Jun 3, 2016 | Faith, Life Reflections
“Why You Don’t Have to Know Everything” is a revision of an older essay, “The Thrill of Not Knowing.”
You’re at the beginning of a rollercoaster ride, going uphill, toward the highest point of the track. Higher and higher, slowly, building anticipation. A couple of things are happening. Your palms start sweating, the heart beats faster, and your mind debates itself, “Why in the world did I do this? Get me out of here! But I can’t get off..” or “Ok, it’s gonna happen soon, take a deep breath, be ready…” Finally, you reach the apex, where your stress (or thrill) also peaks. As the rollercoaster slowly turns downward, you see how high you are for a split second, how steep the downhill slope is, and you gulp because there’s no turning back.
The Unknown, whatever it is that we can’t know, plan or anticipate, can incite intense reactions to the limited, non-omniscient human mind. It can make you fearful and anxious, overwhelmingly so in some cases. It can cause nervous breakdown and real physical ailments if not handled properly, along with discontentment and anger. What will my life be? What am I supposed to do, who am I supposed to be in this life? How will this job, this relationship, this new house turn out? What is my calling in life? How does a fulfilled life look like? Am I ever going to be successful?
At one point or another, we feel this restlessness in our soul. Something like a signal that there are things we have yet to do, places we have yet to see, life we have yet to experience.
But just like a rollercoaster ride, the fear of the Unknown does not make up the entire experience. There is another aspect of the story that, in actuality, is the thing that makes people want to go on rollercoaster rides in the first place – thrill. For someone who happens to love rollercoasters, the thrill of the experience overtakes the fear and anxiety during that uphill part.
Not knowing about something, about life, can be a thrilling experience. I’m not talking about being blissfully ignorant. Quite the opposite. I’m talking about being curious and enjoying the process of unveiling whatever it is that lies between me and that thing beyond the veil. Not knowing is what makes learning such an enjoyable process, a process by which one goes from not knowing to knowing. And this is fun. It is so much fun that it’s hard to imagine knowing everything. A life without mystery, how dull would that be?
Often we think that once we know, if only we know this one thing, we would finally have peace. We’ll finally be at a state of rest, not anxious or worried about what will happen. But the truth is that we’ll only find another thing to fret about. We would find out that knowing that one thing is not enough, and anxiety takes over again.
Why live this way? Why not enjoy the process and let go of the micro plans?
In the realm of Christianity, a special case of this phenomenon is something like this: What is God’s will for my life? What is my purpose on earth? Sometimes the questions come with anger and discontentment, sometimes with anxiety and restlessness, or sometimes with a certain sobriety, realizing the import of the answer to those questions.
The question that I would ask, though, is What would you do with the answer? What kind of answer are you looking for? Are you expecting black ink on white paper stating, This is what you will do? Would you rather know the fact, or would you rather discover it?
I’m inclined to choose discovery over being given a statement of fact. I’d rather discover what I will be in 10 years, rather than being told by a hypothetical time traveler from the future that in 10 years, I’ll be doing this and that. But part of choosing discovery–not that it’s much of a choice–is the not knowing part. You only find out a little bit at a time, and I’d suggest that this is the more preferable and exciting way.
My favorite book Education has this quote:
When Adam came from the Creator’s hand, he bore, in his physical, mental, and spiritual nature, a likeness to his Maker. “God created man in His own image” and it was His purpose that the longer man lived the more fully he should reveal this image—the more fully reflect the glory of the Creator. All his faculties were capable of development; their capacity and vigor were continually to increase. Vast was the scope offered for their exercise, glorious the field opened to their research. The mysteries of the visible universe—the “wondrous works of Him which is perfect in knowledge”—invited man’s study.
The radical idea being proposed here is that in a state of perfection–a world without sin and suffering–Adam was still meant to grow and discover. In a way, he too was meant to discover God’s will for his life and existence. The more he were to live, the more he would find out the capacity embedded in his being as well as the mysteries of the world he was placed in.
