One of the hardest things we face in life as reasoning human beings is what to do with the things we don’t understand: when nothing seems to make sense; when we search for answers but find only more questions; when we yearn for light but walk in darkness.

We’ve all been there. And depending on the gravity and emotional import of the situation, we respond in many different ways. We may fear it, avoid it, fight it, agonize over it, rationalize it or flatly dismiss it, but rarely do we like it. And even more rarely do we embrace it.

Probably the hardest thing for many people to say—second only to “I’m sorry”—is, “I don’t know.” We are naturally curious. It’s in our genes…if it hasn’t been conditioned out of us.

We like knowing why things happen and we are very uncomfortable when we don’t have answers. If you’ve ever been on the receiving end of a child’s relentless succession of penetrating “whys,” you know exactly what I mean. We don’t like ambiguity.

When faced with something we don’t understand, our usual first response is to attempt to fit (or force) it into our existing mental framework. However, when it does not fit, we are presented with a momentous challenge.

Do we manipulate the circumstances and situation to fit our preconceived pattern and distort the experience, forcing it into our current knowledge and understanding, otherwise known as “thinking inside the box”? (I believe that even though we’ve all done this, no one truly wants to remain in this group. Those inexorably resolved to do so may stop reading, as the remainder of this article is not addressed to you.)

Or, do we allow it to stretch, expand and broaden us, opening us up and taking us to depths we never imagined? Admittedly, the latter is not an easy option and often requires help and not a little patience from those closest to us, those we can fully trust, as this is, indeed, a very vulnerable place.

I believe here, in the dark, is where life’s greatest lessons are learned. Real growth can occur here…unless we fight it. We are never more receptive—more eager to learn, more open to other possibilities—than when we are seeking, searching, groping in the dark.

Many things in life have no easy answers and some questions plague us for years. I don’t know why you lost your mum in a car accident. And I still don’t know why my dad died before his time, or why my best friend, who was a brilliant musician, found out he had Lou Gehrig’s disease—a vicious and terminal disease—on the eve of our going on the road to tour the fabulous album we’d just recorded.

We need not restrict our focus to the tragic, as there is, indeed, much in life that eludes explanation. But, questions like this can tempt us to become obsessed or mired in apathy. Either extreme has the same result: we disengage from life. And if it keeps us from living our lives, the tragedy becomes bigger. We become the dead among the living.

I don’t believe the oft-cited platitude, that threadbare catchall that people say when they don’t know what to say, that everything happens for a reason. This belief starts us obsessing to know why. Sometimes there is a reason (maybe most of the time), but sometimes things just happen. We live in a world of profound mystery and wonder. And though science may be the new religion of many, it simply cannot answer everything. It never will.

I heard someone say recently, “Science goes only so far, then comes God.” Some things will remain in the realm of the imponderable, at least this side of eternity. Yet that does not mean that we should stop looking for answers. It may mean adjusting where we look or changing the way we look, but a curious mind is a wonderful thing. If we don’t look, we don’t find. We will not know all the answers but we can know many.

Great answers require great questions…and often great patience. If the answers don’t come when or how we expect them to, it doesn’t mean there aren’t any. Maybe we’re not yet ready to know. Maybe the answer is too high for our mortal minds to comprehend.

Some knowledge is predicated on other knowledge to be properly understood. Perhaps, like missing pieces to a puzzle, when we learn the prerequisite knowledge, our current perplexity will suddenly vanish and the answer will come into clear view.

We often don’t see the big picture, and we can become so preoccupied with one tree that we miss the forest all around us. Don’t stop asking, but don’t stop living either.

Maybe there’s a very good reason we don’t know right now. We are surrounded by mystery. You are a mystery but others can appreciate and love what they know. Keep asking, keep seeking, keep searching…and keep living. Be open. You may be surprised what you can learn in the dark. You may be surprised at the light you find there.

I welcome your comments. autumn.nights.forever@gmail.com