Dear WashU Community,
University life is full of paradoxes: tensions or contradictions that shouldn’t work, but somehow do. We work and study within divisions and schools that define our professional or scholarly identities, yet we often innovate best when we think and work across disciplines. We listen with open minds to the perspectives of our opponents, and our own arguments are strengthened as a result. We pursue certainty through rigor and strength through truth. And yet, it’s the unanswered questions that keep us coming back.
Recently, I was struck by another paradox as I closed up shop in Brookings Hall for the day and caught a vibrant sunset over Hillman Hall: we live as if the time for beauty and wonder comes after our work is finished, if we make time for it at all. But the truth is, wonder is what makes the work meaningful, sustainable, and possible in the first place.
The potential for wonder abounds on our campuses. Many of us, myself included, felt it the first time we visited. A feeling of wide open possibility. Awe at the work being done here, and the brilliant people doing it. A sense of homecoming to the place where our potential would be nurtured.
Have you been feeling it lately? My guess is a lot of us haven’t. The sprint between midterms and finals requires our students and faculty to grind pretty hard. Our staff has been navigating some new challenges and disappointments this semester in addition to the everyday demands of their jobs. The news and social media seem designed to keep us constantly on edge. And, of course, many hearts are heavy for reasons that have nothing to do with school or work.
But the wonders of this world are always there for us, if we take the time to be present and grounded. This Thanksgiving break, I hope you’ll make time for that.
If you’re not sure where to start, think back to when you were eight. What enchanted you when you were a kid? Were you awed by the rhythm of the ocean waves, the complexity of the forest, or the enormity of the night sky? Maybe you got lost for hours in Narnia or Avonlea or Camelot.
That capacity to be present, to be transported, to marvel? It’s still inside you, and it’s anything but childish. I encourage you to reawaken it over the next few days. Plan a hike or a stargazing outing, complete with hot chocolate and extra marshmallows. Treat yourself to a new copy of your favorite childhood book, and read it in your most comfortable pajamas. Visit a museum, then pull out the art supplies and see what you come up with. Attend a worship service, if you’re so inclined, and imagine all of the people in every corner of the world who are also gathering for their own traditions of gratitude and hope.
Albert Einstein told us that “The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion that stands at the cradle of true art and true science.” So this year, instead of wishing you a happy Thanksgiving, I’m wishing you a mysterious Thanksgiving. An enchanting Thanksgiving. A wonder-full Thanksgiving.
And I’ll meet you back here next week to continue the important work we do together. The art and the science, fueled by a renewed sense of wonder.
With gratitude for you,
ADM