Publishing Isn’t Just About the Results

Growing up, I was fortunate to spend most of my time immersed in nature—far from the internet, in a remote place where questions often outnumbered answers. As a naturally curious kid fascinated by waterfalls, stars, and storms, that isolation felt like both a blessing and a frustration. With few people to ask, physics textbooks became my only guide.

Even when I eventually gained internet access, I still found myself facing questions no one seemed to answer—and I quickly realized how many mysteries in science remain unsolved. The biggest revelation came while watching an online lecture by Professor Ramamurti Shankar of Yale University, who began with a quote from Richard Feynman: “‘No one understands quantum mechanics.’ . . . So, pressure is off—you don’t get it, I don’t get it, and Feynman doesn’t get it.” That moment reshaped my idea of “understanding.” Quantum isn’t about intuition; it’s about grasping something deeper, beyond a classical picture. And yet it powers modern technology. This insight instilled in me a habit: always begin from first principles. Since then, quantum has underpinned every project I’ve taken on.

In my first year of college, my mentor, Professor James Borgardt, encouraged me into an independent study in chaos theory, and though I bravely avoided “quantum chaos,” that summer I researched LIGO’s black-hole merger signals. I taught myself Fourier techniques and algorithms, only to discover that these very methods lie at the heart of quantum wave decomposition. That revelation not only deepened my appreciation for their power, but also hinted at something profound—that the universe may follow underlying patterns, where mechanisms from the quantum scale to celestial bodies are intricately woven together.

I later took advanced quantum courses, which, despite my best efforts, only made things slightly clearer—or at least, more elegantly confusing. That journey of understanding the building blocks led me back to the stars, the building blocks of the universe. I studied rare, dying stars and fell in love with their spectra—the crazy wiggly lines that reveal quantum phenomena like excitation, absorption, and the Zeeman effect. But these research experiences taught me more than just theory, deep thinking, and attention to detail—they revealed the power of writing, presenting, and sharing knowledge. They made me feel more connected to this beautifully tuned universe. I came to realize that true impact comes through communication, by fostering critical thinking and spreading ideas. Research and outreach gave me the superpower to do exactly that.

Just recently, I was honored with the SPS Outstanding Undergraduate Research Award for my work on unusual stars in nearby galaxies. I now have one of three first-author papers nearly ready for submission. That project, refined through many iterations, is being submitted to JURPA, where it will undergo peer review—highlighting the importance of critique, support, and encouragement from the scientific community. JURPA is an exceptional platform. Even as an undergraduate, I have the opportunity to publish and contribute to the broader conversation in physics before aiming for major journals. For that, I am deeply grateful.

Now, as I’ve just graduated, I’ve taken on a research position for the coming year and plan to begin a PhD program next fall. But this journey isn’t just about building a résumé. It’s about continuing to grow and to contribute to a field I care deeply about. To my fellow undergraduate researchers, I want to say this: If I can publish, so can you. Don’t wait until you feel like an expert. Your curiosity, effort, and questions already have value. Publishing isn’t just about the results—it’s about the process, the learning, and the sharing.

And above all, value the people around you. Science might be about particles, stars, and equations, but it’s also about people. It’s the community that makes science thrive. I’ve been incredibly fortunate to have mentors, collaborators, and supporters who challenged and encouraged me. Many of these connections were made possible through SPS—through its scholarships, conferences, and above all, its people.

JURPA reflects that same spirit. It’s a place where science is not just a body of knowledge but a human endeavor. So ask questions, seek answers, and share what you discover. Science needs your voice, and this community is here to amplify it.