The "Reflective" Issue

Editor’s Letter

The views expressed within this magazine are not representative of Royal Holloway, University of London, or Royal Holloway Student's Union, or any author/editor except the individual who wrote the particular article.

I am, by nature, a dweller. On the past – both things that have happened to me and decisions I have made. On the present – what I should do, what butterfly or domino effect these choices may result in. And on the future – that unknowable beast, shaped by factors both completely outside our control and entirely within it.

When does benign nostalgia dissolve into an unwillingness to leave the past in the past? When does careful consideration become decision paralysis? It’s a fine line, and one I have by no means mastered. Those who know me will tell you – I’m indecisive, and I’m an overthinker. I’m not steeped in the past, but with every decision I make I feel the weight of my future judgement upon my shoulders. I will always be an advocate of finding the balance of heart and mind in decision-making in theory, but at present, my tendency towards mindful consideration leads to nothing more than stalling. Intellectualising my choices will not make them immune to regret in the future.

The fact of the matter is, you can never know what will result from your choices. You never know what will lead to grief and heartache, and you never know whether you could’ve avoided these things. Reflection can be useful for self-discovery, but it will only get you so far.

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It has been a great pleasure to edit

The Orbital during the 22/23 session. Reflecting back on the last year – achievement at the SPA awards, four full issues, our newly cohesive design style that made the magazine a recognisable staple – I feel nothing but proud of the work of everyone who has contributed towards a hugely successful ten months.

Hannah and I are also delighted to hand over editorship to two of this year's Editorial Board –and two good friends – Olivia Taylor and Beth McCowen. I simply cannot wait to see what they achieve. The magazine could not be in safer hands.

This is a small, final issue of articles that either fell between issue prompts, or were received after the last full issue of this academic year.

I hope you enjoy.

It Ain’t Over ‘Til It’s Over.

Olivia Taylor

SENIOR CULTURE EDITOR

Weare led to believe that everything that starts eventually has to end. Last year as a part of my compulsory ‘Thinking as a Critic’ English module we briefly discussed teleology, specifically looking at its relation to literature. In a philosophical sense, teleology essentially describes the purpose of something by its finality rather than how it came to be, and so when this theory is applied to literature, often it becomes apparent that continuity cannot always be as rewarding as closure may be. The state of closure brings about a sense of completeness, it yields satisfaction. When it got to the point of writing our final assignment for this particular module, I was drawn back to our previous studies of closure with a question titled, ‘For what reason, if any, is closure significant for literature?’. There was a lot to unpack, I discussed the satisfaction of the conventional romance novel, the ambiguity of modernist playwriting and different poetic intentions. But when looking back at this piece of work, what I found most interesting is my constant repetition of one key point. That our desire to reach a definitive ending in literature often reflects on our own desire for closure, because why would we be searching for such a thing without our own reasons?

The question is though, why are we constantly searching for closure? Whether it's in a relationship, when faced with grief, or just

after any type of unexpected event, closure becomes the one sought goal. In fact, it paints itself out to be the ending of an ending. We are all guilty of thinking closure, in whatever form it may take, will solve the issue at hand. Whilst for some it may be achievable, for many it can be a lost cause. Closure in literature may be satisfying, but how can we make it as satisfying in our own lives?

It is all about taking things for granted. Not in a bad way, it is simply because we make an assumption that we will experience these things a thousand times more. We grieve because we did not imagine a time when they would not be there. After a relationship, we want one more conversation with that someone because we did not think there would be a time when there would be no more words left to say. The problem here with closure is that we tend to get caught up in what we think we want rather than considering the reality of what really needs to happen. Take the end of a relationship for example. We always seem to think that one more conversation will solve it all, maybe not the relationship itself, but there seems to be a connection between the last conversation and the closure we think we want. But here’s the thing, they won’t say what you want them to say; the conversation you had so carefully planned out in your head won’t actually go to plan and honestly, it’s rare that it ever will. It will take time and you won’t like it, but do not waste any more time looking for answers or conversations you will not find. So then what is the point? Why have we become so obsessed with the

idea of closure when it never turns out the way we want?

I am not the one to be giving any advice on how to find closure, I think plenty of people I know will agree I lack any credibility in this area. Like many, when I go to find closure I complicate the issue even further, entangling myself in the realm of ‘what ifs’. It is a dangerous game you will always find yourself playing. Whilst I may only be young, if there is one thing about closure I have recognised, it is that the ‘what ifs’ never get old. Not only do I see it in myself after only a few years of dealing with it but I see everyone around me has to deal with it too. It is that feeling of suddenly being stuck between wanting to wait for someone but equally wanting to forget them. We all come up with these scenarios in our heads and it evidently drives us mad. The truth is, all these scenarios are simply an extension of the same thing. We know it all really, these are just extensions of thinking we want someone but in reality they don’t want us back. Often when we are compelled to ‘let go’ of something we tend to cling on to it tighter, becoming more attached. It’s like being told not to think of something, that ‘thing’ will then be the foremost thought on your mind.

