The phrase “connecting the dots” is intriguing because it conjures up drastically different images when resituated at a different point in time. What once used to only be a line-art puzzle connecting sequence of numbered dots to reveal the outline of an object when I was much younger when resituated in time a decade later, has become associated with a metaphor of finding the “big picture” amongst the mass of data. Naturally, the idea that we could derive the “big picture” from many data points—collection and memory of our life happening and experience—seems to imply that it is possible for us to make prediction of our own future by connecting these data points and observing the pattern, or at the very least, get a glimpse of it. This begets the question: can we really predict our future? If so, is there such a thing as fate? How do we understand our lives as being meaningful?
I have gone through multiple iterations of quickly getting excited about the new experience, to later realise the excitement soon diminishes. Prior to entering university, I have always been very interested in the domain of engineering and how it can be combined with design to build a smart sophisticated solution that tackles imminent issues. We live in a world that is built with the knowledge of engineering, where the manifestation of products are usually the creative expression of its underlying governing Mathematics and Physics principles. I remember how, within me, there was this sense of excitement that the education at university would prepare me for roles within the mechanical engineering area.
While I felt that most of the engineering classes deepened my theoretical knowledge and understanding of the fundamentals of Mechanical Engineering, there were times, particularly in the engineering projects, that I felt that there were not much room for “creative experimentation” through trying new or integrating other designs, for example:
Artefact 1: This was a truss bridge design project as part of our Statics and Mechanics (EG1109M) class, where we are required to design a truss bridge, and perform the material selection. There is already a collection of different Truss structure and so, instead of designing, the project only involved the selection of Truss structure we want to use and followed by the analysis and calculation of forces acting on the Truss structure.
As I was working on the project, I cannot help but feel that the calculation of all the forces in the truss structure just merely reflected the same practice as the tutorial question. The age-old engineering discipline did not have much of a space for the pursuit of new design, and I did not see how the learning or manual calculation could be translated to what I could possibly do beyond the university. Even in the engineering visualisation and 3D software modelling class, we learned to use SolidWorks, a Computer Aided Design (CAD) software, to create 3D models, but never get to print them into an actual real-life prototype.
Along the journey, the valuable takeaway was always in developing up new skill sets and ideas, and experimenting them on future projects. The journey also felt like a perfect reflection of how most of us unravel our life purpose through the journey of experimentation, self-exploring, and self-pruning. Sometime in July 2018, I was on the NUS Study Trips for Engagement and EnRichment (STEER) to Shenzen and Hong Kong, we stopped by the Shenzhen Design Museum, a unique cultural experience and a public space dedicated to showcasing some of the innovative design that has shaped the world, and the quote in the following caught my attention:
Artefact 2: I was at the Shenzhen Design Society, I found the idea that design has to improve the performance of things and the idea of portable computing and instant connectivity resonated with some of my understanding of the principles of engineering, and managed to make a broader connection of what design could also mean.
Artefact 3: A designer work that is used to solve the problem of lack of refrigeration in the rural Indian communities. The fridge relies on the evaporative cooling through clay to cool down the interior temperature, which helps to keep the food fresh.
One of the takeaways I had is that design, on the deeper level, is more than just aesthetical, but it’s about systematic modification with the agenda of improving the overall functioning of things. This was exemplified by one of the designer work that looks into addressing the problem of refrigeration in the rural Indian communities, the fridge was designed without the need for electricity, but uses evaporative cooling through the use of clay. In this case, the design also encompasses and draws upon knowledge from other disciplines such as Physics and engineering.
Artefact 4: Hardware prototype using electrical conductivity sensor, load cell, temperature sensor, and Bluno Nano for the Medical Grand Challenge Competition that I embarked on to monitor the sodium consumed by the user.
This brings me to my next experience, where I embarked on the Medical Grand Challenge project, a medical innovation programme, and worked with a team of six to innovate a new solution that addresses a real-world medical problem. Our team chose to work on a sodium tracking spoon that helps hypertensive patients to monitor their daily salt intake. Through this project, I came to appreciate the engineering training that has equipped me with the methodological approach in terms of gaining enough foundation to know where to search for resources that will guide me in designing various components that meet specification, and work as intended.
Within the university curriculum, the curriculum is well-structured, we know the end goals. There is an end to the journey, an arguably clear outcome, and a timeline that is situated within the context of NUS. In a way, at least within the context of school, there seem to be a “fate”, and the capability for us to predict our outcome. However, in life, there is no clear end goal or outcome, we are free to chart our own course and live the timeline that we want. In this case, revisiting our earlier questions: there such a thing as fate and how do we understand our lives as being meaningful?
Most of us never antagonise over bad choices presented to us, we only agonise over the good ones. Perhaps, it might be useful to visit the idea of existentialism, where everything, according to Plato and Aristotle, has an essence—the set of core properties that is vital or essential for a thing to be what it is. If we believe in the concept of the “best version” of ourselves, it is, in a way, subscribing to the idea that there exists such a thing as fate, that the ideal version of ourselves is out there in the universe, that our essence that gives us purpose precedes our existence, and that finding that “best version” is the only we find our purpose in life. Yet, if finding our life purpose is contingent on being able to discover that ideal version of ourselves, which has already been pre-determined by fate, I find that quite unpalatable.
Instead, I feel that the idea that existence precedes essence, suggested by Jean-Paul Sartre, a French philosopher, is a much more enjoyable way to view learning, experiences, and life. The idea is that we build our essence based on how we decide to live and based on the journey that we take. In this realm of thinking, fate is not static, but is influenced by how we choose to connect with others, accept people for who they are, the kind of adventure we choose to undertake that excites us, and the decisions we make along the way. This is, perhaps, how I see my life as being meaningful: discovering life purpose through serendipity. Just like how the big picture only became apparent when I connect the dots looking backward, one day, the dots will connect when we look back. At that moment, we will realise that we knew how we understood our lives as being meaningful and purposeful all along.