Never stop wondering

Never stop wondering
Never stop wondering


I saw Interstellar tonight.

This was my appropriate reaction upon walking out of the movie theater.


If you’ve been living under a rock for the past few weeks, here’s the trailer:


I’m not going to provide an in depth review of the movie. If you’re looking for reviews check out The Guardian’s here, The Rolling Stone’s here, and The Telegraph’s here. I personally wouldn’t (and didn’t) bother with those before seeing the movie though. Just go. And go now while it’s in theaters. Your living room won’t do it justice.

The movie was incredible. Remarkable. A thrilling wonder that had me at the edge of my seat and with my mouth wide open for at least 80% of the film. Although I watch movies like my dad, moving around and getting deeply involved in all the action with gestures and facial expressions, I’m not sure how anyone couldn’t with Interstellar.

The acting is superb. The surprises are plentiful. The imagery is astounding. The mind fuckery (pardon my French) is A plus. Even the science behind it all is semi-accurate according to Mashable’s round up of scientist’s opinions.

But what hit me the most during and after the movie was the return to my child-like sense of wonder. I forgot I had lost it. Twenty-three years old and so caught up in paying bills and making it on time to work and keeping my life together, I had almost forgotten what it felt like to be so amazed by science, and space, and the unknown.

I have become so caught up in my career aspirations, watching TV shows on Netflix, and knowing absolutely everything about other people on social media I have forgot how to wonder. I have forgot that urge to know more. I am ashamed to admit I have forgot my love for learning.

And God I love learning.

My clearest memories are of opening books. Of asking my dad to save that old Geography book he found while he was teaching so I could learn about where all the countries were in the world. Of pouring through the elementary school age human anatomy book my grandma got me in kindergarten. Of reading our English books before they were assigned just because I wanted to read all the Classics for fun.

Since graduating college, I’m not sure what happened to that girl. She got an iPhone and a husband and a full time job. She stopped learning. She lost her sense of wonder. She became a terribly boring, unoriginal, apathetic adult.

But tonight I had a brief spark of the girl. I came home and googled worm holes. I looked into space time and the fourth dimension. I stared in wonder at information yesterday I would have ignored.

Maybe it was just a movie. Maybe. But it was a movie that reminded me I can never stop learning. I can never become complacent. Knowledge is powerful. Learning is a lifelong journey, not a sentence we have served as children and adolescents.

We’re just singular people on a world of six billion people. A world that orbits a giant star called the Sun that gives light to 8 other plants (unless Pluto has been officially nixed since I took Earth Science). The sun being a single star in our Solar System, but one of 300 billion stars in the Milky Way Galaxy. The Milky Way Galaxy that houses those 300 billion stars, an unknown number of planets, our Solar System, and earth is just one of at least one hundred billion other galaxies.

But we all stop learning and wondering because we have to be at work tomorrow at 8 am.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
– Dylan Thomas

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