Unfortunately, the only advice I can offer on closure is that surely it proves how lucky we are to experience these ‘things’ at least once. Perhaps once is enough, why would we want to keep going through it all again and again? Sometimes things are only nice because they are temporary and that is exactly why we should be grate-

ful. Knowing when closure is due is simply a sign that that particular period of time is over and therefore we should learn to appreciate it for what it was. A moment of temporality, because when we think about it, nothing will ever be infinite. I was speaking to a friend of mine recently about how she has dealt with closure in the past, and she made a point that stuck with me. She said that what she has learnt from closure is that is helped her realise that the only person she really needs to focus on is herself, why should we be worrying so much about fixing ‘unfixable’ things with people when they are only a small part of our own lives who will come and go so quickly? These people are simply a purpose for such a small fraction of our own existence; yes, they may have purpose for a bit, but not forever. It is just the end of a chapter, the sense of longing won’t last forever, you will turn over a new page and a new chapter, a new beginning will appear.

Perhaps I have diverged from the discussion of literature, but regardless of where closure is applicable, I think it is as significant as any opening can be. It all comes down to intention and interpretation. Although, whilst everything must come to an end, often the end is what we least expect. Think of it like this. The thing that makes anything nice is not its ending, but the fact that it has an ending.

Image: Connor Pope via Unsplash

How Did Life End Up With Us?

Felix Porée

Introduced as the first book of a quartet titled "The Secrets of Life: From Big Bang to Trump", SS O'Connor's How Did Life End Up With Us? presents itself as an attempt to answer the most pertinent of questions surrounding the laws of life, from the start of the Big Bang all the way to the ‘decisions’ that organisms make that ultimately determine their chances of survival. One anticipates that such questions would require substantial scientific research, and although O’Connor admits he is not a scientist, his undertaking, given to the reader in a conversational writing style, is divided into specific chapters that aim to cover such topics as natural selection, gene mutations, and evolutionary change, down to parasitism, mutualism, and altruism.

O’Connor begins his introduction with an illustration of why he has attempted to reduce scientific research and theories down to a ‘readable narrative’, commencing with what is meant to be a quip regarding a scientist having his ideas boiled down to a classic ‘So... what you’re saying is XXXX’ that he overhears on the radio. This naturally, through a leap or two of logic, leads him to try to encapsulate all intricate and formidable ideas into a few rudimentary books. His justification seems like forced irony; surely O'Connor knows the insoluble task he has set for himself and wants to give simple explanations, allowing one to go into more depth with broader reading. This thought crossed my mind until I happened to read the following:

“Was it really true, for example, that the same forces had been endlessly shaping evolution, ever since self-replicating cells had somehow kicked off? And if one looked closely enough, could this tell us something about how our complicated world had come about? Maybe even how we humans work?

Why not give it a go? I knew very little about anything, of course, but it seemed to me that a lack of knowledge might actually have a few advantages. First, by being ignorant I could make the kind of generalisations that most academics wouldn't. I didn't need to get tangled up in the weeds any more than the radio man had.

Secondly, unlike the scientists who usually write these books, I'd have no scholarly colleagues keen to jump on my neck if I got things wrong. The only person I had to please was myself. I was the one who was most interested, and most driven by EM Forster's terrific line that: 'How do I know what I think until I see what I say?'”

This excerpt provides a rather portentous foreshadowing, and anyone who can read between the lines can see very evidently what the rest of the book is about to contain. O’Connor actually does want to boil down damningly difficult topics into bitesize chunks. He confesses to being ignorant of the subjects at hand, yet he is willing to make overgeneralizations to simplify incredibly dense and important topics, all of this (purposefully) without the help of anyone who knows what they’re talking about. With such a complicated subject matter, I am not just left to question the authenticity of his narration but his entire goal.

It did make me wonder, however, If I were to read a book a week, every week, for the next 50 years of my life, I would have read 2500 books, give or take. My closest library contains over 400,000 books. Comparing my reading habits to the awe-inspiring volume of books that are just within a 10-minute walk of me leaves me with a severe realisation; Not to get too pessimistic, but I have a very limited time; thus, I have some incredibly challenging decisions to make regarding what books are worth my time. O'Connor emphasises the deliberate thought processes that humans engage in during the act of making decisions. Nevertheless, I find myself questioning the validity of settling for generalisations and relying on scant scholarly backing from the scientific community. It is understandable that researchers have not fully delved into the specific topics that O’Connor explores in this vein, either due to their overwhelming workload or, more likely, because those knowledgeable in

those fields recognise the inherent impossibility of simplifying such complex subjects, a luxury of understanding O'Connor evidently does not have. Consequently, pursuing such simplifications would be an utter waste of everyone’s time.

