About MeIf there’s one word that I want to define me, it’s curiosity. I love to ask questions of all types: big questions about how the world works, small questions about a person’s experience, old questions about philosophy and religion, and new questions about how innovative technology is shaping our lives. I believe curiosity leads to stories, energy, and most importantly, connection. Here's a piece of my story.
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Part 1: Finding the story
Baseball was the first outlet for my curiosity. I hit my growth spurt early, and I used my towering height as an 11-year-old to lead the league in home runs (my baseball career went steadily downhill after that season). But even more than playing baseball, I was fascinated with how the game worked. I created a binder and wrote notes on the greatest major league achievements of all time. I pasted players’ statistics into Excel spreadsheets to calculate projections for the next season. I started a blog called “Gavin’s Ball Blog” where I wrote over 150 posts over three years about baseball and other sports topics. I was obsessed.
Ten years later, baseball seems much more boring than it once did, but my fascination with telling the stories behind the numbers and figuring out the future lives on. Instead of baseball statistics, I’m more curious about numbers that describe how people live. And instead of wondering which team will win the World Series, I’m wondering how artificial intelligence, globalization and climate change will shape our future. How did this change in me happen?
Ten years later, baseball seems much more boring than it once did, but my fascination with telling the stories behind the numbers and figuring out the future lives on. Instead of baseball statistics, I’m more curious about numbers that describe how people live. And instead of wondering which team will win the World Series, I’m wondering how artificial intelligence, globalization and climate change will shape our future. How did this change in me happen?
Part 2: Energy
The first moment I felt like my life had a purpose, I had just spent four hours sitting on my living room couch. Sure, I had experienced plenty of other moments of meaning in my teenage life: walking among the majestic redwoods of the Santa Cruz mountains, winning baseball tournaments, performing in my church’s musicals. But no moment had brought the same energy and sense of purpose as this hot summer day.
I had just finished my sophomore year in high school and been rejected from an internship, mostly because I was too young. How would I spend my summer? I searched online, and found a free course titled, “How to Change the World.” Four hours each week for eight weeks to change the world? Seemed like a good deal to me.
I signed up, and learned about an online challenge focused on youth unemployment on a website called OpenIDEO. Anyone could participate and share ideas around how to reduce youth unemployment. As a newly unemployed 16-year-old, I found the topic quite relevant.
I had just finished my sophomore year in high school and been rejected from an internship, mostly because I was too young. How would I spend my summer? I searched online, and found a free course titled, “How to Change the World.” Four hours each week for eight weeks to change the world? Seemed like a good deal to me.
I signed up, and learned about an online challenge focused on youth unemployment on a website called OpenIDEO. Anyone could participate and share ideas around how to reduce youth unemployment. As a newly unemployed 16-year-old, I found the topic quite relevant.
That day on the couch, I wrote up my idea: bring professionals into high school classrooms to host real-world challenges related to their work. I was disillusioned with the monotony of middle school, and knew that creative and collaborative problem-solving were key to empowering students to be leaders. As I typed my thoughts, time seemed to fly by. Some force within me was willing this work to be done. I published my idea and ate lunch, certainly not expecting much to happen from the idea’s future. After all, how much impact can a few hundred words on a website have on a life?
Quite a bit, I soon learned. Dozens of people commented on the idea, challenging me to update it with new pieces and perspectives. Several months later, the idea was named one of the challenge’s winning ideas, and I found myself checking my email in journalism class. In my email, I found an invitation to attend the Clinton Global Initiative annual conference (the organization was sponsoring the challenge). I flew to New York the next week and attended dozens of sessions with world leaders and business representatives working together to commit to fighting for education, gender equality, climate justice, poverty and more. Even though there was no one else my age, I knew I belonged, and I wanted to be a part of expanding the circle of opportunity and strengthening communities. I could tell that working to address global challenges brought these people a type of joy, humility and meaning. I wanted that energy.
Quite a bit, I soon learned. Dozens of people commented on the idea, challenging me to update it with new pieces and perspectives. Several months later, the idea was named one of the challenge’s winning ideas, and I found myself checking my email in journalism class. In my email, I found an invitation to attend the Clinton Global Initiative annual conference (the organization was sponsoring the challenge). I flew to New York the next week and attended dozens of sessions with world leaders and business representatives working together to commit to fighting for education, gender equality, climate justice, poverty and more. Even though there was no one else my age, I knew I belonged, and I wanted to be a part of expanding the circle of opportunity and strengthening communities. I could tell that working to address global challenges brought these people a type of joy, humility and meaning. I wanted that energy.
Part 3: Connection
I read a quote recently:
“Life is not a problem to be solved, but a reality to be experienced.” - Soren Kierkegaard
I love solving problems. So much, in fact, that want to devote my career to problem-solving for companies. Whether I end up pursuing consulting, design, analytics, entrepreneurship, or some combination, I will essentially be spending my waking hours discovering and fixing problems. And I wouldn’t want it any other way – problem solving is deeply intertwined with creativity and purpose. My brain craves a central motivating challenge to occupy my thoughts as I go through the world.
