I went to medical school after having decided to do so somewhere

When Eric Kandel confessed, “I went to medical school after having decided to do so somewhere between my junior and senior year at Harvard — very late. I initially wanted to be an intellectual historian,” he revealed a truth that stretches across the lives of many who seek their path. His words are not merely a record of his own decision, but a testament to the winding road of destiny, where the calling of one’s life often appears not in childhood dreams but in the quiet, uncertain hours of youth. In this, his journey speaks to us: that it is never too late to change direction, and that the road of greatness may begin in hesitation.

The meaning of this quote rests in the tension between two noble pursuits: the study of the human past through intellectual history, and the study of the human body and mind through medicine. Both paths seek to uncover truth, one in the chronicles of thought and civilization, the other in the mysteries of flesh and spirit. Kandel’s choice to leave one for the other reminds us that life does not demand a single allegiance from the start. The rivers of knowledge converge, and sometimes it is in changing course that one finds the truest current of one’s soul.

Consider Augustine of Hippo, who in his youth pursued rhetoric and philosophy, wandering through many schools of thought before he found the path that would define his life. Had he clung rigidly to his early ambitions, he would never have become the voice that shaped centuries of theology. So too with Kandel: though he first leaned toward history, he turned to medical school, and from there he became one of the great explorers of the brain, illuminating the biological foundations of memory itself. His late decision did not hinder his greatness; it sharpened it.

The lesson resounds across time: the call of destiny does not always come early, nor does it arrive with thunder. Sometimes it whispers, late and uncertain, and the soul must listen. Kandel’s acknowledgment that he chose “very late” is not an admission of weakness, but a banner of hope for all who feel delayed in their path. The ancients knew that the measure of a man is not when he begins, but how steadfastly he walks once he has chosen. Even those who enter the vineyard at the eleventh hour may yet earn the fullness of the harvest.

There is also a deeper wisdom in Kandel’s journey. The heart that loved intellectual history did not vanish when he entered medicine. Instead, it enriched his scientific vision, giving him the perspective of a historian even as he studied neurons and synapses. In this, he shows that no path is wasted. All knowledge, all training, all curiosity can converge into the making of a unique contribution. The historian’s eye within him allowed the physician-scientist to see not only data, but the story of discovery, the narrative of ideas across time.

For the listener, the teaching is plain: embrace the twists of your own road. Do not mourn the years spent in one pursuit, nor fear the change to another. Life is not a single straight path but a weaving journey, and even detours strengthen the traveler. What matters is not the lateness of your choice, but the fullness of your commitment once you choose. As Kandel’s life proves, the seed planted late may yet yield the richest fruit.

Practical action flows from this truth: remain open to new callings, even when the world tells you it is too late. If your heart shifts, follow it with courage. Carry the lessons of your past ambitions into your new endeavors, for they are not wasted but transformed. And above all, remember that destiny is patient: it waits for the soul that dares to answer, even if the answer comes in the final hour of youth.

Thus, let Kandel’s words ring as counsel for all generations: the road to greatness may begin late, but it is never closed. Medical school, history, or any calling — all are rivers that lead to the sea of purpose, if only the traveler has the courage to walk.