Diploma Ceremony Speech

My first summer break here at CMU, after two long semesters of classes, I decided to take some more classes. Which left me with only two weeks of a real break. Rather than enjoying Pittsburgh’s lovely weather, I flew across the country for a mountaineering boot camp in the Cascades. After twelve days in the mountains, I didn’t love how I smelled, but I did fall in love with mountaineering.

As I climbed more, people asked me every now and then: “Why?” “ Why do you do this?” “How is this fun?”

Now I could make a speech about how, as an artist, nature gives me endless inspiration. I could also talk about how the technical stuff pleases my nerdy side. I could, of course, also make the classic speech comparing climbing to life, talking about how we all have to work hard to reach our goals.

But today, I want to talk about something else entirely. I want to talk about the sublime—particularly, the concept of the sublime in aesthetics.

In his seminal work “The World as Will and Representation”, Arthur Schopenhauer defines the sublime as the “pleasure from perceiving objects that threaten to hurt or destroy the observer.”

Ten thousand feet above sea level, when what seemed like a small patch of ice reveals itself as an endless glacier riddled with deadly crevasses; when distant icefalls send massive blocks crashing down the mountain; when Seattle, a metropolis of four million, shrinks to a tiny speck among infinite mountains—I felt the sublime. The awe from confronting such immense power overwhelms every other thought.

Schopenhauer offers his explanation for why we feel pleasure when facing danger, but for me, it’s about the freedom that comes from confronting my own mortality. When I traverse across debris of an avalanche, when I leap over dark, bottomless crevasses, I don’t just understand my insignificance; I feel it – deeply, viscerally, in body, and in spirit.

Most importantly, it puts things into proper perspective, eclipsing my daily grievances, and clarifying the things that truly matter. I learned not to lose sleep over grades, or that embarrassing encounter. I learned to be kinder to my body. I learned that I should perhaps let go of the paths others have set for me, and take the path less traveled by.

When climbing technical mountains, you spend quite some time hanging on a cliff, waiting for your partner, with only a thin piece of fabric separating life and death. In those idle moments, I often reflect on my life, wondering if I’d be content with how I’ve lived, should I fall right there and then.

I wanted to bring this up today because at this important milestone of our lives, we often talk about the bright future we all have ahead, as if we have unlimited time to spare. But statistically speaking, we are 25 to 30 percent of the way through our lives already. Too often, we convince ourselves that we just need to suffer two more years, or that we’ll grind tirelessly to retire early. Too often, we justify life’s anguish with elusive rewards set in the distant future. Too often, we wait: for Friday, next year, when we have money, when we finally figure out what the heck we’re doing.

But this life will pass quickly. Don’t wait for the perfect moment to arrive, don’t waste it fighting with people; don’t tether your life to a ten-year plan. When inspiration strikes, seize it; when joy arises, hug your loved ones; when life takes unexpected turns, be ready to scrap your plans and embrace these opportunities.

I believe that we, the BXA graduates, are uniquely equipped to define our own meanings in life and to live every moment to the fullest. You may often hear us say that we’re being trained for the jobs of the future. While that is true, I believe the true essence of an interdisciplinary education is far more profound.

Because we don’t follow others down a path simply because we feel like we have to, instead, we break the bounds of disciplines and follow our true passions.

Because we don’t just put our heads down and blindly trek towards a clear summit, instead, we are okay with being lost and not knowing from time to time.

Because we don’t like being told what to do or what to learn, instead, we take this responsibility into our own hands and devote our limited time here to things that are meaningful to us.

With the faith that even if we can’t yet see the summit, even if we don’t yet know what all this means, by following our heart, by learning every day, by fearlessly exploring, we will have lived a meaningful and fulfilling life regardless if others consider our happy place the true summit.

To my parents, thank you for granting me the freedom of the hills – the freedom to choose, to stray, to get hurt, and to come back stronger.

To my fellow BXA graduates, I am so so privileged to have shared this journey with you all.

I wish you the best of luck in this trial of life.

May the wind be kind and the snow gentle.

May our minds be clear and our compassion strong.

May we have the strength to love, to forgive, and to live intensely.

Leave all the rest to the mountains.