Do we or don't we love a good mystery?

I was re-reading some of what I'd recently read in a book called, "The Dark Night of The Soul", by Gerald May. He looks at the writings of a couple of 16th-century saints, Teresa of Avila and St. John of the Cross. Too often, we (I) want everything to be neat, tidy, known and clear...so often, things aren't. May says:
Sometimes the only way we can enter the deeper dimensions of the journey is by being unable to see where we’re going. John’s explanation of the obscurity goes further. He says that in worldly matters it is good to have light so we know where to go without stumbling. But in spiritual matters it is precisely when we do think we know where to go that we are most likely to stumble…the night is dark for our protection. We cannot liberate ourselves; our defenses and resistances will not permit it, and we can hurt ourselves in the attempt. To guide us toward the love that we most desire, we must be taken where we could not and would not go on our own…Deep in the darkness, way beneath our senses, God is instilling “another, better love” and “deeper, more urgent longings” that empower our willingness for all the necessary relinquishments along the way.”
That last bit offers significant insight into what I believe to be the true meaning of repentance...the whole piece points to the grace we need for the journey; to the cry God longs to hear: "Help me. I can't do this on my own."
May goes on to say:
When we were children, most of us were good friends with mystery. The world was full of it and we loved it. Then as we grew older, we slowly accepted the indoctrination that mystery exists only to be solved. For many of us, mystery became an adversary; unknowing became a weakness.