A Sincere Journey

I did fairly well at school. I also got kicked out of one. Then, through an unlikely chain of events, I ended up at the University of Cambridge.

Whatever subject I was learning, or book I was reading, I enjoyed school because it offered a way to become immersed. The details weren’t important — the subject wasn’t important — it was simply about immersion.

I developed a certain avidity and appreciation for school, because I thought to myself…

What else is there?

If I’m not totally immersed in something — whether it be playing a sport or learning a subject — what else would I be doing? Indeed, if I was simply left to my own devices, would I not simply seek immersion anyway?

Others would often lament the school day: I never understood this. I suspect discrepancies in the quality of our home lives played a role. My peers often remarked they would much rather be at home watching TV or playing some video game. Certainly, I also enjoyed such things: Like school, these also functioned as opportunities for immersion. Whether it be learning new words or beating a skilled opponent at Mario Strikers, it was always about immersion. I suspect, underneath it all, immersion is what we long for. It is just that our personal palette for what immerses us varies.

But somewhere along the line, things changed. The purity of it all started to fade. Doing well in a subject became more about outranking others than the joy of learning. Getting killed in a video game would spark a novel sense of rage. Sport became more about showing off than enjoying and developing a craft.

We are told this is the order of things. We are told things like ‘competition’ and becoming ‘serious about life’ are inextricable in the transition to adulthood. Eventually, we must all grow up. Eventually, life ceases to be play.

Life becomes work. We are told that if you are clever and prudent enough, you don’t need to be working for too long. You can join the elite few that have a much greater ‘quality of life,’ and can relish an early retirement. It’s not too hard to get there either: Put your head down, work hard at school and/or a business, and there’s good chances you’ll get there. There’s a good chance you’ll become well-acquainted with this thing called money.

Holidays; properties; clothes; food; the ‘finer things in life.’ Money unlocks access to a great deal of things. Indeed, money is the universal currency for things. This doesn’t just mean material possessions: You can afford better healthcare, live in a more pleasant neighbourhood, find socialising more accessible, and experience much more.

Thus far, I have not directed any criticism to any of the above. But I can sense a feeling of protest rising from the responsible citizen within you.

“Don’t you need money to afford the basics of life? Don’t you want to experience what the world has to offer? Don’t you want to give your family and children the best they can get? Doesn’t money and a good education facilitate this?”

I will give you this: You are certainly seeking, my friend.

I enjoyed school, but it was not without its frustrations. Personally, I often found classroom mathematics jading: Reproducing things by virtue of memorising sequential steps did not move me. What struck me about this subject, however, was that there was always more.

If you so desired, you could plunge into a deep understanding of why whatever you just learned works. It will involve strain, but whatever mathematics your taught, you can investigate the deeper underpinnings of it. You can really understand why something is the case.

But here’s something to consider: There aren’t really any mathematicians. Just like there are no athletes, workers, or teachers. There are just people — people who sometimes play and assume such roles. You may change jobs, you may become rich, you may lose it all; one thing, however, remains constant.

You. A person.

And no one really understands what a person is.

Sure, a psychologist may tell you how the colour of a room may influence a person’s mood, or how PTSD can stem from childhood experiences.

Sure, you may read the words of some ancient philosopher on what makes a worthwhile life and a virtuous person. In fact, you may even listen to some podcast or YouTuber who conveniently unpacks all such teachings into something bite-size and accessible.

Sure, you can even try to drown out the ‘existential’ questions of your life. You may plod along seeking distraction after distraction and ways to ‘keep busy.’

But the unmistakable conclusion I have found is this: No person, ideal, philosophy, distraction, or otherwise will satisfy you.

We are so drunk in fleeing and clinging to such things, our lives slip through our fingers. The years simply roll on by on auto-pilot.

And who could blame you? How can one face the music in the midst of such noise? What hope does a person who has been told to go here, there, and everywhere to solve their problems or to find ‘meaning’ have?

A mathematician may be deft at solving maths problems. An economist may be well-positioned to forecast the inflation rate. An engineer can build a safe bridge.

But you cannot defer anything to the greatest enigma of all. You. Your thoughts, your feelings, your existence, and experience of life.

Everything a human does, they do because this puzzle remains jumbled as ever. It does not take much to acquire basic sustenance in the modern world. Thereafter, a person initiates something uniquely human — a search.

They think they will find it in wealth. They think they will find it in an ‘impactful’ job. They think they will find it in others.

I have found that nothing and no one ever gets to the heart of it. Nothing ceases the search. The puzzle remains unsolved.

I can say to you, unreservedly, that nothing works and there is only nothing. But the true meaning of these words remain hidden until you arrive at them on your own accord.

Let the journey be sincere. Only you hold the keys to your prison cell.

Will you go back, and examine it all from the beginning?

What is it that you are really seeking?