Honest Abe:

I had the pleasure to hear Professor Richard Carwardine, the Rhodes Professor of American History, speak about Abraham Lincoln on Thursday evening. How wonderful! I'm still shaking from the joy of it, and the excitement at hearing American History from the mouth and mind of a Brit. It was informed, balanced, and fair, leaving out any motivations to prove or disprove other historians of Lincoln except to portray historical fact. Refreshing indeed. It was also nice to hear work that interested me, but could not in any way be related to my own. I could just enjoy what was being said and not worry about what I was or was not missing from my own studies. I remembered surprisingly much about Lincoln and the Civil War era, though coming from Kentucky that shouldn't be too shocking. And I truly enjoyed dining with the speaker after the lecture and speaking to him about Kentucky, where he had been several times. If you are interested I would recommend his book, simply entitled Lincoln (though it may actually have a longer American title now that I think about it), which came out in 2004. Finally, I leave you with an image of 'gay' Lincoln. I don't of course believe this, but it's a humorous picture that Prof. Carwardine showed us and I felt you all had to see it as well. It does in fact come from a book in which the author argues that Lincoln was gay. Apparently he has some decent circumstantial evidence, but nothing solid. It cannot be proven.

Notice the earring:


I'm off to London this afternoon to see 'Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat' on the West End. Yay!!!! Will let you know how it is!

Love to all, especially KY's Abe,
Elizabeth

Rediscovering the Written and Spoken Word:

There's something both wonderful and confining about having free time. For the first time since my arrival at Oxford I have no essays waiting for composition, no immediate research to focus upon (though I have a conference paper to prepare for July and am determined to start my PhD research to get ahead whether I remain here or not), and very few classes that desire my attention and work. So I fiddle with my Latin, and I try to read some French, but mostly I read.

Now reading is something a graduate student in history does all the time. It's primarily how I work. But this, this reading without stress, it's different. It is better, but not as immensely better as I assumed it would be. I miss that feeling of working towards the achievement of a goal. And quite honestly, I miss knowing when I will next see my supervisor, and thus the stress of making sure my work will be good enough. But wait, that's not quite right, because I don't really miss the stress of it. Maybe I just miss the work.

Regardless, I do not miss reading under a time constraint and thus for the last two weeks I've been reading fiction, mostly gifts from my aunt and uncle, the act of which has given me immense pleasure, if not angered my body because of my lack of movement. My brain though, is so very active. So much so I have trouble sleeping. I'm covered in fictional dreams of the plague, romantic adventures, and fairy tale endings. Well, not fairy tale, but certainly contented, and that seems to be a very vital emotion these days.

I've found contentment in lectures as well. Without the burdens of an impending deadline I have the time to go to every seminar the History Faculty has to offer. And this has meant a wealth of scholarship and for this term, some learning from some very big names. So far in my time here I've heard the likes of Maurice Keen, Peter Brown, Robert Bartlett, Christine Carpenter, Michael Clanchy, John Watts, and Chris Wickham, among others. Later this year come Nicholas Orme, Barbara Newman, and Caroline Walker Bynum. It is a medievalists dream line-up, like seeing your very favorite artists (I won't attempt my own version in modern culture) in concert. The benefit of this, besides meeting these wonderful scholars, is accessing history from different angles and different voices. I suppose it keeps me a part of the scholarly world, while I enjoy my fiction-filled hiatus.

In all of this, I feel antsy and excited because I'm rediscovering my own personal love for all things written and spoken and I can't get enough. I wish I could; I think my muscles aching from lack of use would appreciate it, and so too, would my body, angry that it cannot rest as a result of the workings of my mind. But there is something so wonderful about delving into the very basis of humanity and culture, and the word, written, spoken, or sung, is just that.

