Beneath Our Feet, Beyond Our Knowing
Earth’s hidden depths and the Sikh wisdom of scientific wonder
Dr. Devinder Pal Singh
(Image: Courtesy Gemini)
Human beings have always been fascinated by what lies beyond the visible. We look toward distant galaxies, explore the depths of oceans, and examine microscopic cells. Moreover, with extraordinary technological effort, we drill into the Earth beneath our feet. Yet every attempt to penetrate the unknown seems to reveal a paradox: the more we discover, the more we realize how much remains undiscovered.
The story of the Kola Superdeep Borehole is a powerful illustration of this paradox. Scientists drilled more than 12 kilometres into Earth's crust. They hoped to learn more about the planet's interior. They encountered unexpected temperatures, complex geological structures, deep underground water, and ancient microscopic life. They did not reach anywhere near the centre of Earth. Yet the relatively small incision they made into the planet challenged some assumptions about what existed beneath the surface.
There is something profoundly humbling about this achievement. Human beings possess remarkable intellectual and technological capabilities. But even our deepest physical exploration has barely scratched Earth's outer layer. The Earth is not an inert ball of rock waiting to be completely mapped and classified. It is a dynamic, evolving system whose physical processes operate on scales of time, pressure, temperature, and depth that are difficult for the human mind to comprehend.
Science does not diminish this mystery. In an important sense, it deepens it. Every scientific discovery answers some questions while generating others. The unexpected findings of deep drilling demonstrate that nature does not necessarily conform to the simplified models we construct to understand it. Our theories are indispensable. But they remain representations of reality rather than reality itself. A scientific model may be extraordinarily successful and yet require revision when new evidence appears.
This is not a weakness of science. It is one of its greatest strengths. Science advances because it is willing to say, “We do not yet know.” It observes, measures, tests, challenges assumptions, and changes its explanations when evidence demands it. Scientific humility is therefore not ignorance; it is an intellectual discipline. It protects us from confusing our current understanding with the totality of truth.
This attitude resonates strongly with the Sikh concept of Wismad (the profound sense of wonder, awe, and astonishment) in the face of the vastness and mystery of existence. Wismad is not merely amazement at something spectacular. It is an awareness that reality is infinitely richer than our ordinary categories can capture. It is the feeling that arises when the intellect reaches the boundary of its comprehension and encounters something greater than itself.
Guru Nanak expresses this sense of cosmic wonder repeatedly in Gurbani. In the Aasaa Mehlaa 1, he writes: vismaaḋ naaḋ vismaaḋ véḋ. vismaaḋ jee▫a vismaaḋ bʰéḋ. [Wondrous is the sound, wondrous the knowledge; wondrous are the beings, wondrous the mysteries. (M. 1, SGGS, p. 463)].
The word Wismad provides a beautiful bridge between scientific curiosity and spiritual awareness. The scientist asks, “How does this work?” The contemplative asks, “What does this reveal about existence?” These questions need not contradict each other. One investigates mechanisms; the other explores meaning, relationship, and our place within the larger whole.
The Earth itself can become a teacher of Wismad. We stand on apparently solid ground, yet beneath us lies a planet shaped by immense pressures, temperatures, geological movement, and processes unfolding over millions and billions of years. The rocks beneath our feet preserve evidence of ancient environments and biological histories. Water can exist deep underground in forms and circumstances very different from those familiar at the surface. What appears stable and permanent from the human perspective is, on geological timescales, constantly changing.
Such knowledge should change our relationship with the planet. If a tiny borehole can reveal unexpected complexity, how much more remains hidden in the oceans, beneath the crust, within Earth's mantle and beyond our planet? And if Earth itself represents only one small component of a vast cosmos, the scale of creation becomes almost impossible to conceptualize.
Guru Nanak's vision repeatedly challenges human claims to comprehend the entirety of creation. The famous declaration in Jap composition: Éhu anṫ na jaaṇæ ko▫é.The story of the Kola Superdeep Borehole is a powerful illustration of this paradox. Scientists drilled more than 12 kilometres into Earth's crust. They hoped to learn more about the planet's interior. They encountered unexpected temperatures, complex geological structures, deep underground water, and ancient microscopic life. They did not reach anywhere near the centre of Earth. Yet the relatively small incision they made into the planet challenged some assumptions about what existed beneath the surface.
