Elizabeth G. ponders: The Secrets of "Dark Energy"

I love the very thought of pondering the imponderable. How big is the universe? How many stars are there in the night sky? What would it be like to fall into a black hole? Could there really be ten or eleven or even twelve dimensions? (I have trouble visualizing three, by the way.)

I recently read an article about “Dark Energy” written by this brilliant female astrophysicist, who is also a professor at Yale University. Basically (and I’m talking real basic here, folks, because while it fascinates me, I don’t understand a whole lot of this scientific stuff) the discovery of “Dark Energy” is the biggest thing since sliced bread in Professor Meg Urry’s world.

To put it in a few simple words (mainly for my own sake), according to Professor Urry, most of the universe isn’t visible to us AND we have absolutely no clue what it is: Hence, the term “Dark Energy.”

You see, I love that! I love the fact that we human beings don’t know everything. I love the fact that there is still so much to be discovered, to be understood, to be truly in awe of.

And, in case you’re wondering if I intend to get around to relating the concept of “Dark Energy” to the world of books: I do. Right now.

I realize I still want mystery and magic when I read. I still want to feel in awe when I pick up a book. I want to be mesmerized by a story, or a writer’s knowledge of a subject I don’t know squat about, or her ability to touch my heart and make me feel the gamut of emotions: joy, sadness, wonder, fear, disgust, excitement, terror.

I don’t want to know too much ahead of time. Just a favorite author’s name on the front cover. Or the fact that a trusted friend recommended I read such-and-such. Or maybe finding the back-cover copy sucking me in as I wander around my local bookstore or library and stop to look at a book by somebody I’ve never heard of before.

Ah, the thrill of discovery!

Do you remember learning how to read? I don’t.

Do you recall learning how to write? Nope again for me. (I’m not talking about learning to print or write cursive, but stringing words together into coherent sentences and paragraphs.)

And I sure as heck can’t explain the process that leads me — or any writer — from the smallest kernel of an idea to a finished manuscript. (Okay, a whole lot of hard work, but that’s not what I mean.)

You know what? I don’t want to know, either. Furthermore, I have no intentions of trying to explain it to myself or anyone else. (My gut instincts tell me I couldn’t even if I wanted to.)



I have reached a conclusion here at the end of this mid-week mid-June blog, folks. To my way of thinking there should be more mystery in the world, not less. More enjoyment, less critiquing. More fantasy, less reality. More wonder, fewer explanations. But that's just me.

Of course, Inquiring Minds want to know: Are you intrigued by the unknown or does it bother you? What is a source of wonder/awe for you?

Happy Musings!

EG