Frame of reference. If you ask the average engineer to explain frame of reference they’ll give you the textbook example of the train. They’ll pose the scenario in which there is a train moving at say 100 miles an hour, a speed which seems absurdly fast to a person on the ground. Then they’ll say imagine that you’re in the train, if you close your eyes, do you feel like you’re going 100 miles an hour? No? Why? It’s because you have nothing to compare it to — you have no frame of reference. Now finally imagine you’re running on top of the train. Do you realize that you’re traveling more than 100 miles an hour if you close your eyes? No? Once again, frame of reference.
I’ve only seen that last example in Bollywood movies, but the principle is the same. How we perceive the movement of our environment depends heavily on our own movement. See for the person watching the train from the ground, he cannot comprehend the fact that the train is moving that fast. Yet, if he was simply pondering the same question from inside the vehicle, he’d have exemplified his example. Movement.
This same concept can be applied to life. Constantly I find myself in awe of how the people around me have gotten to the points they have in their lives. Some of my friends have started million dollar startups. Others are doing amazing work at companies building other worldly tech. A few are studying harder than I could ever imagine in school. From their LinkedIn posts, it seems like I’ll never reach there. From my perspective, it seems like they have moved too far for me to reach. That they are the 100 mile per hour trains moving rapidly, and I’m just an observer watching from the station. Honestly, this was my first thought when I realized I was headed to UCLA.
After spending countless nights thinking about my situation, none of the coping mechanisms I created have changed the absolute fact that I now have to play catch-up to my peers. That just as I watch these 100 mph train hurtling down the station, I must move even faster to reach them again. It hurts, to think of life this way. One could argue that life or college was never about catching up, and that it’s not just a linear path as a train track is. But then tell me why college just seems like a new race. Joining the best club. The best classes. The best internship. Tell me why this feeling of playing catch-up is not one that is unique to me alone.
I’ve talked to countless upperclassmen who have had similar depressive episodes. They would spend their evenings locked away in their rooms as they scrolled their life away on LinkedIn, their minds stuck observing all of these trains as they left the station.
I don’t know why we get stuck observing. Maybe we look at these trains and dream of one day moving that fast. I notice a part of my mind that labels this observing to be productive. I notice that the emotions releasing from my hypothalamus disagree.
The problem with this train of thought (get it :)) is that these trains are constantly leaving. Each aspect of our life is constantly moving, leaving to its next destination. The people around us. Our dreams. Everything is constantly moving. And as we stay at that station and observe, we’re letting these trains get further away. Our dreams, our people. Everything begins to move farther away.
But what if you start moving? What if, instead of observing, you start running to catch up to the train?
The delta is directly proportional to pain.
Because as you run, huffing and puffing at your measly 10 miles per hour, suddenly that delta seems much smaller than before. 90 miles per hour separate you and that train. A 10% decrease. That’s a discount at Hollister that makes me smile the entire day.
Now imagine you’re running, and then maybe, along the way, there’s a bike. Your legs are tired but it’s better than feeling the ground with every step you take. So you hop on, now fighting to catch-up at 15 miles per hour. The delta becomes smaller. The pain goes along with it. As you keep biking find an electric scooter. You hop on, now moving at 25 miles per hour. The delta is even smaller. The pain, smaller with it. Now dream about finding a fricking horse. Imagine what that delta could be. Imagine you find a car or another train. Imagine how fucking small that delta could be. Now relax your legs imagining how wonderful it must be to be pain free.
In each step of that journey, this pain of playing catch-up seemingly decreases. I mean, the distance between yourself and the train is continuosuly decreasing. And that’s what makes taking the first step, the first decision to start running, the most difficult part. It’s daunting to imagine the distance you need to cover to catch up to that 100 mph train. More often than not we observe this distance and let it go. We resist the motion that we should chase after. Or in the words of Sir Isaac Newton, we have inertia.
At the beginning of any journey, there exists the most inertia. After all, change is scary. Trying elicits trepidation. It’s easy to stand still and observe, to wallow in our pain. But this one fact should not make you fear the journey or the movement itself. It should not make you believe that you will never catch up. Inertia is but a law of motion.
I’ve been saying that last line in my head a lot. That my current resistance to move, whether it’s formed logistically by the school I’m going or emotionally by my fear, is all a part of the motion of taking that first step to run. To eventually find a bike and a car and my train. To one day, catch up. Because once I start moving, all the other trains won’t feel so far out of reach. I will catch up to them. But fuck catching up, let’s just say, I’ll be that third scenario from Bollywood movies :).