Hello, help on this essay would be appreciated. I don't want it to come of as cliched but I am having a hard time. I also can't end it well.
Prompt: Tell us about an intellectual experience, either directly related to your schoolwork or not, that you found particularly meaningful. (Approximately one page in length)
At eight years old, one of my greatest fears was that the earth would be consumed by the sun's fiery light. My mother was out for the night and left us with a new babysitter, who decided to tell us the story of a young boy who meets a time traveler. The boy was taken through time from the beginning of the world to its end. Being so young my ability to admire the story's beauty was lost in a fog of confused terror.
However, my fears slipped into the background as weeks passed. I was eight years old and naturally very busy. School continued on and I enjoyed being able to interact with information. When our teacher wanted us to learn about plants we donned our coats and went into the school's garden. In the garden knowledge was a solid entity I could touch, smell and feel. At that age knowledge was absolute. On the rare occasion that its form fluctuated into the realm of the abstract I felt the same bubbling fear that accompanied images of the hungry sun.
I cannot pinpoint an exact moment when I lost my fear for two reasons. The first reason being that it was a process that took years of being frustrated and astonished. I have struggled with abstract questions that come with no real answers and have been forced to question reflect upon my assumptions of the world. Nevertheless, with experience I have come to love the constant inquiry that is asked of me. With every question my perspective of the world undulates, exposing the true complexity that exists around me and I cannot help but be awed. The second reason is that the fear never left. Human nature is ingrained with the fear of the unknown. Yet, I can acknowledge my emotions, and by focusing on the beauty of the unexplained overcome my instincts.
Nine years after I first learned about the earth's mortality I was sitting in a dark room staring at small flatworms with my lab partner. We began discussing the nature of science and what inspired us to peruse the field. My partner shared that her love of astronomy was sparked by Sarah Williams's poem "The Old Astronomer". On his deathbed the astronomer reassures his weeping apprentice "I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night". For a brief moment I sat shocked, transported into my childhood bedroom, filled with the images of dancing flames. No longer did the images strike me with fear. Experience has taught me that the darkness holds its own beauty. Knowledge is both light and dark; a shifting combination of what we think we know and what we do not. I have met unanswerable questions and will continue to tackle with them in future; not to find an answer, but for the joy it brings me to feel the immense complexity of life. Even in times when I am filled with frustration, the sense of being so small and ignorant of everything, if I focus on my joy and love of knowledge's complexity I will overcome and continue to admire the stars.
Prompt: Tell us about an intellectual experience, either directly related to your schoolwork or not, that you found particularly meaningful. (Approximately one page in length)
At eight years old, one of my greatest fears was that the earth would be consumed by the sun's fiery light. My mother was out for the night and left us with a new babysitter, who decided to tell us the story of a young boy who meets a time traveler. The boy was taken through time from the beginning of the world to its end. Being so young my ability to admire the story's beauty was lost in a fog of confused terror.
However, my fears slipped into the background as weeks passed. I was eight years old and naturally very busy. School continued on and I enjoyed being able to interact with information. When our teacher wanted us to learn about plants we donned our coats and went into the school's garden. In the garden knowledge was a solid entity I could touch, smell and feel. At that age knowledge was absolute. On the rare occasion that its form fluctuated into the realm of the abstract I felt the same bubbling fear that accompanied images of the hungry sun.
I cannot pinpoint an exact moment when I lost my fear for two reasons. The first reason being that it was a process that took years of being frustrated and astonished. I have struggled with abstract questions that come with no real answers and have been forced to question reflect upon my assumptions of the world. Nevertheless, with experience I have come to love the constant inquiry that is asked of me. With every question my perspective of the world undulates, exposing the true complexity that exists around me and I cannot help but be awed. The second reason is that the fear never left. Human nature is ingrained with the fear of the unknown. Yet, I can acknowledge my emotions, and by focusing on the beauty of the unexplained overcome my instincts.
Nine years after I first learned about the earth's mortality I was sitting in a dark room staring at small flatworms with my lab partner. We began discussing the nature of science and what inspired us to peruse the field. My partner shared that her love of astronomy was sparked by Sarah Williams's poem "The Old Astronomer". On his deathbed the astronomer reassures his weeping apprentice "I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night". For a brief moment I sat shocked, transported into my childhood bedroom, filled with the images of dancing flames. No longer did the images strike me with fear. Experience has taught me that the darkness holds its own beauty. Knowledge is both light and dark; a shifting combination of what we think we know and what we do not. I have met unanswerable questions and will continue to tackle with them in future; not to find an answer, but for the joy it brings me to feel the immense complexity of life. Even in times when I am filled with frustration, the sense of being so small and ignorant of everything, if I focus on my joy and love of knowledge's complexity I will overcome and continue to admire the stars.
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