Just Asking

Dear Eugene,

The season is changing.

This morning as I opened the kitchen window, just a little slit enough to invite in the first breath of daily baptism, I found myself again asking Why.

Why does the season change?

A strange little question, isn't it?  Didn't I learn the answer(s) from school already?  Haven't I experienced enough of the cyclical change to have gotten used to it by now?

Let me guess, this must have happened to you too, that all of a sudden, in the middle of doing some very purposeful, fulfilling things, your mind would just be short-circuited by the strange little questions Why?  What is the meaning of it all?  And you would draw a blank, trying your hardest to retrieve from within you a deep reservoir of ideas, doctrines and experience to no avail; not that there is no answer (in fact we have too many), but all the answers in the world putting together is not enough to tame that little feisty puppy of a yearning: Why?

Last month people went head-over-heels about the solar eclipse.  It was kinda silly, wasn't it?  Didn't we learn the science behind the phenomenon in school and on the internet already?  Why still the fascination?  How was it more fascinating than, say, a leaf changing color?

To fascinate about something is to give meaning to it, to ask Why about it.  People can never do away with attributing personal, metaphysical meaning to things, even in the most secularized world.  To say the total solar eclipse is fascinating because it's the first one in this part of the world in nearly a century is to give it a special meaning within the context of our transient, fragile, very local, extremely little human existence.  

Why...?  Because... We want to see the truth behind the veil.  We yearn for a personal Answer, relatable and intimately present, not text-book facts, general and coldly abstract.

To be human is to ask questions and seek answers.  To be fully human is to know no amount of ideas will ever be enough to answer our questions.

Not even the most little silly ones.

Curious, Alex

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