“Imagination is more important than knowledge,” said Einstein; the man who endured years of telescoping into the unknown and meddling in the invisible fabrics of the universe, the mathematics and physics. We often disconnect math and the arts; the pure and the imagination; the objective and the subjective. Yet math, in the hands and minds of Einstein, came a bit like this: after hours and hours of rumination on math, he took violin breaks, and a little mathematical blessing comes in between the sweeping notes of music.
To anyone who assumes that different study fields are in separate pedagogical boxes; bless them, because they need to know Einstein’s idea of combinatorial creativity.
Einstein himself was never a child of prodigy. He not only skipped classes but grew to lament the German authoritarian school system that later defined his philosophies in learning. From elementary school to his university life, he picked and chose what he wanted to learn from the system. And the rest, he diligently studied at home by himself. Indeed, Einstein loved and much preferred self-learning and self-exploration ever since his uncle brought him books on math and sciences. In fact, he started tinkering with the idea of moving as fast as light –the seed of his groundbreaking special theory of relativity — at the tender age of 17 years old, when he had access to one of the best physics lab and a generous support from the more relaxed education environment in Switzerland.
Continue reading “Einstein’s Imaginations”
I had never noticed myself as an actual loner until I was in college. I had lunch by myself, organized trips to classes on my own, finished my essays in my bedroom. My best friend has always been one, or two, or three. But I rarely, so rarely ever feel alone.
I was one of those invisible students in your class. I retreated to books, my desk, or my own dreams during the short breaks. Even when in conversations with my ladies, I was usually being the slowest one because my mind was always halfway to Neptune.
Ok, let me step back a little bit. I did feel alone during my 17 years living in Jakarta, feeling slightly isolated and not understood. Rebecca Solnit built a fort with her books, a world where she allows herself to live and breathe freely. I did, too. With books, comics, movies, whatever. Continue reading “The kind of creative loneliness. And, daydreaming”
If the city is a language spoken by walkers, then a post pedestrian city not only has fallen silent but risks becoming a dead language. Rebecca Solnit, Wanderlust
Should we walk? Ask no one in Jakarta, ever. The answer will be replied with a gasp, a jolt, a furious face, a standing applause of some sort as if walking is a rare activity we do. But isn’t it?
For most of my life (that is, from a baby till high school), walking is an act reserved only to those who can’t obtain a car or a motorbike. It’s savage, dirty, tiring, sweaty. To walk from my home to a nearby mini market under the sun is to waste your time while laughing at yourself really. So I practically never walked from point A to point B all the way until high school.
That is, until I went to San Francisco and spent hundreds of hours on the streets that it becomes an extension of my home. Continue reading “Should we walk?”