Finding Words
I went looking for words in someone else’s writing. I hadn’t anticipated finding words for my own story.
I went looking for words in someone else’s writing. I hadn’t anticipated finding words for my own story.
I thought I was simply deciding how to frame three pieces of Hungarian embroidery. I hadn’t anticipated what would emerge from the conversation.
I thought I was simply explaining my research to an ethics committee. Instead, I found myself understanding it in an entirely new way.
Perhaps the stories we inherit are not carried forward word for word, but in the feelings, images, and truths that remain long after the details have been forgotten.
The most important writing is not always done at a desk. It begins in the quiet places where the mind is finally free to wander.
Naming a methodology is not always a neutral act. The words we choose—or choose not to use—often carry meanings of their own.
The most important discoveries in doctoral research are not always found in journal articles. They emerge when the project begins to reveal what it has been asking of you all along.
There are seasons in research when the work is less about producing and more about becoming the person who can do it.
In trying to imagine an arts-based component for my doctoral research, I discovered that the metaphors guiding my thinking had quietly become the method itself.
Sometimes the most unexpected days become the ones that quietly reshape the stories we tell ourselves.