Little Black Book
At the macro and micro levels, the universe presents as a smooth, impenetrable mystery. Without instruments, the sky is an innocent dome and the world in every grain of sand remains safely hidden from view.
Instruments give us purchase. Scientists run their hands along the casing of reality, looking for leverage points. When they find one, they wiggle an instrument in there and lean on it good. The carapace pops, and there is a whoosh of escaping air. Cautiously they peer inside, looking for the inevitable surprises.
I read that the scientists who jimmied the DNA box spooked a gaggle of wild RNA strands that scattered and ran giggling around the lab. These little delinquents refuse to make proteins like good RNAs should. What they like to do is meddle in the complex process of gene suppression.
They call them “Interfering RNAs”.
Beautiful.
It sounds more like a daycare center than a lab.
I can picture the lead scientist barking commands. "Stedman, round up every last one of those interfering little bastards, and find out what the hell they're up to."
The Universe. You gotta love her. Look up or down, she can't be found. She doesn’t like to give up her secrets. She’s seductive, sliding her lace along her legs. She’s a shameless flirt, winking in the night sky, getting the scientists all worked up.
A word of warning: you won’t even get to second base with this girl. She’s got the ultimate chaperone – the speed of light.
FYI, I hear the speed of light has a Scottish brogue.
"I dinnae care how big your telescope is, laddie. Put it back in your trousers. You can look nae further."
Some things are forever beyond our vision. We cannot see the present moment, for example. We have to wait on light, and the time lag gets downright inconvenient when looking across the galaxy.
Does anyone really believe that we will discover a unified theory? Doesn't that seem wildly hopeful, like high school boys trying to take off a bra?
A wonderful myth in Genesis tells the story of when the first humans were cast out of the Garden of Eden. God set Cherubim and a flaming sword east of Eden, guarding the way to the tree of life.
Forget those modern pictures of little baby angels. Cherubim will flat kick your ass, with or without flaming swords. They don’t have Scottish accents, but they make themselves understood.
You can go no further.
There’s a reason the bible is a little black book. It’s not pornography. It doesn’t rip the dress off lady creation and lay bare her secrets for panting adolescents.
This little black book is for people who want to play the seductive and secretive game of spirituality. It’s full of hints and tricks that sometimes work, but not always. There are phone numbers you can try on a lonely night. There are stories of people who were close to Truth, close enough to see the hem of her garment. Close enough to catch the glow of her face.
The bible presents reality not as a smooth casing to be leveraged and popped open. The bible presents reality as intimacy - as God incarnate.
Mystery.
Slip your finger under the strap and gently slide it off her shoulder. Check the little black book for a good opening line, and see how far you get with her tonight. Feel the warmth of this flesh. Moisten your lips for a kiss. This is the reality you have always longed for. This is the consummation of your deepest need. This is prayer.
Turn your head in the darkness and whisper your desire.
“Are you there? Do you love me?”
“Awake, north wind, and come, south wind! Blow on my garden, that its fragrance may spread abroad. Let my lover come into this garden and taste its choice fruits.”
Song of Songs 4:16
Click to read about Interfering RNA
11:42:52 PM 
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