I have often realized that there is no compelling reason why I should be here.
There is no irreducible mathematical formula
the answer to which is my particular existence.
In the face of such simple fact, science tells me I am a totally random event,
which conclusion I instinctively and intuitively refuse to accept.
Science also tells me that things/matter tend to be more and more complex.
In the beginning there was just but one singularity.
Then the Big Bang exploded with infinite energy.
After the Big Bang, there were only simple elements, mainly hydrogen and helium.
But matter/creation tends to and progresses to become more and more complex.
And the cosmos came to be/exist.
On earth, rocks and fire and water conspired to bring forth life.
And finally, life acquired a consciousness.
Creation longs for and yearns for fulfillment, completion, perfection.
This is the Law of Entropy. An MIT physicist, Jeremy England, has proposed
the provocative idea that life exists
because the law of increasing entropy
drives matter to acquire lifelike physical properties.
And he arrived at this conclusion
after a series of dry and incomprehensible mathematical computations.
How much more inspiring it is to say
that God created the world,
that the heat and energy being dispersed by entropy
is actually God’s love diffusing throughout the universe.
How awesome it is to see the night sky and wonder at a billion stars
rather than reducing all of these simply into balls of thermonuclear energy.
How wonderful to behold the mountains and the lakes
instead of trying to understand them as
the result of some random climatic or volcanic events.
I love science for the answers and explanations it can give me.
I cling to my faith for things I cannot answer nor explain.
Just as a flower reaches out to the sun,
finding life and nourishment in its warmth,
I reach out for the unreachable, s
eek to know the unknowable
and dare to dream the impossible.
“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
Or in science for that matter.
There was a time I was puzzled by what the term “good old times” meant. I was young then. I couldn’t imagine how anyone could or would like to look back into the past and revel in it. All those reminiscences, the same old stories, songs sang again and again. What was so good about the old times?
