Little Bear

We rescued this little guy on Monday night. It took me an hour and a half in the cold and drizzle to coax him out from under the HVAC unit at a local community center and into a borrowed cat carrier. No telling how long he'd been out there, but a significant portion of his little life--he's less than eight weeks old, our vet says.

I think I'm in love....

Writing? Did someone mention writing?

The Golden Morning

Each year, ginkgos drop all their leaves at once in a thick, golden blanket that’s so brilliantly yellow it takes your breath away, even on a cold and overcast November day like this one. Today was the morning. I didn’t have my camera, alas, and the light wasn’t good, either; this image is one I found online, just to give you a hint. It's always a wonderful event, like a benediction on the fall and a welcoming of the resting time of winter.

It's been nearly two months since my dissertation defense, and I'm only now beginning to feel normal again. Amazing, how exhausted I have been--that was completely unexpected by me, though no one else seems surprised. The good news is that I'm beginning to feel like writing again!

I made it!!!

Never thought I'd live to see the day, but I presented ("defended") my dissertation on Saturday out in Carpinteria, at the main campus, and the audience (my lovely friend Leah and a good part of Robert Romanyshyn's clinical program students) loved it!

I had such a good time with it. My nineteenth-century imaginal collaborator Ellen Janney introduced the work, then Robert introduced me (and said glowing things about it!), then I took over. That part took about half an hour, and then we had quite a lively discussion with lots of questions for another half an hour. It was such a blast!

This process has been exhilarating and exhausting. I've been asleep most of the time since I returned home on Sunday (when I wasn't calling a dance) and am headed back to bed now. When I wake up, I'll post more.

Thanks to all my friends who saw me through this process, and whose encouragement and support were so important to me. I love you all!

Well, it’s all over but the shouting….

The dissertation is written. It’s been approved by my committee pending a last-minute read-through by my advisor when he gets back in early August, and I’ll defend at the end of September. I’ve printed off a few copies and circulated them to interested friends—the response so far has been positive. It’s nice when something you care so passionately about is well received.

Once I get the i’s dotted and the t’s crossed, I can figure out what the next stage of my life will be like. It feels like major changes are in the works. One thing is for sure: I do want to turn this thing into a book, for wider circulation. But first, I’m digging my desk out from under piles and piles of books, papers, and accumulated junk. I don’t remember what the top of it looks like!

And I will have time to post things here, too, which will be fun. Gee—a life! I had forgotten what that’s like!

Peace

I was doing some more work on the dissertation this morning and came across an journal entry that I wrote shortly after September 11th. It's just as timely now, and something I really needed to remember this morning. Let me share it with you:

Friday, 14 September 2001, 1 PM: On this national day of prayer and remembrance, I went to a local chapel to meditate. I ended up wondering what I, personally, could to do help. The answer came, "Live in peace."

Well, that's easier said than done, I thought, especially at a time like this. Just this morning there was a commentator on NPR who said, basically, that what's needed is to use nuclear weapons to obliterate the terrorists. How can any of us "live in peace," or even hope for peace with the reality of the horrors in New York and Washington, and threats of war and vengeance all around us?

Puzzled and a little bit angry, I headed home. Not three blocks from the chapel, a fellow in a black sports car cut me off; a couple of blocks farther, two minivans wouldn't let me into the turn lane. How rude, I thought. So much for peace--they sure have lousy manners. I mentally flipped them off and sent them on their way. As I got closer to home, a woman on the freeway had her turn signal on. I slowed to let her in, but she didn't move. I waved to her to come on in; she still didn't move over. How big a hole do you need, lady? What a dummy! I had a few choice words for her, too.

And then, finally, I got the message. What's that old song? "Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me." With me, not with that person over there, or with the President, or anyone else--with me. It's my responsibility, if I want peace for this world, to create peace within myself and toward others. And I realized that I've been doing a lousy job of it lately. Praying for peace--which I've been doing a lot of this week--is a good thing, but what I'm going to try to do now is act for peace, and change the only person I have any control over--myself.

What if all of us did that? What if we all became more aware of the times when anger takes over, or the urge to get back at someone who has ticked us off, or a gut-level dislike of someone who's different in some way from us--in ideology, or skin color, or whatever?

As for me, I'm just going to take it one minute at a time, because I'm discovering that it's amazingly difficult for me to do. But I'm taking it on as my task, my personal contribution to peace on earth.

The draft is done....

I never, ever thought I would live to see this day. Some of it is REALLY GOOD (did I actually write those parts?). At 350 pages, the draft is seriously overweight, but my advisor is terrific at helping his students prune and shape their work.

Someone wake me up in time for the calling party tomorrow night, OK?

Light at the end of the tunnel?

This afternoon I put all the major pieces of the last chapter of the dissertation into place. There's still a lot of stitching together to be done, and it's pretty rough, but for the first time I believe I will actually finish this thing, and live to tell about it.

Shhhhh.... Don't say it out loud; Psyche might hear you....