Love,
Elizabeth

On A Pilgrimage:

How fitting that I, a student of all things old and Christian, should be told that my thesis proposal places me on the path of a pilgrim. Indeed, this was what my college supervisor stated upon our discussion of my desire to continue my work at the doctoral level. He followed that statement with this one, "I will support you very highly in this." Something strange occurred for me following that statement. And it's difficult for me to put it into words. Perhaps it's better to place it in the historical context of a real pilgrimage, because then it may make better sense.

For whatever reason, medieval pilgrimage was an important and vital element to Christian interaction with God. I say whatever reason in reference to the specific reason a pilgrim would choose to go on pilgrimage, not in regard to why it was an important part of Christianity. Because there, on the most basic of levels, it makes complete and perfect sense to me. Isn't pilgrimage something we all take on in our lives? Whatever that form is in the modern world, the medieval Christian pilgrimage served a purpose which I still find myself dealing with day after day. The search, the need, the desire to be closer to God, to feel touched and helped, and seen. Not to place oneself above any others, but to find comfort in the notion that you, like they, are a child of God, and as such, are not forgotten.

To embark on a pilgrimage, no matter how far, is a frightening prospect. To leave one's zone of comfort, to admit to yourself that your search may be a last resort, or that you may not find the help you need is disconcerting to be sure. To embark on a pilgrimage in which you are blazing a trail is of another matter and equally worrisome. In both instances, it seems to me, the difference between success and failure (and in this I realize that in the world of God, sometimes failure is the right answer) is support. Having the support of others (God, family, friends, scholars, etc.) is integral to success because it means when you no longer have the strength to go on, that system of support is there to pick you up, and inspire you to continue, no matter the result.

My pilgrimage is twofold. And in some ways, the first part has already been completed. I became a pilgrim when I first stepped onto the plane that brought me here, seeking a life that I felt I was meant to pursue. I've encountered all manner of joys and difficulties here and at times practically laid myself prostrate to the 'god' that is Oxford University. I do not, under any circumstances, regret the decision or opportunity to come here. I've grown leaps and bounds in my abilities as a historian and, hopefully, as a human in the last year and a half. And now, it's time to attempt that second pilgrimage, where I attempt to forge a new avenue of historical research somewhere in between what others have already done. This is difficult, and I'm sure past the doctoral level (if I reach this level) there will be many skeptics and many unwilling to listen to my ideas and my approaches (many historians place little value in hagiographical sources, I'm afraid). But I've realized that it does not matter. Because I'm lucky enough to have support.

I've sat around the last week in a strange mix of emotions. Relieved that I've finished my Master's thesis, terrified that I've messed up somewhere along the way and am now unable to fix it. Exhausted because I've worked so hard, and energized to do more work, to expand my research the way I want to, learning more skills and taking more advantage of the opportunities provided to me at this university. Lonely because I am missing the comforts and people of home much moreso than I have in a long time and excited to be able to travel more without the burden of the thesis hanging over my head. Sometimes I feel very out of place, only to find that I haven't been back long enough to establish my place again. Mostly, I feel my head and my heart and my body don't seem to align at the same time or place, when I need them to. But I'm beginning to think this is okay. To be lead by heart or head won't hurt too much, because I believe I've been blessed with a decent head and heart, mostly cultivated by that wonderful support system I've always had around me.

To be able to say that this support system is expanding is a wonderful thing. To know that there are those who think my work and my passions are worthwhile is beyond what I ever imagined for myself. And to be on this pilgrimage, in any format, is quite possibly the very best thing that has ever happened to me. These mixed emotions, the stress, the worry, the exhaustion, and then the serenity, the luck, the love, all of it....the pilgrimage itself, reminds me, everyday, that I'm really, truly, alive. And that really is so beautiful.

All my love to the most wonderful family and friends in the world,
Elizabeth

All Done and Submitted:

I'm FINISHED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thank you, thank you, thank you to my wonderful, supportive, fantastic family and friends.

I love you so so so so much.

Now I'm going to sleep. For several days. And then I'm reading for pleasure. That's right, I said it. Fiction, here I come.

Love, kisses, and thanks,
Elizabeth