and certainty as being at odds with each other—forcing me to choose one and lose the other. Science does not close me down, or erase the wonder. Think of Carl Sagan (those of you who might remember his “Cosmos” series on TV in the early 80s). He was an eminent scientist who described the universe with poetic awe. That's no certainty; it's flat out wonder and reverence.

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...