The thing about life is this:  there is so much to learn and so much to see that we cannot possibly get to it all. 

Instead, fairly early on, we’re taught to focus.  We learn, slowly at first, that we can’t possibly understand all life has to offer, and we narrow our path.  We decide what interests us and we move in that direction, eventually forgetting about the rest of it, the things outside of our bubble, the life we create.

Sometimes, though, something slides into our peripheral vision; maybe it enters our self-imposed bubble, maybe it doesn’t.  But we recognize it.  We remember, for a time, that there are other things, real things, out there in the world that we don’t spend any time understanding.

Think about it this way:  How many times have you heard about the Theory of Relativity.  A lot of times, right?  And you know that the brilliant Mr. Einstein had something to do with this theory.  But do you understand it?  Do you know how it applies to time and space and our understanding of those things?  Do you remember that it superseded Newton’s idea of time and that part of the theory is that time is not uniform or absolute?  I didn’t remember that at all.

As you must suspect, these are not the sorts of theories I on which I regularly ruminate.  I think about education theories and parenting theories; I think about travel and friendship and family.  I think about words and their roots and how we use them.  I think about life and choices, about women and work, about society and class structure, about race, religion, and whether we will ever see peace on earth.  But time and space?  Not so much.

Still, when these sorts of ideas enter the stratosphere of my incredibly small life, I move towards them.  I like thinking about ideas that are outside the scope of my usual life.  To this end, several years ago, I bought two books by Joy Hakim that fascinate me:

The Story of Science: Aristotle Leads the Way (Smithsonian Books, 2004) and

The Story of Science: Newton at the Center (Smithsonian Books, 2005).

I’ve read and re-read parts of these books a hundred times, and I still find them fascinating.  I love how Ms. Hakim weaves history and science together, taking facts I learned here and there, in different classrooms, and creates a cohesive story.

Still, I’m not a scientist.  I don’t plan to start writing extensively about Copernicus or Galileo.  But I like the idea that I could.  I could study science or write about it.  Or I could choose something else; there’s a whole world of ideas and theories that don’t inhabit my current space.   I like thinking about everything else that’s out there; I like thinking about the lives of the people into whom these ideas fall.  I like to think about how what each of us chooses to focus on impacts first our lives, then the lives of those around us, and finally the world at large in subtle and grand ways that we may never realize. 

Those are the kinds of things I ruminate about.  Ah, summer.