In other words, life has always been mysterious, inwardly and outwardly, from way back when, to now, to eternity. Discovery is a life essential, and it would be wise to know how to live peacefully with it.
Another quote in the book says:
Heaven is a school; its field of study, the universe; its teacher, the Infinite One. A branch of this school was established in Eden; and, the plan of redemption accomplished, education will again be taken up in the Eden school. “Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love Him.”
Because we do not know all things, we have the capacity to be marveled and blown away. Not knowing is really our capacity to be surprised. And that thrill is a gift of life.
When we don’t know certain details of our life’s purpose, when we don’t understand why we’re going through certain things, we don’t have to be upset or anxious. At least, don’t cling to it. Rather, have trust. Trust in the process, trust in God and His character. Let go of the micro plans and let yourself be swayed and moved a little by life, by the occasions that need your help, and by other things outside of your plans.
Love the journey. Love the discovery. And enjoy the thrill of not knowing everything.
May 26, 2016 | Books
Summer’s here! Since I’m solar-powered, I’m all charged up for a season of fun. How about you?
Summer’s the time to try new things, experience new adventures, and explore new worlds. This is true for my reading selection as well. Maybe it’s because my circadian rhythm is still calibrated to the academic calendar. I’m usually a nonfiction, idea books type of reader, but for summer, I like to venture out to travel books, selected fiction, biographies–more story-based books. Here’s my summer reading list for 2016, taken from my antilibrary–the books on my shelf that I haven’t read. If you’ve read any of them, please let me know what you think! And I’d love to hear about what you’re reading too.
Summer Reading List
Uncle Tungsten: Memories of a Chemical Boyhood by Oliver Sacks
I got this book for $1 from Half Priced Books. Score! I recently finished another of Sacks’ book, The Man Who Mistook His Wife For A Hat: And Other Clinical Tales, which is the scariest book I’ve ever read (will tell another time). With this and his essay collection, Gratitude, I’ve concluded that I enjoy his writing tremendously. Oliver Sacks had a poetic voice in telling human stories, a virtue that I find existing in my favorite authors. Uncle Tungsten is about his childhood and his love for the elements in the periodic table (in fact, in Gratitude, he wrote about his personal collection of these elements and how he thought about aging something like traversing across the periodic table, each atomic number matching his age). It’s probably the perfect mix of nerdy and poetic for me.
The Wright Brothers by David McCullough
In my household, I’m usually the book buyer. But this one is my husband’s, also an engineer and fellow nerd. This is the only book I’ve seen that he read enthusiastically, sparking all kinds of conversations about technology and innovation at home. Apparently, it’s the kind of book that makes you want to build a plane. We’ll probably repeat those conversations when it’s my turn to go through the book.
Better: A Surgeon’s Notes on Performance by Atul Gawande
Having listened to Atul Gawande’s audiobook, Being Mortal, I’ve grouped him together with Oliver Sacks (and Paul Kalanithi and, my guess, Siddhartha Mukherjee–see below) as medical practitioners who are also excellent writers. They seem to reflect deeply on the human experience as they encounter individuals in medical crises, and this is an amazing trait. I look forward to hear more from Gawande.
Beauty Is A Wound by Eka Kurniawan
Eka Kurniawan is an acclaimed Indonesian writer whose works’ translations have been increasing rapidly over the past year. The books themselves have been published for many years in Indonesian, but only last year were this book and another one, Man Tiger, translated to English. I read Man Tiger last year, and it is a spectacular piece of literature. I’ll be reading Beauty Is A Wound in Indonesian, my mother tongue.
Life of Pi by Yann Martel
Yes, I am so late for this one. I have a copy and it’s about time I read it.
