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Magic vs. Science, Redux

It is all well and good to apply reason to business plans or a mode of education or a voyage to Italy. One must live in the world after all. But reason, when applied to the universe, to the wonders of nature, to the things hidden from our poor eyes that see not at all, but only what the Lord intended that they see – well, that becomes nonsense, doesn’t it? To say there are no ghosts because we cannot see them, cannot measure them, cannot weigh them upon scales nor note their reaction to heat in a flask – I hardly see the point of such a mode of inquiry. The world is full of wonders that cannot be measured. That is why they are wonders.

-David Liss, The Twelfth Enchantment

 After snow comes up, the wind blows it around so it looks like it’s coming down but actually it comes up out of the ground- like grass. It comes up, Charlie Brown, snow comes up!

-Lucy Van Pelt, “You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown”

It can be, in our society, a shameful thing to be both an intelligent person and a person who admits to having religious faith, or to have had a supernatural experience. Magic, paranormal experience and religious faith are far apart in the minds of those who believe in any of them, but I have a sneaking suspicion that to many in the scientific community they are all bundled up in the “wackadoodle” category of primitive, destructive, and unproductive belief systems. I have written about magic and science before, but sometimes the universe throws pebbles at my window until I wake up and take a look. It would seem, if one believes in synchronicity, that I am fairly compelled to revisit this issue.

First, my sister in law gave me a novel by David Liss in which magic is essential to the plot. Liss portrays an epic, early 19th century battle between Luddites and those advancing England’s Industrial Revolution, and the tension between scientific/industrial progress and the magic of the natural world is played out in fairly improbable, but fascinating ways .

As I read, I found myself weighing science and understanding against magic and mystery, and coming to a fairly comfortable resting place in which they could coexist. Without modern medicine, my parents, my son and my husband would not be alive. Without this computer, the internet, and a host of other science and engineering stuff I could not write this, and “post” it into the air to be read by people in Athabasca. I value the convection oven, air conditioning, topical steroids, digital downloads, and antibiotics. If I went through a day noting the ways in which I am better off because of science, I am certain that there would be hundreds of entries, beginning with the alarm on my iPhone.

I also believe firmly and unabashedly in magic, but more about that, in a moment.

The day after I finished reading Liss’s novel, I watched “CBS Sunday Morning,” which featured a story on charisma. The topic was addressed first in the context of Republican presidential candidates, and then moved on to charisma as a universal phenomenon. Towards the end of the story, the reporter visited a laboratory in which scientists had developed a device that measured one’s charisma. Worn around the neck, it resembled a squared-off flask. Apparently, charisma was measured based on how the wearer’s speech patterns and frequency of gesture compared to those of quantifiably “charismatic” folk. The mental détente between magic and science ended abruptly as I watched a bearded academic type explain his device. Charisma is magic, and I find the attempt to measure and explain it to be horrifying. I feel the same way about body language analysis, the use of pheromones in perfume, and magazine stories about the “ideal” male and female face. Leave a tender moment alone, and all that.

My brother points out that no wars have been caused by the irrational beliefs of scientists, and I’ll give him that. On the other hand, there are stones that may profitably be left unturned. I don’t want to know everything, and I don’t want every beautiful, mysterious, inexplicable thing in my world to be quantified. I see a strong case for researching causes and cures for diseases and figuring out how to keep the world moving without depending on fossil fuel. I admire, although I do not personally understand the drive and focus of people who will doggedly try again and again to figure out why a certain gene mutates in a certain way.

What I do not admire is the eye-rolling derision with which Persons of Science dismiss the reported experiences or beliefs of others because they are neither quantifiable nor reproducible. Presumably, the scientific community knows with certainty that there is no life after death because they have, themselves, been dead. They know, therefore, that there are no ghosts, there is no reincarnation, there is no heaven, there is nothing. All persons, religions and civilizations believing otherwise are, or were simply operating without benefit of modern science. There is no ESP, there is no magic, there is no God, and even the matters of charisma, romantic attraction and the love between a mother and a baby are governed by patterns, chemicals and neuropeptides. (Note: I am not really sure what neuropeptides are, but it sounded good). Why is it that we can believe that there are particles too small to be seen by the strongest microscope, but we cannot believe that our spirits persist in some form after the end of our corporeal existence? Why is one of those things “Science,” and the other “Bullshit?”

There are just things we don’t know, and maybe we’ll never know, and probably that’s okay. I will continue to believe that the uniqueness of snow flakes, and the webs of spiders are beyond rational explanation. I will continue to believe that my cat is communicating with some ancient spirits in this 100-year-old house when he stands on the post at the foot of the stairs, on his hind legs, waving his paws in the air. I will continue to respect anyone who believes in a higher power, whether they turn to the Bible, the Dhammapada or the leaves of an ancient Oak tree.

Because I don’t know different, or better, and neither does anyone else.


About imagineannie

I feel like I'm fifteen - does that count? I'm lots of things, I get paid to be the Managing Editor for a local news publication, and I love my job. I am also inordinately fond of reading, animals (I have four), elephants, owls, hedgehogs writing, tramping in the woods, cooking India, Ireland, England, avocado toast, Sherlock Holmes, Harry Potter, Little Women, Fun Home, Lumber Janes, Fangirl, magic, Neil Gaiman, Jane Austen, YA books, not YA books, classical music, Salinger (OMG SALINGER), Brahms, key lime pie, indie music, podcasts, sleeping in, road trips, marmalade, museums, bookstores, the Oxford comma, BBC, The Miss Fisher Mysteries, birdwatching, seashells, kombucha, and stickers. Not a huge fan of chewing gum, jazz, trucker hats or dystopian and/or post-apolcalyptic fiction (but I'll try anything).

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