(Warning: verbal mess written in a very pensive mood ahead)
Science, or equivalently, human experience, is like the tiny radius of a searchlight.
A searchlight is a small ball of information in an enormous ocean of ignorance. Without that searchlight, the whole of humanity is blind. With that searchlight, the eyes of mankind are, to an extremely negligible extent, open.
Unfortunately, they are also cognizant to the fact that whatever it is that they might be seeing could be contradictory to what is currently hidden, unviewed by that precious light. It is natural to dread that which transpires whenever the searchlight travels to a different spot in the endless universe.
I quiver at the thought of merely finding out that what was hitherto discovered is now contradicted – and this terrible experience iterates indefinitely.
The majority of our species indulges in ignorance, perhaps, among other reasons, for it is gratifying to dwell in comfortable ignorance instead of the endless dread that whatever it is that we discover, and place our trust in, is now wrong.
The searchlights of reason add odds and pieces to our collective knowledge, which is never, and I predict, will never, be complete.
But it is all we have in an incomprehensibly gargantuan universe, full of darkness, and, regrettably, it is all we’ve got.
The world is divided amongst those who are too afraid to probe it with our pathetic human spectacles,
and those who will dare endure that disgusting, insufferable, endlessly alluring temptation to try to fathom it against all odds.
The searchlights are infinitesimally small, and nonetheless, for me, at least,
they are the only reason I get up in the morning.
Remove mystery from my life, and I vow that life will mean nothing to me.