Subliminal: How Your Unconscious Mind Rules Your Behavior by Leonard Mlodinow
Gotta have a brainy book on the list. The first time I saw this book, it was at a bookstore. Its catchy neon green caught my eye. Sure enough, its topic of thinking and the workings of our mind was one of my favorite reading subjects. Over the next few days, I kept thinking about this book and I finally bought it online. Imagine my surprise when I saw the hidden text on the cover. Pssst…Hey There. Yes: You, Sexy. Buy This Book Now. You Know You Want it. These texts were so subtle that you couldn’t see them on the physical book cover, especially if you didn’t know they were there. So did I buy this book because it subliminally tricked me into doing so???
Notable New Releases
Or, books I would buy right now if I didn’t have some 50 unread books piling on my shelf. They sound so interesting!
Black Hole Blues and Other Songs from Outer Space by Janna Levin
Two things that make this book super appealing: gravitational waves and women in science. I was among the thrilled and goosebumps-covered people when on February 11, 2016, the LIGO scientists made the public announcement that they had detected gravitational waves for the first time ever. Their observations confirmed Einstein’s theory from 100 years ago. The fact that the science works is simply amazing to me. This book is the story of these LIGO scientists and their work through decades of trying that finally bore fruits this year. I’m also thrilled that just this year, there have been super interesting books written by women in science!
The Gene: An Intimate History by Siddhartha Mukherjee
Siddhartha Mukherjee’s first book, The Emperor of All Maladies, was a best-selling book on cancer. Here, he writes about the history of how the gene was and is being continually discovered.
Walking the Himalayas by Levison Wood
Stories of adventurers discovering the world at a pedestrian’s pace have fascinated me since I read Rory Stewart’s The Places in Between. It brings into view an intimate story of humanity that we don’t usually see through the regular media.
So there goes my reading list. What are you reading this summer? Please share in the comments below!
May 20, 2016 | Faith, Life Reflections
All the rivers run into the sea, yet the sea is not full, says the King in Ecclesiastes. To the place from which the rivers come, there they return again. Vanity, he exclaims, because everything is temporary. I wonder if this was a lamentation or a poetic expression of his observations. In the eyes of an incurable optimist, however, as I am, the metaphor takes on a different light.
Isn’t it a wonder that the sea is never full? All the waters lead to the sea and yet they come back to us. They are transported to where they started, and round and round they go. As they ride in their atmospheric carousel, along the way, they bless all kinds of living things. The soil is dewed and refreshed, the trees drink freely, and the thirsts of creatures and mankind are quenched. Nutrients get transported from one place to another and dirt gets washed away. I am sure glad that the waters move and travel, even though they return to the same place over and over again.
Imagine riding a water molecule, witnessing the trajectory of its life cycle on this planet. The places it visits, the people it sees, the calamities it may take part in—these would make quite a story. When it ends up in the sea, the sun may kiss it and lift it up to the sky. It may get frozen there to return to earth or it may retire in the Arctic.
In an age of declining fresh water resources, I treasure this water cycle from land, sky, and sea as the largest desalination process our world has. There’s much good and meaning in this blessed movement.
The sun also rises, and the sun goes down, and hastens to the place where it arose. The wind goes toward the south, and turns around to the north. The wind whirls about continually, and comes again on its circuit. The sun may be doing the same thing every day, but boy, what would we do if it decided to not arise. How would we miss its warmth and light, and its life-giving power. The wind that goes from north to south carries pollens for the trees, moving animals and humans here and there—a life in transit.
Transience, it seems, is the essence of life. Life moves, and I think it is good that it does so.
The Rhythm of Nature
Nature hums in a rhythmic fashion, and we, humans, are still part of this dance no matter how much we exert our controlling powers. There’s a rhythm that we cannot escape—the rain that falls on us, the flight-delaying weather disruptions, the seasons that happen to us—we are subject to these things. One could take it as a depressive state, being trapped by nature, or one could instead surrender to the rhythm, understanding that it is much better to enjoy it rather than fight against it.
Part of this rhythm, the cycle of life, is rest, a period of dormancy, recuperation, and restoration. The land needs it to continue producing food, animals need it to survive through winter, and mankind needs sleep, among many other examples.
