Here is part of the night sky, seen through a super duper telescope. I don’t know what this is. Actually, I don’t know what a lot of life is. Such as a human face …

Dr. Neil deGrasse Tyson is an astrophysicist. (I wonder what that really means.) He was being interviewed. It would be easy to assume that he could rightfully say some version of “I know things.” Or maybe not:

I’m baffled all the time. We don’t know what’s driving 96% of the universe. Everybody you know and love and heard of and think about and see in the night sky through a telescope: four percent of the universe.

Huh? Me, with my “reasonable” amount of intelligence, with I believe frequent out-of-the-box thinking, still have no access to most of what is?

(Eyes wide open)

In 1884 English schoolmaster Edwin Abbott Abbott wrote his novel Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions. Everybody lived in length and width, but not in height. Two dimensions, with the third not even conceivable.

Is it so with us?

Despite our richly textured lives, are there vast tracks of space over our horizon?

Spaces that these small words cannot touch?