A few months ago, I had a meltdown. Societal and political discourse – not only where I live, but everywhere – has become so troubled, so vitriolic, so angry, so polarised and so polarising that I became overwhelmed by words. It felt, and still feels, as though everyone is shouting but no one is listening. No one takes the time to ask thoughtful, constructive questions, to examine assumptions or consider nuances. Humility and compassion seem to be absent.

I retreated from words. Silence, always precious, became even more so. I stepped back from social media, withdrew from poetry communities and book clubs, ceased tuning in to the news and consciously limited my reading. I cut back on social engagements. I stopped writing.

Instead, I sought refuge in the natural sciences. I turned to equations. 

Like passages of text, equations contain their own resonances, depths and layers of meaning. We can think of them as visual poetry. Yet they transcend the egocentric world view that preoccupies us much of the time. Their symbols, letters and numbers represent our efforts to understand, to seek coherence in a vast and complex universe.

Let’s consider the iconic equation

Visually, this statement is instantly appealing: simple, elegant and neatly balanced between its left-hand and right-hand components. Saying it aloud – “ee equals em see squared” – is just as satisfying sonically. We feel the weight of each syllable, and note the assonance of the two initial long “e”-sounds and the penultimate syllable “c”. 

Of course, placing this equation in its context of Einstein’s theory of special relativity, assigning meanings to the component letters (E represents energy, m is mass, and c is the speed of light in a vacuum) clarifies its significance, challenges our imagination, and enhances our understanding of the universe. But even if we take it purely as it stands, without any prior knowledge or associations, the equation has its own vibrant energy. 

In the mid-19^th century, the Scottish physicist James Clerk Maxwell (who was also a poet) developed a mathematical formulation for the laws governing the relationship between electricity and magnetism.  The relationship can be distilled into four equations, known as Maxwell’s equations:

Maxwell’s equations, with their juxtapositions of lines and curves, their mixture of alphabets, are aesthetically pleasing, whether or not we understand their symbols and meaning. They are the foundation of modern technologies; without them, you would not be reading these words on your screen. Their ripples permeate everything we do. Decades after I first began to study these equations, their intrinsic beauty and profound implications continue to fill me with awe.

One of the world’s oldest equations, the familiar Theorem of Pythagoras, can be readily expressed as a verbal statement:

In a right-angled triangle, the square on the hypotenuse is equal to the sum of the squares on the other two sides. 

If the hypotenuse has length c and the other two sides are of length a and b respectively, then we can write this as 

There is evidence that this relationship was known to Babylonian mathematicians as long ago as 1800 BC, over a thousand years before the time of the Greek philosopher Pythagoras after whom it is named. Despite its apparent simplicity, it can be proved in hundreds of different ways and has numerous applications in construction, design, measurement and navigation. 

In my poem Illustration of the Theorem of Pythagoras for a 3-4-5 Triangle, I have sought to convey the theorem’s essence, its geometrical significance and its associations with the Pythagorean school of ancient Greece. Above all, my intent is to honour the theorem’s tranquil, enduring grace.

You can read the poem here.