Rediscovering Physics in the Second Act of Life

For most of my life, I carried a quiet fascination with the universe - a curiosity that lingered in the background like a persistent hum. As a child and young adult, I found myself drawn to the mysteries of space, time, and the unseen forces that govern everything. But despite that longing, I quickly came to believe that I simply wasn’t cut out for physics. Math, in particular, felt like a towering wall I couldn’t scale. The symbols, the abstractions, the logic - none of it seemed to click, and I gave up early. My teachers moved too fast, textbooks were dense and impersonal, and my own learning style didn’t seem to match the pace of the classroom. I internalized that failure and wore it quietly, assuming I just didn’t have the right kind of mind.

Still, the curiosity never left. I continued to read books by people like Michio Kaku, Brian Greene, and Max Tegmark - science communicators who painted vivid pictures of the cosmos and its inner workings. I devoured popular science, grateful that at least I could understand the poetic side of physics, even if the math remained elusive. Around the same time, I also began watching the German television show alpha-Centauri, hosted by physicist Harald Lesch. In short, engaging episodes, Lesch explained complex physical and astronomical concepts in everyday language, managing to make even the most daunting ideas feel approachable. That show didn’t just inform - it inspired. It made physics feel personal, as though it belonged not just to academics in ivory towers but to anyone willing to wonder. Between those books and alpha-Centauri, I felt connected to the world of science, even if only from the outside. But beneath that enjoyment, there was a lingering frustration. I knew I was only skimming the surface. I wanted to go deeper, to see what lay beneath the metaphors, to follow the threads all the way down.

And then, something unexpected happened. In my mid-fifties, I began watching YouTube videos - those wonderfully clear, visually rich explanations that break down complex ideas into digestible insights. I started with physics channels, but quickly found myself drawn to math content as well. To my surprise, I began understanding concepts that had once seemed completely out of reach. Linear algebra, calculus, even topics like group theory and differential equations began to make sense. The animations, analogies, and step-by-step walkthroughs made the abstract feel tangible. Slowly, the concepts started to stick. Calculus no longer seemed like a foreign language; it began to feel like a tool I could actually wield. Differential equations, once terrifying, began to reveal their elegance. What surprised me most was not just that I was learning, but that I was enjoying the struggle. I was falling in love with math - not as a means to an end, but as a beautiful language in its own right.

That’s when it hit me: I hadn’t been stupid. I had simply lacked the right conditions, the right materials, and maybe the right phase of life. I had believed that math becomes harder with age, that understanding fades as youth slips away. But my experience has been the opposite. Now, with years of life behind me, I find that my cognitive abilities feel sharper, more focused. I have more patience, more discipline, and - perhaps most importantly - more context. Life experience has taught me how to learn, how to sit with uncertainty, and how to break down complex problems in a way that makes sense to me.

When I think back to how physics students managed before the digital age, I’m struck by their sheer tenacity. They had no internet, no video tutorials, no interactive simulations - just thick textbooks, dusty libraries, and maybe a generous professor if they were lucky. They had to be either geniuses with razor-sharp minds or relentless in their persistence. In contrast, we’re living in a golden age of learning. Today, someone like me - without a formal academic background in physics - can access lectures from MIT, explanations from Nobel laureates, visualizations of quantum phenomena, and even AI tutors. The gatekeepers are gone. What remains is the learner's will.

I no longer feel behind. In fact, I feel ahead in many ways. I’m not racing for a grade or trying to impress anyone. I’m learning because I want to understand how reality works. I’m learning because, finally, I can. And if anything, I believe now more than ever that deep understanding isn’t about speed or youth - it’s about resonance. It’s about the moment when an idea clicks so profoundly that it becomes part of how you see the world.

This journey - this rediscovery of physics and mathematics in the second act of my life - is more than just an intellectual pursuit. It’s a kind of reclamation. I am no longer defined by the failures of my youth or the limitations I once believed I had. I am, instead, exactly where I need to be: curious, capable, and ready to dive as deep as the universe will let me.