Waves
As “Concierto de Aranjuez” plays from a pair of newly modified speakers in the basement, my fingers intuitively flick as sparkling guitar strings and silky oboe reeds sing, their sound waves varying in amplitudes of compressions and rarefactions along diverse wavelengths, vibrating in the air and straight into my ears. Suddenly, a pronounced F sharp cuts in, and I know I need to adjust the speaker to around 740 Hz.
One of my favorite pictures is of 3-year old me, wearing jeans and a flower apron, sitting on a vintage redwood loudspeaker. I was my father’s shadow, tagging along as he soldered electronic boards for audio equipment in the basement. I still remember the smell of melted metal whenever I sprinted down the stairs to watch his daily quest of opening up speakers, identifying components of various sizes and geometries, and soldering wires together. Over time, my father and I became our own band of rebels, staying up past midnight in the musty basement, smoke rising from the soldering iron and drills bzzzing down screws while toying with electronic components that would fabricate perfect wave frequencies.
On my fifth birthday my parents led me into the living room, where a brand new mahogany upright piano sat. Hesitant, I awkwardly pressed a few keys. Though it might have sounded like a musical mess to others, I was immediately captured. Each key produced a wonderful blend of frequency and wavelength. That day began my piano career, leading eventually to performing in world-renowned music halls and playing with international orchestras. Every time I play, I communicate my affections and despairs, whether to a hall of hundreds or a cramped room of friends, by plucking the notes for dolce, crescendoing for ff, and slowing or upping tempo. These dynamics merge together, coalescing into sound waves that rise through me and into my audience, connecting us emotionally.
At sixteen, I was selected to conduct MRI research at Columbia University Department of Psychiatry. In the lab, my mind was bombarded with myriad questions: I knew a kilohertz electromagnetic wave could vibrate air to convey sound into our eardrums. But how can a megahertz wave resonate with hydrogen protons in our brains to generate an image of neuron distribution and activities? Would gigahertz or terahertz waves reveal other characteristics of our bodies? As I recorded data and observed the different frequencies of the EM waves emitted by the machine’s resonance frequency coils, the shapes the waves make reminded me of the same forms shown by my dad’s oscilloscope. I fell in love with the MRI lab, the birthplace of my interest in physics.
As first-generation immigrants, my parents, during many dinner conversations, told me of their youths in China. Stories of poverty, starvation, and national turmoil sunk into my mind, and I was devastated by the horrors they had gone through. I was also struck by their lack of proper English language education, especially since I believe an increase in globalization is the key to a safe and prosperous future, and English is considered a universal language. Thus in 9th grade I founded Cultureswave, an association that connects American students in my community with Chinese students via an online platform to help with English speaking, reading, and writing skills. Not only am I using language to create ties between cultures, but I’m also allowing these groups to resonate with each other, forming waves of communication across continents.
Life is full of coincidences. Modes of resonance in forms of waves have popped up repeatedly throughout my years, between communities as small as my family and friends to ones that span the Pacific. I’m certain my school’s campus will be the next society where I’ll resonate with thrilling ideas and school spirit, like booming soundwaves from a pair of speakers. Maybe my dorm will be my next basement, tuning my latest modified speakers to a perfect 740 Hz.