Embracing an unusually light week of coursework, I backpacked from Dundee to Edinburgh to Glasgow and back on a journey from February 4th-8th.
Some aspects of my trip were constant: I wore the same pants, jacket, and shoes every day (even on Day 3’s run along the river). I actively recorded my thoughts in a journal. I read the section “A GOOD LIFE” from Garrison Keillor’s anthology Good Poems (a graduation present from my remarkably supportive mentor and teacher, Ed Nolan) daily.
Most moments were charged with entropy: My hostel roommate got arrested on my first night in Glasgow. I met a 35 year-old Scottish Engineer named Andrew on my train ride back to Dundee. I shared laughs with a 49er’s fan in an Edinburgh candy shop.
I decided to wrap up each day’s adventure with thoughts and guiding poetry from Good Poems. Beginning Monday February 10th I will post one blog per day. Cheers!
“Because altruists are the least sexy
people on earth, unable
to say “I want” without embarrassment…”
- From the Manifesto of the Selfish by Stephen Dunn
“People consistently underestimate how much they’re going to change.”
- Joyce Downey
A sunrise stretch on the top of Calton Hill in Edinburgh, Scotland. Photo by Joyce Downey.
Boston, MA – December 2017
I walked into Professor Miller’s office feeling jolly and lost. His voice rang enthusiastic over email and I was optimistic that he would validate my thoughts. I made the short walk to his office in the dark months of winter 2017, when he worked in the intense hospital-like-lighting of Mugar Hall.
He called me in, then spent the first 15 minutes of our meeting wrapping up (what had been) a one-on-one meeting with a graduate student. After she walked out, he asked me to pull a microbiology textbook off his shelf and flip to my find my favorite picture. I found one with oddly pleasant greens and pinks. He approved of my rationale, shared his favorite with me, then closed the book.
“Why are you here?” Not much of a segue.
“I want to be a Pharmaceutical Sciences major.”
“Why?”
“I want to go to graduate school for neuropharmacology.”
“How do you know that?”
“I really love research and think this is the best way for me to improve other people’s quality of life.”
“How altruistic…”
Enjoying the view from Arthur's Seat with Joyce Downey in Edinburgh, Scotland.
Edinburgh, Scotland – February 2020
My professors canceled class this week. I had one lecture Monday from 6-8pm and, without explanation, the rest of this week’s lectures magically appeared on the timetable for the following week. This was my chance to be spontaneous, so I took it.
I arrived at the Edinburgh train station at 7:40 this morning, just in time to catch the sunrise atop Calton Hill with my dear pal Joyce Downey. She is a Northeastern student studying abroad in London right now, and I was fortunate enough to catch her at the end of an extended weekend in Scotland.
We spent the day walking, eating, talking, hiking, sitting, and eating (in that order). She’s back in London now and I’m here to figure this place out for myself.
As is suggested by my passage above from my first conversation with Professor Miller, I have known for quite some time what I want to do in this life to help other people. However, amidst that pursuit, I have lost track of what it is that I hope to do in life for myself.
Since coming to Dundee I have planned great moments. I have played the banjo at sunset and, with the help of my flatmates, thrown a successful carb-filled Super Bowl party. These times were filled with joy, laughter, music, and friendship. But, in the time between, I have not been successful in letting joy arise naturally. I have challenged my silent intuition with scrolling campaigns on Instagram and lightning-fast replies on Whatsapp.
This is likely a product of the fact that I have not challenged myself to accept silence since my final Kairos retreat of high school. I have been challenged by many people--peers and mentors alike--in college, but most have asked me to add more to the list of daily distractions. Worse yet, I have refused all orders to do the opposite.
This week I am re-learning what my thoughts sound like when all else is quiet. I will have times of boredom, times of questioning, times of challenge. I hope to fill this time with poetry from Garrison Keillor’s anthology Good poems, wisdom from Malcom Gladwell’s book Blink, stream-of-consciousness in my journal, confidence to meet strangers, and acceptance of my own thoughts. I will have companions at various points along this journey, but when conversation fluidity begs for a break, I will grant it.
This week, I will derive a sense of self which will allow me to communicate the hopes and dreams I have for my own individual being. If altruism is truly the least sexy trait, then I have very little room for failure.
Laughing atop Calton Hill in Edinburgh, Scotland. Photo by Joyce Downey.