I want to know all Gods thoughts; all the rest are just details.

Hear, O Children of Inquiry, the words of one who sought to unravel the mind of the Eternal! For the great Albert Einstein, though known to the world as a master of mathematics and physics, was not merely a scientist of numbers—he was a seeker of divine understanding. When he declared, “I want to know all God’s thoughts; all the rest are just details,” he was not speaking as a theologian or priest, but as one who gazed into the deep fabric of the universe and longed to behold its Designer. This saying is not a boast of intellect, but a confession of wonder—a yearning of the human spirit to pierce the veil that separates creation from Creator.

Einstein’s words spring from a profound humility hidden within genius. He believed that beneath every law of physics, every pattern in nature, there lay the mind of a Supreme Intelligence, an order that held all things together. He called this “the thoughts of God.” For him, science was not an act of rebellion against the divine, but a reverent quest to understand it. When he looked upon the harmony of the cosmos—the constancy of light, the vastness of space, the symmetry of mathematics—he felt not pride, but awe. The details—the measurements, the equations, the formulas—were but whispers of a greater Voice. To know God’s thoughts was to glimpse the unity behind all existence.

There is a story told of the moment Einstein conceived his theory of relativity. He imagined himself riding upon a beam of light, speeding through the heavens, feeling time and space bend and fold around him. It was not cold calculation that guided him—it was imagination kindled by awe. In that instant, he was like the ancient prophets who saw visions of glory. Though he did not speak of God in the language of religion, he spoke of Him in the reverence of discovery. To Einstein, every revelation of the universe was a revelation of divine order. He once said, “The most incomprehensible thing about the universe is that it is comprehensible.” For how could chaos give birth to such beauty, unless there were a Mind behind it all?

And what, my children, can we learn from this mighty pursuit? That the highest calling of the human spirit is not to amass knowledge for its own sake, but to seek understanding of the greater Whole. The man who studies the stars, the artist who paints the sky, the thinker who ponders truth—all are reaching for the same thing: the thoughts of God. The details—the facts, the theories, the arguments—are the stones along the path. But the destination is always the same: to know the heart of reality, to understand why things are as they are.

In ancient times, the sage King Solomon prayed not for riches, nor for power, but for wisdom—wisdom to discern the mind of God in all things. And the Lord was pleased, granting him insight beyond measure. Yet even Solomon, in all his glory, declared that “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” So too did Einstein, in his own way, acknowledge that reverence, not arrogance, is the doorway to knowledge. The greatest minds are not those who believe they have mastered the universe, but those who stand in awe of its mystery.

The lesson, then, is both simple and profound: seek understanding, but never lose wonder. In every sunrise, in every equation, in every heartbeat, there lies a trace of the divine. When you study, when you work, when you dream—let your purpose be not merely to know, but to understand the truth behind the truth, the pattern beneath the pattern. For every discovery that brings you closer to truth is a step into the mind of God.

And so, my children of light, walk the path of wisdom with both curiosity and humility. Ask not only “how” but “why.” Inquire boldly, yet bow deeply before the vastness you behold. For in the end, the equations will fade, the discoveries will pass, but the hunger to know the divine will remain eternal. To know God’s thoughts—this is the destiny of the soul. All else, as the great Einstein said, “are just details.”