A high school student emails a physician scientist...(A story in emails)
My reflections on 2020 in the form of a prayer-lament. "Those who know me know that I enjoy writing and sharing year-end reflections on the Eve of a new year. But this year in particular, it’s been hard to find the right words...Though in many ways I am still grieving 2020 (perhaps you are, too), I wish you a Happy New Year and eagerly await our vaccinated embrace. Joy shall come."
The first of a new blog series where I explore books, quotes, podcasts, etc. that I find interesting or thought-provoking. In this installment, I talk about (1) a book about mathematical thinking and gender, (2) a podcast interview with renowned psychotherapist Esther Perel, and (3) a quote about a woman poet and writer whom I admire.
An unexpected conversation.
"He was a professor of biomedical engineering at Hopkins. R was eloquent, with a calm demeanor. Control theory equations sprawled across his blackboard..."
Thoughts and reflections on Year Two in Boston.
"Today marks two years in Boston, and the end of my 2nd year in grad school. After a tumultuous Year One, I thought I was set for a somewhat more “stable” feeling year Two. But Two felt...lost. A loss of direction, voice, and health. I struggled to find the right research questions, and questioned whether I was cut out for the academic life."
Contemplations on the Scriptures in the time between Good Friday and Easter Sunday.
"...on this Holy Saturday in the time of coronavirus, everything seems extra...slow. It is as if God asks us to wait—to pause—a little while longer in contemplation of his death and resurrection. It is in this waiting that I felt inspired to share what's been on my heart..."
On therapy, growing pains, and the lessons learned in 2019.
"And so in 2019, I learned to feel again. I explored and expressed joy, sadness, surprise, rage, anticipation, shame, love, betrayal, serenity. I not only found that others' emotions were worth my time, but that my emotions were also worth my time. For the first time in years, I cried in front of my father and explained why I was talking to a complete stranger about my emotions. I allowed myself to grieve my mother's cancer and the pain of her radiation treatments, even though it triggered agonizing memories of my own hospitalizations."
Upon receiving a letter from my 16-year-old self, I wrote my younger self a dutiful reply...
"11th grade, College Park High School. One ordinary day in AP Calculus, Ms. Merritt tasked us with outlining our "5-10-15-20 year" plans and prompted us to ask our future selves if we had accomplished everything we had set out to do as starry-eyed sixteen-year-olds. She promised to send these letters back to us four years from the date we wrote them."
Reminders in the midst of a hard and painful season.
My earliest childhood memory sparked a lifelong passion.
"...people forget what kind of obsessions they had in childhood because they listen too much to the clamor of outside opinion, or the superficial allure of wealth. Yet, often times, what you enjoyed in your childhood is what you will have a deep interest in all the way through to adulthood."