What is it about secrets that's so appealing to us as human beings? Why do we need to keep repeating the cliche that "curiosity killed the cat." The Da Vinci code, a piece of pulp fiction, makes a bunch of farcical claims and millions of people take them for gospel. Hidden knowledge. Dark secrets. Ancient wisdom. The whisper, the temptation is power. To know a thing is to have a certain power over it. It becomes possible to manipulate it or predict how it will act. To know a thing is to flirt with a powerful illusion: the illusion of control. When we know more, when science has advanced, then, then we will have control; then we will be able to. We're like wizards in Ursula Le Guin's "Earthsea" thinking that if we know the true name of a thing then that gives us power over it. During the renaissance, we are told that science triumphed over magic and alchemy because science could produce quantifiable results. The more I consider the nature of the human heart, the less I believe that this is true. Our wizards don white labcoats and share their magiks not in antique grimoires but in quarterly periodicals. Strange Places.
What is it about secrets that's so appealing to us as human beings? Why do we need to keep repeating the cliche that "curiosity killed the cat." The Da Vinci code, a piece of pulp fiction, makes a bunch of farcical claims and millions of people take them for gospel. Hidden knowledge. Dark secrets. Ancient wisdom. The whisper, the temptation is power. To know a thing is to have a certain power over it. It becomes possible to manipulate it or predict how it will act. To know a thing is to flirt with a powerful illusion: the illusion of control. When we know more, when science has advanced, then, then we will have control; then we will be able to. We're like wizards in Ursula Le Guin's "Earthsea" thinking that if we know the true name of a thing then that gives us power over it. During the renaissance, we are told that science triumphed over magic and alchemy because science could produce quantifiable results. The more I consider the nature of the human heart, the less I believe that this is true. Our wizards don white labcoats and share their magiks not in antique grimoires but in quarterly periodicals. Strange Places.
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