Mad Matter: You often talk about the Zen concept of “beginner’s mind” in regard to your research methods. Can you elaborate on that a bit?

Dr. Winters: If there’s one thing I’ve learned from meditation, it’s that the more demands are placed on you, the more you need to sit in the silence.

Mad Matter: Is that where you find your answers—the silence?

Dr. Winters: Always. You know, there is no sound in space. In order for sound to travel, there has to be something with molecules for it to travel through. Here, on Earth, sound travels to your ears by vibrating air molecules. Our air is the conduit for sound. But in deep space—no air, right? All those miles between planets and stars, all that vastness. And not one. Single. Sound. The secret of the universe itself is held in utter silence. So we have to make ourselves quiet. Find a new way to hear the secret.

Mad Matter: Would you say that science is the language of secrets?

Dr. Winters: I don’t think science has the corner on that market. I wouldn’t be surprised if our friends in genetics find secrets embedded in our DNA. The whole universe is a secret. And so, in turn, are we. Each and every one of us is a secret. I used to only want answers. Truth. As Hawking said, “My goal is simple. It is a complete understanding of the universe, why it is as it is and why it exists at all.” And while I still feel this way—the search for the truth of the universe is my life’s work—I’m getting more and more comfortable with not knowing. It’s a cool place to hang out. There’s so much possibility there. You start getting answers, you lose some of the mystery, right? And the mystery is magical, fascinating. So many people want—need—absolutes. They want proof. Does God exist or not? Are ghosts real or imagined? Is there an afterlife, or nothingness? But—and I say this as a devout scientist committed to the search for truth in all things—the answers don’t always matter. They’re not the What.

Mad Matter: The What?

Dr. Winters: “The What” is a phrase I use as shorthand for “what it’s all about.” The point of everything. My, your, our raison d’être—our reason for existing at all.

Mad Matter: So what’s your What?

Dr. Winters: Whitman’s “When I Heard the Learn’d Astronomer.” You know the poem?

Mad Matter: No.

Dr. Winters: At its heart, it’s a poem about ditching the scene. The noise. Being a brand. All that bullshit. This is my favorite part, the end:

… I wander’d off by myself,

In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,

Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.

That moment—of remembering what matters and not having to telegraph it to the whole world so you can get your daily ego boost—that’s my What. I hope I can figure out what dark matter is in my lifetime. But the journey, the conversation I’m having with the universe, the stars, the fabric of existence—that’s enough for me.

Mad Matter: I couldn’t help but notice that in your Whitman poem, he, too, sought silence.

Dr. Winters: That’s where the magic happens.