In the 1999 science fiction film, The Matrix, the main character Neo is offered the choice between a red pill and a blue pill. Blue pill: choose security and known happiness. Red pill: choose uncertainty, but knowledge and freedom. Depending on how we feel about the plot of the Matrix, our answer as to which pill we hope Neo chooses varies. However, outside of science fiction and in the reality of Harvard, we constantly face decisions between which pill we ourselves will take. As I look back on my time at Harvard, I see Neo’s dilemma reflected in my own choices, of seminars versus lectures, what internship to take, and ultimately what career I pursue.
I am especially beholden to the blue pill’s promised certainty, which is why it is so surprising that I have started to advocate the opposite; as I started to reflect on my four years at Harvard, I realized that the transformational aspects of my college career were born out of uncertainty. The first time uncertainty governed me was during my first internship after freshman year. I was miserable — my day-to-day was the opposite of what I was told I would do and my boss forgot I even existed. I agonized over whether to quit this job, fearful of the giant question mark of what I would do after handing in notice. Ultimately, driven by emotional toll of the job, I quit and sent out my resume to any NGO in the area who needed a set of hands. Eventually, I got a job working with refugees. In choosing uncertainty, I fell in love with a career I never expected to work in, and I altered the path of my life.
Harvard, like many other colleges and even in the world, is a blue-pill culture. When it comes to choosing jobs and internships, we are tempted by offers made earlier because they are known entities. We feel safer choosing a class that has gotten good reviews over one that has none at all. Personally, as a student, I often found myself planning my shopping period, academic focus, and class schedule around what classes I could be assured a spot in. Having traditionally experienced bad luck with lotteries, I chose large, uncapped lecture classes that I was guaranteed to get into. In so doing, the quality of my education suffered: I choose the certainty of a class that did not perhaps align with my interests over a class that truly matched my interested but into which my entry was uncertain. Unfortunately, this phenomena extends beyond me, and beyond Harvard. Humans are biologically hardwired to dislike uncertainty. If, as the Matrix suggests, certainty is a blue pill, then we live our lives in the blue.
Despite Harvard’s blue-pill culture, college is the perfect place to try choosing uncertainty. To be sure, there are risks involved in choosing uncertainty; we may experience failure, disappointment, or regret. But where on earth is there a better place to take risks than college? Keeping to the blue pill culture may even prove more of a risk long-term: if we take the expected and predictable path, we may miss an opportunity that could provide us with greater happiness and fulfillment in life. Whereas, if we learn to love uncertainty, then uncertainty may just love us back.
Certainly, in my experience at Harvard, the moments of greatest value, triumph, and discovery have come from plunging into the unknown: The lotteried class — for which I turned down lecture courses I had guaranteed enrollment in — was the best class I have taken at Harvard. The international internship I accepted without actually knowing where I was going challenged me to become a stronger person. Uncertainty has made my experiences at Harvard truly exceptional, and I couldn’t be more grateful for it.
Envisioning my freshman year self, agonizing over course reviews and internship choices, I’d tell myself: Choose the red pill. Choose uncertainty.
Image Credit: Flickr/Tim Sackton