The Reason Why Scientists Need Poetry
Scientists need to read poetry in order to retain their humanity.
There is something morbid and horrific about endless amounts of computations, algorithms, procedures, equations, formulas, and numbers. It's not natural, it's robotic. People aren't meant to be confined in a lab or an office crunching numbers and formulating theorems the entire day. However, many of us do it, and we enjoy it. Even so, everything must be done in moderation. Especially the work of the devil.
At least once per day, the mathematician researching the Reimann hypothesis should take a break and read about the traveler and the road not taken.
We weren't born counting numbers, we were born making wild sounds and incoherent noises, enjoying the splendor of life and all of its great gifts. However, as we grew older, we were introduced to science and all of its wonders. We learned about the stars, the sun, the moon, and the different planets in our solar system. Soon, we get lost in the wonder and expansiveness of the universe. Some of us became so fascinated with the subject, that we decided to study it for the rest of our lives.
Twice a day, or maybe more, the astronomer studying Messier 81 should sit down and read about the melody that's sweetly played in tune.
Some of us spend our time creating machines that do work for us, yet we end up putting in more time in their creation then they end up performing their task. Soon after one of us builds a machine, some other scientist builds another, and another, and another, and another... Until all of our combined hours of effort add up to more than any breathing thing will ever realize in its lifetime.
Three times a day, or maybe less, the engineer designing the next android should lay down in the grass and read about the visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door.
Many of us aspire to be the looming figure in the bright lights when a person in crisis is in need of immediate assistance, however many more hope to be the one to prevent that diseased person from having to be in the hospital in the first place. So, we put our eyes into long tubes and examine items smaller than what God intended for us to see, and we devote our ever-shrinking time to such tedious tasks in the hopes that what we do as individuals will save the whole.
Four times a day, no more and no less, the epidemiologist analyzing Lyme disease should read about life being fine, fine as wine.
A few of us, however, break away from the mold. Some of us, hidden under the shadows and missed in the corner, release the fruit of life on to paper with pen. We write, we create, we inspire. We do the noble work required to keep those interested in science afloat.
At least one hundred times a day, the poet must write, and the poet must share what they've written. Because soon, the mathematician will fight with Frost, the astronomer will become bored with Burns, the engineer will say no to Poe, and the epidemiologist will no longer be amused by Hughes. Soon, these scientists will be in need of more life blood, more of the connection to humanity that allows them to continue to do their unnatural work. Without it, they'll lose themselves in the blur of digits, in the immensity of space, in the shock of circuits, and in the slenderness of cells. It is the poet's duty to be that source of life, to be that pillar for humanity, to be that guardian of nature. The scientists of today have the poets of yesterday to rely on, but the scientists of tomorrow will be in need of the poets of today.
And, at most once a day, in order to maintain balance, the poet and the scientist should read, in unison, about raging against the dying of the light.
There is something morbid and horrific about endless amounts of computations, algorithms, procedures, equations, formulas, and numbers. It's not natural, it's robotic. People aren't meant to be confined in a lab or an office crunching numbers and formulating theorems the entire day. However, many of us do it, and we enjoy it. Even so, everything must be done in moderation. Especially the work of the devil.
At least once per day, the mathematician researching the Reimann hypothesis should take a break and read about the traveler and the road not taken.
We weren't born counting numbers, we were born making wild sounds and incoherent noises, enjoying the splendor of life and all of its great gifts. However, as we grew older, we were introduced to science and all of its wonders. We learned about the stars, the sun, the moon, and the different planets in our solar system. Soon, we get lost in the wonder and expansiveness of the universe. Some of us became so fascinated with the subject, that we decided to study it for the rest of our lives.
Twice a day, or maybe more, the astronomer studying Messier 81 should sit down and read about the melody that's sweetly played in tune.
Some of us spend our time creating machines that do work for us, yet we end up putting in more time in their creation then they end up performing their task. Soon after one of us builds a machine, some other scientist builds another, and another, and another, and another... Until all of our combined hours of effort add up to more than any breathing thing will ever realize in its lifetime.
Three times a day, or maybe less, the engineer designing the next android should lay down in the grass and read about the visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door.
Many of us aspire to be the looming figure in the bright lights when a person in crisis is in need of immediate assistance, however many more hope to be the one to prevent that diseased person from having to be in the hospital in the first place. So, we put our eyes into long tubes and examine items smaller than what God intended for us to see, and we devote our ever-shrinking time to such tedious tasks in the hopes that what we do as individuals will save the whole.
Four times a day, no more and no less, the epidemiologist analyzing Lyme disease should read about life being fine, fine as wine.
A few of us, however, break away from the mold. Some of us, hidden under the shadows and missed in the corner, release the fruit of life on to paper with pen. We write, we create, we inspire. We do the noble work required to keep those interested in science afloat.
At least one hundred times a day, the poet must write, and the poet must share what they've written. Because soon, the mathematician will fight with Frost, the astronomer will become bored with Burns, the engineer will say no to Poe, and the epidemiologist will no longer be amused by Hughes. Soon, these scientists will be in need of more life blood, more of the connection to humanity that allows them to continue to do their unnatural work. Without it, they'll lose themselves in the blur of digits, in the immensity of space, in the shock of circuits, and in the slenderness of cells. It is the poet's duty to be that source of life, to be that pillar for humanity, to be that guardian of nature. The scientists of today have the poets of yesterday to rely on, but the scientists of tomorrow will be in need of the poets of today.
And, at most once a day, in order to maintain balance, the poet and the scientist should read, in unison, about raging against the dying of the light.
Krishna, this is absolutely amazing! I love how you played with the numbers and the whole "at least once a day" phrases. Also, the way you brought in the idea of how much we need poets today took me by surprise, and I loved it. How poets need to write "at least a hundred times of day," has such a unique feeling, because it's not quite demanding but it's also not just any statement.
ReplyDeleteI love your strong and clearly worded opening sentence. The insights you share here are compelling. Your various allusions to poems add a lot of color to this post, as does word play like "fight with Frost...become bored with Burns...say no to Poe...no longer be amused by Hughes." Nice work!
ReplyDelete