Putting the rather sour taste in my mouth aside, I wanted to not judge the book solely on its first few pages. There’s a quartet left to get through; it would be remiss of me to do such a thing. As I went further on, O’Connor’s writing style seemed to share the DNA of Rochefoucauld’s Maxims, albeit with less substance. The pithy yet empty prose stood like pillars in an otherwise sea of white, just monotonous back-and-forth dialectics again and again and again, trying to ‘empathise’ or ‘get’ the reader by seeing down to earth or jovial... I can’t think of a clever way to say that it did my head in. Hitchens said, "If you can talk, you can write. [But] You have to be careful to keep your speech as immaculate as possible". I

do not find this immaculate; on the contrary, O'Connor's musings are an indecorous stain on the worthiness of such topics.

O’Connor fails in his self-prescribed herculean task. Naturally, kudos is due to the effort put in, but it seems to be of no avail. I can remember almost none of the book, as the surface-level and rushed exegesis did the opposite. In a bid to explain to me how life, the universe, and everything works (apparently, the answer is not 42), I am left arguably more bewildered. Not, unfortunately, in a wanderlust, but more of a frustration. All I have are snippets of half-remembered phrases or words I can use at parties like Mutualism or who Theodosius Dobzhansky was to make myself seem intelligent, that is, of course, until I am immediately embarrassed when coming into contact with anyone who knows more than the iota of knowledge this book gave me.

A resounding failure then? No, nothing is. I have learnt a few

things; for one, not to brag, but mutualism represents the positions where symbiotic organisms could be said to be in some kind of equally rewarding relationship. Both of them would be benefitting from the involvement of the other either entirely relying on them for their existence, or partially if they're able to survive without them – but are greatly diminished if they don't have their help. I have also learnt that the messenger is sometimes as important as the message, as a more earnest writing style would have enhanced my ability to extract the necessary information that O'Connor wants to convey. Finally, I need to do more research before I agree to review a book, but that one is my fault.

& Olivia Taylor

Image: reza shayestehpour via Unsplash

Body Positivity or Toxicity?

Some Things Never Change Beth

McCowen

SENIOR LIFESTYLE EDITOR

As the weather gets hotter, and the events that have been in our diaries for months are finally rolling around, it’s time to switch up our wardrobes to include some summer attire after months and months of cosy jumpers and trendy scarves. As joyful as the sunshine, floral dresses, and holidays can feel, this transition in season, and therefore style, is easier for some than it is for others. Throughout the autumn, winter and even spring months, we often grow used to hiding away our bodies, our insecurities, under clothes in which we feel comfortable, usually on the basis that they show less of our skin than the alternatives that are more practical for the summer.

For those who have struggled with eating disorders, other health problems, or difficult relationships with body image, this annual tradition is daunting and sometimes triggering. Scars, stretch marks, and changes in weight have an illogical stigma attached to them. The body positivity movement has, of course, grown in recent years. This is not to say, though, that it comes without its own challenges. Much of the narrative surrounding this maintains a focus on what our bodies do for us. Whilst this is absolutely a valid way of appreciating our physicality, it can feel exclusionary to those who additionally suffer from physical health problems.

Feeling like your body is working against you rather than with you is both mentally and physically draining, and when you throw beauty standards, gender norms and unsolicited advice and opinions from others into the mix with our mental health, it can often be the perfect recipe for disaster.

Lots of our generation have grown up with families or childhood friends who, as brilliant or challenging as they might be, have helped to shaped our view of ourselves from a young age. While they may not have always overtly criticised our appearances, indirect comments can have a more lasting impact than they might ever imagine. Negative discussions regarding their own appearances and lifestyle can force us to look at ourselves in the same unconstructive way. Judgements made about strangers can cause us to worry that people are quietly hostile towards our own choices, looks or even just genetics. In truth, people probably aren’t even looking at you beyond thinking they like your top or your hair, or some other element which you might have felt insecure about before leaving the house.

As the saying goes, ‘comparison is the thief of joy’. It is natural for our bodies, fashion, and so many other things to change as we develop into adults (which is a terrifying thought on its own). It is the sad reality that as much as we can strive for body acceptance and positivity, so many people have been conditioned to always want what we can’t have. Being unhappy with your appearance, especially as

a teenager, seems to have become an almost universal experience. We hope for it to change, but when it does, sometimes we still wish it was different or even just what it used to be. This is a vicious cycle so many are still working to break. Others look at us wishing they had something we did, just as we likely do to them. But who does this really help?

