I love words and language. I enjoy finding ways to express myself through words. That being said, all words are only metaphor for what exists. I am so enmeshed with that particular concept. I find it exciting to realize that no matter what I define, depict, or explain, it will never be accurate. Although it’s fun trying. The reason I have been focused on that is wrapped up in the word mystery. I have noticed that everything outside of language is mystery. Another way of saying I don’t know. Probably a kinder gentler way of pointing to “I know nothing.”
Staying with the mystery of things means I don’t need explanations. Not about the regular stuff, like how to save photos on my phone. But the explanations about evolution, how the brain and body process, and what happens after this life’s experience. Those are mysteries. I absolutely understand the drive to find answers. It’s what humans do, we are curious and seek answers. But some things, like how the brain processes, may never be known. Part of happens is we take a fragment of a human, the brain, and attempt to explain how it functions. But the brain isn’t working in isolation, nor is the body, or people. We are caught up in an ecological system of intense complexity and constant change. We attempting to see the complete picture of a jigsaw puzzle by examining one piece. We can’t see the picture without assembling all the pieces. Even then humans, are a constantly evolving and changing jigsaw puzzle. The picture is never the same from one moment to the next.
We are not a kit, complete with parts that complement and explain each other, we are a messy and complicated living system, that is self referencing. And evolving as we speak. Being human, having that self awareness, is beautiful and also creates this uncomfortable feeling of needing to know why.
“The sum of the parts is different than the whole. Not greater, but simply different.” That statement pretty much defines mystery.
So, at times, it’s good to watch a sunset, the moon, someone you love, and see the mystery of it all. Seeing that, without any answers, without knowing what or why, life is bittersweet.