Oddly Encouraging Moments

In my daily flow of distractions, I rarely take the time to notice the things that have caused me to pause involuntarily. One way that is changing is in my attention to book. I read an article for "Introduction to Graduate Studies" that highlighted the significance of random browsing in library research. All researchers who spend much time reading outside of that which is strictly relevant to their project have had the experience of stumbling across a text that is peripherally relevant, otherwise helpful, or somehow moving. Thus it is that, as my thoughts have wandered while I walk among the stacks, I have just begun to notice and remember the moments when I pause. And my unconscious actions are now a source of some small, odd encouragement.

Today, walking through the fifth floor on my familiar route from carrel to elevator, I paused to look at some particularly attractive editions of the complete works of Victor Hugo. Bearing in mind that I have never read any Hugo, why pause? Last Wednesday, in the same "Intro to Grad Studies" class, we discussed various scholarly editions that we brought to class. I was encouraged today when I realized that the class, which has often been frustrating, had informed my continued enjoyment of old and intricately-designed editions. Or, my enjoyment of the gorgeous old editions has survived our class's clinical analysis of scholarly editions. Either way, I was glad to know that small beauties catch my eye, even when the books in question are irrelevant to my current studies.

It reminded me of another oddly encouraging moment almost exactly two years ago: a sunny Fall morning at Borders, my favorite of the large chain bookstores in the US. I was reading two stories by Nikolai Gogol, "The Overcoat" and "The Portrait", and really enjoyed them in way I hadn't enjoyed homework for a while. I've had similar moments this Fall sitting outside on benches around the Notre Dame campus reading Irish Literature. I can't help but remark how much it helps to not just enjoy the reading, but the circumstances of that reading: the air and rustling of the leaves. Now, I'm sitting in a tiny little carrel and have decided to go downstairs to more comfortable chairs with a view of the outside. Hopefully, something small will distract and encourage me as I notice the details required to help me along the way.