The scientific community has long been obsessed with the potential of stem cells (pun-intended). ~ Bone marrow transplants are currently the most widely accepted and implemented type of therapy involving stem cells, but the possibilities of their potential seems endless. ~ The thought of growing whole organs excites me as much as the next science geek out there, but that's not what the focus of this post will be. ~
Instead, the inspiration for this post originally sprung up sometime around August, while I was on a camping trip with two of my closest friends, AC and CZ. ~ Both of these gals are studying business at prestigious American universities, and this summer trip was our first reunion after the end of our respective first years. ~ We'd been extremely close in high school, taking the same full IB courseload, with CZ and I sharing French immersion classes on top of that. ~ Although we had our own separate activities (I was in band and choir, CZ in orchestra, and AC in horseback riding), we still shared many of the same extracurriculars, such as Junior Achievement, debate, and science competitions. ~ All in all, I saw ourselves as pluripotent stem cells: not as innocent and undecided as we had been in elementary or junior high as totipotent cells, but still full of the potential of our lives stretching way ahead of us. ~
But during breakfast at a restaurant in Banff, as CZ and AC started chatting about business-related topics, such as rushing for a frat or interning at various companies, I reflected back on my own summer of studying for the MCAT and conducting research in a scientific laboratory and couldn't help feeling a bit depressed. ~ It seemed as though we were headed in a beeline for unipotency. ~ Everyone was specializing - even me, despite the fact that I had always thought of myself as a generalist. ~ Like stem cells receiving extracellular signals, we were undergoing a process of differentiation. ~
When this realization hit me, how I longed to remain a totipotent cell! All that potential stored within my genes, only to be thwarted by transcriptional, post-transcriptional, translational and post-translational modifications. (Yes, I've been taking a genetics class this past semester.) ~ It seems a shame that eventually all that potential must be lost. ~ Maybe that's why I've taken some more unconventional routes, like doing an English minor along with my Bachelor of Health Sciences Biomedical Sciences major. ~ All my science friends scoff at me in disbelief - that someone would willingly subject themselves to the torture of English, imagine! - but I shrug and grin, continuing to puzzle over literary theory and Zizekian thought. ~ The thing is, I hate the thought of society shaping us so that we are each compartmentalized into our own little sector, with the cardiac cells pumping together as a unit, the neutrophils spreading their NETs and macrophages phagocytosing bacteria, the muscle cells contracting and relaxing in time... ~ Admittedly, this might paint a pretty picture of a cohesive organism functioning in a unified manner, but it also posits us as mere subjects serving an ideology (Althusser's structural Marxism, anyone?). ~
The way that I manage to console myself when I start spiraling into these dark thoughts is by referring back to what a wise teacher, Mr. A, recently told me: there are some things that you just have to accept will never become your career, but that can still remain part of your life in the form of hobbies. ~ You don't have to excel at everything you do, as long as it brings you joy. ~ A feeling of accomplishment need not be solely measured based on success in the traditional sense, but can also present itself in a feeling of fulfillment, of doing something new, of doing something different. ~ I can publish bad drawings on Deviantart and browse everyone else's gorgeous pictures without having to feel shame; I can try to sing Christmas carols hoarsely and accompany myself on piano, albeit out of time; I can try to bake cookies but accidentally use whipping cream instead of half-and-half and laugh it off. ~ We might be differentiating, but at the end of the day we are all still cells (even you, unnucleated RBC's!). We can't help focusing on something - indeed, that's the only way we'll ever get anything substantial done - but our attention spans may well be limited for a reason. ~ Instead of being despondent about the slow reduction in our potential, we should seek avenues to maintain it, to continue making ourselves plastic to change, while recognizing that we need not ever fully develop those new pathways. ~ They are simply our connecting points - our neuromuscular junctions - with the rest of the world. ~ It's what allows me to fall back in familiar stride with AC and CZ months after we haven't seen each other. ~ It's what takes away the boring edge from life, and makes our heartbeats quicken, whether in anticipation, fear or excitement. ~ Differentiating isn't reaching the end of the road - it's finally falling into your groove, doing what you're best at, and continuing to occasionally venture out there and take a jab at other things. ~ Our connections to other activities, people and ways of life don't just die; they serve as little dendrites that can help us continue to understand more of the world around us, and should be maintained and pruned, while helping to reinforce the strength of our axonal signals. ~ As this neuron metaphor stretches out of hand, I end my post with a question: where's the fun in classifying yourself as one type of person anyway? ~
