There has been a lot of discussion over the past couple of weeks concerning the best metaphorical description of the research process. Several people have made allusions to being adrift in the middle of the ocean, or to being lost down rabbit holes, or even (in more frustrating moments) running headfirst into a brick wall and hoping the wall breaks first. Despite sounding a little dramatic, this does seem to be one of the experiences of trying new things. If these weeks have been characterised by anything, it is by their novelty; we have all been forced to deal with new challenges and simultaneously got to enjoy the wonder of discovering things about our fields, ourselves, and each other.
In the Astrophysics lab, I have been attempting to navigate the maze of skills required to be a competent scientist - how to read a research paper, how to use new programs and technology I'd hadn't heard of until day 1, and how to deal with the constant challenge of trying to do something new. Not only new for me, but new for anyone, ever. All our projects are extending the scope of human knowledge by a few, passionately nerdy pages, and as exciting as this is, it is also like taking a step into the dark, or very deep snow, hoping your foot will hit the bottom.
In fact, grappling with the skills I needed to very quickly develop often felt like taking one step forward, two steps back, putting on a silly hat so the data couldn't see me coming and trying to sneak up on it again. This is the type of newness that stretches the edges of your brain and makes you sit up a bit straighter every time there’s a breakthrough. It teaches you how immensely satisfying it is to piece together direction from scratch, so much so that being lost starts to become more fascinating than worrying.
The Laidlaw experience as a whole has included so much more to be clueless about than the research. As cliché as I'm sure it sounds, one of my favourite new things has been the amazing people I've got to meet, and all the fun we've had together. I've seen new sides of our town now the sun's out, tried new food, finally found some fluffy cows, and marvelled at all of it. The time we've spent together when not researching (resting our stretched brains) I believe reveals the other side of novelty. Along with the delight of having a challenge to rise to, I've got to experience the delight of easy laughter, friendship, and the fun of embracing new experiences.
We've had fish and chips in nearby villages, successfully danced ceilidhs without stepping on people's feet, and played games that devolved into chaos less than 5 minutes after they started. My proudest new experience was pilling into the pub at 11pm to watch a Scotland match for the World Cup and actually understanding the offside rule. It has been over a month of firsts, some difficult and some as easy as ice cream on the beach, but all wonderful.
As I enter my final week of research, I think the most important lesson I will take with me (I'm leaving the offside rule here, someone will have to explain it at the next World Cup) is the absolute necessity of cluelessness. Of walking into something you can't quite see clearly, or don't yet know the edges of, and trusting that the process of discovery will be fascinating and thrilling and likely involve good food.