I have never much liked science
and I never knew why, until now.
Because I have always known the grass is green
and I am constantly refreshed by the knowledge of
the fact of something new.
Knowing a formula, a law that tells me
the grass will be green every day
tells me to forget that the grass is special.
How can something be special if it is green every day?
How can anything be special if it is always the same?
A law gives me an explanation of how it will always be
and, personally, knowing something will always be
destroys my sense of wonder that it is here today
why do I care about the magnitude of a single repeating pattern?
if it repeats, it repeats. No matter for how long.
So, if the law says forever, it's no more special because
it is forever. In fact, it is less special.
I've never cared much for science because these laws
tell me, "it's not a miracle. In fact, it's always this way. Here's why."
And something, something deep within me, says,
"That's it?"
and science responds, in its dry voice, and tells me,
"That's it."
And I am convinced, still, in my heart of hearts, that
that can't be it. There must be more. Because I know
the grass is special. I know the world is good and unique
and different every day and deeply personal.
I don't care for laws because I know there are miracles around me
and a law tries to explain everything- and sure, it does.
Everything except the fact that this world is special.
I would rather be grateful the grass is green today than look at it
and say, "Well, I know it's green and will always be,"
and move on to the next fact to memorize,
in an empty pursuit of knowing all the laws. These laws
don't fulfill us because they don't lend us any sense of wonder.
They tell us the world is not special. That it's explainable.
I would rather appreciate it that it exists today and for what it is
rather than follow a pattern for all eternity.
Because I know that it's not just "That's it."
It must be more. It's got to be more.
a child of seven wants to hear a fairy tale that a man opened a door and there was a dragon. A child of two is already amused that a man opened a door. Every variation on what we already know is an attempt to satisfy and remember that feeling the first time we found out the grass is green. Laws tell us that we will never feel like that again. The grass will always be green. Sure, the discovery of that law feels brilliant and like a new discovery and a gain of knowledge but after that we will never marvel again at the grass being green. Knowing, instead, that something actively chooses to keep repeating itself and that it is life that does it again day by day through CHOICE is the true miracle. It is not bound to be green. However, we are thankful it is green because it might have been red or it might not have been there. "Law" destroys that gratitude. In fact, a law that must be followed and cannot be broken in fact robs us of both the obedience of following it and the fun in breaking it. A law that cannot be broken is no law at all. All the fun, in fact, of learning these new 'laws', is counteracted by the fact that you will never have the fun of discovering the grass is green again. The pattern will always repeat, no matter how many patterns you know. And knowing more and more patterns still will not free you. In fact, it binds you. Just some things to think about.
Read "Orthodoxy" by GK Chesterton. It's literally incredible.