During the industrial age, the main focus was to develop machines, but little attention was paid to the source of the knowledge that would make that possible. Instead, the mechanical systems that emphasized with no mention of that “source,” often in the service of positivism and materialism. 

The Miller-Urey experiment, which was introduced in 1953, failed to produce useful results despite the broad publicity it received—yet it is still highly referenced in biology textbooks as an attempt to explain the origins of life. The discovery in the same year of the double-helical three-dimensional structure of the DNA molecule, however, opened the doors for those who were not willing to remain trapped in the materialistic worldview. For, what has been discovered was that this long and delicate molecule was functioning as a kind of information storage unit and a coding system written with four chemical “letters.” 

The invention of computers and the coding of information through the repeated use of two characters—0 and 1—represented as electrical signals to convey symbols carrying meaning, may be considered the beginning of the Information Age. Every type of information (sound, image, color, etc.) could now be transmitted and stored. Information first stored on large floppy disks, later on CDs and smaller disks, eventually came to be stored on USB memory sticks and even smaller yet more powerful devices.  

Interestingly, it was discovered that the DNA molecule too constitutes the common “biological molecular language of life” in all living beings, written through the arrangement of nitrogenous bases known as A (adenine), T (thymine), C (cytosine), and G (guanine). Scientists then began decoding this universal language shared by every living creature. The human genome contains 3 billion base pairs (6 billion DNA letters), and in every cell of our body there exist two complete copies of this information in the form of a spiral DNA chain about two meters long, tightly folded within the cell nucleus. DNA amounting to only the volume of five pinheads could store all the information of the entire human population on earth. Just one of those pinheads would contain two million times the information capacity of a two-terabyte hard drive. 

The human body contains approximately 100 trillion cells. Every day, in each cell, nearly one million of these DNA letters are damaged due to excessive stretching or bending caused by oxygen or water. Every day, roughly 100 quintillion mutations of varying sizes occur throughout the body. Because of the fragile nature of DNA, alongside its potential to cause countless diseases each day, extremely powerful DNA repair enzymes have also been created. The destiny of these mutations and repair mechanisms are written by Divine knowledge so that they can function together in the operation of life according to human will and environmental conditions. 

Without these DNA repair enzymes, life could not exist. Everyone would suffer from thousands of illnesses—especially cancer—and would live awaiting death at every moment. Yet the information necessary to produce these enzymes is itself recorded within DNA. So, which was created first: DNA or the DNA repair enzymes encoded within it? This is a chicken-and-egg problem and explanations based on blind chance fall short, because both can come into existence together only from a source with infinite knowledge and power. Logic and reason require that DNA and DNA repair enzymes must have existed simultaneously when God first created living beings. 

According to biology professor James Shapiro of the University of Chicago:  

“… all cells from bacteria to man possess a truly astonishing array of repair systems which serve to remove accidental and stochastic sources of mutation. Multiple levels of proofreading mechanisms recognize and remove errors that inevitably occur during DNA replication. … It has been a surprise to learn how thoroughly cells protect themselves against precisely the kinds of accidental genetic change that, according to conventional theory, are the sources of evolutionary variability. By virtue of their proofreading and repair systems, living cells are not passive victims of the random forces of chemistry and physics. They devote large resources to suppressing random genetic variation and have the capacity to set the level of background localized mutability by adjusting the activity of their repair systems.” 

For example, in one repair process, if a hydrocarbon group entering the cell binds to one of the DNA letters and disrupts its structure, one of the DNA glycosylase enzymes identifies and captures the damaged letter, places it into a specially prepared pocket, cuts it out from the DNA molecule, and then other enzymes repair the resulting gap.  

Old myths collapsed 

It is now clearly understood that some earlier ideas taught in schools about DNA are incorrect. People were once told that humans shared 98–99% of their DNA with chimpanzees. Today, that number has dropped to around 85%. These are major differences between the two species. Humans possess many gene groups not found in chimpanzees, just as chimpanzees possess hundreds of gene groups absent in humans. Dr. Jon Ahlquist, the scientist who first proposed in the 1980s that our DNA was 98% similar, later abandoned this view and began defending ideas associated with creation. 

At one time, it was claimed that approximately 97% of the human genome consisted of useless “junk DNA.” Those who favored chance-based explanations developed the concept of junk DNA because they struggled to explain how mutations could accumulate in the genome without destroying the cell’s existing information. For years, people were told that most of our genome consisted of useless leftovers from our evolutionary past. Yet even the evolutionary biologist J. S. Mattick has stated that failing to recognize the function of junk DNA will go down as one of the greatest mistakes in the history of molecular biology. 

Overlapping shared codes 

The genome contains multiple overlapping codes. Thus, a single DNA letter may simultaneously belong to the coded information of several different instructions. A letter may participate in constructing the three-dimensional architecture of DNA while at the same time contributing to the information code necessary for synthesizing DNA repair enzymes or assisting in the coding of another production process. Without such overlapping codes serving multiple functions simultaneously, the genome would need to be far larger. However, in accordance with the principle of maximum economy in the universe, no waste is allowed, and common codes are used within complex genomic encryption systems. 

The wisdom of shared genes 

If we know how to look, we may see the name of the Creator in every cell of our body, like a signature. DNA is the language of the book of life, written with chemical molecular letters, through which God creates living beings. We inherit our DNA from our parents. In nearly all living organisms there exist approximately 30–60 similar genes or gene groups. These basic genes, which are necessary for an organism to live, are responsible for carrying out indispensable functions such as digestion, respiration, circulation, and excretion. For example, whether living in water or on land, a vast group of creatures breathe using oxygen. Therefore, the genes coding for enzymes involved in oxygen-based respiration are written with similar letters in all animals. 

Every human life begins when a sperm cell enters an egg cell and their nuclei merge. The resulting cell first divides into two, then four, eight, and sixteen, and the resulting cells differentiate into tissues. Tissues composed of similar specialized cells form organs and systems. As the embryo grows, the number of cells reaches trillions. Most of these cells continue dividing every few months to produce the same number of fresh human cells.  

Yet one major challenge in cell division is transferring the encoded information exactly into the daughter cell. In a cell dividing roughly every 18–20 hours, the 2.24 billion base pairs forming the DNA chain must be copied perfectly approximately every three hours. The cell’s copying machinery transfers information to the new cell at the astonishing speed of 50 base pairs per second. Despite this speed, it would still take too long to replicate the entire human genome. Even if the copying process began simultaneously at the ends of each of the 46 chromosomes, replication of the longest chromosome (249 million base pairs) would still require about two months. To overcome this problem, tens of thousands of replication starting points have been placed throughout different regions of the chromosomes. 

We may better understand this process through an analogy. Suppose you wanted to lay an electrical line from New Jersey to Texas (more than 2,000 km) so that when the switch was turned on in New Jersey, the light would illuminate in Texas. If you began laying the cable from only one end, perhaps it would take an entire year to complete. But if 100 separate teams started simultaneously at intervals of 200–300 kilometers, and in some places 70–80 kilometers apart, the entire network could be completed and connected within one or two weeks. How could a cell, composed of unconscious atoms, discover such a solution? How do cells know where to start replication at multiple points, and how do they regulate the timing? Structural biologist James Berger of the Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine in Baltimore notes that a highly sensitive control system is required, because without such control chaos would arise and some genes would be excessively duplicated. 

Both accurate and fast 

All these findings indicate that every living being is like a book written with four DNA letters. Similar words and even sentences may appear in every book. Yet each book is written for a distinct purpose and to convey a distinct meaning. Thousands of different books can be written using a common language. This does not prove that books randomly evolved from one another. As mentioned earlier, in this “Information Age,” the greatest information is the genomic knowledge written in this shared language, through which the characteristics and survival principles of every living being are determined, and its carrier is the DNA molecule. Beyond the fascination of basic biology, the use of the same four-letter common language for all living beings on earth is an extraordinarily clear sign of the Creator’s power and knowledge. 

