Thursday, July 29, 2021

It feels like moving sand



 We moved 15 tons of sand yesterday at the playground.  I had arranged for it to be delivered at 7.30 in the morning. It was lightly used play sand that had formed a pop up beach at the Peace Gardens in Halifax only 12 hours earlier.  I am very pleased with my intervention, I was behind making it happen and it took a little maneuvering, we really needed to refresh the sandy bits of the playground.  I also enjoyed working hard with my friends and feeling useful. It has been a difficult time at the playground with the specter of Covid hanging in the background, a worry about funding and the fact we have been closed for building work for a couple of weeks. I think for the staff the sand was yet another thing to have to think about but now its all moved and raked flat it is actually one less thing to think about so it's a result. 

When you have to tackle a big job like moving sand you can only think about what you have done not what you have left to do. That is unless you get very near to the end when you don't really have a job to do so you can think about finishing it.  Completing a PhD is a bit like this except when you move sand it is harder to feel like you are going backwards the pile goes down. The task is simpler, move pile A to location B.  If you keep at it, however fast you work or don't work it will eventually get done, unless you stop. Working on writing feels more complicated. You can go past the sweet spot in writing, loose the tenuous threads that weave thought together through words, cut the ties.  You can move the giant pile of sand that hangs above you as a metaphor yet feel unclear about where it actually needs to go. 

It is Thursday and it is my writing day.  I had an hour long conversation with Yvonne this morning which was great.  It was the kind of conversation I thought I would be having all the time with people when I started my PhD before Covid and reality got in the way. Then my friend Hugh came over and we talked until 2.00.  We talked about theory and films and linguistics and post-structuralism and all my kids. We talked about new materialism and I pointed out the connection between Kathleen Stuarts Everyday Affect, Benjemens Two-Way Street and Ernst Blocks Traces all shifting the form, fizzing between fiction and fact .  We then talked about horror films and growing vegetables. I told Hugh I was tired and could not stop I said that at points I was beggining to unravel and part of this was physical, my body telling me to slow down.  I was not intending to tell him this. I don't really think I am unraveling in the slightest but it slipped out of the side of my mouth when he asked me how I was. Perhaps I need to pay attention. 

I am supposed to be giving myself a rest from the Phd as I haven't had a proper break for a while but like the giant heap of sand it is not going to move or write itself. I was intending to stick to my Thursdays writing.  I have written this Blog post  instead to cleverly remind my future self that there is something similar in writing a PhD to moving a giant pile of sand.

1. You cannot be overwhelmed by the task in hand or you will be immobilized

2. It is better to keep going if you can, when you stop you tend to seize up and its hard to get going again.

3. Its good to know where the sand is to be moved too. 

4. You can save time by working out the easiest route for the barrow, this is not always the most obvious one.

5. It is good to put a plank on the curb so you can wheel things smoothly.

6. The sand will never move itself.

7. You can bury your head in the moving of sand but the PhD will still be there when you emerge. 

*. Kids will be able to play in the sand dig and make castles it is important to do things that are useful even if other things don't get done. 

Seven is a good place to stop. I still can't really do any fieldwork with the kids but even though this is a reality it is starting to feel more like an excuse. I probably do need a break from thinking as it tends to become worrying and circular.


Tuesday, July 13, 2021

Feeelin g like things are temporary


 This is the longest break in my blog record since I started my PHD.  In the last 3 weeks I have packed up the old house moved too the new house, had a week in a school doing the Odd project, delivered a paper at the leaping in to the limanel Pgr Conference, done a lot of gardening and now feel pretty exhausted .  It is clear now that footballs not coming home. I don't seem to be able to switch off, every job seems to generate another job. The PhD work has suffered a little because I have been too busy to think.

I went back to the old house to delver the conference paper, it felt strange to be rattling around in the large empty rooms.  The WiFi switched over to the new house the day after the conference finished and I haven't really been back here  properly since then, I have a new home.  I haven't had much time to write or to take stock. I dodged a supervision last week  as I don't really have much to show.  I quite liked my presentation at the conference though, there was something about picking a line from Deleuze and Guattari and working it into my practice that I quite liked - it is at least the thread of something to follow.  

Yesterday I unpacked all my books, from my PhD shelves. This was interesting as I have them on 3 shelves, the old historical baseline books which are mainly philosophy and British cultural theory.  Then the central shelf which is the literature I really need to take account of - stuff on research creation and lots of Manning and a couple of new materialist classics and then lots of practical stuff on ethnography and writing - this is my pragmatic shelf ( its not quite big enough and runs onto the bottom shelf). The rest of the bottom is taken up with Ruskin and then there are the historic adventure playground books - there are not many of these but I think they will be useful at points.

Even though to reference Walter Benjamin I have unpacked my library  I don't feel like I am ready to start writing again. Something needs to give, there needs to be a pause for breath.  Moving house has not been easy. It has required monumental focus and graft and I don't feel at all settled yet.  I think when I get to the end of July and the playground opens up again  there will be a point to refocus and come up for air.  I remember a quote about been a tunneler and occasionally having to pop your head up out of the ground to see where you are.  Alfred North Whitehead in his flights of the speculative imagination talks of dropping down from the cloud in a plane- to land and take stock a while and find a sense of place and direction.  I feel very much like this, lost in the busy pragmatics of life. I am relatively happy and I want this feeling to carry on for a bit.  It will lead into an intensive period of some kind of fieldwork and then I will do other bits and bobs and spend time writing all this up next year.  At least that is the best laid plan of mice and a man.