The Mystery of Not Knowing

Celia - Beverly, Massachusetts
Entered on May 20, 2008
Age Group: Under 18
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Life is too short to know the answer to every algebra problem, and there are too many people in the world to know everyone’s name. And to me, this is a challenge.

For the last three years I have been studying French as a second language. I have learned the basics of passé compose, the rules of imparfait and present tense, and I have learned how to speak and sing. I look at French as something that I have just begun searching for. It is the beginning of a mystery. I have learned some, and by the time I grow up I will have understood and experienced even more. But the real question I ask myself is, will I ever know fully? I believe that life should not be completely known, neither should a religion or a language because it is pursuit that keeps life interesting.

The mystery behind life is what we don’t know. To me, not knowing is what keeps me wanting to learn, wanting to ask.

I have never understood or actually believed that there is a God. My family hardly ever talks about religion at home. We speak rarely of God or the Bible. The initial topic of God almost seems beyond our control. To me it is just another mystery. As much as I want to know if there is an actual God, I will never know, and this is okay with me, because I would never want to fully understand.

When I was six years old, I was best friends with a girl named Emma. We had sleepovers every Friday night, played house together, and had lemonade stands every Sunday. Emma was like an older sister to me, who sometimes told me too much.

Emma once told me that her house had been robbed twice in the last year. I remember being in her bedroom, shocked, wishing she hadn’t just told me. I was sleeping over her house that night, and I decided to go home in the middle of the sleepover because I was scared that her house would be robbed again. She told me every detail, including the fact that one of the robbers hadn’t been caught and put in prison yet.

Emma grew up in a family where dinner table talks revolved around harsh topics. Now looking back, I see that I really didn’t realize the affect of always knowing had on Emma. She was a young girl who had already found out about, sex, abuse, robbers, and topics that I still don’t understand fully. I respect Emma’s family’s way of bringing up children, but for myself I believe in the mystery behind not knowing, and the unanswered questions of our earth. Is it possible to cry underwater? Who is God? What is the hardest French word to pronounce? What is the real childhood of my parents? For it is the mysteries behind the unknown that keep our lives livable.