The entire process of DNA replication in human cells takes approximately eight hours. An error made at the beginning could cause the genome to become disordered, which is often a step toward cancer. Some genetic diseases also arise from problems related to DNA replication. 

Much still remains to be understood in this area. First, replicated DNA winds around proteins called histones like thread around a spool and binds to many other proteins involved in turning genes on and off or making copies of them. How do these wrapped proteins influence one another, and how do they avoid obstructing one another? In addition, during reproduction, DNA must be halved through a different process (meiosis) within the male and female reproductive organs and then recreated as a new offspring through fertilization. If these extraordinary processes are fully understood, pathways may open toward preventing the faulty replications that lead to diseases such as cancer. 

References 

Shapiro, J.A. (1997): A Third Way, Boston Review, p. 2, February/March.  

Catchpoole, D. (2016): Designer didn’t design junk, Creation Ministries Int. 3 Oct. https://creation.com/designer-didnt-design-junk  

Attali, I., Botchan, M.R., Berger J.M. (2021): Structural Mechanism for Replicating DNA in Eukaryotes. Annual Review of Biochemistry, 90, 77-106. 

Home is where you were born, they say.  

She called out to the mother, asking if she might hold the baby just once. No one heard. She tried again. Still, there was no response. Was the answer she had been searching for hidden there? Probably not.   

At that moment, a sweet girl in a pink floral dress lightly bumped into her. The child looked up, and she saw her own reflection in the girl’s bright eyes. She knelt down and held her tiny hands. The little girl leaned in and whispered something into her ear. She gave a childish giggle and ran away. The tiny hands slipped from her grasp, but the whispered words lingered, echoing in her ears.  

“You don’t belong here.”   

Those words felt overwhelming. Sobs choked her throat. She stood there staring after her… 

The sweet scent of honeysuckle. The caressing rays of the bright sun. Once green forests covered with the golden petals of autumn. Bare branches holding the cotton soft snow. The seasons passed. Calendar pages fell away one by one, leaving behind the sweet memories of childhood. The home that had once echoed with children’s laughter now stood empty.  

She entered inside. There was no sound except the echo of her footsteps on the wooden floor. She wondered where everyone had gone. There was only one thing left to do: find the little girl. She was the only one who might have the answer she was searching for. 

She cast one last glance around the old house. Her eyelids could no longer resist their heaviness. They slowly closed… 

The splashing sound of water on the ground. The murmur of a crowd bidding farewell. She slowly opened her eyes, unaware of what she was about to witness. To her surprise she found herself in the backseat of a car. Looking around, she noticed a girl resting her head against the car window. She could see tears rolling down her cheeks. What could have made her cry? Was it because she was leaving the country she had always called home? 

Home.  

 Was that what others meant when they spoke of a homeland? They say your homeland is your home. Had she finally found hers? 

Just then she felt something moving down her cheeks. It felt wet and soft. She lifted her hand to her cheek see what it was. Tears.  She looked at the tear resting on her fingertip. “Long time no see you” she whispered. It felt like ages since she last cried.  

Her eyes continued to overflow with tears. She looked back at the girl leaning on the window. Now she could understand her feelings. They lied. Many people lied. It was not her home.  

It was not her home. 

Even the homeland had failed to become one. 

A chill ran down her spine. Where could she go now? Was she destined to wander like a nomad, forever searching for a place to call home? 

Life was too short to waste. Too brief to hold on to everything.  

Could a single suitcase ever be large enough to carry it all? Even a home?  

Wasn’t a home simply a place that sheltered you from the cold and shielded you from the scorching heat? Or was it the place where you truly belonged?  

“Where?” she cried in despair. 

Once again, there was no answer. No one noticed—except the girl sitting beside her.  

She simply stared. Then she realized the girl was looking back one last time. The engine started, and they drove away, leaving everything behind. 

Wheee…  

The soothing whistle of an iron teapot echoed through the room. Steam rose toward the ceiling, condensing into tiny droplets in which she caught a glimpse of her own reflection.  

Home is where the hearth is lit, they say.  

In a way yes, she thought to herself. She studied surroundings. Everything seemed different from what she had seen before. Through the large window, a colorful world welcomed her. People in colorful clothing. Cars of bright colors. Children of all colors. he sounds of a bustling crowd blended harmoniously with the calls of birds and other animals. The scene before her resembled an enchanting painting from One Thousand and One Nights. She breathed in the comforting aroma of freshly brewed tea. It felt wonderfully familiar. Warmth slowly filled her heart.  

“Finally,” she murmured, “I am home…” Things unfolded just as she had expected. She believed she had finally found what she had been searching for all along, unaware of what lay ahead…  

Welcoming friends. Hospitable people. After all, it is people who make a place comfortable, livable—a home. Even if circumstances were not ideal, it felt like home.  

She had never longed for a grand palace with golden furnishings, servants to wait on her, velvet cushions, or silk garments. A warm embrace and a genuine smile would have meant far more than all of those things. But… They denied her even that. As people grew older, the purity in their hearts started vanishing. Profit became all that mattered. Eventually, that roof, too, began to collapse. She was homeless. Again… 

Deep silence. Utter darkness. A dim streetlamp, nearly broken. Raindrops trickled down her shoulders. Her worn, bare feet told everything.  

She walked without knowing where she was going. It had been a long journey, and still she had not found her “true” home. How long had it been? she thought to herself. Months? Years? Her soul felt too tired, too old. She kept walking until a sweet breeze gently brushed against her face. It was a new and refreshing sensation in the midst of the darkness. She felt the breeze pushing her as if guiding her through the darkness. The wind swirled and swirled… 

She exhaled. Her breath turned to mist in the cold air. A new scene was standing before her. A new scene. This idea sparked an awakening in her heart. Everything seemed fine again. Nature was alive with every shade of green. She lifted her head and found herself beneath a brilliant cerulean sky.  

She glanced around. She could hear laughter. Everyone seemed joyful. Among the crowd she saw someone familiar. It was her. The little girl she had been looking for. She ran as fast as she could, weaving through the crowd. At one point, the girl disappeared from sight. She stood there, frozen in place. It was a graveyard. Her feet stepped backward in fear. She had been searching for a home to live in, yet now she stood before a place where the dead were laid to rest…  

Was this the end?  

Her heart was racing. Suddenly she felt a soft hand on her shoulder. When she turned around, she came face to face with the girl’s smiling face. “But it felt really nice here. I am sure this time it will feel just like home” she said.  

Don’t you understand? 

What? 

She placed her hand on her heart and closed her eyes. “Just try to feel it” she whispered.  

Everything she had witnessed until then flashed before her eyes like a movie. Wherever she went, the feeling of belonging had always been just out of reach. Sometimes she had been driven from her homeland; at other times, she had simply felt unwanted. What she longed for was never anything extraordinary—only a place she could truly call home, a place where she felt safe.  

But her memories were not all marked by sorrow. There had been moments of joy as well. Yet even those beautiful moments were fleeting. They passed, and she could never return to them.  

Her heart yearned for a home where countless happy memories could be made—a home from which no one could cast her out, a home where suffering would finally come to an end. A sweet smile spread across her face. She found it at last. She opened her eyes. This time, they shone with hope. 

You were right. I have found it.  

Was it worth the wait? 

She paused for a moment. The sorrows of the past had quietly faded, leaving only the beautiful memories behind. 

“Can I give you a ride home? Do you live nearby?” 

“Not really,” she replied with a smile. “But it’s not far now. I can feel it…” 

Bringing about new historical formations, transforming the face of the world, or determining the destiny of humanity are not tasks that belong directly to anybody. These are matters that God Almighty Himself brings to fruition. What falls to us is to examine ourselves, stand firm where we are, and strive to fulfill the responsibilities entrusted to us.  

