Meaning

Year Of The DogThis week, I celebrated the completion of my 48th year on Planet Earth. I was born in 1958, which - according to the Chinese Zodiac - was The Year Of The Dog. Unlike our occidental zodiac of 12 months, the Chinese devised a 12-year cycle, each year denoted by a different animal. Individuals acquire the strengths and weaknesses attributed to the animal associated with their birth year - or so the theory goes. Therefore 1970, 1982, 1994 and 2006 are also Dog years. At 48, I'm celebrating my fourth full cycle and, on this occasion, I've been reflecting on the events of my life at each of the previous three cycles. So many changes - from boy to man, from one love to another, from school to professional career, from child to father - and yet so much good fortune along the way.

Last week, I spent some class time with the 6th Graders at Rolling Hills Country Day School (RHCDS). This time, I was asking the question, "Why does the moon change shape from night to night?" And from there, we launched into an exploration for an answer - into the motion of the Moon around the Earth, the effect of sunlight on both and an understanding that how the moons looks to us is really just about point of view. Judging by the questions and comments I received, I felt the lessons had been a success, that the students left the room with an understanding somewhat deeper than when they had arrived. In short, I was satisfied, but didn't think much more about it.

Today, however, I received an unexpected package when I came home from work - a manila envelope labelled Mr. Newton!!! - that could mean only one thing. I had to smile, for I knew instantly it contained notes from a host of 6th graders. I knew this because I've been blessed with similar packages in the past. The entire grade had written me thank-you notes for my lunar lesson. Some were simple words, some included elaborate drawings. Some made me laugh out loud, all thanked me for my time and effort, all warmed my heart.

The great science fiction author Frank Herbert once said:

One must pose a question before one can explore for its answer. Luckily, the pursuit of answers to known questions invariably leads to a multitude of new questions. Science is therefore self-sustaining. The pursuit of knowledge through scientific theorizing and experimentation guarantees an endless supply of new problems to solve. This may discourage some, in that every answered question leads to many more questions. However, this is discouraging only if one focuses upon the answers. I prefer to focus on the ever-unfolding questions, for the pursuit of knowledge is significantly more important than the attainment of it.

Fundamentalism is the theme of Parabola's Winter 2005 issue. In it, William Ventimiglia writes:

In the past 400 years, our secular ethic has greatly advanced human knowledge. Quite simply, it's the foundation upon which modern society has been built. However, at the dawn of the 21st century, we, the proponents of rational, scientific thought, find ourselves unmoored. It's as if we've rushed into a dark room unprepared. Sure, some lights have been lit along the way and some of the territories so illuminated have been explored. But in our head-long pursuit of knowledge, we've ignored the unknowable, the dark corners that will perhaps, by their very nature, remain forever so. We dismiss the numinous. We have come to reject mystery and myth - not just casually, but with contempt. We discount experiential truth.