Common app essay: Topic of your choice.
To feel desired is a primary biological need in life. Psychology says, as humans we are physiologically designed to seek acceptance and reverence from the world. But how to attain this? Like all members of the Animal Kingdom, we must have a niche in society, a core position in life which distinguishes us from the rest of our species. It is through this role that we hope to attain the praise of others. But does praise define meaningful success? At the time, I thought it true. Languishing on the shallow banks of the Lower Youghiogheny river after a day of whitewater rafting, I began to ponder my niche in life. During my philosophical state, yet another question entered my mind: would my said role bring me the success I coveted?
Alone with no one except Mother Nature as company, my mind tried to fathom the answer to the question that it was simultaneously posing. Intuitively, I knew that my spirit lay akin with the sciences. My curiosity had always accepted the challenge of comprehending the workings of the biological world. Since childhood, I was keenly aware of my insatiable appetite to wholly absorb the occurrence of life. I strove to become involved in science research and competitions, satisfying my ever-present craving to learn. To delve into the labyrinth of biology was what my fiery internal passion urged me to do. As I grew older, discussion of possible career choices arose. And by default, I decided I would dedicate my life to understanding the complexities of the life sciences. So I had my niche figured out--I would become a healer. As a doctor I would satisfy my desire to work in the field of biology, while synchronously aiding humanity. I would be respected, fulfilling my innate need for praise. Yet, something about this rushed simplicity strongly disturbed me.
Still lying nearly breathless on my back, I reminisced over the last several hours. Though it was not the first time I had ventured out to face the tempestuous waters of the Youghiogheny, that day I felt different. I imagined myself on the river. Blood pumping, lungs filled, muscles gliding with rhythm as I rowed. All the systems of my body cohesively strove to control the raft down the mighty river. Was I rowing to reach a destination? No. I was rowing to feel alive.
The river's cold mist casually sprayed against my skin, bringing me back to the present. My thoughts were still toying with the idea of success. My brain magnetized the last sixteen years of its memory to the hippocampus and I hesitantly began to grasp onto an ulterior definition of success. Though it was not an instantaneous epiphany, the manifestation of a new perception slowly engulfed me. No amount of praise could bring me success, as it is not measured in superficial applaud. How many people would know my name would not be a mark of my influence on the world. Is it easy to name the last five recipients of the Nobel Prize for Science? Blatantly, for the majority, this is a difficult task. The spotlight of reverence for such achieved successes is shone upon the individual merely for minutes. After that, he or she fades into oblivion. My flaw was that I had equated success with praise. That evening, surrounded by the rugged landscape of my home state, I realized that success for me meant spiritual development.
It occurred to me that I would never be satisfied unless I did for the sake of doing. I pursue science solely because I love it. I did not need reinforcement, assurance, or praise for engaging in what I truly loved, as I would gain nothing beyond a sense of superficiality from such rewards. The source of my previous uneasiness stemmed from the rash pathway I had conjectured for myself. I, like every other human, needed a reason to live. The utter isolation I felt at that moment lead me to realize that my reason must be internal. For me, satisfaction or success, whatever it may be called, had to stem from myself.
To feel desired is a primary biological need in life. Psychology says, as humans we are physiologically designed to seek acceptance and reverence from the world. But how to attain this? Like all members of the Animal Kingdom, we must have a niche in society, a core position in life which distinguishes us from the rest of our species. It is through this role that we hope to attain the praise of others. But does praise define meaningful success? At the time, I thought it true. Languishing on the shallow banks of the Lower Youghiogheny river after a day of whitewater rafting, I began to ponder my niche in life. During my philosophical state, yet another question entered my mind: would my said role bring me the success I coveted?
Alone with no one except Mother Nature as company, my mind tried to fathom the answer to the question that it was simultaneously posing. Intuitively, I knew that my spirit lay akin with the sciences. My curiosity had always accepted the challenge of comprehending the workings of the biological world. Since childhood, I was keenly aware of my insatiable appetite to wholly absorb the occurrence of life. I strove to become involved in science research and competitions, satisfying my ever-present craving to learn. To delve into the labyrinth of biology was what my fiery internal passion urged me to do. As I grew older, discussion of possible career choices arose. And by default, I decided I would dedicate my life to understanding the complexities of the life sciences. So I had my niche figured out--I would become a healer. As a doctor I would satisfy my desire to work in the field of biology, while synchronously aiding humanity. I would be respected, fulfilling my innate need for praise. Yet, something about this rushed simplicity strongly disturbed me.
Still lying nearly breathless on my back, I reminisced over the last several hours. Though it was not the first time I had ventured out to face the tempestuous waters of the Youghiogheny, that day I felt different. I imagined myself on the river. Blood pumping, lungs filled, muscles gliding with rhythm as I rowed. All the systems of my body cohesively strove to control the raft down the mighty river. Was I rowing to reach a destination? No. I was rowing to feel alive.
The river's cold mist casually sprayed against my skin, bringing me back to the present. My thoughts were still toying with the idea of success. My brain magnetized the last sixteen years of its memory to the hippocampus and I hesitantly began to grasp onto an ulterior definition of success. Though it was not an instantaneous epiphany, the manifestation of a new perception slowly engulfed me. No amount of praise could bring me success, as it is not measured in superficial applaud. How many people would know my name would not be a mark of my influence on the world. Is it easy to name the last five recipients of the Nobel Prize for Science? Blatantly, for the majority, this is a difficult task. The spotlight of reverence for such achieved successes is shone upon the individual merely for minutes. After that, he or she fades into oblivion. My flaw was that I had equated success with praise. That evening, surrounded by the rugged landscape of my home state, I realized that success for me meant spiritual development.
It occurred to me that I would never be satisfied unless I did for the sake of doing. I pursue science solely because I love it. I did not need reinforcement, assurance, or praise for engaging in what I truly loved, as I would gain nothing beyond a sense of superficiality from such rewards. The source of my previous uneasiness stemmed from the rash pathway I had conjectured for myself. I, like every other human, needed a reason to live. The utter isolation I felt at that moment lead me to realize that my reason must be internal. For me, satisfaction or success, whatever it may be called, had to stem from myself.