Like every good discovery, mine didn’t start in a lab.

It started with a question — the same question that’s haunted humans forever:

What does it all mean?

 

That’s it. That’s all I wanted to know.

Not the equations. Not the facts. Just the meaning.

 

I wasn’t searching for numbers; I was searching for beauty.

I was the kind of person who didn’t care much about the things themselves —

I cared about what they meant.

How they made me feel.

How they fit together.

How they turned a house into a home, a moment into a memory, a life into a story.

 

And like all stories worth telling, mine didn’t begin where it ended.

It started in a motel room in Atlantic City —

not exactly the birthplace of enlightenment.

From there, I built a life, one choice at a time, until I somehow found myself

living in a little enchanted cottage along the Main Line.

Don’t ask me how; I’m still figuring that part out.

 

What I can tell you is that my discovery began long before I knew what I’d found.

In the early days, I tested theories on the world around me — mostly boys, if I’m being honest.

I was endlessly curious about what they meant.

Why people connected.

Why we hurt.

Why we loved.

Why we stayed when we should’ve gone, and went when we should’ve stayed.

 

By my twenties, life had turned into a series of experiments in survival.

No one was coming to rescue me, so I had to learn how to build my own map.

And that’s when I started noticing something:

the ratio between what I believed I could achieve

and what I was actually experiencing in my life

was perfectly balanced.

 

When I believed I could, I could.

When I doubted, the world closed in.

It was that simple.

 

That ratio — that invisible line between possibility and probability —

became my compass.

It’s how I moved faster through the game of life.

It’s how I started recognizing the pattern beneath the chaos.

It’s how I discovered the lattice, the hidden heart, the joke, the truth.

 

It’s how I discovered that the meaning of life

isn’t buried in the stars or written in equations.

It’s right here —

in the way we live,

in the way we love,

and in the way we keep asking what it all means,

even when we already know.