Howell said:
The difference in my experience is that this helps me to understand the depths of God's love if I am so small in the grand scheme and yet still loved.
It is something a little like this for me too, Howell. I spend at least a little time every day, and quite often practically the entire waking day, trying to understand things: why is the sky blue, why does this species of plant only grow on the north side of the sand dunes, why does the hill over there still stand when all else around it has eroded away, why does the Square-tailed Kite have such huge and unweildy wings but occupy timbered country, why have the herbivorous marsupials prospered under human rule while the omnivores are in trouble and the carnivores are almost wiped out, why are rabbits so hard to eradicate, why is our sun so relatively stable and benign, why do viruses self-replicate .... on and on, I ask questions without end.
And sometimes I take that pitifully small amount of knowledge I have garnered about this trivially insignificant ball of semi-molten iron with impurities floating on the surface, and project it out into the stars. I am at once astonished that this little blob of wet protein - incredibly small and insignificant on a world scale, and that world scale is itself trivially insignificant compared even to Jupiter, never mind the galaxy and the galaxies beyond - can comprehend even a small part of the celestial scene laid out before me. How is it possible for such a small thing - maybe one billion billion billion billionth of the whole - to grasp any part of the great thing?
Truly, the universe is wonderful in its subtlety.
And
at the same time, I am struck dumb by the immensity of the task before me: how can I even
dream about trying to know or understand the universe? I see the knowledge that is in my head and compare it to the knowledge that one would need to take on the task of understanding properly, and see it as a very small thing indeed, too small to even describe or put a number on. So, in the effort to guage things better, I stop thinking about my own knowledge and expand my starting point to the accumulated knowledge of the entire world: of every philosopher, every scientist, every bird and plant and earthworm.
Even then, the difference between the knowledge that we hold (that's "we" as "all living creatures on this planet, past and future") and the knowledge that we need to understand is immense, unimaginably immense; perhaps in the same sort of order as the difference between a single virus and the endless forest that covered an entire planet back in Triassic times.
It is at this point that I feel the need to hold onto the soil with my hands so as not to float away into the infinite.