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I wrote this post last week, and couldn't quite bring myself to publish it because it is, on a level I can't quite describe, extremely personal. I spent almost the entirety of my last ever spring break alone, and it was a really relaxing and reflective experience. I'm proud of how much I've grown this year- and even though I feel as though nobody has noticed quite how different I am, I am content with myself. I wrote this, I guess, to remind myself of things; and I think I'll finally hit the publish button because I have nothing to hide.
I love math. I love math for the same reason I love music- it’s beautiful in its logic and universal in its application. Let’s not forget that numbers and symbols were all created by man, and it amazes me that the human brain was able to create a mathematical system that so harmoniously explains the world.
Something about looking at the stars reminds me of math. Maybe it’s because if you stare at the stars long enough, you can see the earth moving. Maybe it’s because plane lights and satellites shoot across the sky like comets and shouldn’t the fact that they’re man-made make them MORE beautiful to look at? Maybe it’s because I’m blown away by the sheer power of being able to see the light from something trillions of miles away that was first put off thousands of years ago- it’s like travelling through time.
Last night I was staring at the stars and got to thinking about probabilities. The probability that we can see a random star from earth is, obviously, 1. But what’s the probability that if we pick a random star out of the infinite number of them in the universe that it would be one of the ones we can see from earth? That number is probably so low that it would round to 0 in any modern sort of scale.
It’s the same thing with people; the probability that we would be around someone else at some point in our lives is, clearly, 1. But what’s the probability that, out of the trillions of people that have lived throughout the history of the world, not only would one specific person even exist at the same point in history as you, but that you would them meet them? That number is also probably so low it would round to 0.
So, if you define a miracle as “an event that has a very small chance of happening that does” then maybe, if you change the way you look at things, we are surrounded by miracles- in the people around us and in the stars we can see (among other things).
That thought was profound to me- not necessarily in a religious “changing water into wine” sort of way but just in a way that reminds me that there’s always another way to look at things- maybe the things that seem absolute are actually miracles, just as it boils down to the simple mathematical concept of probabilities.
I’m at this point in my life where I’m starting to be able to look back at everything that’s happened to me and see how it all ties together. Almost like a knitted scarf. The individual threads and colors that didn’t make sense at the time are starting to come together to create something beautiful. I grow up in bursts; it’s through pain and loss and tears that I am forced to become “more clearly myself,” and yet throughout these growing up processes I’ve been “shielded” from all the things that make life mundane. As a result, I refuse to believe that life is just downhill from here. I refuse to believe that there is no such thing as love. I refuse to believe that life isn’t an adventure. I refuse to believe that I don’t have the ability to change the world. Not because I’m naïve- but maybe because the world is smaller than it appears, if you just look at it the right way.
And that is a miracle.
I love math. I love math for the same reason I love music- it’s beautiful in its logic and universal in its application. Let’s not forget that numbers and symbols were all created by man, and it amazes me that the human brain was able to create a mathematical system that so harmoniously explains the world.
Something about looking at the stars reminds me of math. Maybe it’s because if you stare at the stars long enough, you can see the earth moving. Maybe it’s because plane lights and satellites shoot across the sky like comets and shouldn’t the fact that they’re man-made make them MORE beautiful to look at? Maybe it’s because I’m blown away by the sheer power of being able to see the light from something trillions of miles away that was first put off thousands of years ago- it’s like travelling through time.
Last night I was staring at the stars and got to thinking about probabilities. The probability that we can see a random star from earth is, obviously, 1. But what’s the probability that if we pick a random star out of the infinite number of them in the universe that it would be one of the ones we can see from earth? That number is probably so low that it would round to 0 in any modern sort of scale.
It’s the same thing with people; the probability that we would be around someone else at some point in our lives is, clearly, 1. But what’s the probability that, out of the trillions of people that have lived throughout the history of the world, not only would one specific person even exist at the same point in history as you, but that you would them meet them? That number is also probably so low it would round to 0.
So, if you define a miracle as “an event that has a very small chance of happening that does” then maybe, if you change the way you look at things, we are surrounded by miracles- in the people around us and in the stars we can see (among other things).
That thought was profound to me- not necessarily in a religious “changing water into wine” sort of way but just in a way that reminds me that there’s always another way to look at things- maybe the things that seem absolute are actually miracles, just as it boils down to the simple mathematical concept of probabilities.
I’m at this point in my life where I’m starting to be able to look back at everything that’s happened to me and see how it all ties together. Almost like a knitted scarf. The individual threads and colors that didn’t make sense at the time are starting to come together to create something beautiful. I grow up in bursts; it’s through pain and loss and tears that I am forced to become “more clearly myself,” and yet throughout these growing up processes I’ve been “shielded” from all the things that make life mundane. As a result, I refuse to believe that life is just downhill from here. I refuse to believe that there is no such thing as love. I refuse to believe that life isn’t an adventure. I refuse to believe that I don’t have the ability to change the world. Not because I’m naïve- but maybe because the world is smaller than it appears, if you just look at it the right way.
And that is a miracle.
This is excellent.