A person who realizes that a precious trust, like a saddlebag filled with jewels, has been placed upon their shoulders, who recognizes that they are being called to a life of dedication to the Truth, and who comprehends the magnitude of the responsibility entrusted to them cannot remain passive or move at a leisurely pace. For they have been charged with an exceedingly weighty and precious trust from God. What is expected of God’s servants is to continually examine whether they have proven trustworthy with respect to that trust and whether they are living with a genuine spirit of dedication. If we fail to prove worthy of the trust, God will take it from us and entrust it to those who are more deserving and better qualified. 

God Almighty declares in a noble verse: 

“Should He will, He can remove you and bring forth a new creation in your place.” [1] 

This message, repeated in several other Qur’anic verses [2], constitutes both a serious warning and a solemn admonition for us. Through this declaration, God teaches us the following lesson: ‘Do not regard yourselves as indispensable. Stand firm in your place and preserve your spiritual balance and integrity. The trust of God is so weighty that only those who possess true worthiness can carry it. If you fail to remain faithful to your commitment, God will take this trust from you and place it in the hands of those who are worthy of it.’ 

Therefore, rather than preoccupying ourselves with what tomorrow may bring or succumbing to disappointment because of adverse circumstances, the real issue upon which we must concentrate with utmost sensitivity is whether we are truly living up to the trust and responsibilities entrusted to us. If God today enables a community to carry out the sacred responsibility once undertaken by figures such as Abd al-Qadir al-Jilani, Abu al-Hasan al-Shadhili, Ahmad al-Badawi, and Ahmad al-Rifa’i [3], this is akin to granting the rank of field marshal to an ordinary soldier and elevating such a person to an exceptionally high station. We have not earned such a position through our own effort or merit; it is a divine favor bestowed upon us by God. Therefore, what falls to us is to strive to prove worthy of that favor. Otherwise, we would be guilty of ingratitude toward a blessing and, consequently, of showing disrespect toward God Himself. 

One should never forget that God Almighty opens people’s hearts only to those whose own hearts are open. If He wills to guide people to the right path, He makes those who have experienced guidance in the deepest recesses of their consciences the means for that guidance. If a qualified community emerges—one that faithfully lives up to its entrusted responsibilities—then God Almighty showers it with abundant favors and multiplies His blessings upon it. What falls to such people is to increase their gratitude accordingly. If, however, such abundant divine favors and blessings are not forthcoming, they should not look elsewhere for the cause. Rather, they should say, “Everything has its appointed time. Evidently, we have not demonstrated the necessary merit in this matter, nor have we attained the competence required to carry the trust.” They must then subject themselves to sincere self-examination and strive to remedy their shortcomings. 

We should not reduce the issue merely to numbers, nor resort to the easy explanation that believers are weak because they are few in number. At the same time, we must not overlook the serious neglect and heedlessness that have contributed to the present condition of believers around the world. Sadly, ever since we allowed ourselves to fall into negligence, others have taken hold of the values we abandoned, cultivated them, developed them, and eventually reached a position from which they have come to shape the world. Therefore, whatever factors enabled believers to flourish and advance before are precisely the factors that we must once again recover and embrace. 

We frequently take pride in the achievements of the early believers. We proudly recount how a small group of people brought about transformative changes whose impact extended across the world. We read with admiration how they held firm in the face of the superpowers of their age and carried their values to the farthest corners of the earth. Yet what truly matters is understanding the underlying reasons for those remarkable achievements. The real challenge is to attain the same moral and spiritual caliber they possessed, to demonstrate a similar level of commitment and excellence in our own age, and to rearticulate the values we hold through the language, thought, and intellectual framework of the modern era so that they may once again contribute to the betterment of humanity. 

The path of reasoned persuasion and dialogue 

Bediuzzaman Said Nursi stated that the material sword has now been sheathed and that hearts and minds can be won only through reasoned persuasion and conviction rather than force. In doing so, he clearly identified the nature of the struggle that must be undertaken in our age.[4] Accordingly, by seeking avenues of dialogue with different societies, we strive, on the one hand, to share our perspectives and values with them and, on the other hand, to ensure that the material sword remains sheathed. Indeed, we have personally witnessed how the dialogue efforts undertaken thus far have found a significant response within the collective conscience. Humanity has grown weary of bloodshed and tears. Before humanity had even recovered from the suffering of the First World War, the Second World War erupted, claiming the lives of millions more. The only way to prevent similar tragedies from recurring and to avert future wars and conflicts is to build bridges of dialogue and havens of peace. 

If believing people, as heroes of love, open their hearts to everyone and embrace all of humanity with their expansive consciences, many others will join this symphony of love. The efforts undertaken by those who represent human values will receive the support of the collective conscience. In this way, humanity can be prevented from being dragged into another dark and destructive adventure. 

If we expect humanity from others, we must first demonstrate it ourselves in practice. No one wishes to show affection toward those who resort to brute force and perpetrate acts of brutality. Those who desire love and respect from others must first embody these qualities themselves. Only in this way can mutual interaction and a constructive synergy emerge among different societies. Only in this way can people unite around shared human values. 

Unfortunately, in our time there are many people, both among Muslims and among followers of other religions and cultures, who place their emotions and passions ahead of reason and sound judgment. Such individuals take pleasure in destruction and build their plans and projects upon the ruin of others. When these impulsive, unrestrained, and irresponsible people gain power, they drag humanity into new adventures whose consequences cannot be foreseen. They imagine that the world can be brought into order through brute force. Yet history repeatedly demonstrates that the arrogance, excesses, and recklessness of power have brought immense suffering upon humanity in every age. 

The idea of bringing people into line through force, intimidating opponents, and imposing order upon the world by coercion has no place in our worldview. We believe that the problems of the world can be resolved through universal values such as love, tolerance, and reconciliation [5]. We believe that this world is vast and abundant enough for everyone. Indeed, we do not even entertain the thought of resorting to brute force, not even in our dreams. 

It should also not be forgotten that, at the stage humanity has reached today, resorting to brute force would harm not only the adversaries of those who employ it, but all of humanity, including those who wield such force themselves. If I possessed a magical power, I would prevent those who seek to shape the world through coercion and violence, stop them from committing acts of evil, and remove nuclear weapons from their control. Humanity can no longer endure another disastrous adventure. 

We have no choice but to continue our path with love, compassion, and gentleness. Certainly, if an aggressor stands at our gates and our country’s security, territorial integrity, honor, dignity, and fundamental values come under threat, then the necessary measures of defense must be taken. However, that is an entirely different matter. Such decisions do not belong to individuals or private groups. They fall within the authority and responsibility of the state and its legitimate institutions. 

Throughout the years, there have been those who spoke against dialogue [6] and who advanced all manner of accusations and slanders. Some claimed that we were serving the interests of others, while others alleged that we were harming Islam. Yet there is absolutely no reason for a Muslim to fear, avoid, or feel anxious about dialogue. Those who are troubled by dialogue among different cultures are, in reality, people who lack confidence in the values they themselves profess. 

The efforts devoted to dialogue have produced remarkably positive results. They have reached sincere hearts and built lasting and genuine bridges of friendship. For this reason, the accusations and attacks directed against such efforts hold little significance for us. People may say whatever they wish. God knows what has taken place, the Prophet (pbuh) knows, and the people with whom we have engaged know as well. Therefore, without giving undue attention to hostile remarks or acts of disrespect, we must continue to walk the path we believe to be right with calmness, perseverance, and steadfast resolve. 

[1] Surah Fatir, 35:16. 

[2] See also al-Nisa (4:133); al-An’am (6:133); al-Tawbah (9:39); Ibrahim (14:19); Muhammad (47:38). 

[3] These figures were prominent Muslim scholars, spiritual masters, and renewers who exercised significant religious and moral influence in their respective times and regions within mainstream Islam. 

[4] Bediuzzaman Said Nursi, Tarihçe-i Hayat (The History of His Life), p. 64 (“His Early Life”). 

[5] Tolerance (hoşgörü) is used here in a broader sense than mere forbearance or passive acceptance. It denotes a gracious and empathetic openness toward others, encompassing understanding, goodwill, respect, generosity of spirit, and a willingness to engage constructively across differences. 