There is something profoundly humbling about this achievement. Human beings possess remarkable intellectual and technological capabilities. But even our deepest physical exploration has barely scratched Earth's outer layer. The Earth is not an inert ball of rock waiting to be completely mapped and classified. It is a dynamic, evolving system whose physical processes operate on scales of time, pressure, temperature, and depth that are difficult for the human mind to comprehend.
Science does not diminish this mystery. In an important sense, it deepens it. Every scientific discovery answers some questions while generating others. The unexpected findings of deep drilling demonstrate that nature does not necessarily conform to the simplified models we construct to understand it. Our theories are indispensable. But they remain representations of reality rather than reality itself. A scientific model may be extraordinarily successful and yet require revision when new evidence appears.
This is not a weakness of science. It is one of its greatest strengths. Science advances because it is willing to say, “We do not yet know.” It observes, measures, tests, challenges assumptions, and changes its explanations when evidence demands it. Scientific humility is therefore not ignorance; it is an intellectual discipline. It protects us from confusing our current understanding with the totality of truth.
This attitude resonates strongly with the Sikh concept of Wismad (the profound sense of wonder, awe, and astonishment) in the face of the vastness and mystery of existence. Wismad is not merely amazement at something spectacular. It is an awareness that reality is infinitely richer than our ordinary categories can capture. It is the feeling that arises when the intellect reaches the boundary of its comprehension and encounters something greater than itself.
Guru Nanak expresses this sense of cosmic wonder repeatedly in Gurbani. In the Aasaa Mehlaa 1, he writes: vismaaḋ naaḋ vismaaḋ véḋ. vismaaḋ jee▫a vismaaḋ bʰéḋ. [Wondrous is the sound, wondrous the knowledge; wondrous are the beings, wondrous the mysteries. (M. 1, SGGS, p. 463)].
The word Wismad provides a beautiful bridge between scientific curiosity and spiritual awareness. The scientist asks, “How does this work?” The contemplative asks, “What does this reveal about existence?” These questions need not contradict each other. One investigates mechanisms; the other explores meaning, relationship, and our place within the larger whole.
The Earth itself can become a teacher of Wismad. We stand on apparently solid ground, yet beneath us lies a planet shaped by immense pressures, temperatures, geological movement, and processes unfolding over millions and billions of years. The rocks beneath our feet preserve evidence of ancient environments and biological histories. Water can exist deep underground in forms and circumstances very different from those familiar at the surface. What appears stable and permanent from the human perspective is, on geological timescales, constantly changing.
Such knowledge should change our relationship with the planet. If a tiny borehole can reveal unexpected complexity, how much more remains hidden in the oceans, beneath the crust, within Earth's mantle and beyond our planet? And if Earth itself represents only one small component of a vast cosmos, the scale of creation becomes almost impossible to conceptualize.
[No one knows the limits. (Jap, SGGS, p. 5)]. captures an epistemological humility that remains remarkably relevant in the age of modern science.
Modern science has expanded human knowledge enormously, but it has simultaneously expanded the horizon of the unknown. Telescopes have revealed billions of galaxies; particle accelerators have exposed deeper levels of matter; geological investigations have transformed our understanding of Earth. Yet each achievement opens new questions. This is perhaps where science and Wismad meet most beautifully.
Wonder does not mean abandoning reason. Nor does scientific investigation require the disappearance of wonder. On the contrary, the deepest scientific discoveries often produce greater humility and awe. Knowledge and wonder can therefore grow together.
The Kola borehole offers a small but powerful metaphor for human existence. We drilled downward expecting answers and encountered surprises. We sought certainty and discovered complexity. We attempted to penetrate the Earth and discovered how little of it we could actually reach. Perhaps this is one of the most important lessons of exploration: the purpose of knowledge is not to eliminate mystery but to understand reality more honestly.
The Sikh worldview invites us to live within that humility. We should inquire deeply, but we should not mistake inquiry for ownership of truth. We should use reason, evidence, and experience, while remaining receptive to the vastness that exceeds our intellectual grasp.
The Earth beneath us is mysterious. The universe surrounding us is even more mysterious. And consciousness itself, the very instrument through which we attempt to understand both, remains an extraordinary mystery. To live with Wismad is therefore to remain curious without becoming arrogant, knowledgeable without becoming closed, and humble without becoming passive.
The deepest scientific journey may ultimately lead us not to the centre of the Earth, but toward a more profound realization about ourselves: we are explorers living on a small planet within an immense creation, and the boundary of what we know is always surrounded by what we have yet to understand.
That boundary is not a failure.
It is where wonder begins.
