Parents always tell their child not to stare directly into the sun with the best intentions, but in some cases, it merely feeds a propensity. For me it was an invitation to grow. How could I avoid such a prevalent figure which watches around half my life? And that is only if the hours lost in my sleep are counted. There must be others in my age who felt the way I felt, and attempted in the same way I did to circumnavigate the rules in order to avoid consequences. Bend their way around the dire predictions which were spoken from the mouths of parents. Maybe they tried to take a picture while not looking through the lens, glanced at it fleetingly in the serious fog, poured over pictures in books, and used tricks to watch a solar eclipse. But in the end, no replica of a thing will do. I had to look, making myself a imaginary pact: beholding it for a second, opening them fleetingly, then squeezing them shut, perhaps would not count towards the toll my eyes must pay for looking.

Over the last two and a half years, I have worked in five laboratory groups, each different from the next. I have done countless safety orientations, enough perhaps to conduct one myself. The rules laid down are usually the same. First, substitute all hazardous material with nonhazardous when possible. Second, reduce the usage if that is not possible. The third and fourth are to have physical and legislative plans. All laboratory personnel must wear PPE, use the glove box, try not to inhale dangerous fumes. But if these protections were not in place, the taste test were not abolished, and I had to touch the lead of my lab with my bear hands, I would still do it. Despite danger, threats of personal health, and scary stories of eyes being shot by lasers and burned by acid, we are all still here.

When I was in Singapore, I worked in a lab studying photovoltaics the university I did an exchange at. I choose to volunteer, without pay or credit. I’m drawn to labs and furthering my own knowledge in the same way lovers are drawn to clasp hands. I love them all, the colleges labs, inherently more messy than ones run purely by professionals. The government and regulating institutions, watched more closely. In Singapore, people were more lenient on where reactions were performed, and I wasn’t required to wear googles in every lab. This made me feel as if there was more accountability, but also more ingenuity. When faced with a flask that wasn't sealing, my mentor modified a plug until it did. Things were not so well formed, and were not assigned such a specific place, they could have many uses. I did chemical reactions on the desk near the sink with HCl, and didn't worry about my safety, even though I should have. Even then, there is nothing like this to me. With a box you can make your own sunrise. Stare through the plastic slats of the plasma machine, alerted to the proximity of the table by mutual contact of it and your ear. A soft purple glow, hinting at the sides with warm pink. Beautiful. React HCl with some form of zinc,to strip the conductivity from a glass, and you get a rising foam flecked with gold. A gentle sea that becomes silver as the tide tapers. I travel the world by reading articles about energy policy, I hold my breath when I see and learn new things without realizing I do so.

There are many reason to stare at the sun. Perhaps, for a writer, it would be to describe it, relate to some essential scene. An artist might want to draw or paint it, interpret its importance to the soul. Regardless of all other reasons, I did it because I needed to see it for myself, sate my curiosity. To me, that is all that the field of science entails, being compelled to confirm hypotheses, and satisfying curiosities. Knowing the risk of a situation, but persisting because being blind is worth the risk of momentarily discovering something worthwhile and beautiful.