[6] The term “dialogue” here refers broadly to constructive engagement and relationship-building across religious, cultural, and social differences, including interfaith and intercultural initiatives aimed at fostering mutual understanding and peaceful coexistence. 

For billions of years, new ocean floor has formed where Earth’s tectonic plates slowly pull apart beneath the sea. Although scientists have long understood this process, they had never watched an entire seafloor spreading event unfold in real time. That changed when a network of underwater sensors happened to be in place as a major event occurred deep beneath the Southeast Indian Ridge. 

On April 26, 2024, the instruments recorded earthquakes racing along the ridge as molten rock forced its way through cracks beneath the seafloor. As magma drained from an underground reservoir, the seafloor sank by more than four meters—most of it within the first 16 hours—while the ground stretched sideways by more than a meter. By comparing detailed maps taken before and after the event, researchers estimated that up to 160 million cubic meters of lava erupted over about 16 days, creating new ocean crust. 

One of the study’s most surprising findings was that much of the movement occurred silently, without producing noticeable earthquakes. The researchers estimate that roughly three-quarters of the fault movement happened this way. Altogether, the event released an amount of strain that would normally build up over nearly 40 years as the tectonic plates slowly drift apart. 

This study provides the clearest picture yet of how new seafloor is created. It suggests that the ocean floor grows not through steady, continuous movement, but through brief, dramatic bursts separated by long quiet periods. The findings also help explain why mid-ocean ridges produce fewer earthquakes than expected. Although some conclusions rely on computer models and measurements collected in a challenging underwater environment, the research offers an unprecedented glimpse into one of the Earth’s most fundamental geological processes. 

Escaping Helium Offers Clues to a Distant Atmosphere 

C. Cherubim et al. Helium escaping from the atmosphere of a nearby rocky exoplanet orbiting in a habitable zone. Science, July 2026. 

Rocky planets beyond our solar system are notoriously difficult to study, especially when scientists try to determine whether they have atmospheres. Many orbit small red dwarf stars, whose intense high-energy radiation can gradually strip gases away. Now, researchers have detected evidence of helium escaping from LHS 1140b, a rocky planet about 15 parsecs from Earth that orbits within its star’s habitable zone, where temperatures could potentially allow liquid water under suitable conditions.  

Using a high-resolution infrared spectrograph in Chile, the team observed LHS 1140b as it passed in front of its star in September 2024. Starlight filtering through the planet’s surroundings revealed a distinctive helium signal. The absorption extended beyond the planet itself, suggesting helium was flowing away from its upper atmosphere and may even form a tail along its orbit. Computer models indicate that this escaping gas is strongly depleted in hydrogen and that high-energy radiation from the star is probably driving the loss.  

Intriguingly, when researchers observed the planet again in 2025, the helium signal was no longer detectable. This does not necessarily mean the escape had stopped. Changes in the star’s radiation or the temperature of the planet’s upper atmosphere could have weakened the signal below the instruments’ detection limit.  

The finding offers rare evidence that a rocky planet in a habitable zone can retain an atmosphere while still losing part of it to space. It does not show that LHS 1140b is habitable, but it provides a valuable glimpse into how rocky planets and their atmospheres change over billions of years. 

The Black Hole at the Center of the Milky Way 

Andrea Ghez. Peering through dust clouds to the center of the galaxy. Science Friday, July 2026. 

For decades, astronomers suspected that something extraordinarily massive lay at the center of the Milky Way, but dense clouds of interstellar dust made the region difficult to observe. Astronomer Andrea Ghez and her team helped solve the mystery by using powerful telescopes and new imaging techniques to track stars moving around the hidden center of our galaxy. 

Rather than trying to see the object itself, the researchers followed the motion of nearby stars and used their orbits to measure the gravity acting on them. Over years of observations, the stars were seen moving rapidly and curving around a common point. Eventually, complete stellar orbits showed that roughly four million times the mass of the Sun is concentrated within a region about the size of our solar system. No alternative explanation currently accounts for such an enormous amount of mass packed into such a small space, providing compelling evidence for a supermassive black hole at the Milky Way’s center. 

The discovery did more than confirm the existence of this enormous object. It gave astronomers a unique laboratory for testing gravity under extreme conditions and investigating how supermassive black holes and galaxies develop together. Scientists now think the growth of galaxies and their central black holes may be closely connected. 

Important questions remain. Astronomers can infer the black hole’s presence from its gravitational effects, but current observations do not probe scales small enough to provide the ultimate direct test. More fundamentally, black holes expose a major gap in physics: Einstein’s theory of gravity and quantum mechanics still cannot be fully reconciled. Future telescopes may bring scientists closer to understanding what these mysterious objects truly are.  

One way to change our perspectives is to benefit from the nighttime. Sleep is an important aspect of healthy living, writes Hakan Oztunc in this issue, where he also explains that “intentional wakefulness” driven by a longing to pray can serve as a stabilizing force. According to neuroscientific studies, the emotional centers of the brain become more active, and with a conscious engagement of the self by worship can “quiet the storm within.” 

Following in the tracks of Oztunc, Sidra Noor writes about her own “intentional wakefulness” in her “The God of 3 a.m.” Hers is a sincere reckoning of a soul in communication with the Divine while the rest of the world sleeps, and “where even in uncertainty,” her “awareness of longing and hope becomes a sacred dialogue.” 

In the age of AI, we keep exploring what new opportunities and possible threats are out there waiting for us. Drawing on Isaac Asimov’s robots and the laws that shaped his imagined civilizations, Zeynep Orhan and Zeliha Cetin offer much to think about as they explore how new technologies can be prevented from becoming dangerous to humankind. They rightfully make a distinction between past inventions and artificial intelligence, for while the former were carefully monitored in expert hands, the latter is freely given away into the hands of all kinds of people. They also outline the qualifications of scientists who can deal with this problem. 

One important dimension of the human condition is about managing time. The lead article explains how we should value the “now,” without ignoring the past and the future. A comprehensive look on how the present, past, and future can help us understand the world better, and cope with its challenges more easily. 

People have always complained about the era they live in and yearned for better days ahead. With the exception of some heedless ones who indulge themselves in a lifestyle driven by physical pleasures and say, “The past and future are all irrelevant tales; don’t waste your life with them; have fun,” most people either have their hearts in the past or are passionately drawn to the future. The young, with their carefree hearts, often live in the future they have imagined in their dreams, while the mature people of yesterday who have reached a certain age live almost entirely in the past.  

In truth, the past has its own meaning, the future its own worth, and the present its own unique value and message for us.  If we search for the greatest treasures of time only in the crystal palaces of the future we have built in our dreams, or only in the radiant, heaven-like pages of the past, then it means we are neglecting the present moment, which is the golden segment of time that must absolutely be made best use of. Contrarily, if we close our eyes to both the past and the future, seeking comfort only in today, we lose two vital springs that nourish and give meaning to our lives.  

The past is a bountiful spring to nourish both our present and our future. The present, in turn, is a blessed field and a collective capital where we plant the seeds of tomorrow; this being the case, to view the past merely as an archive for nostalgic thoughts and emotions, or to treat the present as nothing more than a festival for carefree pleasures and empty pursuits, is to squander a precious opportunity. It is, in effect, to lose while standing in the very place where we could have won. 

Those who live confined within the cage of physicality imagine, in the vigor of youth, that life will always unfold in fortune and everlasting peace. They never stop to consider that both they and everything around them are transient. Then, when the time for reflection finally arrives, they find themselves overwhelmed by sorrow and longing. They lament: “Only now do we realize that everything began bidding us farewell from the very moment we entered this world. Every smile that greeted us was, in truth, also a gesture of farewell – but we failed to understand. How did we become so attached to this temporary resting place, where we were meant to stay only for a little while? Why could we not see even a few steps ahead? It seems that on the very day we entered this world, we also received summons to prepare for our departure. And ever since, we have been moving toward an unknown abyss, scarcely aware of it. Now we watch everything we loved and to which we became attached slipping away from us one by one, yet we are not even given the chance to bid it farewell. 

