Easy as Pi

Pi Day serves as a reminder that some things are meant to be appreciated, even if they can never be fully understood.

What do you call a snake that’s around 3.14 meters long? A “Pi-thon.”

All over the world, March 14 (3.14) is Pi Day, the one day of the year when nerds, bakers, and mathematically inclined lawyers like myself unite in celebration of that most enigmatic and irrational number: π. Yes, the same Greek letter you vaguely recall from school, the one that starts with 3.14159 and continues infinitely — just like legal education (MCLE, anyone?), a case that drags on to the “court of last resort,” or my attempts to keep up with emerging technology and jargon.

Pi is a mathematical constant, the ratio of a circle’s circumference to its diameter. It enables us to make sense of wheels, planets and pizzas. Without π, our world would be chaotic, quite literally. It governs everything from the orbits of celestial bodies to the structure of DNA, yet my personal appreciation of π has mostly been limited to how much actual pie I can consume in one sitting (which, of course, depends on the flavor).

But π is more than just a mathematical curiosity. For some, it is an obsession, a mystery, a challenge. Mathematicians have spent centuries calculating its digits, yet it continues infinitely, never repeating. It’s irrational, transcendental, and quite possibly, like me, slightly unhinged.

Yann Martel’s Life of Pi is ostensibly a novel about survival, but beneath its surface, it explores belief, perspective and the unknown. Much like the number π, Piscine Molitor “Pi” Patel, the book’s protagonist, navigates a world that defies logic. He survives at sea with a Bengal tiger (which, if you think about it, is about as rational as memorizing a million digits of π for fun). “It is the plain truth: Without Richard Parker (the tiger, for those who haven’t read the book or watched the movie), I wouldn’t be alive today to tell you my story,” says Pi. Similarly, in the absence of π, much of modern science, technology and my own tenuous grasp of mathematics would collapse entirely.

Math geniuses are a staple of pop culture, often depicted as tortured souls who perceive the world in ways mere mortals cannot. Think A Beautiful Mind, where John Nash’s schizophrenia is interwoven with his brilliance, or Good Will Hunting, where Matt Damon’s character casually solves problems that leave MIT professors reeling. Even The Simpsons has cleverly inserted π references into episodes —because they can, and because their writers are as brilliant as the creators of these nerd-friendly films that made a fortune on relatively modest budgets.

Meanwhile, Asia has produced its own tributes to mathematical genius. Take Dr. Frost from Korea, a drama about a psychologist with an exceptional analytical mind, or The Devotion of Suspect X and Galileo — Japanese adaptations of Keigo Higashino’s Detective Galileo series, where math plays a crucial role in solving crimes. And then there’s Fermat’s Cuisine, which blends gourmet cooking with advanced mathematics, using equations to perfect recipes.

Liu Cixin’s “Remembrance of Earth's Past” trilogy, including The Three-Body Problem (recently adapted into an eight-part Netflix series), transforms advanced mathematics into the key to understanding an alien civilization. A 3D film version by Liu himself is still forthcoming.

But I digress. While these works are fascinating, they remain beyond my full comprehension, even with subtitles. I consider myself above average in math, but my nerdy tendencies stop short of memorizing or applying the endless digits of π.

So, what does π mean for those of us who haven’t cracked a calculus book since high school? Well, if you drive a car, use GPS, or appreciate a well-engineered bridge that stays intact, you have π to thank. Architects, engineers, and scientists rely on it constantly (at least according to my reading), proving that even the most abstract numbers have tangible consequences.

Even in law, π manages to sneak in. In 1897, the Indiana General Assembly attempted to legislate mathematical truth with Bill 246, which mistakenly proposed a flawed method for squaring the circle, implying an incorrect value of π. The bill, written by a physician and amateur mathematician, nearly passed but was halted thanks to Purdue professor C.A. Waldo’s intervention.

The impossibility of squaring the circle had already been proven in 1882 by Ferdinand von Lindemann. Interestingly, π has surfaced in legal debates beyond Indiana’s misguided attempt – some cases have even proposed rounding it to 3.2 (which I strongly oppose; I’m pretty sure 3.14 should be rounded to 3.1). Clearly, π is no longer the sole domain of mathematicians.

Pi Day serves as a reminder that some things are meant to be appreciated, even if they can never be fully understood. Much like the law, life, or the baffling popularity of reality TV, π keeps us questioning, expanding, and occasionally doubting our own sanity.

Okay, maybe French mathematician Pierre de Fermat has nothing to do with haute cuisine, but one can dream of a world where great mathematical minds also had time to craft the perfect soufflé or consommé. After all, mathematicians and epicures share a common trait — they strive for precision. As a self-proclaimed nerd and geek, I admire that and aspire to emulate it.

I hope you celebrated Pi Day with a slice of pie and a nod to the most mysterious number in existence. And if you took a moment to ponder π, you probably realized that no matter how much you think you understand it, you’ll never truly reach the end. Kind of like my ongoing struggle to grasp how Marvel Studios is shoehorning the X-Men into the Avengers by force-feeding the multiverse to the Nerdish League.

Or, as the great Will Hunting once said, “You’re one step away from cutting your own ear off.”

Belated Happy Pi Day, everyone! And if you overindulged in pie, well, too much π has a way of expanding your circumference.