Another pre-writing post, not a draft.
We all want our work to ‘matter’.
Matter is a strange word. The OED tells me the noun predates the verb in English by a few hundred years and verb derives from the noun. Just like email is a noun but we can also use it as a verb: to email someone something. Matter comes to us from the Normans–likes so many of our points of overlap with the other romance languages.
“The sense development of Latin māteria was influenced by that of ancient Greek ὕλη hyle n., of which it was the accepted equivalent in philosophical use.”
Oxford English Dictionary, “matter (n.1), Etymology.”
To be or have substance, to be substantial, for there to be a there there.
Perhaps I find it hard to articulate why my work matters, to make meaning of it, is because I tend to put first the pleasure, or at least satisfaction, I derive from it. The work calls and drives me forward. It feels good in my brain. Like crochet. Like a great conversation. Like gardening. Like dozing under heavy blankets on a cold evening listening to the rain.
Second, I value any meaning others might derive from my work. If it helps them look at the world in new way or sparks their curiosity or answers a question they might have had. I like the potential that my work has to create connections. I know my brain is different than most brains. Perhaps even most brains that enjoy coins. Not, better, not worse, just different. Unique. There is a pleasure to be had in meeting both the familiar and the unique.
These are not the things of academic book introductions, I suspect some even raise an eyebrow to my placing them here on an academic blog for all to see.
But, facing facts, we are in crises, be they local or regional or global. There are significant limits to our personal agency. This does not absolve us of moral responsibility, but it does complicate our relationship to the mundane.
Over the last month I’ve become more intent in enjoying the transience of life. A sunbeam. The sound of my children. The feel of the night air. The taste of bread baked by a friend. I know this is to a degree an outgrowth of my dread of what may come. The unknown future and the disturbing present.
This being in the moment and centering my awareness of the goodness of my life helps intensely in coping with the day-to-day, but it does not easily spark forward momentum. I prefer to plan than to react, and right now in most aspects of my life with respect to the emerging crises, the best approach is hold space for multiple possibilities and not rush engagement from my frustration at not knowing what will come to be. I know my options. I know my values. I trust I will make the right decisions as it is time to make decisions.
Yet, the flip side is I miss dreaming and pushing towards a goal. That last blog post helped me see not only what I want to include in this introduction but the ways in which over the last decade and more each apparent set back has laid a foundation for my next career step, even as they felt devastating.
So perhaps this moment too will bring something new and wonderful that 10 years from now I will celebrate.
My relationship with RRDP and the project itself are things to celebrate. Partly because they brought me pleasure and satisfaction, good conversations, and deep meaningful partnerships. But, again, we cannot admit in any formal context that this is the function of our work.
Joy has is not a legitimate justification for an academic project.
So maybe to find the justification, the meaning, the substance of my work (of joy, sssshhhh), I must ask different questions. Not “why does it matter?” because, frankly, in comparison to the present human suffering and our likely futures, it does not truly matter at all.
Perhaps I need to ask:
what questions does it answer?
what questions could it answer?
how does it intersect with the work of other scholars?
who has and who can utilize this data?
Not “why it matters”, but rather “what is its utility?” and if it must “matter” perhaps we can say, yes it has substance, depth, and seriousness and rigor. These things need not have moral or ethical values or even practical value for addressing practical problems.
[Yes it is exhausting to have my brain work this way. No, it is not always quite this bad, but trust me it is better to write through the contortions of my thinking, to iron out the wrinkles of my mind, than to remain paralyzed and self-loathing for not engaging with the work I said I would do. Please do not feel you must read any of this.]
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At this point you may be glad to know that I actually started writing something like a real draft. I cut and pasted it into a word doc and will keep on going tomorrow.
It took almost 3,000 words of navel gazing to produce just over 600 plausible words on the topic I need to write about, but this is ok. If 80% is tossed to the wind and I keep 20%. This is not so bad.
I will persist.
Liv Mariah Yarrow 