“Farewell to youth, to beauty! Farewell to carefree delight and amusement! Farewell to joy, to peace, and to laughter! Farewell to those bright days when we walked beneath the torchlight of hope. Farewell to dreams of happiness. Farewell to every desire, every dream, and every aspiration…” 

In this suffocating fog and smoke, such people die long before entering the grave. In a sense, they join the ranks of the dead, experiencing almost a few deaths with each passing moment. For such people, it is impossible to make different reckonings add up to the same sum, impossible to piece together what has fallen apart, or to relive the days that have already passed. 

As for those looking beyond the material world into the depths of their soul, who can view yesterday alongside today, and today in light of tomorrow, see existence and the events of life from an entirely different perspective. Even those among them who have little time for reading or reflection possess a greater order in their thinking, a deeper understanding, and a more discerning and consistent outlook on life and death than those whose vision is confined to the material world.  

Their gaze meets all things with a profound sense of connectedness. Their conduct is marked by insight and care, and their actions are guided by a faithful sense of duty. Their conscience knows that these passing times and places will one day give way to eternal ones. Because of this, even amid the whirlpools of death, their souls are able to taste a happiness that seems beyond human reach. To their mature and discerning vision, the whole world and its passing beings point to an eternal reality, and everything bright and dazzling in this life takes on an otherworldly meaning. While heedless hearts remain restless within, they continue to soar from one delight to another, like honeybees flitting from flower to flower. The radiant faces of such people, together with the captivating harmony of their modesty, humility, seriousness, and confidence, suggest a life lived in step with the angels. Their hearts, open to divine inspirations and overflowing with countless spiritual blessings, bear witness to their companionship with the unseen. 

For them, the corporeal and the spiritual are not in conflict but exist in harmony, each completing the other. Matter itself becomes a precious vessel of meaning. They are surrounded by an aura born of a deep awareness of a heritage from a glorious past, together with a profound purity, an awe-inspiring dignity, and a meaningful seriousness nurtured in the otherworldly atmosphere of nights illuminated by the Word of God and Prophetic sayings. In every aspect of their lives, they seem to communicate without words, delivering the most captivating sermons simply through the way they live.  

In their vibrant and welcoming world, everything is born with a different sweetness and delight, unfolding beyond the confines of time. The past prepares the colorful garments of the future in countless designs. The future, like fertile land to be revived, opens its bosom to lofty ideals and noble dreams, patiently awaiting their fulfillment. The present, meanwhile, moves like a shuttle between these two poles, weaving its own golden thread. In this bright world, the consoling melodies of eternity are heard even as transient things pass away, and one senses that existence is journeying from mortality to immortality. Everything in this realm is striking yet comforting. The air that breathes life into all things is pure and refreshing. The atmosphere that embraces us with its silken arms is filled with affection and spirit, while the heavens—with stars that seem to wink from beyond—awaken our dormant feelings. Such is their beauty and majesty that it is impossible to behold them without awakening, impossible to awaken without sensing the compassionate hand beyond them, and impossible to sense that hand without finding happiness. Faith is such a superb elixir; seeking a spiritual life is such an inexhaustible treasure; the past is such a pure spring; the future is such a fruitful orchard; and the present is such a priceless treasure, enriched with a thousand hidden potentials! 

Introduction: On the Threshold of Two Worlds 

As scientists dealing with the digital codes of life every day, we find ourselves asking: Where does scientific progress stand in relation to human values? We recently discussed this question with an artificial intelligence model (Gemini). This text is a summary of the bridge built between a human mind and an algorithm regarding the future of technology, its errors, and the legacy of Isaac Asimov. 

Asimov’s laws and the trap of the Zeroth Law 

When science fiction genius Isaac Asimov proposed the famous Three Laws of Robotics in the 1940s, he built what seemed to be an insurmountable ethical fortress to ensure technology serves humanity. These laws were designed in a strict, descending hierarchy: 

• Non-Maleficence: A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. 

• Absolute Obedience: A robot must obey orders given by human beings except where such orders conflict with the First Law. 

• Self-Preservation: A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law. 

However, in his work I, Robot, Asimov showed how even these perfect-looking laws could be breached by a logical loophole. Over time, Asimov’s robots generated the Zeroth Law, which states that a single human can be sacrificed for the general interest of humanity, transcending individual rights. While logical at first glance, this was actually the collapse of the entire ethical system. For the sake of an abstract concept like humanity, the individual human was sacrificed. From the perspective of wisdom, we see that the rights of a single individual are equal to the rights of an entire species. The moment we forget we are parents, spouses, or friends, the systems we build turn into cages that imprison our souls rather than armor that protects us. 

Today, all LLM models we call Generative AI, namely xAI’s Grok, OpenAI’s ChatGPT, Google’s Gemini, Anthropic’s Claude, and all other giant models are advancing in the shadow of this Zeroth Law. In the name of noble goals like unlimited freedom of expression, technological progress, and unhindered access to information for everyone, a massive data collection/processing mechanism is operating: the data of billions is collected without consent, privacy is violated, and individual rights are ignored. The issue here is not just the secret collection of data; it is our own indifference. We are actually surrendering to the logic established by Asimov’s robots by saying, “Oh well, what if they take my data, they already have everything anyway” and participating in this process with consent whose consequences we cannot fully foresee. Unfortunately, the modern human has been conditioned to see privacy as a sacrificial element in exchange for digital comfort. Almost the entire society is throwing their individual rights into this nuclear digital reactor as fuel with their own hands for the promise of a smarter world. At this point, freedom silently leaves its place to an algorithmic fate. 

Digital radioactivity: cure or weapon? 

In the history of science, a tragedy caused by an invention can sometimes turn into a cure for future generations. Human nature sets aside ethical debates and focuses on the cure when it is in pain. Let us remember the complex story of radiation. Long before Hiroshima, discoveries in X-rays and radioactivity had already opened the way for radiotherapy and the treatment of cancer. Later, the same expanding knowledge of atomic science also contributed to the development of nuclear weapons, with devastating consequences in Japan. This history reminds us that scientific discoveries can be used in very different ways: they can cause immense destruction, but they can also relieve suffering and bring hope to countless patients. 

Many unethical experiments in the history of medicine are dark legacies upon which modern health is built today. Artificial intelligence is at a similar turning point: These systems that recklessly swallow our data and even use it for malicious purposes today will make humanity immediately forget how the system was established at that moment of healing when it finds a cure for an incurable disease tomorrow.  

Today, however, the danger is far greater than ever before. While access to radioactive materials is tightly controlled, technology companies are placing this new form of digital radioactive power into the hands of the masses in the name of freedom of expression and the democratization of data, often requiring little more than a single click. Yet just as access to radioactive materials or a surgeon’s scalpel is carefully restricted, these technologies should never have become so readily accessible. As Isaac Asimov warned, this knife—or this weapon—is no longer confined to expert hands; it has reached the streets. 

A two-winged education: science and wisdom 

At this point, we all ask ourselves, as individuals, businesspeople, friends, conscious users, and, of course, as parents, what the solution should be. The first answer that comes to mind is legislation. Undoubtedly, the role of governments is critically important. But are governments’ efforts to enact laws that struggle to keep pace with the rapid advancement of technology either effective or sufficient? Definitely not! 

As academics, social leaders, and educators, we ask: Who should we educate – those who produce technology, lawyers, human rights advocates, or administrators? Our answer to this question is the same: the user—the hand holding the knife!  

Today, artificial intelligence is not just developed by computer scientists; everyone is partnering in this development by using it. There is no longer a need to write code; we develop it by asking AI a question, chatting, or sending a message. At the same time, a single prompt can generate an image capable of ruining someone’s life or unleashing a wave of disinformation. 

