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Sitting on a spit of beach, I glance up from the book I am reading. And as my mind wanders from the stuff of literature it turns to the spume-throwing waves crashing on the shore. I cannot help but think on the majesty of such a thing as a wave, its power to freeze in time just before it folds and collapses, and its uncanny desire to reduce this pebble beach to its most fundamental silica. Dancing the mental dance between my book and my silica, my mind settles on the words of Edward O. Wilson, who writes that we must "view the boundary between the scientific and literary cultures not as a territorial line but as a broad and mostly unexplored terrain awaiting cooperative entry from both sides." It is this sentiment, so aptly conveyed in Wilson’s Consilience: The Unity of Knowledge, that I wish The Catalyst to reflect. As Lisa and I step aside to make way for new leadership, it is my deep hope that in guiding this magazine I have helped to send a message of utmost importance. As a scientist, I say that this "unexplored terrain" is exciting, beautiful, and rich with mettle for inspiration. Literature is rewarded by the likes of Alan Lightman, who is both a physicist and fiction-writer, and others who take that bold step onto the frontier. Would that the scientific world encouraged such forays. As an evironmentalist, I say that it is imperative to explore this uncharted territory if we are to resolve the many environmental issues facing us today. These threats cannot be fully understood or eliminated without "cooperative entry from both sides" into a discourse between scientists and humanists. In working on The Catalyst, it is my hope that I have encouraged people to explore this unknown territory and to gain meaning from it. Ringing in my ears, along with the sound of crashing waves, are words from Tom Stoppard’s Arcadia: "When we have found all the mysteries and lost all the meaning, we will be alone, on an empty shore." Sincerely,
Corinna Riginos ‘00
3:43 a.m. A familiar scene. A clock ticks and reads the time while I remind myself that I should sleep. Tonight, I sit here at my computer and instead of doing the work I would normally do, I think about how different my life at Brown would be had I not plunged into the world of The Catalyst. To accurately describe what in my heart I feel as I write my last Letter From the Editors is difficult. I remember the idealism with which I began my work as a freshman not too long ago, taking part in what seemed a nebulous task we dubbed as ‘bridging the gap.’ I am relieved that I can say that after all this, much of that idealism still exists–but with seasoned optimism that it is indeed possible to spread awareness and appreciation of science. Now, as the information age takes us into the 21st century, a daunting global (technological) world rises with speed, requiring that people need to better comprehend each other, our roles and responsibilities we have as part of this earth. It is my hope that the future staffs of The Catalyst continue to endeavor towards these purposes. Although each issue is naught but one small step, every new issue is a new layer of brick and mortar and together, they build towards creating a difference. I would like to thank everyone who dedicated their time and energy towards bettering the quality of this magazine. It has been my greatest pleasure to meet and work with such brilliant people with whom I could share the roller-coaster of emotions in producing The Catalyst. But there is no feeling more rewarding than the elation of witnessing and being part of an animated synthesis of ideas, turning potential into reality not only through writing, but also in artwork and graphic design. And most of all, thank you to our wonderful readers--students, faculty, and members of our community for whose support and encouragement continues to inspire me. With gratitude,
Lisa Onaga ’00 To see a world in a grain of sand And a heaven in a wild flower, Hold infinity in the palm of your hand And eternity in an hour. -William Blake |