Science historian Oren Harman talks to Tomasz Sitarz about Daedalus and Icarus, metaphors for the human brain, the two faces of gravity, and enchanting encounters with nature.

In my quest for the truth, I have tried to draw from as many sources as I can find. I have taken sips from the relentless stream of scientific discoveries, and I have crawled inside long-abandoned Neolithic caves harboring stories of old. From both of them I gained new wisdom, but my thirst was not quenched. It seemed that there was no answer to be found, or that the answer is so powerful, so otherworldly, that it escapes my eyes, for they are unaccustomed to the shadow encompassing the human soul.

Then, at the top of the hill in Heidelberg, I heard a story about motherhood that was told like no other I had heard before. It spoke of the soul, and it spoke of physics, without juxtaposing them or treating them as two opposite poles of understanding but entangling them into one powerful myth that explains measurable forces in action and also sheds light on the human psyche, which is, as far as we know, the only witness to the miracles of the universe. This story illuminated to me the role of the scientist and the role of the storyteller. It enabled me to see that they do not have to be two separate beings. Stories can be told by scientists, who have the knowledge and understanding of the natural laws present in our world, as well as the ability to communicate them to the rest of their tribe.

The particular story I mentioned was from the book Evolution: Fifteen Myths That Explain Our World by Oren Harman, whom I was able to ask some questions about the power of myths and the role of the storyteller.

The Earth and the solar system were created from a spinning cloud of gasses and dust. In your book, you turn this scientific description into a myth.

Yes, the myth depicts a narcissistic sun as the central point around which