One of the concepts that I've always wondered about is the significance of visual models to scientists. Namely, the importance of tangible spatial representations of abstract physical concepts that would otherwise be prohibitively esoteric. As humans, we are accustomed to interacting with the world on a macroscopic level, moving beakers and pushing chairs. As scientists, we are routinely expected to shrink this scale a million times over and treat arcane concepts like carbon and polymerases just as realistically.

A perfect example of this would be the thousands of protein structures available at the Brookhaven protein database. One of the major milestones for any project in my field is the publishing of a structure. A good x-ray crystallography or NMR structure, esp. in a hot model system is guaranteed good journal placement, and any decent structure is going to get published somewhere. The importance of a tangible model is, therefore, not lost on the scientific community. This isn't surprising, given the fact that the majority of information we gather about our surroundings is through our vision, and one of the key properties of existence, as far as the mind is concerned, is a visual presence.

We all know the wind exists, even though we can't see it because it's effects are immediately observable. The concept of "air" however is for most people more of a declarative statement than a profession of known fact. A typical nonscientist might detachedly know the composition of the air around him, but it's existence is a sterile concept, and not as real as say, the chair in which he sits. This is the curse of a chemist or physicist, and to a lesser degree a biologist. Whereas a biologist might be acutely aware of the millions of invisible bacteria crawling over their skin and the desktop, the chemist is acute aware (should his thoughts lean that way, of course) of the molecules of air surrounding him.

The ability to ask difficult physical questions without a substantive picture in mind is a skill that can take years to develop. I'm not implying in any way that I am completely comfortable with my own ability in this matter. Physicists like Einstein seemed able to completely divest themselves of any logical restrictions to the macroscopic world, and comprehend the world at it's true (or so we think), quantum level. Once at this level (and I can see it, just not experience it), mathematical descriptions of reality are no longer just descriptions, they are reality. They become just a real to the individual as the coffeepot in his office.

The progression of the scientist toward a complete illumination of the way things actually are (ostensibly quantum physics) is an enlightenment of sorts. It's the equivalent of a Buddhist reaching absolute insight. Just as buddhists have their enlightened gurus, we have our Bohrs, our Heisenbergs, and our Gautama Buddha, Einstein himself.

Or maybe that's just how I see it.