Skip to main content

Mystery


Philosopher Gabriel Marcel drew an interesting distinction between problem and mystery.  Problems have solutions, he said, while mysteries are to be enjoyed unsolved.  “Life is not a problem to be solved but a mystery to be lived” is an aphorism attributed to Marcel. 

Too many things lie beyond our capacity for solutions.  The earthquakes and the cyclones belong to the nonhuman side of the universe, beyond human control.  When the variegated colours and sounds of nature enchant us we are immersing ourselves in the mystery of the same nonhuman universe. 

The universe does not comprehend the difference between the shifting of the tectonic plates and the warbling of the nightingale, between a shipwreck and a swan’s neck. 

The heavens are indifferent whether lightning strikes down the greatest monument or Beethoven composes the sweetest symphony.  The sense of wonder or despair belongs to the human consciousness.  The heavens are above and beyond the need for wonder as well as despair.  We don’t like that indifference.  Our hearts long to feel emotions such as love and hatred, wonder and despair.  That’s why we need a god (or many gods) in the heavens.  To mitigate the inhuman indifference of the heavens.  To be our alter egos up there in the emptiness, the scary emptiness, the emptiness that stares into our hearts. 

The emptiness and the indifference of the heavens is the mystery that we have to live.  Instead we fill that emptiness with mumbo jumbo offered to gods with our own shapes.



Comments

  1. A while ago, I had an argument with someone who said everything can be explained and anything that cannot be explained does not exist or is unreal. Of course, after giving up on trying to make the person understand that not everything "needs" to be explained, I went and did what every blogger would do - I wrote a poem about the incident! ;)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. The ability to stand in doubt and wonder, to experience the awe, is not given to all, I think. Most people need to explain everything, even the mystery! No use of arguing with such people. They can at best impose a religion on you but won't ever understand the meaning of even that religion!

      Delete
  2. One of the greatest geniuses of our times, believed to have had the highest IQ said:
    "The more I know the more I come to know that I don't know!"
    (...and we dim wits think we know!!)
    The Mystery is something to be experienced and enjoyed rather than attempted to be explained, for it is beyond words.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. The more we know the wider our perception becomes thus opening up wider areas before us... then we realise there's a lot more that we had not noticed earlier... Small minds need to compartmentalise everything!

      Delete
  3. Things are some times simpler when we don't know. They are lived better n peacefully. In urge to know everything we somewhere disown the beauty of mystery and unexpectedness... Sometimes ignorance is bliss and sometimes having a God(s) is a strength to walk and enjoy an unseen passage and to live a negative phase with a ray of hope! Like said before not everything needs to be explained, something's are to be left untouched...

    ReplyDelete
  4. Such profound words, Matheikal :) "In the sky there is no distinction of east and west; people create the distinctions out of their own minds and then believe them to be true.”

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yes, Roohi, eternity has no measurements. Nor has infinity. We, human beings, need to limit them within structures. And then some of us fight in the name of those structures we imposed.

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Pranita a perverted genius

Bulldozer begins its work at Sawan Pranita was a perverted genius. She had Machiavelli’s brain, Octavian’s relentlessness, and Levin’s intellectual calibre. She could have worked wonders if she wanted. She could have created a beautiful world around her. She had the potential. Yet she chose to be a ruthless exterminator. She came to Sawan Public School just to kill it. A religious cult called Radha Soami Satsang Beas [RSSB] had taken over the school from its owner who had never visited the school for over 20 years. This owner, a prominent entrepreneur with a gargantuan ego, had come to the conclusion that the morality of the school’s staff was deviating from the wavelengths determined by him. Moreover, his one foot was inching towards the grave. I was also told that there were some domestic noises which were grating against his patriarchal sensibilities. One holy solution for all these was to hand over the school and its enormous campus (nearly 20 acres of land on the outskirts

Machiavelli the Reverend

Let us go today , you and I, through certain miasmic streets. Nothing will be quite clear along our way because this journey is through some delusions and illusions. You will meet people wearing holy robes and talking about morality and virtues. Some of them will claim to be god’s men and some will make taller claims. Some of them are just amorphous. Invisible. But omnipotent. You can feel their power around you. On you. Oppressing you. Stifling you. Reverend Machiavelli is one such oppressive power. You will meet Franz Kafka somewhere along the way. Joseph K’s ghost will pass by. Remember Joseph K who was arrested one fine morning for a crime that nobody knew anything about? Neither Joseph nor the men who arrest him know why Joseph K is arrested. The power that keeps Joseph K under arrest is invisible. He cannot get answers to his valid questions from the visible agents of that power. He cannot explain himself to that power. Finally, he is taken to a quarry outside the town wher

Levin the good shepherd

AI-generated image The lost sheep and its redeemer form a pet motif in Christianity. Jesus portrayed himself as a good shepherd many times. He said that the good shepherd will leave his 99 sheep in order to bring the lost sheep back to the fold. When he finds the lost sheep, the shepherd is happier about that one sheep than about the 99, Jesus claimed. He was speaking metaphorically. The lost sheep is the sinner in Jesus’ parable. Sin is a departure from the ‘right’ way. Angels raise a toast in heaven whenever a sinner returns to the ‘right’ path [Luke 15:10]. A lot of Catholic priests I know carry some sort of a Redeemer complex in their souls. They love the sinner so much that they cannot rest until they make the angels of God run for their cups of joy. I have also been fortunate to have one such priest-friend whom I shall call Levin in this post. He has befriended me right from the year 1976 when I was a blundering adolescent and he was just one year older than me. He possesse

Kailasnath the Paradox

AI-generated illustration It wasn’t easy to discern whether he was a friend or merely an amused onlooker. He was my colleague at the college, though from another department. When my life had entered a slippery slope because of certain unresolved psychological problems, he didn’t choose to shun me as most others did. However, when he did condescend to join me in the college canteen sipping tea and smoking a cigarette, I wasn’t ever sure whether he was befriending me or mocking me. Kailasnath was a bundle of paradoxes. He appeared to be an alpha male, so self-assured and lord of all that he surveyed. Yet if you cared to observe deeply, you would find too many chinks in his armour. Beneath all those domineering words and gestures lay ample signs of frailty. The tall, elegantly slim and precisely erect stature would draw anyone’s attention quickly. Kailasnath was always attractively dressed though never unduly stylish. Everything about him exuded an air of chic confidence. But the wa

Nakulan the Outcast

Nakulan was one of the many tenants of Hevendrea . A professor in the botany department of the North Eastern Hill University, he was a very lovable person. Some sense of inferiority complex that came from his caste status made him scoff the very idea of his lovability. He lived with his wife and three children in one of Heavendrea’s many cottages. When he wanted to have a drink, he would walk over to my hut. We sipped our whiskies and discussed Shillong’s intriguing politics or something of the sort while my cassette player crooned gently in the background. Nakulan was more than ten years my senior by age. He taught a subject which had never aroused my interest at any stage of my life. It made no difference to me whether a leaf was pinnately compound or palmately compound. You don’t need to know about anther and stigma in order to understand a flower. My friend Levin would have ascribed my lack of interest in Nakulan’s subject to my egomania. I always thought that Nakulan lived