So much of starting medical school is about finding a rhythm — a morning run, a bowl of oats, a walk to class, a stream of lectures, and an early bedtime — and sticking with it, day after day. At home, family and friends asked variations of “how’s medical school going?”, curious as to whether I had settled in, found the secret, latched onto the perfect “rhythm” and hung on tight in the whirlwind of my first year. “Good,” I would answer, considering how eagerly I had sought out routine, chasing the same perfectly aligned, color-coded calendar events week after week.
And yet, reflecting on my first year, I realize the most memorable experiences I have had in medical school are completely out of rhythm: sudden accents of spontaneous walking adventures, unexpected rests of late-night philosophical conversations, and, most recently, a relaxing fermata spent biking on Vancouver Island. I would never have expected to find such stillness and relief while biking, but there I was—the wind whipping against my hair and the pedals turning at my feet and my only thought being how blue the water was.
I left for Seattle and Vancouver without a rigid itinerary. I started each day with little idea of what was to come. I even sketched this scene in ink, a medium I’m using freehand for the first time. I’m challenging myself to break up the rhythm, to lean into the uncomfortable syncopation.
Why? To find the beauty in improvisation, a rhythm that never settles.
Felicia Ho is an MS1 at the Perelman School of Medicine.
