On gratitude

Aarti Malhotra Executive Editor

For someone whose every decision is cardinally rooted in cynicism and doubt, I’ve been feeling surprisingly grateful as of late.

I suspect the catalyst was last formatting weekend. ere were some di cult decisions to be made, but not once did I feel I had to carry that weight alone. My team was there every step of the way, even during times they explicitly disagreed with me.

When I was considering running for exec earlier this year, I was initially hesitant

Stop and think

Jack Beeching Beaver Editor

Landscape with the Fall of Icarus (1558) is a painting by Pieter Bruegel. In the foreground there is a farmer, ploughing a eld, and a shepherd, tending a ock. Behind them is the sea, ships, a city, and the sunset. In the bottom righthand corner is a tiny pair of legs. is is Icarus, drowning. His miraculous ight and fall have passed by unnoticed to the people in the elds.

According to my professor, this says something about art and reality. Idealists, those disconnected from the real because the thought of not having anyone to turn to for guidance troubled me. Looking back, I can’t believe that thought ever even occurred to me. My team had my back, and I had theirs. As simple as that. world, will know triumphs and adversities. For the rest of us, just trying to get through the day, these won’t even register.

Just days a er this revelation, I went back home for reading week for the rst time in more than a year. And my family showed up in so many more ways in those ve days than I have ever given them credit for.

Add to this my sheer amazement at the compassion my body and mind have shown me, unconditionally, despite my utter disregard for them over Michaelmas Term. It’s amazing, truly.

I don’t really know much about art. No doubt I’ve misinterpreted this painting and, if my professor saw the above paragraph, she’d be very disappointed. London’s galleries excited me a lot when I rst moved here. Yeah, I go to exhibits occasionally. I also try to watch lms, read books, and try new foods. But most of the time I don’t. I cook the same pasta recipes, rewatch old shows, and spend my weekends either studying, recuperating, or editing e Beaver.

And I’m not complaining; things are pretty good. A part of me is still disappointed, though. I had this naïve idea of university before coming here: I imagined impassioned debates at the pub, getting into student politics, and feeling inspired every day. I wasn’t prepared for the sheer relentlessness of it. ere are times when I like it – when juggling so many things makes me feel capable and adult. Most of the time, I’m just trying to get through the day. at’s why I’m glad to have professors who, mid-class, project a painting onto a wall and ask you to stop and think.

I could honestly go on and on. We’ve yet to discuss how many times my friends wiped my tears outside Warren Street station over this past month, or how I found my favourite Mogu Mogu avour in stock today, or how my landlord nally repaired our broken washing machine.

Basically, what I’m trying to say is that I’m quickly learning that there’s a lot of love both within and around me. Life is good y’all, even when it isn’t.