Barking at the Moon

Spiritual Seeking in the Age of Science


Why Do I Have To Choose?

Podcast

Is there a place in my mind where the spiritual and the scientific can actually live in harmony?


For the past three decades I've made a living as a software developer, writing everything from air traffic control to websites. I've also suffered from a lifelong addiction to playing, writing and recording music. Between the studio, podcasts, videos and writing the occasional book, even my creative pastimes are surrounded by technology. It would be difficult to find a room in my home that doesn't have at least one computer purring quietly in the background.

In ways that are too obvious for me to ignore even before my first cup of coffee, it's clear that almost every aspect of my life is powered by science. And I'm perfectly content with that, even if my computers don't always agree with what I ask them to do. Science has been good to me.

If I was just a professional geek and nothing more, life would be simple. However, we're each influenced by the social trends that are prevalent as we come of age, so at heart I'm still a long-haired hippie from the 70s. That would certainly explain my record collection. Consequently, I grew up at a time when spiritual seeking was the popular thing to do, and I embraced it with all the hope and enthusiasm of youth.

A lot of my contemporaries let that fade into the background as their lives became focused on jobs and raising a family, because that's what grown-ups are supposed to do. Or so I've been told. I still haven't figured out this whole growing up thing yet. Perhaps that's why I've never been able to stop asking the kinds of questions that don't have tidy and well-defined answers.

Why are we here? What happens when we die? Is there more to this business of living than meets the eye, some greater power or purpose that lies just beneath the surface? If I work hard enough, can I learn how to levitate a spaceship out of a swamp?

Science has an obvious and emphatic answer to all of this. If you can't prove it, it doesn't exist. A cornerstone of the scientific method is the ability for others to reproduce your results. One person makes a claim and demonstrates that it's true. Others are able to take those same steps and come up with identical results. In this manner, step by step, humanity has been able to create ever more complex creations that move society forward. I'm writing these very words on a laptop that is the end result of a long chain of scientific discoveries. My computer clearly exists. The afterlife, not so much, at least as far as science is concerned.

And so, we argue. Scientists and philosophers rarely get invited to the same party for this very reason. At the heart of this disagreement is a fundamental assumption that guarantees eternal conflict. Both sides insist that only one of them can be right. Therefore, science denies spirituality, who in turn denies science. Like a father who's asked which child he loves the most, I'm supposed to choose. I have a problem with that.

The logical part of my brain simply can't wrap itself around the thought of science being anything other than obvious, tangible and real. At the same time, I have difficulty dismissing as mere fantasy anything that isn't provable. After all, when I'm working on my laptop and save a file to a computer downstairs, I am invoking invisible forces to do my bidding. Sure, it's just a wireless network connection, but a thousand years ago that would have been nothing short of magic, even though radio waves existed all along. How, then, do I know that the invisible forces embraced by spiritual seekers don't exist as well, and merely await discovery by the people who wear long white lab coats? Simply put, I don't.

Spirituality isn't going to help me debug the problem when my Internet connected toaster insists on burning the bagels and then taunting me by posting pictures on social media. Science isn't going to help me understand what happens when I die, which could happen sooner rather than later if the toaster gets hold of the main circuit breaker.

I've devoted my entire life to the search for deeper meaning and our place in the universe. I can't just pretend that those questions aren't worthwhile because no one can prove the answers on a whiteboard. And so, I search, and I argue with Internet connected toasters.

I believe there's more to all of this. To be sure, belief is not the same as knowing, but it's often what initiates a journey of discovery. I wouldn't bother getting up off the couch if I didn't think there was something to be found on the other end of the adventure.

Maybe there is an afterlife. Maybe there's a purpose to the human experience. Maybe, like the mystical warriors of science fiction, I can even learn to levitate a spaceship. Or maybe I'm just barking mad, an ancient holdout from the days of peace and love who doesn't know any better than to believe in what's clearly nothing more than superstition and magic. The smart money's on crazy, but these questions won't leave me alone whether I like it or not, so I may as well enjoy the ride.

Usually the people who engage in these discussions are eager to convert you to their way of thinking, be it the specific religion that a person believes in or the abandonment of spirituality altogether. Their way is right, your way is wrong, and the sooner you accept that, the sooner the conversation can come to its logical conclusion.

However, I don't subscribe to any particular religion or belief system. I've explored many of them over the years and have found much insight and inspiration along the way, but I've never encountered a path that was the keeper of the truth to the exclusion of all others. The same holds true for science, which pays my bills but tends to quickly leave the room whenever I ask about the meaning of existence.

You might think that after decades of pondering these things I'd have found at least a few answers, but they're an elusive breed who don't seem to play by the rules. The moment I break through the clouds and reach the peak of a mountain, I realize that there's an even taller mountain above it that had been hiding all along. The answers laugh gleefully and scamper out of sight up the new mountain. Sometimes they leave cookies.

Consequently, I don't have a religion to offer or one to invalidate, no truth that I feel compelled to force on you. I'm just following the path wherever it leads me, and the thought occurred to me that there might be others who would enjoy coming along for the ride. It's a lot more “what if” than “therefore,” but if that sounds like your idea of a good time you're welcome to join me, even if it's just to laugh as I trip over my own feet. That happens more often than I'd care to admit.

Now more than ever before we're confronted with the tiny place humanity occupies in the universe. We routinely see pictures from our rovers of the sun setting on Mars. Not the bright and blazing ball of fire that we experience here, but rather a small and distant light sinking into the horizon of the red planet. Earth, home to everyone and everything that's ever mattered to us, is too tiny to even be noticed by the robot as it looks up into the night sky. And that's from our nearest planetary neighbor, in a galaxy with billions of stars, itself quite tiny in a universe with billions of galaxies. We humans once saw ourselves as the center of the universe, all that mattered. Now we wonder if we matter at all.

Even so, without ever stepping foot off the planet, Earth is still a pretty big place for a guy my size. It's filled with natural forces that dwarf me and a thousand questions that I still can't begin to answer. I've also experienced many strange things over the years that my logical mind simply can't explain, leading me to question both myself and my reality. It might be better for my sanity to shrug my shoulders and just move on, but that's not how I'm wired. Explorers once sailed the oceans and drew maps until the entire world was known. To me it feels like there's another vast hidden realm just begging for that same exploration, if only I could find a ship to get me there. And so, my search continues.

Is there a purpose for humanity in the universe, or at least within the context of our planet? Are there larger forces at play in our lives, whether sentient or natural? Is there a place where the spiritual and the scientific can actually live in harmony, two sides of the same coin? Or am I just barking at the moon?

Read more from Barking at the Moon
We use cookies to make the site work. We don't share your data.