I recently switched back to an Android phone and found my saved notes from 2015 - 2017 in my drive. These were some random snippets of thoughts and quotes from books I was reading at the time: Gatsby, poetry, notes on Death, recipes, and grocery store lists. I found a list I had written down when I lived at home with my parents to help care for my grandmother. Such an interesting snapshot of time.
At work, I delivered a presentation today on how the software we use captures and compares data month to month. The technical part of me wants to write a piece of code that compares on certain values but isn’t that what writing is at the end of the day.
I have always found writers who write for themselves to be the most enjoyable. I don’t care what the audience wants to read, I care what you want to read as a writer. When you bring in performance, it always cheapens its meaning a little bit. Alyssa Liu winning a gold medal on her terms is the greatest example of this. She performed for herself. And in her joy, we all found a missing piece of ourselves.
In my previous writings, I found a draft of a piece I was writing on Math after graduation. It’s one of the many pieces I never bothered to publish. I am always taken aback with my love for all things Math. It lies dormant because I haven’t studied it in years. However, it always finds itself back in my life. A couple of years ago, I was going through a really tough time. I started tutoring Math to high school dropouts so that they could get their GED. At the time, I needed to think about something other than myself. Math was that grounding force for me. It was numbers and letters. In its familiarity, it reminded me that world could make sense.
I felt similarly invigorated by the Artemis II mission. Math working so beautifully and precisely to take humans further than they have ever been, and returning them safely home was a tribute to The Human Spirit in every way. It lit a fire in me that I haven’t experienced in a long time. The blaze that kept me going through my undergrad degree because I forced myself to find joy in the little things is peaking through under the protection of an experienced mind. I no longer believe in the systems we have created as the absolute truths. My therapist often says, life exists in possibility. In a way, it’s the most mathematical thought. Probability teaches us that there is no perfect 0 or 1. The basis of Math is in the Multiverse Theory. There exists a universe that we define. Once we have defined that universe, what are the conclusions that we can draw from it? This universe is the universal set. So, mathematically speaking, life is in its possibilities. And this is where things become joyful.
Whether it’s the first woman to ever go around the moon or a 4 minute performance an athlete has prepared their entire life for, only to so-called blow it. The possibilities of human capability are endless. Why go to the moon? Why climb the mountains? Why explore the deep ocean? Because it’s there. It’s as simple as that. There are a lot of practical reasons for all of it but at the end of the day, it’s something we believe is possible. And that possibility alone is the defense of its attempt. Given the right resources and the perfect scenario, what can a human being achieve? And if we fail, when can we try again?
As Huxley says in Brave New World,
“But I don't want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness, I want sin.'
'In fact,' said Mustapha Mond, 'you're claiming the right to be unhappy.'
'All right then,' said the Savage defiantly, 'I'm claiming the right to be unhappy.'
The Great Attempt at anything is the reason for it all. Humans to stare at in awe, humans to cheer, humans to communicate with, and humans to come back home to - this has always been the North Star. It means something because we care. It exists because we want it to. Not out of hubris but in appreciation of. An homage to the stardust in us responding to the stars further away.
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