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Since its development in the 1960s, the Star Trek mythos has become a towering American symbol of nerdity, rivaled perhaps only by Dungeons & Dragons as the stereotypical geeky pursuit. I’ve always been slightly confused by what appears to be a visceral, almost autonomic reaction to Star Trek from most people: “ugh, it’s weird.” “Man, it’s so stupid.” “Beam me up, Scotty! Har har!” These same naysayers often have no objection to Star Wars, Trek‘s more mainstream and better-known counterpart (which I also enjoy, though for vastly different reasons). But despite all these critics, I really do love Star Trek.

I’ve been a fan of Star Trek since I was young. I’m not exactly sure how I got started; I think the finale of The Next Generation (my favorite series by far) in May 1994 might actually be the first episode I ever saw. I was intrigued, and it wasn’t long before I was hooked. In those days, TNG reruns aired in syndication on the local CBS affiliate; I was glued to the television every afternoon at 4 PM. I started checking out older episodes on VHS from the public library, and it was there, in fifth grade, that I also checked out Q-Squared, the first “adult-sized” book I ever read. (I actually remember that day clearly; I only ever browsed the kids’ sections at that age, and my mom brought me the 400-page volume as something random to try, saying, “I know it’s big, but I bet you can read it!” One can only wonder if she would have done this had she known how many tens of Star Trek books I would wastespend my time reading in the following years.)

On the one hand, it’s just a television show. A deeply imperfect one, at that: the first two seasons of both TNG and Voyager are often painful to watch, and both shows suffered from occasional bouts of shark-jumping absurdity, even in their later, better days. It’s easy to get bogged down in the tiresome technobabble, silly pseudoscience, and random alien enemies; people who do this make the mistake of thinking that these plot devices are what Trek is actually about.

No, Trek is about much more than that. I don’t think all those episodes (many of which I’ve practically memorized) could continue to capture my imagination so thoroughly with just entertaining plots and good acting. The reason I keep watching is to be reminded of how much I’ve learned.

Yes, learned. TNG especially is a treasure trove of lessons that I can say without exaggeration have deeply enriched my development as a human being. Some of the most important takeaways from my fourteen years on the USS Enterprise include:

—The potential, and the limits, of technology. One of the greatest reasons for the continued fascination with Star Trek is its tacit assertion that, through the progress created by technology, our civilization can achieve a dramatic new age of enlightenment, boundless in a way that could only be imagined by writers of fiction. Indeed, technology’s power to broaden our experiences and solve some of our greatest problems is impossible to deny. What I’ve always loved about Star Trek, though, is that, despite the amazing technological achievements it depicts, it never hesitates to warn us that technology cannot solve everything. Technology cannot erase our fundamental human need to learn, to love, to feel important in a cosmic sense. It cannot save us from the pain of loss, nor from our own imperfections. Technology is profoundly important in our pursuit of progress, but if we treat it as religion, as some of us are prone to do, it will only disappoint us in the end.

—The nature of effective leadership. I consider Capt. Jean-Luc Picard to be one of the most compelling leaders I have ever encountered, real or fictional. He is passionate, principled, and superhumanly decisive. At the same time, he is clearly imperfect; his struggle to rise above his flaws makes him even more fascinating. I am inspired by Picard’s intelligence and sheer force of will, and I consider his reliance on the counsel of trusted advisers to be the trait I would most like to emulate as a leader.

—The power of culture and of cultural differences. The Federation’s highest law, the Prime Directive, forbids interference in the culture and internal affairs of alien races. This principle has been the genesis for countless explorations of the power of one’s own belief system and the dangers of imposing it on others. Time and again, Trek’s characters consider ignoring this law out of convenience, perceived necessity, or moral conviction; most of the time, the consequences of such thinking are catastrophic. I know that I often forget this lesson, but I learned from Star Trek that I must never make the mistake of believing that I know any more about Truth than anyone else.

—The importance of history. Time travel may seem like just another sci-fi gimmick, butTrek’s experiments with this idea have shown me that even seemingly minor events can have dramatic repercussions. A corollary is that we should appreciate the value of all our experiences in shaping our lives and our characters, not just the pleasant or memorable ones. As Capt. Picard put it, in an episode where he was given the opportunity to correct what he perceived as a grave mistake from his youth: “There are many parts of my youth that I’m not proud of…there were loose threads…untidy parts of me that I would like to remove. But when I pulled on one of those threads…it unraveled the tapestry of my life.”

—The meaning of humanity. Lt. Cmdr. Data, an android, spends his entire lifetime endeavoring to become “more human.” I have come to believe that this is something we should all endeavor to do; Data’s journey mirrors our own struggles to live satisfying lives, full of meaning. Like him, we must learn to accept our limitations without being immobilized by them. From Data, a machine, I have learned how to appreciate my own humanity, in all its wonder, and how to appreciate of the deep significance of human existence.

Is Star Trek high literature, cinema of incomparable artistic value? Even I am not delusional enough to think so. I do believe, however, that it has the power to make us think about our own voyages, to seek out what really matters. I don’t know if I am really going where no one has gone before, but I hope that I can at least go boldly.