It's December, Spotify's Wrapped has dropped*, so it has got to be the right time to take a moment and look back at the year that passed. It's also my first blog post in over six months, my longest hiatus since I created my website. So, why the long silence?
First, and very straightforwardly, because it has been an extremely busy year for my PhD. To summarise briefly, here are what I would consider as the key achievements of the year:
I completed the data collection phase of my research, with a series of fascinating co-creation workshops .
I passed my 'confirmation review' or second year progress review, which saw me formally move into the final stage of the PhD as PhD candidate.
I attended three large conferences during which I presented four different papers on my research.
I progressed one of my papers through the publishing process with two resubmissions to a top-tier journal (still being reviewed though, so the process is far from over and publication not guaranteed - I don't want to jinx it!), and submitted another paper to a journal.
I reached my university's final for the 3-Minute-Thesis competition (you can view my performance here: https://youtu.be/00GkOxFuskU?si=jWCkIn_hRkq78PU5 )
I also took on and took part in a number of extra-curricular roles and initiatives, co-founding an LGBTQIA+ network for PhD students and becoming co-chair of the University of Southampton's LGBTQIA+ employee network, becoming a mentor in the university's reverse-mentoring programme, and supporting the university's doctoral college on a couple of events.
Aside from all this, I also got the opportunity to develop my teaching experience, developing and delivering a class and seminars on ethics and sustainability for the University of Southampton, and working as a tutor for Birkbeck, University of London's MSc programme, running seminars on Selection & Assessment and Research Methods, accompanying a couple of students with their research projects, and co-leading study skills sessions on qualitative research.
A year rich in experiences, and much gratitude should go to all those supporting me and trusting me along the way, enabling me to get these brilliant opportunities.
Ok, boasting over (thank you for indulging me and still being here). The truth is, despite all this, I think I could have probably still made time and found the energy to write and share more ideas under different circumstances. What circumstances? As ominous as it may sound, the state of the world...
I don't think I am alone in feeling overwhelmed by the state of perma-crisis we have (still) found ourselves under in 2024. The feeling of powerlessness in the face of wars and genocide(s), and total disregard for human life; a disregard which stretches to our environment, with consequences that are already right in front of our very eyes. Compounding these feelings, witnessing dysfunctional power dynamics feeding off division and marginalisation, hateful discourses becoming mainstream and unchallenged, and past advances or prospects for societal and environmental action rolling back. These circumstances are on such a scale that they have made me feel like sharing any of my own work, thoughts, news or opinion becomes trivial, insignificant, almost an insult to the severity of the suffering and injustice happening all around. For those struggling to dissociate from this suffering and injustice, I find that developing or maintaining resilience also becomes even more difficult than it has been at other times, both towards external and personal events or challenges, all carrying more weight than ever before.
These images of carrying all this weight, and of progress and hope rolling back bring me to one of my readings for this year, The Myth of Sisyphus by Albert Camus. Sisyphus was condemned by the Gods to roll a huge boulder up a hill, only for it to roll back down when nearing the top, and for Sisyphus to have to repeat this attempt for eternity. Beyond this myth, Camus focuses, in this book, on living with 'the absurd'. He writes: "The absurd is born of this confrontation between the human need and the unreasonable silence of the world". A little later, he makes what he calls a "shocking statement: the absurd is sin without God". For Camus, the absurd comes with a total lack of hope. He goes on to share examples of the absurd, and 'the absurd man', who accepts and lives with the absurd, before concluding that "One must imagine Sisyphus happy".
How does that help? Should we really accept, come to terms and live with the absurd? As often, I find my answer in a measured approach of this radical perspective. Feeling overwhelmed can come with a frustrated desire and hope for all the issues and dysfunctions of the world to move on a path towards resolution, and an ambition to contribute to this resolution. Acknowledging the absurd and putting yourself in the position of a 'Happy Sisyphus' can be an act of self-care, survival even, at times. Yes, throughout the year, I have been finding myself thinking and talking about 'micro-dosing hope' (and having just written this and Googled it to see if 'micro-dosing hope' is a thing, I discover that Brené Brown just claimed the term a few weeks ago... Oh well, great minds and all that). For example, where events such as COP hosted by petro-states and reaching underwhelming outcomes make me doubt in the global system's ability to act on climate, I find comfort in seeing some of the inspiring mobilisation of people around me, academics and activists keeping the conversation going. I found hope in witnessing students I tutor developing a critical mind.
I find hope in art - Nietzsche's quote of "having art in order not to die of the truth" (one among many available translations...) has become more and more evident lately. I felt this during a recent visit to Oslo, watching the installation by Vanessa Baird (see picture on the right) which shows a heart-wrenching interpretation of the current horrors in Ukraine and Gaza - perhaps counter-intuitively, this brings some hope by visualising and bringing to the general public this suffering, contributing to the needed consciousness of it. In contrast, other works of art also provide hope through their aesthetics, creating emotions and embodying beauty.
So, where to we go from here as we head towards 2025? For me, there will, of course, be a focus on progressing my work and completing my PhD. Beyond that, I will endeavour to find the confidence and energy to share some more of my work, thoughts and perspectives, to contribute with my own micro-doses of hope.
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*Kylie Minogue topping all my stats (no surprise here), followed by Girls Aloud, Eurovision songs, and a rediscovery of Sophie Ellis-Bextor's back catalogue, triggered like so many others by Barry Keoghan's dance moves. Trust Spotify to show me up as the middle-aged-gay stereotype that I am when it comes to music.
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