But I wonder if my focus on problems will ever detract from my presence with people in everyday encounters. If there is always a new problem to solve, will I ever be able to rest in a sense of enough? That I’ve done enough, contributed enough? That I am not a problem to be solved?
My high school youth group traveled to a small community south of Ensenada, Mexico each spring break. In my smaller team, we had spent the first day hoisting buckets of concrete up a sketchy wooden ramp to complete the roof of a community center. My body ached, but I felt accomplished: we were doing real work, solving real problems.
Then, later in the week, I met Jose. He was standing in the dirt lot, and I greeted him in Spanish. “What’s up man?!” came his reply.
Over the next hour, I learned that Jose had been denied U.S. citizenship after participating in riots over the death of Mexican L.A. Times reporter Ruben Salazar in 1970. Thirty-nine years later in 2009, he had been deported after receiving a DUI while driving home after a work party. Left in Ensenada without a job, family, social security or health care for his diabetes, Jose had struggled to get by for the past seven years. We also discussed the cultural differences, the challenges of finding work in Mexico, the illegal immigration market, world news, government programs, and the weather.
I could not solve any of Jose’s problems, but that didn’t matter, that wasn’t the point. I was struck by how many values we shared. Jose expressed his desire to give back to his community, spend time with his family and grow in his faith journey— all aspirations of my own. This conversation with a man 40 years older in a different country showed me that curiosity leads to connection, and that engaging with people outside our comfortable groups strengthens the bonds of kinship in our global human family.
In college, my desire for connection has continued. I started my podcast Voices of Santa Clara out of a curiosity about the incredible and diverse stories of students and faculty at Santa Clara. I studied abroad in Bologna, Italy, spending time with local students and running a free English program for the local community. As I continue to find and solve problems in my work, I hope to never forget that the moments of connection and presence are what life is all about.
As I embark on the Global Social Benefit Fellowship, I hope to grow in my storytelling, and to experience an energy that comes from pursuing work that matters. Most of all, I hope to connect with people at home and abroad, continuing to expand my perspective on our shared humanity.
“Life is not a problem to be solved, but a reality to be experienced.” - Soren Kierkegaard
I love solving problems. So much, in fact, that want to devote my career to problem-solving for companies. Whether I end up pursuing consulting, design, analytics, entrepreneurship, or some combination, I will essentially be spending my waking hours discovering and fixing problems. And I wouldn’t want it any other way – problem solving is deeply intertwined with creativity and purpose. My brain craves a central motivating challenge to occupy my thoughts as I go through the world.
But I wonder if my focus on problems will ever detract from my presence with people in everyday encounters. If there is always a new problem to solve, will I ever be able to rest in a sense of enough? That I’ve done enough, contributed enough? That I am not a problem to be solved?
My high school youth group traveled to a small community south of Ensenada, Mexico each spring break. In my smaller team, we had spent the first day hoisting buckets of concrete up a sketchy wooden ramp to complete the roof of a community center. My body ached, but I felt accomplished: we were doing real work, solving real problems.
Then, later in the week, I met Jose. He was standing in the dirt lot, and I greeted him in Spanish. “What’s up man?!” came his reply.
Over the next hour, I learned that Jose had been denied U.S. citizenship after participating in riots over the death of Mexican L.A. Times reporter Ruben Salazar in 1970. Thirty-nine years later in 2009, he had been deported after receiving a DUI while driving home after a work party. Left in Ensenada without a job, family, social security or health care for his diabetes, Jose had struggled to get by for the past seven years. We also discussed the cultural differences, the challenges of finding work in Mexico, the illegal immigration market, world news, government programs, and the weather.
I could not solve any of Jose’s problems, but that didn’t matter, that wasn’t the point. I was struck by how many values we shared. Jose expressed his desire to give back to his community, spend time with his family and grow in his faith journey— all aspirations of my own. This conversation with a man 40 years older in a different country showed me that curiosity leads to connection, and that engaging with people outside our comfortable groups strengthens the bonds of kinship in our global human family.
In college, my desire for connection has continued. I started my podcast Voices of Santa Clara out of a curiosity about the incredible and diverse stories of students and faculty at Santa Clara. I studied abroad in Bologna, Italy, spending time with local students and running a free English program for the local community. As I continue to find and solve problems in my work, I hope to never forget that the moments of connection and presence are what life is all about.
As I embark on the Global Social Benefit Fellowship, I hope to grow in my storytelling, and to experience an energy that comes from pursuing work that matters. Most of all, I hope to connect with people at home and abroad, continuing to expand my perspective on our shared humanity.