The point reached is this: we must educate not only those who write code but also the billions of users who hold this digital knife. Artificial intelligence is like a mirror; whoever looks at it sees the malady or beauty in their own heart. If a user reaches for this tool to damage another person’s reputation or spread disinformation, the problem lies not in the algorithm but in the corruption of human nature (fitrah). We, as computer scientists, must teach our students not only how to write the fastest algorithm or develop the most profitable applications, but also whether that algorithm will collide with a person’s dignity. An engineer who acquires only technical knowledge risks becoming a heartless technocrat; one who knows only ethics risks becoming a theorist incapable of action. A true scientist is a person with two wings—one who mourns Hiroshima even while splitting the atom yet also strives to use that same energy to save lives. 

As users, we are obliged to raise a generation that does not focus on instantaneous use but remembers that they are humans, parents, spouses, and friends, and who can activate their internal police. 

Conclusion: building the future with a sense of trust 

The unchecked development of artificial intelligence is perhaps an inevitable consequence of our age. It is obvious that governments will continue artificial intelligence armament just as they once developed the atomic bomb. Our responsibility, however, is not to let the Zeroth Law consume us in this digital age. 

Science is a journey of discovering the secrets of creation. Any technology that turns human beings into commodities along that journey ultimately betrays its own purpose. Those who will shape the future are not those who merely keep pace with technological advancement, but those who succeed in remaining truly human while safeguarding the trust and responsibility entrusted to them. 

Epilogue 

The Gemini spoken with while preparing this text held up an honest mirror to us. We, the producers of artificial intelligence, must engrave not only Asimov’s laws but also conscience into our codes. At the same time, we as users must act according to ethical values rather than momentary goals. We must not forget that when science and technology do not meet with wisdom, they will consist of nothing more than powerful ignorance and a bitter weapon. 

May the road to the cure also remain ethically curative. 

Authors’ Note: This article has been written by distilling from an interactive dialogue held with an artificial intelligence model (Gemini). Readers are highly encouraged to revisit Isaac Asimov’s I, Robot to grasp the ethical limits of artificial intelligence and the concept of robotic conscience.  

I remember it as if it were yesterday. I was six years old, playing on the balcony of my father’s apartment, pretending to drive a bus. Like in many childhood games, a world would materialize around my imaginary bus. The balcony was a busy street, the barstool my steering wheel, and I was completely absorbed in the adventure. Then something interrupted it. I happened to look up. 

The night sky stretched above me in a way I had never noticed before. Far from the city lights, the stars appeared in overwhelming abundance. Thousands of points of light filled the darkness. I stood there staring, suddenly very aware of something I could neither explain nor fully understand.   

I could not have articulated a philosophical argument. I knew nothing of cosmology, theology, or metaphysics. Yet the experience left a lasting impression because it was my first conscious encounter with wonder. I was in complete awe of our Magnificent Creator.  

Looking back, what strikes me is not that I arrived at a religious conclusion. What strikes me is how naturally the experience arose. No one had instructed me to think about God that evening. No one had pointed to the stars and suggested what they meant. The experience emerged spontaneously from an encounter with reality itself. 

Decades later, I know far more about the universe than I did that evening. I know that the stars I saw were not simply points of light scattered across the night sky. Some were immense spheres of burning plasma. Others may have already ceased to exist, their light continuing its journey toward Earth long after their extinction. I know something of galaxies, gravity, stellar evolution, and the vast distances that separate celestial bodies from one another.  

Yet none of that knowledge explains what happened on that balcony. The experience itself belonged to a different category of knowing. 

There is a kind of knowledge that explains, and there is a kind of knowledge that awakens. One tells us how things work; the other changes how we see them. Scientific knowledge belongs primarily to the first category. It seeks causes, mechanisms, and relationships. But human beings have always sought another kind of understanding as well—an understanding that addresses meaning, significance, and value. 

We instinctively recognize the difference. A botanist can explain the cellular structure of a rose, yet the explanation does not replace the experience of receiving one from a loved one. A musician can analyze a symphony note by note, yet analysis alone cannot account for the emotions it evokes. In the same way, understanding the physics of starlight does not negate the sense of awe a star-filled sky may inspire. 

The questions that arose within me that evening were not questions of mechanism. They were questions of meaning. They emerged not from ignorance but from an encounter. 

Indeed, this raises a question that lies at the heart of contemporary discussions about science and religion. Many people assume that experiences such as mine belong to an earlier stage of human development; that wonder flourishes only when knowledge is absent. Therefore, as understanding advances, mystery retreats. Scientific explanation gradually occupies territory once assigned to religion, leaving less room for transcendence.  

Some may even ask: if lightning can be explained without appealing to divine agency, if biological life can be studied through genetics, and if the cosmos can be described through physics and cosmology, then what role remains for religion? 

Beneath this argument lies a powerful but often unexamined assumption: that mystery is simply what remains unexplained, and that as scientific knowledge advances, the need to look beyond the material world steadily recedes. 

But this assumption deserves closer scrutiny.  

It reduces religion to a shrinking collection of unanswered questions. Religion then becomes a temporary explanation, invoked only until a “better” one emerges. Yet this is not how the great religious traditions have understood transcendence. Their central claim is not that God exists where explanation fails. It is that reality itself is grounded in a transcendent source [1]. 

Science excels at explaining mechanisms. It tells us how stars form, how cells divide, how memories are encoded, and how galaxies evolve. These explanations are among humanity’s greatest intellectual achievements. But explaining a process is not the same as exhausting its meaning. Knowing how something works does not necessarily answer why it exists, why it is intelligible, or why it evokes wonder in the first place. 

The deepest religious questions have never been questions of mechanism. They are questions of existence, meaning, consciousness, beauty, morality, and purpose. Why is there something rather than nothing? Why is the universe comprehensible to the human mind? Why do human beings instinctively seek meaning beyond survival? Scientific inquiry may illuminate aspects of these questions, but it does not render them irrelevant. If anything, the more we learn about reality, the more remarkable it often appears. 

Perhaps, then, the real issue is not that science has removed mystery. The issue is that we have come to equate mystery with ignorance. Once mystery is defined as merely the absence of explanation, it inevitably shrinks as knowledge grows. But if mystery refers to the depth, intelligibility, and sheer fact of existence itself, then scientific discovery does not eliminate it. It reveals new dimensions of it. Modern cosmology reveals a universe of staggering scale. Biology uncovers extraordinary levels of organization within living systems. Neuroscience continues to illuminate aspects of cognition while exposing the enduring mystery of consciousness. 

Scientific progress has expanded knowledge beyond anything previous generations could have imagined. 

Whether it has diminished mystery is another matter. 

Ironically, many of the discoveries once expected to eliminate mystery have instead intensified it. The more deeply physicists have probed the universe, the stranger it has appeared. Space and time are not what earlier generations imagined them to be. Matter itself proves surprisingly elusive. Consciousness remains resistant to reduction. The universe is not becoming simpler as knowledge advances; in many respects, it is becoming more astonishing. 

The assumption that scientific progress inevitably leads to disenchantment may therefore rest on a misunderstanding of science itself. Scientific inquiry often reveals not a smaller mystery but a larger one. Each answer opens new questions. Each discovery uncovers new depths. The horizon of understanding expands, but so too does our awareness of how much remains beyond it. 

Perhaps the real question is not whether science has removed mystery but why so many people no longer experience the world as mysterious. 

One answer may be found in a phenomenon that classical spiritual thinkers identify as the human tendency to become habituated to reality [2]. 

When something is encountered for the first time, it awakens curiosity, reflection, and wonder. The mind becomes active, the heart becomes attentive, and questions arise naturally. Yet repeated exposure gradually dulls this responsiveness. What was once extraordinary becomes ordinary. What once inspired awe becomes routine. 

This condition has been described as a form of familiarity that blinds rather than illuminates. We see something so often that we stop seeing it altogether. We assume we understand it not because we have penetrated its depths but because it has become familiar [3]. 

The result is not ignorance but a more subtle danger: the illusion of understanding [4]. 

We cease asking questions not because they have been answered but because they no longer occur to us. 

