I wonder sometimes at the great why behind it all. No, it is not that I believe I can truly understand even the scope of the mystery behind all mysteries, but I cannot help it at times to wonder the Einsteinian conceit: to know the mind of God. Of course, he (Albert) was thinking on mathematical terms, so I am not approaching things in that manner; I like words, instead. I keep coming back to one, when I think on such depths of thought, one that has always haunted me, one that no one can explain, yet everyone knows what he talks about. I mean, love. And sometimes, I think it is the explanation to everything, three words I pluck from the Bible, containing that one mysterious concept. Those would be, "God is love". Then, however, I realize I don't know what I'm talking about at all. Even my comprehension of the word "is" is shaky.
Or is it, really, that there is no real, grand why? That the question itself is faulty? Like asking who controls the foraging of all the ants in a particular colony, where it has been shown that it is no one ant at all? (It is actually the local interaction between ants that causes an emergent overall organization, by the by.) Perhaps it is so that I wonder at nothing, and think thoughts that make no sense at all. Perhaps the meaning of life is like that, that there is no one answer out there that people have missed these thousands of years, but all these little ones that make sense of life to a person, each his thousand answers. Maybe, too, it is experiential: life is not contained in questions, but in its living. I wonder at the great why behind it all, and my mind goes in circles, then I realize that I know enough to keep on, to do right.... And maybe it is all love, after all.
