From Metaphor to Method
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.
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.
Sometimes the answers we search for are not waiting to be invented, but quietly waiting to be recognised.
The more I uncover about my family’s past, the more I realise how many stories I have accepted without ever knowing where they began.
Sometimes rejection is not the end of a story, but the moment it finds its way home. A reflection on writing, imposter syndrome, and quietly refining long-held dreams.
More and more frequently, I find myself noticing connections – between conversations, stories, and seemingly unrelated moments.
Becoming a doctoral student and actually accessing the library are, apparently, two entirely different things.
Because no matter how carefully I arrange the furniture of my independence, someone else always holds the key.
While some lives are ending, the rest of the world quietly goes on making plans—as though tomorrow has already agreed to arrive.
The night has held motherhood, fear, loss, and finally peace. A reflection on the changing meaning of darkness across a lifetime.