Miss Universe, I just want to get to know you

For the sheer joy of learning

“A large part of mathematics which becomes useful developed with absolutely no desire to be useful” — John von Neumann 

To spend hours wrapped in a proof or knotted by the origins and the fate of the universe feels like an indulgence to many, but it is one of the most beautiful gestures we can make to the universe—to say thank you for the richness you've afforded me, which I simply cannot reap in one short lifetime. Thank you for all your complexity, knots, and paradoxes that I may never be able to unravel myself—perhaps not even with centuries of collective human effort. Thank you for giving me so much to be curious about and in awe of. It is perhaps why I’ve always admired mathematicians and physicists. The pursuit of these subjects becomes a high form of spiritual practice, a profound way of saying I yearn to know you better, solely for the joy of understanding.

So few places prioritize learning for its own sake. Nor have I felt that I deeply understood the subjects in any of my classes. It seemed my educational journey was a game, optimizing for exam scores at the expense of true understanding.

“The beginnings of Algebra I found far more difficult, perhaps as a result of bad teaching. I was made to learn by heart: “The square of the sum of two numbers is equal to the sum of their squares increased by twice their product.” I had not the vaguest idea what this meant, and when I could not remember the words, my tutor threw the book at my head, which did not stimulate my intellect in any way.”—Bertrand Russell

I'm reminded of what my favorite physicist Feynman's father said to young Richard: to know the name of something is to know nothing about it at all. He told Feynman, "You can know in all the languages you want what the name of that bird is, and when you've finished all of that, you'll know absolutely nothing about the bird. You only know about humans in different places and what they call the bird. Now, let's look at the bird." This is how school and university felt growing up. I have many such names in my pocket, but like a bird, they took flight, and I remained with empty pockets, lacking sincere knowledge about them.

But reader, this isn't a post about how the current education system sucks, though it does. This is a post about the rich world I've discovered by learning for the sheer joy of it and the desire to leave behind more gems for future generations to marvel at too.

I am all too eager to know Miss Universe from every angle and on every scale. Because I found no place that shared my ethos of learning, I grew up as an autodidact and a (poorly) closeted nerd. Once, on the bus to middle school, I was caught reading books as off-beat as “Living with Coronary Heart Disease,” not because I knew anyone with the condition, but simply out of curiosity. However, the strange and concerned looks eventually got to me. And over the years, in the absence of a nurturing environment of friends or institutions to nurture my curiosity, I felt it begin to ossify.

But education wasn't always this stifling, nor does it have to be. The elite once enjoyed private tutors and ample time to learn and do things that went beyond their daily bread. While this isn't a world I'd endorse at the expense of democratized education, it did allow geniuses to flourish. And I believe we can have both: inclusivity and individual nurture. 

I recall one of my first conversations with my friend Andrew, during which we discussed what learning should be and feel like. He told me about his inspiration: the Royal Society, a group of just 12 people who gathered to do research together and share their findings. This group laid the foundation for science. This reminded me that such a world, one I've always desired, did once exist. And it can exist again. There's no license needed to do science; there's no reason people can't gather freely to learn with and from each other, to do great work together, and to build a future that further testifies to human ingenuity.

My life has changed dearly in the past four months since bringing Fractal University to life with Andrew. I am seeing firsthand what such a world looks like, where earnest learning is the foundation upon which we gather together. Before my Foundations of Computing class, I can't recall a time when I sat among a group where everyone was there undoubtedly of their own volition, including the instructor, who had no obligations to meet professorship requirements. There is a palpable difference in being in a setting like this. It's a shame I only experienced this outside of traditional university settings.

For the first time, I feel I can come out of the closet, having found a safe space in the nerd haven I'm building with my friends. I've grown to love being an autodidact. One should think for oneself, as Tesla wisely remarked, “Be alone; that is when ideas are born.” Yet, I also believe in the power of collaborative learning—ideas need a community to flourish or fade away, and it's within groups that I see the potential for great work.

I have a feeling that FractalU will become such a place—where we will earnestly learn together for the sheer joy of it and, in the process, leave behind much more for future earthlings.

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This is the 4th post for the Write of Passage cohort 11. Prompt: How is your world changing?