In October 1959, Lucinda Embry, a suspiciously quiet elementary school girl, scribbled down a long, haunting sequence of numbers. At first, it looked like the ramblings of a restless kid. They always do that. But decades later, people realized those numbers eerily predicted events like the Oklahoma City bombing, Hurricane Katrina, even the fall of the Twin Towers on 9/11. She saw it all, long before it happened. Imagine if we had listened, or if someone had cracked the code in time. History might just have unfolded differently.
Now before you throw your phone out the window and start looking for a doomsday bunker, breathe… really, breathe. It’s just a movie. Knowing, to be precise.
But think about it. We live every single day surrounded by questions that don’t have neat answers. Science tries to give us fuzzy explanations of how things work, with a lot of guesswork in the mix. Philosophers give us more meaningless words. And conspiracy theorists? They just give us headaches with flat-earth claims and moon-landing denials.
The truth is, we really don’t know. The biggest mysteries of life still sit there and stare us in the eyes, unsolved.
We don’t know who really built the pyramids. Archaeologists insist it was skilled human labour. Conspiracy theorists say aliens. We’ve also been telling ourselves that Stonehenge was built to align with the solstice. Nice story. The structure does line up with the solstice. But do we really think people dragged massive stones across miles of land just to watch the sunrise on June 21? That’s dumb.
Plenty of modern buildings align with the solstice too, completely by accident. Or maybe we should say the Burj Khalifa was built that tall so we can chat with the heavens like the Tower of Babel? See, there are so many things we can’t explain, but we keep making theories to fill in the gaps.
We don’t know if aliens exist. And if they do, we don’t know if they’re geniuses with flying saucers or space jellyfish floating cluelessly in cosmic waters. Honestly, if they’ve been watching us, they probably think Earth is a bad sitcom. We’ve even sent them naked drawings of humans, and most of our internet is trash. If that’s their impression of us, no wonder they haven’t visited.
And of course, we don’t know why the History Channel became the “Aliens Channel.” Hand them any ancient artifact and they’ll find a way to connect it to aliens. At this point, if someone sneezed in Chongoni caves 5,000 years ago, they’d make a documentary claiming extraterrestrials taught humans advanced breathing techniques.
We don’t know how dinosaurs really looked. Every “scientific illustration” of a T. rex or velociraptor is basically a kindergarten art project done by PhDs. One year they’re giant lizards, the next year they’re feathered chickens. No one knows.
We say the universe began with the Big Bang. Great headline, very dramatic. But if you ask what actually “banged,” or what came before it, science just shrugs. So, we don’t know.
And then there’s the Trojan War. Did it even happen? We don’t know. Historians still argue whether it was a real war or just ancient fan fiction influenced by mythology. And even if it did, are we really supposed to believe thousands of men fought and died because one beautiful woman, Helen, was taken? I don’t know.
We don’t know when the best day of our lives will be. Maybe it already happened when you found money in an old pair of jeans. Maybe it’s yet to come. That mystery keeps us moving and buying expensive things in the name of “treating ourselves.”
We don’t know if free will is even real. Did you really choose to buy pizza today, or was it always your destiny? Or maybe your brain was tricked by a clever ad campaign.
We don’t know why some people are lucky, why some memories stick while others vanish. We don’t know why silence can feel loud, why kids ask better questions than adults, or why we do things we know are bad for us. Look at you. You don’t even know why you’re reading this blog instead of meditating or working on some life-changing project.
We don’t know which small choices will change everything. We spend hours analysing decisions like they’re Nobel-worthy equations. “If I take this job, will I be happy?” Maybe. “If I quit my job and move to the village, will I find enlightenment?” Probably. The truth is, we don’t know. And that’s both terrifying and exciting.
My point is, we don’t know. And that’s the wildest part. We don’t know what tomorrow will bring. We plan, we schedule, we set alarms, but the truth is we don’t know if tomorrow will be ordinary or if it will flip our whole lives upside down. We don’t know if tomorrow will be the best day, the worst day, or just another day.
Tomorrow could be the start of World War III, or the day we finally make peace with each other. It could be another pandemic, or the day an asteroid hits Earth and resets everything. Or maybe tomorrow is the day someone cures cancer and invents the fountain of youth.
Tomorrow is both a promise and a threat, hope and chaos. Tomorrow is a coin toss, and we’re all betting our lives on the flip. But maybe not knowing is the whole point. If we had all the answers, we’d lose the awe of wonder and the joy of surprise.
So, let’s take tomorrow with hope. Embrace the mysteries and the unanswered questions. We don’t know a lot of things, and that’s exactly what keeps life interesting.
