Raise your hand if you don't know what this is.

That is a human brain turned to glass during the Mount Vesuvius eruption.

But it gets weirder.

Only this man's brain turned to glass, not his other organs, leaving scientists baffled about how ash clouds could create the precise temperature conditions to forge glass from living tissue.

If you didn't know what this was, then you're exactly where you should be.

Because this talk is about the power of not knowing.

Here's why this matters now more than ever.

We live in a culture that's absolutely obsessed with having the right answer immediately.

Social media rewards confident hot takes over curious questions.

Everyone is supposed to be an expert in everything all the time.

Get something remotely wrong -- canceled.

It's exhausting.

But I think I found another way.

When I started my channel, Today I Learned, in two years over two million people followed.

Not for expert opinions or hot takes, but for something simpler: shared curiosity.

Which is ironic because I used to be the complete opposite.

Before this I was a recovering know-it-all, actually a wannabe know-it-all who was failing spectacularly at it.

During my doctorate at UCSF, I was obsessed with certainty and having the right answer before anyone even asked the question.

When COVID hit, I started posting science videos as a creative outlet, but even then I constrained myself.

Only post about things you know, Harini, so I stuck rigidly to pharmacy topics, my supposed area of expertise.

And let me tell you, it was real riveting stuff.

Then I went to Mexico.

I was standing in front of the Teotihuacán pyramids in the blazing heat when I realized something profound.

I had no idea what I was looking at.

Who built this?

Why here?

Where did they go?

Instead of feeling embarrassed that I didn't know, I felt alive.

Every carving was a mystery that made my brain tingle in ways that pharmaceutical calculations never did.

That night, I couldn't stop researching.

Not to become an expert, but to feed my curiosity.

I made a video about Teotihuacán, posted it and went to sleep, expecting my usual three likes from my parents and my husband.

I woke to 40,000 new followers.

My first viral video had nothing to do with my eight years of higher education.

It was about me, a human being, nerding out over ancient architecture and then sharing the incredible work of the archaeologists who spent lifetimes piecing together the mysteries of Teotihuacán.

Here's what hit me.

People weren't following me because I was an expert.

They were following me because I was curious.

And curiosity is contagious.

Because here is the paradox of our time.

We have infinite access to information, but also infinite misinformation.

Conspiracy theories get more clicks than peer-reviewed studies.

Confident nonsense spreads faster than careful science.

In that chaos, championing credible voices and making that work accessible seem to unlock something in people.

Because after that, my comments exploded with TIL: Today I Learned.

In that moment, my mission became clear.

Take the most rigorous, mind-blowing research and make it so captivating that someone scrolling at 2am stops and goes, “Wait, what?”

Because science is for everyone, not dumbed down, but translated with the excitement it deserves.

I changed my channel name that night and didn't look back.

Here's where my curiosity has taken me.

There is a 72-year-old geologist who rewrote the origins of life, before GTA 6.

Juan Manuel Garcia Ruiz could have retired, but instead he chose to recreate the famous 1952 primordial soup experiment, the one that showed us how life began on Earth.

But with one tiny change.

Instead of using a glass container like the original, he used Teflon.

The result? Nothing.

Turns out the glass, specifically the silica, was key.

When he added silica back in, he didn't just get amino acids, he got all five DNA building blocks and protocells.

The self-organizing structures that came right before actual life.

Translation?

Life on Earth may have started hundreds of millions of years earlier than we thought.

This should be breaking the internet, but most people will never hear about it.

That is the gap I'm trying to bridge.

Because science isn't just for scientists.

When researchers discover how life began or unlock how ancient brains turned to glass, these are ultimately human stories about curiosity, perseverance, asking brave questions.

And everyone deserves to feel that electrifying, “I can’t believe we just learned that” moment.

Like this.

For the first time in 2025, we got to witness a human embryo implanting into uterine-like tissue in real time.

From this, we learn embryos aggressively burrow, possibly following uterine contractions like GPS signals.

This process is actually physically painful.

The countless women who felt a sharp twinge and wondered if they'd imagined it, they didn't.

Science just caught up to what their bodies already knew.

We finally answered one of human development's biggest black boxes, while validating millions of women's experiences in the process.

After doing this for a few years, here's what I've learned.

People don't make discoveries because they already know things.

They make discoveries because they get obsessed with the stuff they don't know.

And learning isn't linear.

It's a beautiful, endless loop.

When I shared my Teotihuacán obsession, I was inviting 40,000 other people to be curious with me and showing them that science can be as captivating as any Netflix series.

See, my doctorate taught me how to read studies and think critically.

But my channel taught me that everyone deserves access to that knowledge.

So here's my challenge for you.

Find your Teotihuacán.

Find the thing that lights you up from the inside, not because you understand it, but because you don't.

Maybe it's quantum physics.

Maybe it's how sourdough starter is basically a pet you can eat.

Whatever makes you feel like that kid that asked "why" over and over until your parents wanted to scream.

When I first started dating my husband, he called me "20 questions."

Bring that energy to the table.

TLDR: stay gloriously, unapologetically curious.

All right, that's it from me, I've got to go research how the real city Atlanta is buried beneath our feet.

Thank you.