It would be possible to describe everything scientifically, but it would make no sense; it would be without meaning, as if you described a Beethoven symphony as a variation of wave pressure.

The data-meaning gap no one sees

There's a weird trap we fall into when we assume that understanding how something works is the same as understanding what it means. You could measure the exact frequencies and decibel levels of a Beethoven symphony, map every neural firing it triggers, calculate the precise mechanics of how sound waves travel through a concert hall—and still miss the actual experience entirely. You'd have all the data and none of the music.

This matters because our world increasingly prizes quantifiable proof. We're tempted to think that if something can't be measured, it doesn't really exist or doesn't matter. But this misses something essential about being human. Love can be described through hormonal release and neural patterns, yet describing it that way explains nothing about why you'd rearrange your entire life for another person. Grief isn't just a pattern of brain activity; it's the weight of absence. A conversation with a friend isn't just an exchange of information; it's connection.

The trick isn't choosing between scientific understanding and meaningful understanding—we need both. But recognizing their difference keeps us honest. Some of the things that matter most to us will never fit neatly into a spreadsheet, and that's not a limitation of meaning. It's actually what makes meaning possible in the first place.