A lunar patina covers the act of writing a PhD thesis. On the one hand that writes, shines an opalescence typical of a junior researcher charmed by their historiographical ideas, potentially brand new and shiny. Like the iridescence of moonbeams glossing over the ocean at night that turn the waters white, milky in a way, such as the galaxy where this event is set, so above as below, the menace shining upon this hand mystifies one’s ideas, possibly by painting them brighter than they are. On the other hand that writes, a verdigris decomposes those ideas that may actually be fairly rusty, and better developed by other scholars, while lack of documental and material proof disintegrates previously brilliant arguments. To write a PhD thesis can feel like being under the spell of the moon, sometimes being slightly closer to the object the research gravitates around, almost pulling a good idea or evidence from its depths, as the moon tenderly pulls the ocean waters from the Earth; sometimes far away, wandering in the massive ocean of historiographical readings.
Like the moonlight penetrating the nocturnal ocean to unveil the corrosion of the objects there contained – the soft and colorless wood of sunk ships, the metallic rustiness of astrolabes, the bones of thousands of drowned people, these sediments of history –, the moment when consistent writing takes place is one of clarity, eroding initial poor or or green or overly ambitious or even lunatic choices. It is then that the great and possibly ingenuous expectations meet the historical objects, the documents and sources and the data they contain, and a moment for one to follow them deep sea. A quintessential moment for creating questions and hypotheses, redefine ideas, draw conclusions, and plunge into conceiving a historiographical narrative, in order to shine some light into the problem at hands. One may have an outstanding supervisor for the PhD thesis, or amazing colleagues, as is the case of the hand that writes this blog post. However, only the act of writing the thesis can break such a spell of such a romantic heavenly body.
Writing the thesis will organize one’s thoughts coherently, since it structures one’s ideas logically, and turn abstract and vague ideas into tangible ones, while perhaps revealing connections and patterns that were not apparent when the ideas were just in one’s mind. Writing the thesis encourages deep thinking, since it requires a level of focus that encourages deeper exploration of an idea, and it allows one to examine concepts from different angles, leading to more thorough understanding of the issue, and possibly to new insights or the discovery of gaps in your thinking that need further exploration. Writing the thesis triggers new ideas or perspectives, in the process of choosing words and constructing sentences. Writing the thesis breaks down complex ideas into smaller, more manageable parts, making it easier to tackle difficult problems or to see solutions that were not obvious initially. Writing the thesis externalizes one’s thought process, allowing to review and access one’s ideas more objectively, maybe leading to more effective problem-solving and decision-making. Writing the thesis prepares the ideas there contained for oral communication with others, allowing for feedback, which can further refine and improve them by challenging one’s thinking, leading to stronger and more developed ideas. Ultimately, writing the PhD thesis will result in writing the PhD thesis. And, sometimes, it does not get any more romantic than that.
[Joana Lima]