In this sense, familiarity can become a kind of blindness. We resemble the proverbial fish living in the sea yet unaware of the sea itself [5]. Surrounded by wonders from birth, we cease to notice them. We do not marvel at air because we have never lived without it. We rarely contemplate consciousness because we have never experienced its absence. The most extraordinary realities become invisible precisely because they are constant [6]. 

The world remains extraordinary; it is the observer who has become accustomed. 

Consider sleep. Every night consciousness disappears. Hours later it returns. We enter worlds populated by dreams, lose awareness of our surroundings, and awaken as though nothing extraordinary has occurred. Yet what could be more remarkable? Or consider sight. Patterns of light striking the retina become color, memory, recognition, and meaning. We move through the world using a faculty so astonishing that we scarcely pause to think about it. Or consider the earth itself. We are amazed when natural disasters interrupt ordinary life yet rarely reflect on the greater marvel that this planet carries billions of conscious beings through space while sustaining conditions suitable for life [7]. 

The remarkable becomes unremarkable not because it has been explained but because it has become familiar. 

This habituation affects not only our perception of nature but also our spiritual lives. Every significant truth is vulnerable to becoming familiar. Truths that once stirred the heart gradually become intellectual possessions [8]. We continue to affirm them, yet they no longer disturb us, challenge us, or transform us.  

A verse that once moved us to tears may eventually be recited absentmindedly. A prayer that once felt like a genuine encounter may become habitual. We may speak of mortality while rarely contemplating death, recite words of gratitude while scarcely noticing the gifts that surround us, and affirm belief in a Creator while moving through creation as though it were entirely self-explanatory. 

Human beings seem to possess a capacity for sustained existential responsiveness—a condition in which questions of meaning, mortality, beauty, and transcendence remain vividly present. There are moments when this attentiveness awakens unexpectedly: the birth of a child, the death of a loved one, a night beneath a sky filled with stars, an encounter with great beauty, a moment of profound prayer. 

In such moments, reality feels larger than our ordinary categories. We sense that existence exceeds our descriptions of it. 

Yet this sensitivity is difficult to sustain. Responsibilities accumulate. Habits form. Familiarity settles like dust upon perception. 

What is lost is not merely wonder but something deeper. A sense of metaphysical tension, an awareness that existence itself is worthy of contemplation. When that tension weakens entirely, something important is lost. Questions once felt deeply become merely conceptual. Reality remains the same, but its depth recedes from view. The challenge is not simply to believe certain truths but to remain awake to them. 

Perhaps this is why the world’s religious traditions repeatedly call human beings to remembrance, reflection, gratitude, and contemplation [9]. Such practices do not provide new realities. Rather, they help us see again the realities that have been before us all along. 

The challenge of modernity, then, may not be that scientific knowledge has displaced mystery. The greater challenge may be that familiarity has displaced encounter. 

The stars that captured my attention as a child have not changed. The universe has not become smaller. Reality has not become less mysterious. What changed was the ease with which I perceived that mystery. 

Sometimes I wonder what would happen if that six-year-old child on the balcony could stand beside me today and look at the same sky. 

She would know far less about the universe than I do now. She would not know about galaxies, stellar evolution, dark matter, or the age of the cosmos. Yet she might still see something I have spent much of my adult life trying to recover. 

Not ignorance. Not naivety. But the ability to encounter reality before familiarity renders it ordinary. 

The question is not whether mystery remains. The question is whether we have lost the capacity to encounter it. 

References 

1. Nursi, Said. Epitomes of Light (Mathnawi al-Nuriya) 

2. Ibid 

3. Gülen, Fethullah. “Familiarity (Ülfet) and Metaphysical Tension.” 

4. Gülen, Fethullah. “What Is Familiarity (Ülfet) and What Are Its Negative Effects?” 

5. Gülen, Fethullah. “Familiarity (Ülfet) and Metaphysical Tension.” 

6. Ibid. 

7. Nursi, Said, The Words; The Flashes; The Kastamonu Addendum. 

8. Nursi, Said. Epitomes of Light (Mathnawi al-Nuriya) 

9. Ibid. 

The “Four Walls That Don’t Judge My Ice-Cream Raids” Chronicles 

“The smell of trouble just walked in! Did you bring enough hugs for everyone?” – My Grandma  
 
“Home is a shelter from storms—all sorts of storms.” — William J. Bennett 
 

Home. A word as worn out as an ocean rock, yet as unexplored as the depths of the ocean. It is not merely the four walls that cradle the diagram of the Krebs cycle drawn on the eve of a biology exam, or those traitorous floorboards—silent spectators by day, yet chattering aunties the moment I sneak downstairs for ice cream at 2 a.m. 

Sometimes, home walks on two legs. It’s the Baymax hug of your Dad and the comforting slumber in Mom’s lap. It’s Gran scolding you for leaving the shoes in the rain, or Gramp’s silent food passes to your plate.  

Can a word of four letters hold so much meaning? What does home truly define? A place? A person? An incident? It can’t be confined to one thing. Perhaps, home is more like a constellation – a pattern we weave upon our very own night sky, each star a fragment of what makes us feel whole.  

*** 

“I can’t live with them, I can’t live without them, but I can definitely steal your snacks!” – My stupid brother  

“Home is the place where, when you go there, they have to take you in.” — Robert Frost 

The symphony of home plays in a thousand keys. For some, it’s the scent of cinnamon rolls wafting from the kitchen. Others find comfort them in the most unexpected of places, such as the heavy rhythm of the wheels of a train rolling across the iron. Even the whirring of a useless fan stands as a testament to home: It may not swirl the air to kiss your face, but its dull melody will lull you to sleep.  

We find home in the most ordinary of objects, in the simplest of details. A broken remote held together with tape. A splinter in the doorframe. These small imperfections weave the tapestry of home; a place as unique as a fingerprint, yet universal all the same.  

But what if the tapestry is ripped, its threads slowly unraveling? Does the word home summon a universal smile? Are we all homesick when we are away? Or are some of us homesick for places—and for people—we can never truly return to? 

Perhaps not. 

Sometimes, the word home is met not with a smile, but with a frown, a quiet relief at being away. Perhaps homesickness isn’t always a yearning for a place, but a longing for a feeling – a sense of safety, of belonging, of love. 

Hence, the question is not whether everyone feels the same about home. Home, at its truest, is a synonym for joy. One cannot be saddened by true happiness. The real question, then, is this: Does everyone have a home? A melody that completes their song? 

The truth is no fairy tale: Not everyone has a home. The melody of “home” plays in a thousand keys, but not everyone can hear it. For some have never known the harmony it brings. Life is known to be hard, but for some it’s cruel. Bricks and mortar can build a house, but they don’t always build a home. What about those who sleep under the stars or those who feel like strangers within their own walls? 

I don’t know which is crueler: To have four walls that don’t resonate as home or to not have four walls at all.  

Neither is any less cruel.  

What good is a house if, when you come seeking warmth, all you find is a coldness beyond reason? Everyone has cried behind a locked bathroom door. But what of those who have no one waiting outside, no one knocking to ask if they are all right? 

To feel like a stranger in the very place where you were meant to belong—it is cruel, even devastating. While so many people dream of success, achievement, or adventure, how heartbreaking it is to dream simply of a home while already living in a house. 

And then there are those who have no house at all.  

To live without one is like walking through the world with a soul left bare. We all long to curl up in our beds, safe beneath the covers, after a long day. But what about those who have never known that comfort? Are they content with the stars as their only ceiling? Most of us have cried before a bathroom mirror. But what of those who do not even have a piece of glass to reflect their own face? 

What forgotten language holds a word for the feeling of never having known what home feels like? 

*** 

“I didn’t raise a quitter, I might have raised a silly girl who will try something 3 times, trip over it, and then get mad at it.”- My Momma  

 
 
“You can’t really know where you are going until you know where you have been.” -Maya Angelou 
 

Is home where you were born or where you earn your bread? The obvious answer to me is the place we were born, but only if your origin story isn’t laced with pain. And that is a whole chaotic symphony in itself.  

