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and can say with certainty is that I was born and that I will die.
From my first breath I have struggled to understand the universe through the bits that I can see, feel, hear, and taste.
Using my senses, and the power of reason I have gone through my life trying to resolve the mysteries into prosaic fact, but I rub up against mystery every day, and sleep with mystery every night.
I believe that there is more mystery in the universe than I can wrap my mind around. And of that mystery I am in awe.
Everything else I think about the divine and the universe is speculation. I used to have faith that all would be revealed. As I get older, and closer to oblivion, I realize that my faith tells me now that I will never see it all, and that the divine pulses and twists through all that detail and apparent chaos.
But I will never see it clearly. I can only fingerpaint analogies of a scene more inspiring than the Sistine chapel, wilder than Dali, and more full of arabesque than the Alhambra. It is like trying to whistle a four voice fugue.
Even if the divine moves through me, I might sense it, but I would never know it. And of necessity, I make that my religion, and relegate the rest to faith. Ironically, the certainty that I will never know, makes my faith clearer and stronger.
The endless struggle for knowledge has made me appreciate my ignorance in a new way. Because in one hand is a pitifully small bit of certainty, and all else is faith.
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