April showers for quiet hours
Also on Scottish sunlight & Sylvia's letters.
The past month or so has escaped me, for both good reason and for none at all. Scotland experienced a once in a lifetime stint of sunlight which lasted for several weeks, rendering more time spent outside enjoying walks and pints and fewer evenings spent in lonely introspection. Consequently, I wrote less, and this Substack gathered dust. And to be honest I felt like I didn’t have anything to say. After my last post I relented writing more about my homesick sorrows in Scottish darkness, but that was all that came to mind. Once the sun came out I felt both reinspired and suddenly closed off, cautiously entering this new season of blooming trees and lingering light, considering how treacherous the last one was.
All this to say, I figured I’d catch you all up to speed with life over the past couple weeks. A lot is changing, and it’s happening fast. I think recounting it all will do me good as I try to make the most of these final months at my dream job (getting paid to study and think). Lately, the past several weeks have been filled with lots of reading and writing. I am narrowing down my dissertation and I’m equally excited as I am nervous for what’s ahead. I’ve decided to explore something a bit more challenging (unconventional?) than I had originally intended. I don’t want to give too much away now, but let’s just say this project will help me practice what I preach and, hopefully, answer some of my questions about systems change. More to come soon.
The latter half of my unintended Substack hiatus was spent outside socialising, truly a forgotten pastime of mine. Last week I travelled to Cardiff, Wales for a Fulbright conference, and I was rightfully reminded of why I’m here in the first place. Amidst the late nights studying and occasional (often) wishes of being home with old friends, I felt like I had started to forget why I was here. Especially sitting in a classroom for the majority of my week, it was easy to get caught up with the prescribed curriculum that is completing a Master’s course. I somehow forgot I came here to expand myself beyond the conventional, to challenge systems through meaningful connection, and learn from the cultural differences around me. Reconnecting with the other grantees, and probably the smartest, coolest, most intimidating yet inspiring people I know, I was able to come back to those initial ideas of curiosity. And it felt good.
In the spirit of remembering why I am here (both Scotland and Substack), I came across an excerpt from Sylvia Plath’s very own Letters Home, a very thick chunk of text which includes her very many, oftentimes sporadic, letters home to her family and friends while studying in the UK under a Fulbright Scholarship. I know comparing myself to Sylvia Plath is probably the most unoriginal thing I could do, but given the title of this Substack I’m already too far gone, so here it goes. I just love this passage she wrote describing her feelings right before she left for her year abroad.
This is the first time I have put all constants in life behind me and set off without a chart or friend to stabilize transition. I get flashes of intense joy at the potential of living and studying abroad, stabs of fear (will I have enough to give to it? or will much magnificence be lost on me? or will I want to run home crying for the laps of those I love? god knows.) not to mention blue days where I seem to be living in a limbo where my roots are already torn up from my home soil, but not yet down to grapple with the chemical and physical differences of a foreign ground. - Sylvia Plath, 1955
Not only do I deeply relate to her words, I appreciate how these themes never really resolve as she navigates life in England both during and after her studies. Going into the the course (now I’m speaking for both Sylvia and myself), she was overwhelmed with questions, both excited and expectant to have them answered. But as time went on it became clear that these conflicting feelings of nervousness, excitement, confusion, etc., remain for as long as Sylvia lives in a state of curiosity, never really knowing what her next step is but open to seeing where life takes her.
Perhaps we can replace extraordinary male counterpart with good friends. And in that case I relate completely with this this depiction of Sylvia’s years studying and living in the UK. Despite the unfortunate ending to her story, I continue to be inspired by Sylvia’s individual spirit, and even 70 years later, find comfort in losing myself in the same words that carried her.
Also relate to the argyle socks. Known for many things, but perhaps her sense of style is the most underrated. More below:
Moving into Spring, I’m hosting some of my favourite people and hopefully giving them a taste of my life here. I’ve yet to debrief all of this with someone who can see it for themselves, so I’m very much looking forward to experiencing Glasgow through their eyes. One can only dream of sun until then.
Lindsia Klath💕💕💕
Love you & love your brain