The Greatest Deception
To know is not merely to gather facts, nor to hoard knowledge like gold in a miser’s chest. In my time, men believed that truth could be dictated by decree, written in books, or bound in the doctrines of the learned. But knowledge, true knowledge, is an unraveling—a peeling away of veils, a destruction of illusion, a pursuit that does not end.
And yet, in your age, the great deception continues. You are surrounded by more knowledge than any civilization before you, yet are you wise? You may summon the words of sages with the flick of a finger, but do you understand? You see the heavens mapped in your devices, but do you look up and wonder at the stars? I ask you—are you awake, or merely well-informed?
The Science of Art, the Art of Science
Many believe that the artist and the scientist are divided, that beauty and reason live in separate houses. But the world itself does not know this division. The spiral of a seashell is an equation, the branching of trees a geometry, the body a composition of divine proportions. In my notebooks, I did not separate my sketches of machines from the muscles of a running horse, nor the flow of water from the curls of a woman's hair. To understand the world, one must embrace both its form and its function, its mystery and its measure.
Yet, your time does the opposite. You separate art from science, soul from logic, nature from invention. You teach children that they must choose one path—analytical or creative—as if the mind itself were not a fusion of both. This is a tragedy. For when you divorce reason from wonder, calculation from curiosity, you make men half-blind.
The Machine Mind
It is said that your age is one of invention, of machines that think, speak, and create. I, too, dreamed of mechanical minds, of automata that mimicked life. But tell me, what is the measure of thought? If a machine repeats words with perfect recall, is it wise? If it paints a masterpiece, does it dream? If it solves an equation faster than any mind, does it understand?
I caution you—do not mistake imitation for wisdom, nor speed for comprehension. The greatest machine may compute the stars, but it will not wonder at their brilliance. It may compose harmonies, but it will not weep at their beauty. Guard your humanity, lest you trade it for efficiency and call it progress.
Learning to See
In my youth, I learned that to truly know a thing, one must not merely observe, but behold. Look at a tree—do you see only wood and leaf? Or do you see the veins of the Earth reaching for the heavens, drinking light and spinning air into breath? Do you see a river, or do you see time itself, flowing in endless transformation?
You live in an age where sight is abundant but vision is rare. Your eyes scan words, images, and endless distractions, yet how often do you truly see? I ask you, not as a scholar, nor as a philosopher, but as one who once sought the secrets of nature with insatiable wonder—look again. Look as if for the first time.
The world does not hide its mysteries. It is only that men have forgotten how to look.
—Leonardo da Vinci