An active solution to life's problems

That’s right, kids, it’s my inevitable, autumn-inspired “Everything is changing and it’s very cool but very frightening!” column!

Not only is it fall, when nature reminds us of the transience of life with an overwhelming display of beauty, it’s also my last fall as an undergraduate at UNC.

A cooler wind is starting to come through. Soon, I will have to leave this place I love.

On this past Saturday night, the last night of summer, I was lucky enough to find myself walking on the beach. As I was walking through the tide, I remembered one of Zeno’s paradoxes of motion.

I applied it to my own life, like this: I am walking to the pier, but I can never get there.

Here’s why: in order to reach the pier, I also need to get to the lifeguard stand halfway between me and the pier. But, in order to the lifeguard stand, I also need to get to the trashcan halfway between me and the lifeguard stand. And, to get to the trashcan, I also need to reach the sandcastle halfway between me and the trashcan. And, to get to the sandcastle, the shell halfway before the sandcastle, too.

Soon individual grains of sand get involved, after that — molecules.

It keeps getting smaller until I have an infinite amount of points to reach — an impossible amount of tasks to accomplish — and I have no hope of getting to the pier.

I walked, and I put that thought out of my head by thinking of other things.

I thought of my grandmother, who passed away this Easter and whose birthday my family was celebrating on the beach. How paradoxically strong her presence is in her absence. How much she loved and was loved.

I thought about how inexplicable death is, however simple it may be.

I thought about my future. How blessed I am to have the opportunity to continue to do what I love. How important it is for me to take advantage of that opportunity.

I thought about how humbling it is to realize how much I need to know. That thought brought me back to Zeno’s paradox: no matter how much I may learn, there will always be more.

I kept walking.

I thought about how much my life has changed over these past four years. How quickly I have reached my senior year.

As I thought about all of these things, I kept walking. Eventually, I reached the pier. It was late, and by that time, it was probably officially autumn.

There might be a mathematical solution to Zeno’s paradoxes of motion, but I didn’t have to think mathematically to understand why I reached the pier. There’s an easier solution, a famous Latin response.

Solvitur ambulando. “It is solved by walking.”

My life is going to change. I can’t stop that. But there are some things I do have control over, and when those tasks seem infinite, there’s only one way for me to find out whether they are also impossible: walking.

I turned around and started the second half of my trip.