…is the plan that is in full force when most bodies (inc. your sweetest or coolest or grumpy friends, and sometimes those closest to your heart) around you think you don’t have a plan and you confuse them. They’re puzzled at best, worried occasionally, show disapproval and anger at worst. A few will listen and care for your moves. A few will care to be affected by your process and inspire/affect you in return. Some will mislead, some will try to lead, but only a few will actually listen to what you are saying. Those are the ones who has a sense of what you do and can lend you a working compass if you get lost somewhere. They most probably know fieldwork is never complete without twists and turns and ups and downs.
Hint: stop and learn to love the twists. Take friends to movies and theatre and dinners and ignore puzzled looks. Talk to the coolest minds, they have a compass and know how to use it…and if necessary, let go of the heart. The closest to your heart, yet failing to sing at your beat, can make you suffer from arrhythmia. Fieldwork is a time when you need a spotless, exquisite heart that is moving with the world you study. Once you let go of the heart, the closest to your heart will leave. The grumpy will go next. The confused will stare. The angry will become inaudible -no such frequency of disapproval is fine. I mean, disapproval is fine but conditional approval is full of shame and anger and thus malevolent; it says: see me, see what I am denied of. No, you are on a quest to sense a shifting maze, a twisting and turning stage, and you have to take good notes.
Written at the end of another field-day full of twists, feels like I’m in a time-warp. And I am content. Not happy, not traumatized, not complaining. Once at a much-anticipated and desired core, you do not complain, rather you take notes.
Laçin T. / Istanbul