My hands were full. 

I was holding my head back, trying to make sure that no part of the Peanut Butter Cup Cookie I had bit into and was balancing so delicately on my chin, would fall onto the pavement outside of Phelp’s Gate. My left arm was sore from holding a box filled to the brim with even more cookies, offered to us free of charge by the lad at Insomnia. In my right arm was a speaker, which was most likely (rather antisocially) blasting a banger – most probably Pitbull. Alongside me were two of my closest friends, bopping their heads to the music and chiming in to our piercing cacophony of voices when they recognised a part of the song. We walked back triumphantly to the gates of Franklin, satisfied with another brilliant end to a typical Saturday night of registered social gatherings in groups no larger than ten.

As I reflected upon that simple but special moment on my journey home at the end of this semester, I found myself considering where I was exactly a year prior to that night. I inevitably must have been awake at the same time, but instead of strolling around obnoxiously with my friends, I was likely sipping on an Espresso, trying to simultaneously cram the contents of some history textbook for an upcoming exam, prepare for an alumni interview, and recharge my batteries for a soccer match the next day – all whilst still maybe listening to some (more relaxed) Mr. Worldwide.

And I certainly don’t think I was the only one: I speak for many of us when I say that we worked tirelessly to ensure that we could one day call Yale our home. Though everyone’s path here was different, and marked by varying degrees of commitment and strife, it was no walk through Cross Campus – it was challenging. We’ve made it to Hogwarts and it feels surreal.

We’re now blessed to learn from the world’s best, have access to incredible resources and alumni, and are part of an exceptional community composed of some of the globe’s most talented individuals. As such, no matter how grueling the journey here may have been – there is not one day where I’m not thankful to have persevered through it. Because my first year here, though tarnished by the pandemic in a multitude of ways, could not be described as anything other than magical.

However, for a self-selecting group of hyper-ambitious visionaries who spent long periods of time thinking about their future at Yale when they were in high school, it is difficult to relinquish that mindset of constantly looking forward, of constantly planning ahead. Perhaps that is why my most significant takeaway from this year is this: whilst also working towards our many future ambitions and goals, we should endeavor to live as fully in the moment as we possibly can.

While it may seem as though I’m restating the blatantly obvious, my Yale experience thus far has given me the impression that as a community we tend to weigh heavily on the side of investing our time into multifaceted and fascinating objectives. Effectively, a community with students that will inevitably be leading developments as diverse as coordinating humanity’s settlement on Mars, adapting our economic systems to cryptocurrencies, or managing developing solutions to save our environment, must, to a certain extent, keep looking forward such that they can realise those ambitions. And as one who often lingers on the future rather than the present, I too, would describe myself as embodying this mindset.

However, scrolling through the endless stream of  Instagram graduation posts over the past week has made me acutely aware of an unfortunate truth that most of these now graduated seniors are facing: the magic of Yale — something I just got a small taste of over the course of this year — is fleeting. Yale passes you by in the blink of an eye, and for these seniors, might be something they might never experience again. My intentions are neither to exacerbate the sadness many recently graduated seniors must currently be experiencing, nor to depress my fellow students currently on their journey through Yale. Instead, in watching them leave the place I have just started to call my home, I seek to encourage myself and my peers to revel in the magic of Yale as much as they can. 

Having said that, I by no means wish to encourage people to completely abandon the frame of mind that may well be what makes us capable of positively contributing to this world. But the forward-looking mentality that led me upon the grueling journey I previously described myself as being thankful for, is one that I suggest we adapt slightly now that we’re in college. 

So take the classes you find truly fascinating – regardless of whether they prepare you for your life after university. Party. Explore. Uncover this university’s hidden secrets. Because when it is our time to walk the stage, if we’d like to be filled with nostalgia rather than regret, we should perhaps attribute more importance and time to what we find to be magical in this place, whatever that may be.