I like to sit and watch the fire. I enjoy the crackling and popping of wood, and the ever-changing dance of flames. What are those flames, exactly? Nothing solid, for sure--just light, heat, energy. But why do they have such shapes?
         What human, gifted with eyesight, has not watched in wonder at the dancing of flames? And who has not gazed up in contemplation at the stars, the moon? Scientific knowledge of stupendous stellar distance and magnitude doesn’t eliminate the need for wonder, but increases it. A scientist without a sense of wonder is as ludicrous as a poet without words, and much more dangerous.
         Gazing in wonder at the flames and the stars ties us all together, and indulging that sense of wonder might help breed more compassion and understanding--qualities too often in short supply.
         Science reveals that the fire in my woodstove involves chains of carbon and hydrogen reacting with oxygen, and giving off carbon dioxide, water, and energy--the exact same process that fuels every living cell of our bodies. Plants such as trees and vegetables trap sunlight, storing the energy in bonds of carbon and hydrogen. We can then release that energy by burning wood in our stoves, food in our cells.
         But somehow, I can’t picture microscopic flames leaping up inside our cells, warming the legs of ribosomes and mitochondria, toasting the backsides of DNA. Just what are those flames that dance in the woodstove? I guess I don’t really want an answer; I just want to watch, and wonder.