Wonder Full

Sacks, Leakey, and Lewin all have lessons to teach us in this week’s readings, not to mention nostalgic childhood perspectives to lend us.  Although Sacks’ story doubles as a science lesson as well as a life lesson, the Leakey/Lewin story provides an inside look into the passion that propels excavation and ancient discovery.    From enigmatic unveilers of our ancestry, to eccentric inspirers of chemistry, the common theme is unconditional admiration for the universe in both Origins Reconsidered and Uncle Tungsten.

             The narrator of each story idolizes someone who was inspirational and instrumental in getting them interested (or further along) in their current field of study.  Sacks displays his idolization for his uncle as childlike wonder, never questioning, and more importantly never tiring, since not all young boys would take an interest to their peculiar uncle’s metal ravings.  Uncle Dave is the most ideal mentor a kid could have, someone who is genuinely in awe with their day-to-day work.  All knowledge should be inherently fascinating, because it’s the literal acquisition of something that was previously unknown.  Unfortunately, conveying that knowledge is an art in itself, and all too often is the knowledge lost in delivery.  However, when a special teacher like Uncle Dave comes along, knowledge piles itself into the mind almost without permission, because this isn’t just learning, this is doing.  Consequently, knowledge attained in this manner tends to stick—for life.  And why shouldn’t it?  When we recall pleasurable experiences, it feels more like reliving that moment instead of mere remembrance.  Sacks gets to relive his childhood hands-on knowledge about various metals at any point in his now adult chemist career, instead of looking up his old college chemistry notes.  Far more effective and less time consuming I’m sure, plus with each recollection Sacks gets a little sip of the magic that he first felt when his eyes were opened to the world of chemistry.  The lesson in this story is if you truly love what you’re doing, others are bound to be infected by your own sense of wonder and admiration, and this can set a domino effect of knowledge into motion.

            In Origins Reconsidered, the idolization from the narrator is peer to peer.  However, that doesn’t detract from the feeling of youthful awe that the Sacks piece echoed. Leakey’s co-worker, Kamoya Kimeu, is described as the absolute fossil finding guru.  His talents are described as “legendary” (191) and seem to exceed human ability.  To sharpen that image even further, Kamoya is portrayed (at least in this short excerpt) as a man of few words, with a mind reserved only for treasures in the earth.  As the reader, I’m imagining a very spiritual dude who is literally in touch with the earth, to the point that she’ll whisper her secrets to him and him alone.  Now obviously that’s my imagination’s interpretation, but even so, the makeup of this enigmatic character lends an equal sense of mystery to the story as a whole.  This raises an interesting challenge for me as a writer that I had never considered for science writing.  Perhaps when the story by itself is only awe inspiring for its author, adding in characters (in our case, scientists/researchers/professors) that embody that sense of awe can ultimately contribute to relating awesome elements to the reader.  This story should have already been awesome standalone with just the facts and discoveries, but the fact is that without the human element the story would fall short of entertainment.  The lesson in this story lies outside the text for me, which is that when your work comes across as less than fantastic, take a step back and rediscover why you found it to be fantastic in the first place.  Maybe it’s the place or people surrounding the topic, or a particular way it was introduced to you.  Chances are if you can remind and re-inspire yourself, you can inspire your readers too.