Coming to university is the prime opportunity to break away from cultures which have been detrimental to our self-esteem. Here, you can choose your friends wisely and find those who truly understand your experiences and feelings. Knowing your worth and upholding self-respect is vital, and Royal Holloway is where so many of us have learnt the hard way to do exactly that. This is an essential aspect of the journey into adulthood, and as much as it can be a bumpy ride, it is also liberating. But, it is typical to still occasionally face attitudes or behaviours that do not align with our own stance on these matters. It is a very personal thing, and can be difficult to navigate, particularly when you are taken by surprise at someone’s approach. It is important to prioritise your own wellbeing and surround yourself with people who do the same, who lift each other up. It is not easy to distance yourself from expectations that we see every single day in the media and so on, but one step at a time and with the right people, it is indeed possible to embrace who we are. Everyone is allowed to have bad days, it feels natural to sometimes analyse whether the way we look or

what we do is really good enough, yet this should not be the deciding factor in our joy.

Our society and cultures are ever-evolving, as are we. Things like social media can be central in these movements, which has its benefits, but there is nothing wrong with

removing yourself from environments which do you more harm than good. Learning to love yourself is a difficult thing to do, and there are many ways different groups of people go about this within their communities. Ultimately, the road to it lies with us, and it is more than

okay to achieve your own goals in a way that works for you. Be safe, be kind, and look after yourself and your mind.

Image: Mika Baumeister via Unsplash

Looking back at myself in the mirror

ElenaTeodora Chiujdea

As we have come to the end of another academic year, whether you like it or not, the melancholy hits you. You would think you get used to the idea of leaving, of moving and changing but you never do. Trust me, I am in my second year and although the sight of the Founders Building will greet me as I step back onto campus for my final year before graduation, a summer away seems like an eternity. So, be it your first year or second year like me or maybe you are the ones saying goodbye to us this year, I will take you through what I have learnt about myself as I look at my own reflection.

First year started out with an introverted girl who had no idea how to be alone, how to stand on her own two feet without having parents or family so close by to cushion the loneliness. I wish I was an extrovert, able to go out and immediately make friends with flatmates, join societies, and meet people from my course. That is what you should do, if you have not already. You know what they say, dress for the job you want, not for the one you have, or fake it till you make it. I had to warm up to the idea of living alone and started out by learning how to cook. I don’t want to brag, and my mum would probably disagree, but I have grown

into a cooking expert. Next step: taking myself out of the box. So, I joined a few societies to explore my interest in photography and games society to reminisce back to childhood when board game night was a must in our house. Of course, writing for Orbital was the hobby I wanted to nurse into a career after my undergraduate and masters, forcing myself to put my writing out there for the world to see. And I did! I made enough friends to keep myself busy when the homesickness hit. I’m not going to lie, you will fall out with people, the stress of exams and making sure you do well will follow you around like a shadow. The cherry on the cake is needing to find housemates for your second year, or the so-called highest pressure of your first year. I stretched myself thin and had a week left to find the friends I would spend the next two years with and luckily, I did.

With a year ticked off from my undergraduate degree, I came back for my second year, surprisingly leaving my parents even more melancholic for the days when I needed them at every step. I was being moulded into an adult without realising it. For now, I still feel like an impostor grown-up, but my second year of studies took me even closer to being a ‘real adult’. First, I moved into the first house I ever rented, rather than staying in halls in a somewhat limbo state between being a teenager or an adult. You will have to learn how to pay bills, and with inflation hitting hard this year, it was a rough road to

drive through. To name a few, my housemates and I dealt with short circuits, heating and electricity not working when we needed it most, and needing to find yet another place after rent prices skyrocketed. My advice would be to start looking early, earlier than you would think necessary. I am a sucker for a pros and cons list, and those will be your best friends when searching for a house and learning what you need or what you want. But as bad as the place might be, the people living with you are the ones that will make it worth it. So, pick them wisely. My second year also meant working at a part time tutoring job, juggling responsibilities with studies and thinking about what comes next, whilst also paving the way for my third year. A third year that so far looks like it should be smooth sailing.

So, if I was to talk to the person I was two years ago, I would say a few key things. Act like the confident independent person you wish to be, and you will become that person without even realising it. Do not let people push you around. Not everyone will like you or be your best friend, but that is ok. Being a people pleaser is too consuming of a job anyway. And as much as you want to jump into the near future, into a time when you will have your dream job and dream home, for now you are still a student. Take it one step at a time and do not look back. You need to let loose and have fun a little. Everything will be fine!

Image: Vinicius "amnx" Amano via Unsplash