Always With Me

Wednesday this week, when I was jogging with my friend Hassen, somwhow our conversation broached upon the subject of taoism, the very familiar topic that I have raved about for four years since the day of my university application. I explained to him the taoist idea of duality in everything. Nothing is inherently good, nothing is inherently bad. To be rich is to be poor, to be poor is to be rich. And above all, with some nostalgia, I talked about how the book “The Tao of Physics” led me to the decision of studying physics. Hassen seemed very interested. Since he's an astrophysics major, I went on to say that I believe the world on the very large scale is identical to the world on the minuscule scale, just like an oft-seen group of photos on internet showing the subatomic structure and the distant stars to look exactly the same. That, too, is an taoist idea. Hassen wasn't very convinced by that, and our jogging finished shortly after.

The next day, I was still thinking about this taoist idea in lecture, during which I often had to struggle to keep myself awake. Then my mind strayed to quantum mechanics, a class that I had much growl about for being taught the wrong way here in Princeton. Schrodinger's equation was introduced to us in the first lecture, without any theoretical justification or reference to historical motivation, and the rest of the semester was all about this equation whose origin I still have not wholely understood. In simpler sense, it's like being introduced the notion of momentum, but without ever being enlightened about its physical interpretation. I was very unhappy about it, of course. And I attributed much of my indignation towards physics to the way they teach it here, as in quantum mechanics, a law which is supposed to govern the motion of particles but which I failed to perceive.  But that moment, that very moment when my mind strayed into quantum mechanics long after the struggle with it, I recalled not swear or sweat but sweetness. I recalled how in one problem set we applied quantum mechanics to study nebula. I'm sure I didn't like that problem set which took me overnight to finish. But did I ever realize, at that particular moment filled with grumble while I was doing the problems, that what I was doing was exactly what had enchanted my mind since the last days of my high school? That what I was doing was exactly what I had deeply believed in, and exactly what I had repeatedly told my friends about: that the universe is but an atom and that an atom is a whole universe? How could one ever come to regret about, or even feel indignation towards his or her own dream?

Then the whole day I felt sad and lost. I remember vividly the kind of passion about education I came with to Princeton in my freshman year. The very passion that Mr. Keating and Ann Watson teach about in Dead Poet Society and Mona Lisa Smile. Also vividly the indifference I could maintain towards outside distractions, the pride I could speak with when telling people that I'm a physics major instead of a business major or finance major. But I've changed so much during the course of three years. Not meaning to be cynical, and by no means critical of others, I am too easily distracted by the world and give up my ideal and my dream too fast. Last year when probably everyone I know in my class was hectically applying for finance internships, I lost myself in the same commotion. I spent quite some time writing up resumes and cover letters, only to discover in the end that I wasn't able to land any internship. Then I felt downcast. And my mentality was changed thereafter. I began to increasingly worry about not being able to make a respectful career, and above all, not being able to make enough cash to prove that my career is respectful. Summer went by quickly. Back to school, I decided that I should apply for econ grad school and then I would probably be able to work in the central bank of China one day. That was also my dream, however before I read the Tao of Physics.

But Thursday, sitting in lecture, I came to doubt if I really should swith to econ. I felt sad about deserting my old passion and resorting to something new, even though in the chronological sense physics is "newer" to me than economics. Then I recalled Crystal's comment "For the pursuit of the old truth that our most profound and most sacred principles are firmly rooted in our innermost soul, independent of experiences in the world, in view of the undeniable fact that the imagined general harmony of people today seems to be further away from its realization than ever; For the bitter failure of many efforts not immediately aimed at material gain; For the humble heart that earnestly seeking the beauty of eternity..." I recalled the audio clip of John Nash's Nobel address speech from A Beautiful Mind given to me by my high school roommate, the documentary about Andrew Wiles' eight years spent in realizing his childhood dream of proving Fermat's last Theorem, and even the likes of the fictious Magister Ludi from the Glass Bead Game which has forever enchanted my mind. The kind of people I respect most is the kind who, knowing their dreams, devote their entire lives for its realization. Especially the academians. Only because there are so much more distractions to prevent one from studying than from doing business. Yet, such fortitude is missing in me. And I don't know since when the part of me that's most interested in pursuing eternal truth, unviolable truth, non-human-defined truth, has ceased to be. Not knowing since when my passion for physics has eroded into a mixture of forbearance and indifference. Just like turning a beautiful newly-wed bride into a mumdane-looking housewife. Then I began to question myself. Whether the change of attitude is due to the way they teach physics here, or to my own lack of initiatives. And I realized just how few physics professors I know about in Princeton, how few latest discoveries in physics I have ever cared about. They might have justified the Schrodinger's equation in lecture, but I might have fallen asleep at the same time. It's not the bride turning ugly, but rather me not putting in love and passion.

Four years earlier, it was roughly on the same day that I embarked on the reading of the Tao of Physics to prepare for my university interview. I had thought it would steel me through the four years of life in Princeton. Now four years later, at another turning point of my life, much of me has given in and forsaken the old dream. Yet, I just couldn't help recall the joy and passion that the book has once given me. I just couldn't forget that physics was once my true love. And will it?