Fish Out of the Water

Well, to say the least, to fill a chemistry presentation with every midnight-made segments of animation but not my growing reservoir of chemical data — an action discrediting my usual style — defines the problem with myself throughout the past few months.

Limitations — my limitations — to identify them, and to dance within them.

I did not aim for publication in the period of BODIPY research and yet focused on making mistakes – doing so in a controlled manner – and keeping lengthy records of how to overcome every last new one of them. Therefore, the mistakes today — epitomizing the ones throughout the last month — are just more of that stuff. I cast doubt on my efforts, and feelings worsened into (novel) genuine discomfort.

I again thought about my dream field of theoretical physics — the manuscripts that make little sense to me, or the strange mathematical constructs I seem not to meet so far — to ease the pain from the untimeliness of my story so far, as I walked home, I thought of a little story.

Ocean was everything that history has known of; the only stage of a great play; the solvent dissolving images of skylight and worlds above and beyond; the homeostasis of all life on earth; the giant barrier trapping all animals within.

Perhaps, during this prehistorical time, a primitive fish, amidst its casual daily routines, with its ocean-adapted eyes — peeked above sea water, into the darkness of the universe.

The world outside didn’t look like anything it can ever reach. The fish saw stars – moons, planets, Milky way – land, terrestrial lifeforms and heard the wind singing upon contact with the water.

The findings made little sense to our brave observer. The fish was readily the best it can evolutionarily be: it knew how to find what it’s supposed to eat, it knew how to identify and flee danger; it knew of ways to procreate and mutate. However, the mysterious sceneries are hardly readily defined for our subject. The organism will live its life as though this encounter didn’t happen. Without awareness, limitations abound, coexistence seemed to go on peacefully.
Nonetheless, as we know it, the land soon became teeming with strange lifeforms, some of which even are going to throw projectiles towards the stars.  New fishes, breathing air and walking away from seabeds, conquered hostile and unimaginable new worlds. By approaching and experiencing the once distorted images afar, they expanded the definition of the universe.

After a long time, the land would finally see fish out of the water.

On a similar note, some sci-fi work wittily mentioned the particular kind of question during human’s first encounter with some “galactic guard” level of alien civilization:

“When did you notice us as an advanced species?” Earth’s Human would ask.

“Over a million years ago, on a patch of land that you now call East Africa, an animal — your ancestor — stared at the night sky for an alarmingly long period,” plaintively answered the aliens, “and that is the most significant moment to us…

“Life on your planet took 3.5 billion years to trigger our alarm: everything — civilization, technology explosion, space age — everything followed this moment in the blink of an eye.”

I saw stars – moons, planets, Milky way – land, celestial events above water, beyond my cognizance and definition… I mean advanced physical sciences: I am lucky enough to peek at it.


Too naive to be grasping it at present, one day, I will be out of the Water.

I mean that I see I am not naturally of greatness, and that is why I am “naturally” capable of greatness.

Quoting myself in the recording, in honor of the new semester,

“Move on — I don’t know where to — but forward.
“Move on — I don’t know where to — but forward.
“Move on — I don’t know where to — but forward.”

FW, 3/3, At home.

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