Las Vegas Trip

TAM4 Day 1 Recap

I won't write about every session, because you can read a quick blurb on the TAM4 website here. But there was one particular session that resonated with my own recent musings.

Michael Shermer, the founding publisher of Skeptic Magazine, read a short essay called "The Soul of Science." This little book explores how we can find spirituality without the belief in the supernatural. Shermer defines spirituality as "a way of being in the world, a sense of one's place in the cosmos, a relationship to that which extends beyond ourselves," and explains, "Anything that generates a sense of awe may be a source of spirituality. Science does this in spades."

This is a topic that I'm very interested in. When I left Christianity and returned to my childhood interest in science, I found that my ability to appreciate the beauty in nature was magnified. Learning about biology, evolution, physics, and astronomy made everything just a bit more wondrous.

Earlier this week, as we drove from Colorado to Nevada, I was enthralled by the rock formations in Utah. Yellow, red, green, and purple hues covered the mountainscape like watercolor paints gently brushed onto a canvas. The soft colors were in stark contrast to the rugged shape of the landscape. In some places, jagged cliffs predominated. In others, formations of hard rocks were balanced on top of softer stone that had eroded leaving the impression that the landscape had been chiselled away by an ancient Michaelangelo. Still other sections were filled with flowing rock formations that looked like piles of sand that had slowly broken off of the surface of the mountain and slipped down around it's ankles like a pile of silk fabric. At the gift shop at the Lake Mead Visitor's Center, I bought a book on geology to read before we leave, so I can have a greater appreciation for what I'm looking at on the drive home. (I'm sure my friend, Christine, who is a geologist will recommend additional reading.)

When I'd been a born again Christian, my curiosity was flattened by the common belief that the earth is only 6,000 years old and that it had been created by God. That belief made the universe seem small and finite to me. Admittedly beautiful and wonderous, nature inspired us to sing songs such as this:

Morning sun light of creation
Grassy fields of velvet flow
Silver clouds a shimmering curtain
He's designed a perfect world
I'm amazed at His talents
I stand in awe of one so great
Now my soul begins to sing out
To the source from which it came  

Bless the Lord who reigns with beauty
Bless the Lord who reigns with wisdom and with power
Bless the Lord who reigns my life with so much love
He can make a perfect heart

This song has emotional impact for many people who believe in God. But without an understanding of the true age of the universe, the processes by which magnificent mountains were formed and delicate flowers bloom, for me the universe was a flat canvas painted by the hand of a single being. When I started reading about science again, in my late 20s and early 30s, I began once again to experience the joy and excitement of learning that was common for me when I'd been a young child. Knowledge gave me the ability to see beneath the surface superficiality and look deep inside to see the molecules, atoms, and the invisible internal workings of nature.

I don't think Michael Shermer, Richard Dawkins or any other scientits (what a great Las Vegas typo), who have written on this subject have hit the mark. Although I enjoy their books immensely and they may feel awe and wonder at the grandeur of the universe or be inspired by the beauty of a flower, their words somehow don't convey that feeling. I don't doubt their reports of their own feelings, I think the shortcoming is in their writing style. Because they normally write for academic or or scientific audiences, using technical prose, they don't have the poetic or lyrical writing style that is required to portray a sense of awe to the general public.

When you look at a beautiful painting, you can't tell if the artist was a Christian, Buddhist, or atheist. When you listen to melodic music, you can't tell if the composer was a believer or a skeptic. But when you read the writings of a scientist, you can almost always tell that the writer is not a poet. (Alan Lightman is one exception, and he's also written a book on this topic. I've had it in my Amazon wish list for quite a while. I guess it's time to buy it.) That's not to say that religious writers are any better at capturing their own sense of wonder on the page. Most religious writing is also technical (in a sense) and mundane.

Only a few novelists and essayists of any persuasion have been able to capture numinous, spiritual feelings in words. Their skill is in using words metaphorically to capture the essense of an instant in time forever on the page, rather than in explaining the minute details of a scientific theory or religious doctrine. The challenge is to capture what Alan Lightman calls " A Sense of the Mysterious" in the title of his book. Although I love reading science books written by scientists, for the particular task of awakening our feelings of mystery and wonder, I think the poet is the most qualified. I hope that in my own writing, I can learn to use the skill of a poet to succeed at this challenge.