Equilibrium

Equilibrium reactions. I can remember when my chemistry professor taught this concept in Chem 2 (That was way back when I was a young freshman in college: those were the good old days. Of course, I’m far wiser now as a sophomore in college.) His (my professor’s) way of teaching us this subject in lecture really stuck with me.

They, (the way he contemptuously spit the innocuous article out implied he thought of all chemistry high school teachers as second-class, low-grade persons not fit to be spoken of in erudite company), they taught you in high school that equilibrium reactions are some sort of stationary, boring solution where everything has come to a stop. Although at first glance, it looks as if the solution is simply an inactive chunk of reactants and products sitting blandly, staring at the walls of the beaker, nothing could be further from the truth.

These reactions that have reached an equilibrium are most certainly not static; the reactants are constantly reacting and forming products, while the products are constantly degrading and reforming reactants. That is the point of an equilibrium reaction; while the participants have reached a peaceful agreement as to concentration (i.e. the amount of the reactants and product remains the same), they are still flowing from one side of the reaction equation to the other, rapidly interchanging one chemical bond for the other.

I have a feeling many people are a lot like equilibrium reactions. And this feeling, or theory, or whatever name you wish to give it can work two ways. First, they can be apparently ordinary people, living normal lives. Perhaps they don’t seem to have very captivating personalities. But the truth is that they have creative ideas, brilliant minds, and have done fascinating things. Maybe they are honestly more interesting than noticeably charismatic people: they have reached an equilibrium, a peaceful point, but they have so much going on when you take a closer look. Or, secondly, these people can be completely insane. They look “at peace” on the outside, but that is simply at first glance, and it hides the fact that they are internally chaotic and crazy. (Last night I watched a movie about the Amish school shooting in 2006: the gunman looked like such a normal guy, but he was so wretched internally.)

As a child, I can remember being in the car with my mother driving down the highway so many times: almost every time, I was hit with a wave of overwhelming curiosity to know about the people driving down the highway in other cars. Most of those people’s faces looked normal and unconcerned as they whizzed by, but I knew that they each must have their own problems and concerns; I wanted to hear what they were thinking, to know what their minds were imagining. I then thought that there were millions and billions of people just like me, thinking thoughts at the same time as I was. These ponderings lent me such feelings of insignificance. Sitting in that car often gave me one of those fleeting moments of perspective where the bigness of life can overwhelm, drown a person. I am so grateful my chemistry professor taught us about equilibrium reactions.