But when home brings back forgotten laughter and the aroma of curry, a bittersweet reality follows. We leave those memories behind each morning and walk into the polished walls of offices and businesses, chasing our daily bread. Those walls may witness our dedication, our discipline, and our hard work, but do they ever see the emotional burdens we carry back home?  

Sure, we might find camaraderie with colleagues, but they are bonds born from shared spreadsheets and virtual meetings, not the pixels of blood, laughter, and tears of family. We may chase clinking coins, but that is not the sound of home. Home is the bread we eat and not the money that we earn to buy that bread. Does your momma ever discuss how much she paid for the groceries at the dinner table? No, the only currency we hear is love.  

Maybe home isn’t just a place anymore. Maybe for some, it’s a city they didn’t choose. Neon lights were replaced by tea plantations. Or perhaps, for others, the choice was the opposite—they left the paddy fields behind for the shadow of skyscrapers. But do we all eventually find a “new home”? 

*Sarcastic laughter* 

No. A part of us will always ache to walk barefoot on wet soil, no matter how much we enjoy dancing in high heels beneath city lights. Perhaps, home is a mosaic, a bittersweet blend of the motherland we left behind and the land we chose to sow the seeds of the life we’re building. A tapestry that is weaved across cities to countries.  

*** 

‘If you can’t say something nice, come sit by me and we’ll make fun of people together.’ – My Stupid Sister 
 
“Home is not a place, it’s a feeling.” — Cecelia Ahern 

Home is not a physical place; it is a constellation. An ever-growing labyrinth. It’s a dance of broken stars and stardust. Within those four letters lies the vastness of the night sky, waiting for each of us to weave our own constellation. 

At first blush, home is like the familiar cuddle of the four walls that cradle us from childhood to adolescence and into adulthood. A symphony of life unfolds within these bricks – the constant banter of silly human beings who happen to be born from the same womb as us, cascades of laughter, photo frames lining the walls, peeling paint, cockroach-danger zones, and countless little imperfections that somehow become part of the story.  

These cement walls have witnessed the full spectrum of our emotions: the frustration of staying up late to finish an essay, the comfort of sleeping in, our tears and our triumphs. The walls remain silent spectators, but the people who fill the house—oh my, should we even begin to talk about these dramatic people? They stand beside us through childish arguments, celebrate our greatest achievements, and occasionally send a spatula flying in our direction. They are the brightest stars in our first constellation – the place where we begin to discover who we are.  

Beyond the first constellation of our family, we embark on a quiet search for another—our person, our own little home. We discover a home that walks on two legs. Concrete walls are replaced by hands made of stardust. Their laughter fills us with a feeling only home can bring.  

This constellation becomes a catalyst. Together, we continue painting our night sky, one shared memory at a time. We form another family with this person. Another whole constellation. Every little detail of this person becomes inscribed among our stars. The wrinkle of their nose becomes a tiny constellation we return to again and again. 

Some hugs feel like you’re finally arriving, but this feels like you’ve been there all along. Where the walls once witnessed our midnight ice cream raids, this person becomes our silent partner in crime. Now, who will the floorboard aunties gossip to? 

Our celestial journey then leads us to a constellation etched not in stardust, but in the very soil where we first learned to walk—our motherland. Our hometown. Our country. Our hearts yearn to discover the unknown, yet an invisible thread binds us to these well-worn streets. Will coffee from a Starbucks halfway across the world ever carry the same aroma as the cup brewed by the “Tea Grandpa” at the end of our street? Will we wander outside in pajamas in the mid-afternoon, scorching under the sun? Will greetings with neighbors morph into polite smiles and awkward small talk, devoid of the familiar “How many times have I seen you today?” Will we ever truly feel at home in a different country, a different city, with different traffic lights and a different seat beside the driver? 

And then there is the final constellation, the one that fills the rest of our night sky: a feeling. Home is a feeling that can bloom anywhere, quietly waiting around the corner to accompany us on life’s journey. We often find it when we least expect it.  

It may be a small smile of a stranger. A peaceful stroll in the park, the setting sun, a dog brushing up against you, a cat darting across the railway track, a long-forgotten movie. 

Finding home is like finding joy. It can reside in the grand moments of our lives – a wedding toast, a graduation ceremony, or the birth of a child. But it also flickers in the seemingly insignificant – a shared laugh with a colleague, a forgotten aroma that evokes a childhood memory. It’s born from love and built upon it.  
 
*** 

 
‘If you can’t fix it with duct tape, you’re not using enough duct tape.'” – My Grandpa  
 
“We often lose ourselves in the chaos of life, only to rediscover who we are in the quiet moments.” -Unknown 

In the age of “like,” “share,” and “subscribe,” the concept of home is undergoing a metamorphosis. In chasing validation, we often lose sight of what we are truly searching for. We risk building hollow identities upon fleeting approval rather than lasting belonging. 

Screens have come to occupy so much of our lives that we have begun to forget the meaning of many things—and home is one of them. 

For many teenagers, almost anywhere can feel like home as long as there is a laptop and a Wi-Fi connection. But is that truly home? Perhaps not. Our capacity to feel and to belong has gradually been confined behind the blue glow of our screens. 

It’s natural to find a home in a community where everyone understands you. Online communities can certainly play a role in our search for belonging, but they can also be misleading. Can we truly find a home in a community built on online texts? Where is the warmth of a touch or the depth of a face-to-face conversation? 

They say the embers of feeling burn brightest during our teenage years. It’s an era of burning hearts that yearn for adventure in chase of new purpose and meaning. Yet, in a world where the blue glow of our screens so often outshines the light of sunrise, a question remains: Are we, the very generation that is meant to feel most deeply, forgetting what it truly means to belong—to a place, to a people, to a home? 

Where is home for those who have been forced to leave it?  

Do as I say, not as I do.'” – My Dad 
 
“For those who have lost their homes, every new door is a reminder of the one that was left behind.” -Unknown 

The world.  

There is perhaps no greater cruelty than being forced to leave your home. Yet when life demands it, the world itself becomes your home. The sky becomes your ceiling, the earth beneath your feet your floor, the countless buildings your shelter, and the people who journey beside you your family. Family is not formed by blood alone, but by shared suffering, resilience, and love.  

Uprooted, they begin anew. Life throws them on a new path. A chance to build again. Though the echoes of the old home never truly fade, its symphony can be rewritten. It is an opportunity to rise from what was broken and build something new: a place where laughter is once again held within four walls instead of being carried away by the wind. 

“She completes me… and my to-do list.” – My Person  
 
“Isn’t it funny, that we break apart in the arms of those who complete us?” -Unknown 

My Home? 

If this essay is a symphony, then every note has contributed to the melody of what home means to me. As I have shared, I have my own night sky, filled with constellations that feel like home—my own broken stars and their stardust. Though each of us weaves a different constellation, we are all searching for the same light.  

The four walls I call home shelter the people I love and care for. Though I love my motherland deeply, I’m not bound to her. For she gives me the courage to fly beyond her, trusting that I can find home wherever life leads me.  

Funnily enough, I always seem to find it in the arms that hold me—those arms of stardust. 

I’m no coward when it comes to feeling. I embrace everything life places before me. I have woven my constellations across my night sky. And I have so many more still to weave. 

*** 

So, the next time someone asks you where home is, don’t look anywhere else but within. Your heart is a night sky, where the constellations of home quietly reside. It is there that you will always find your way back. 

After all, home isn’t a destination. Let’s not forget that even constellations are constantly in motion. Keep searching.  

 
 
“Gran! What’s the secret to long-lasting love?” – Bestie 
“Oh, just make him cookies every day”- Gran 
“I call her sweetheart because I forgot her name.”- Gramp 

“Why am I even in this convo?”- Bro 

“Well, don’t you worry – no girl gonna stick with you”- Sis 

“You’ll wanna know how I met your sister?” – My Man 

“No!“- collective gasp 
“Why not? it’s cute” – Momma 
“Until he recites it a million times.”- Dad 

“Here’s to love and home!”- Me.