Vulnerability

Yesterday, SPS had tables of physics demonstrations at Astronomy on the Mall. For about three hours, we showed passerby how to use a telescope, what a tuning fork sounds like, and what gravity looks like. Notably, people of all ages came and interacted with our demos.  

There was a remarkable beauty in the eyes of those who observed our displays. Many strangers touched me with their enthusiasm for the natural world. They reminded me of how I first fell in love with physics.  

I can only speak for myself, but my excitement for physics has been slowly replaced with a private, consuming pessimism. Honestly, I had completely forgotten what it felt like to lose oneself in a novel concept—to delight in the solving of a tough problem, to awe at the strange order of our world.  

The attendees of Astronomy on the Mall filled me with an urgency to cultivate that feeling of wonder, to care for the members of my physics communities. That spark of interest is so precious. For those cautiously interested 30-year-olds that wandered up to our demonstrations, I want to protect them from any forces that are pushing them away from pursuing their desires. I want to build a world overflowing with a positive enthusiasm for learning and exploring. 

There is a vulnerability in happiness. To admit that one finds joy in the world is to admit that one is human. It is to admit that one has soft spots. Not all of us can afford to show our soft spots. A lifetime of discouragement can make us callous, private, slow to trust. Seeing the soft happiness of children and adults alike has helped me to recognize that I have hardened over time. Seeing my own callousness has helped me recognize the dire lack of love in certain pockets of the physics world.  

To those brave enough to smile, I thank you. To those hardened and shy, I feel you. Let us all work together to create learning environments in which we can let our guards down, admit our ignorance, and delight together in what we don’t yet know.