Historical research is a solitary pursuit. Alone in the venture, as when climbing, the elation at success is indescribable. But when a foot slips and the world spins, a sense of exposure grips your stomach like a fist. This week, as I reached for a handhold I thought to be secure, I found only sandstone that crumbled away. Without a guidebook to the climb above me, and only the distant voices of encouragement from those on other mountainsides, as I ponder the next move isolation presses in and the fear of falling gnaws at my core.
1 comment:
and this is apparently just part of the research process, or so I've been told by profes in the dept. yikes. I'm yelling loudly from my mountain - keep up the good work out there. maybe today you pitch a bed and take a nap on that mountainside.
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