Of Science vs Magic and tribal encounters
There is a saying that states, “find your tribe, and love them hard.” If they make me think deeply, raise my spirit and make me laugh, they are my kind of people. I do not take for granted each of our encounters. This was a weekend full of beautiful get-togethers. Last night, our very diverse “tribe” got together for our annual Christmas celebration. I won’t deny that a few Tito’s and homemade coquitos later, we had lots of fun. I know it because my eyes started crying the way they do when I am laughing hard. In this particular group are doctors, lawyers, artists, agnostics, religious followers, and low-key “witches,” which helps transform every conversation into a diverse ground of interesting ideas and points of view. In a split second, the conversation turned from rules for our gift exchange to a deep topic: Science vs. Magic.
Being raised in a house by doctors, researchers, and a self-taught computer coder, science was discussed regularly. However, my parents could discuss medical findings during Sunday lunch with the same passion that they shared holistic techniques and the power of believing in the extraordinary. That was a perfect ground to allow my analytical brain to reconcile with my highly intuitive, artistic soul. In other words, growing up we never had to favor one above the other, something I am beyond grateful for.
When the conversation was raised last night, the researcher part of my brain was called on duty. I wanted to hear what my friends had to say about the science versus magic dichotomy. How can we reconcile both concepts? Is there even a reconciliation possible, or are they both exclusive? Can you believe in facts and magic at the same time?
Wanting to prove facts is such a big and undeniable part of our human condition. We always need validation, answers, proven points and theories that prove themselves right repeatedly. Lately, I have discovered that that is one of the reasons why I write because I like finding answers. In order to do that I need to prove that a theory can be applied to other areas of our lives different than what originated the thought. For example, the importance of flexibility I learned in Yoga needs to translate to the importance of flexibility in relationships, in job hunting and goal setting to name a few. When the theory can be applied to other areas, I accept it as a valuable thought. Artists use a “scientific method” after all (as well as math in case you don’t know).
“Magic’s just science that we don’t understand yet.”
— Arthur C. Clarke, science fiction writer and author of the 1968 film 2001: A Space Odyssey.
Even the most prolific scientists in history have developed theories that, although debunked, ignorance from their generation can later be refuted by other researchers. Which proves that even the most absolute science theories may have an expiration date. Then there have been people like Galileo who uncovered scientific truths precociously, being ridiculed by their peers at the time and even imprisoned, only to have been proven right by history.
Although I concede that many people approach their life from a more rational, proven-fact, scientific brain, I have to admit that, in my case, magic has always seemed much more attractive. Magic in the things we can’t explain and still seem very real, as in there is a whole world of possibilities that may make more sense in the future; as something I can’t understand today, but maybe in the future, I will.
Seeing the stars, for example, has always been a very magical act for me. I know humans have uncovered many facts about them, where they come from, how far they are, and how they are organized in the galaxy. It does not matter how many scientific explanations there are for what a star is; looking up and seeing all those twinkling lights night after night, regardless of where I go and the time of the year, is truly magical. How can a heart be lifted by looking at a starry night? I don’t know.
Experiencing the miracle of life, of a tiny being facing all odds to breathe for the first time. There is no doubt that we know how babies are made, and still, what can beat the magic of seeing how a second of love and passion can create something as perfect as a tiny human being?
And what is a greatest magic than love? No science can ever explain the extent of our hearts, how someone makes us feel, the connections, and the energy between humans. That is the reason why people have engaged in great quests, in legendary pursuits, sometimes without even knowing if their love is reciprocated, without having the slightest proof that they will win someone’s heart and affection. Scientific studies have proven how actual chemistry is the base for our connections. Not to be judgy, but if your scientific career is devoted to explaining love, close the books for a while and just fall in love. Nothing provides more certainty than a loving heart.
Magic is the greatest promise that something we cannot understand today can be a possibility in the future. Isn’t that how every scientific theory is born? It is like taking a math test. Sometimes teachers want to see how a student developed an equation. But what if the student only presents the correct answers without any reasoning behind them? Does that make him or her wrong?
Magic is a conquest that begins against all odds. This is the stuff that fuels dreamers. When all reasoning tells you “not,” but your soul screams “yes.” Magic makes us persevere. Thoughts as science theories can be rebuked eventually, but the magic that comes from the soul does not doubt.
Magic is believing that the world is filled with infinite possibilities. It accepts we don’t have all the answers. While the scientist raises questions, the magician gets comfortable in the notion of her limited knowledge because there is a whole world out there we don’t know and do not need to know to feel alive and happy.
But the line between science and magic can be so thin that sometimes we have a hard time defining where one starts and the other one ends. Regardless of the theory we favored, science and magic need careful observation; they force us to become explorers in great quests. Both can be humbling, make us wiser, and inspire us to be better versions of ourselves. While science makes us feel powerful, as in we have the knowledge we need, magic makes us feel powerless, as I cannot explain this that is so real. And that is where our brains and hearts meet. When we finally understand that there will be a thousand questions and an infinite number of answers and that the more we uncover, the less we know.
The beauty of it resides in the dialogue between the parts. It is the scientific part of my brain telling my magic-believing heart “you know nothing,” and the heart responding “you are right, and then nothing seems more real and beautiful than this.” That is the Eureka moment, to understand that even when we can’t prove all the answers, and even when we do, we can still lose ourselves in the welcoming arms of a magical existence until we become the tiny speck under a galaxy full of stars, sustained by wonderful connections and powerful tribes and theories that might be wrong, but may also be right.
“Scientists have calculated that the chances of something so patently absurd actually existing are millions to one.
But magicians have calculated that million-to-one chances crop up nine times out of ten.”