Having Dinner at the NYPL

So, my husband is, eh... intelligent. He's a mathematical physicist. And something called a Newton Fellow. Which basically means for me that every year an organization hosts a black-tie dinner for the fellows at some ridiculous location, and has famous mathematicians, members of Presidential committees on science, and so forth come and talk about international progress in mathematics. Last year, they rented out Ellis Island. The year before that, it was at the Natural History Museum. This week, it was at the New York Public Library.

The impressive thing about these dinners and this organization for me, and the reason why its even making a blog entry here, is that the founder, Jim Simons, always gives a speech that has to do with competing in the world economy and keeping up with the technological advances of China and Japan. But what a Newton fellow actually does is simply teach middle schoolers mathematics in public schools, and get treated like royalty all the while both monetarily and in the form of golden beet salads with goat cheese and dark chocolate truffles. I was pondering on the founder's unique vision, and found myself deeply admiring the expansiveness of his perspective. He knows that real progress isn't possible without a strong foundation, and that lies in the education of children, so while what he is actually concerned with is international development and world economy, he's throwing all his money and energy at the core of the problem.

I think we all need to have this sort of expansive perspective. There's a quote from the Baha'i Faith that illustrates that well: "Let your vision be world embracing." This is intricately connected to mindfulness. That sort of is what mindfulness is, after all: breaking free from the boundaries of our limited world view, to view things as they are, rather than as we judge them to be- and to realize the interconnectedness of our world, and our personal responsibility to act mindfully while we are part of it, because we are, quite simply, always part of it, whether we like it or not.

In fact, the only thing that I think illustrates the interconnectedness of all things as the study and practice of mindfulness in everyday life, is actually mathematics. Because, well, it is the foundation of everything. There isn't a thing in this world that isn't founded in mathematics, and, while sadly I cannot grasp it at nearly the level necessary to see the immense and intricate beauty in it, I know it through my husband's deep, undying love for it. In fact, leaving the NYPL that evening, I said to him that the title of the popular book of one of his former teacher's, Brian Green, was pure poetry to me. "The Elegant Universe," I said to him. "Why is it that mathematicians sometimes put things so beautifully, so poignantly?" And he responded, "Funny you say that." And read a quote on the back of the book he had been given as a gift that evening:

"I have always felt that mathematics is a language like music. To learn it systematically, it is necessary to master small pieces and gradually add another piece and then another. In a sense, mathematics is like the classical Chinese language - very polished and very elegant. Sitting in a good mathematics lecture is like sitting in a good opera. Everything comes together."

-Sun-Yung Alice Chang, mathematician

On What We Are

Watering my bonsai tree this afternoon, I remembered something that Dave Matthews said in his acceptance speech at Haverford, a Quaker university, the religion he was raised in, although he considers himself agnostic/atheist. I thought it was very beautiful and insightful, so I thought I might share it:

I do find myself praying a lot, and I don’t know what I pray to, but it seems like I pray to the undamaged things, to the natural things, to breasts before enhancement, to the way that a child runs across the lawn, to trees or to a forest. I pray to those things; to the mountain. That’s where I think God might be at least: the mountain next to Mt. Rushmore. Although Mt. Rushmore is impressive, it’s not as impressive as it was prior to the damage done to it. So, what is our obligation to this God I don’t really believe in? ...
God made you what you are, so why would he want you to be something other than you are? Why would he want you to pretend you are something you are not, because your heart is what God made it. And so, our responsibility to God, however difficult it is, is to be what we are. To be present, not to put up a façade that makes us feel safer. It’s not always easy. I’m faking it a lot of times. I wish I could fake it a little better right now. Although in a way you are more vulnerable and vile things happen to you when you experience joy, you get a mouthful of it, you know when you experience goods things. Because it comes right to you, you’re right there, because you’re not busy trying to make sure no one notices that behind that perfect, or average, or fitting-in façade is really what God made you. So be yourselves I guess is what I wanted to say. Be present. I have a little poem that I was going to read because I think that this guy was much more able to say what I said in the last five minutes—or ten if it feels like that—in just a couple of lines. I went to Australia and I found this poet that I don’t think has landed on these shores, and I thought he was kind of magical. And it’s May, and this is called, “A Prayer in May.” And it says, it starts,
“God relieve the dark unease.
God of valves untie my throat,
and God let sink the weight of mind to the belly of heart’s content.”
Thank you very much to everybody for having me today. So save the world now by being yourself.

(Note: Post title drawn from this song. This footage is from a Central Park concert!)