Impermanence was at the core of my childhood. When packing tape and cardboard boxes took over my house every few years, it meant saying goodbye again, boarding another airplane, and leaving for yet another place to call home. This was normal to me.
I remember being the new kid over and over again. I had to memorize new school buildings and neighborhoods. I had to get used to the daily Indonesian rainstorms, the sunless winters in Russia, the sticky Taiwanese summers. I had to remember how to say “Thank you” at a restaurant, which changed from terima kasih to spaseeba to xie xie.
Cherishing was also at the core of my childhood. I learned to treasure the friendships I was creating and new experiences I was having in the moment, instead of living in anticipation or nostalgia. I learned to live in liminal spaces—to be present during the in-between moments and find the joy in the journey, as cliché as it sounds.
In a similar way, impermanence is at the heart of Stowaway. By the time our team sees the published version of Stowaway, a new team will already be enrolled. The reality is that the Stowaway staff changes and time rolls onward. The best part of Stowaway, then, isn’t holding the finished product in hand—it’s cherishing the journey it took to get there.
Part of our journey this semester included deciding on a theme for this issue. We wanted to commemorate Brigham Young University’s sesquicentennial theme of seeking, connecting, and sharing light, but we weren’t quite sure how. We quickly discovered that we didn’t need to reinvent Stowaway to fit with this theme. That’s because it has always celebrated curiosity, connection, and storytelling—in both creation and content. This issue continues that tradition.
In this issue, you’ll find plenty of references to light as you read about lantern festivals, lighthouses, and the aurora borealis. I hope you’ll find light in less obvious places too: in the thoughtful design, in the candid and genuine writing. But even if you try reading between the lines of each article, there are some things about this issue that you won’t be able to see.
You won’t be able to see the flashes of inspiration, the spark of new friendships, nor the fire of effort behind every detail of this magazine. You won’t be able to see the growth that each member of our staff experienced as they developed their skills as writers, editors, designers, and leaders. But I saw it, and I cherish it all.
I cherish the journey of creating this edition of Stowaway and the light that was with us throughout the whole process. Most of all, I cherish the unique personalities and passions of our staff this semester. Our staff, the people behind the pages, made this issue of Stowaway so brilliant. They are the real light of Stowaway.
I hope that you, dear reader, can likewise cherish your friendships as you embark on new adventures. Live in the liminal and live in the light. And journey on.
—Kara Haack