Prize-giving Speech 2008
Jenny Du Preez
Mr Vermaak, honoured guests, members of staff, parents and fellow pupils.
“Welcome. And congratulations. I am delighted that you could make it. Getting here wasn’t easy, I know. In fact, I suspect it was a little tougher than you realise.
To begin with, for you to be here now, trillions of drifting atoms had somehow to assemble in an intricate and curiously obliging manner to create you. It’s an arrangement so specialised and particular that it has never been tried before and will only exist this once. For the next many years (we hope) these tiny particles will uncomplainingly engage in all the billions of deft, co-operative efforts necessary to keep you intact and let you experience the supremely agreeable but under-appreciated state known as existence.
The bad news is that atoms are fickle and their time of devotion is fleeting – fleeting indeed. Even a long human life adds up to only about 650,000 hours. And when that modest milestone flashes into view, for reasons unknown, your atoms will close you down, then silently disassemble and go off to be other things and that’s it for you.
Still, you may rejoice that it happens at all. Generally speaking in the universe it doesn’t. This is decidedly odd because the atoms that so liberally and congenially flock together to form living things on Earth are exactly the same atoms that decline to do it elsewhere. The only thing special about the atoms that make you is that they make you. That is, of course, the miracle of life.”
The passage I have just read is a paraphrased version of an introduction to a book called “A Short History of Nearly Everything” by Bill Bryson. The book attempts to sum up the universe in a few hundred pages, but I think that this little piece of introduction serves to remind us of something just as amazing; something that can very easily be taken for granted: that life is a miracle.
So, life is miraculous and very short and each and every one of use sitting here today has been gifted with it. It is an awesome responsibility and if we all weren’t so used to having it we might feel a little over-awed. How do we even begin to utilise such an opportunity?
The answer is as complex and complicated as the processes that keep us alive. In fact, I don’t think there is a single answer. I think everyone has to find their own solution, but that doesn’t mean we can’t take a few tips from those who have grappled with this problem before us.
Gandhi once said, “Learn like you will live forever; live like you will die tomorrow.”
I think most people are quite keen to live the second half of this advice, but what about the first part? I think it is just as important.
Learning is often seen as a painful, laborious process, but I think that is because learning is often confused with studying. Studying is a methodical injection of facts into our short term memories so we can pass our exams. It serves a very important purpose, of course, but for me, at least, it has never been enjoyable.
But I’m not talking about studying. I’m talking about the horizon-expanding, paradigm-shifting experience called learning. Learning is knowing things just for the sake of knowing them. Learning changes our perspectives, helps us understand the world around us and opens our minds to incredible possibilities.
Without learning, we wouldn’t be able to talk or write or walk, so there’s no excuse to stop learning now. Learning is essential to living life to the full.
Life may be a painful, insane experience, even as it is miraculous, but live it to the full so that one day, when your fickle atoms decide to desert you, you can look back and think that maybe you managed to live up to the incredible honour you were given: living.