Wayne Muller writes in his book, Sabbath: Finding Rest, Renewal, and Delight in Our Busy Lives,
“We are strong and capable people, we can work without stopping, faster and faster, electric lights making artificial day so the whole machine can labor without ceasing. But remember: No living thing lives like this. There are greater rhythms that govern how life grows: circadian rhythms, seasons and hormonal cycles and sunsets and moonrises and great movements of seas and stars. We are part of the creation story, subject to all its laws and rhythms.”
“When we rest, we can relish the seasons of a moment, a day, a conversation… To surrender to the rhythms of seasons and flowerings and dormancies is to savor the secret of life itself.”
This dance of coming close and withdrawing, of giving and receiving, is the essence and joy of living. It is a principle of life, as expressed in The Desire of Ages by Ellen White:
“There is nothing, save the selfish heart of man, that lives unto itself. No bird that cleaves the air, no animal that moves upon the ground, but ministers to some other life. There is no leaf of the forest, or lowly blade of grass, but has its ministry. Every tree and shrub and leaf pours forth that element of life without which neither man nor animal could live; and man and animal, in turn, minister to the life of tree and shrub and leaf. The flowers breathe fragrance and unfold their beauty in blessing to the world. The sun sheds its light to gladden a thousand worlds. The ocean, itself the source of all our springs and fountains, receives the streams from every land, but takes to give. The mists ascending from its bosom fall in showers to water the earth, that it may bring forth and bud.”
White continues to liken this principle with the character of the Godhead in the Bible:
“In these words is set forth the great principle which is the law of life for the universe. All things Christ received from God, but He took to give. So in the heavenly courts, in His ministry for all created beings: through the beloved Son, the Father’s life flows out to all; through the Son it returns, in praise and joyous service, a tide of love, to the great Source of all. And thus through Christ the circuit of beneficence is complete, representing the character of the great Giver, the law of life.”
Sabbath: A Time to Receive
The Sabbath, the seventh day of the week, is synonymous with rest. As such, its inclusion in human life is incredibly appropriate. It is the dormancy to activity, the withdrawing to assertion, the restoration to production.
Going back to Muller,
“Many scientists believe we are ‘hard-wired’ like this, to live in rhythmic awareness, to be in and then step out, to be engrossed and then detached, to work and then to rest. It follows then that the commandment to remember the Sabbath is not a burdensome requirement for some law-giving deity—“You ought, you’d better, you must”—but rather a remembrance of a law that is firmly embedded in the fabric of nature. It is a reminder of how things really are, the rhythmic dance to which we unavoidably belong.”
To stop on the Sabbath when the sun sets on Friday evening requires a surrender, a certain trust, that things won’t fall apart when we’re not attending to them. This stopping can generate anxiety, because we may have been convinced of our importance and responsibility for six days. What if I don’t check my email? What if something goes wrong? We may think we’re indispensable.
Yet honoring the Sabbath is an art of quieting ourselves from these anxieties, a reminder that the world will not likely end because we stop for a day.
“We stop because there are forces larger than we that take care of the universe, and while our efforts are important, necessary, and useful, they are not (nor are we) indispensable. The galaxy will somehow manage without us… enjoy our relative unimportance, our humble place at the table in a very large world. The deep wisdom embedded in creation will take care of things for a while.”
The Earth has been here before us and will be here after us. That’s something we can take comfort in.
A Kind of Nostalgia
The Sabbath is meant to bring a kind of nostalgia—hence the words, “Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy”—of another world in another time. The book of Genesis narrates that mankind was created last, when the rest of creation was finished. Adam and Eve came when the world was already done, to a finished world, and their first day was to be the Sabbath. In it, there was enjoyment, trust, and surrender, because God had done the creative work, and nothing unfinished depended on them.
The Sabbath today carries this memory from Eden. A glimpse of paradise, I’m convinced, because we too can trust the same power that created and sustained the universe to take care of everything for one day. We too can rest, and be carried away in this rhythm of creation.
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