Last fall, I had an incredibly strong compulsion to apply to return to school for my PhD. It was something I always knew I’d do; it was just a question of timing. I’d finally found a program that made sense to me, as well as a proposal I felt compelled to work on. Although I’d always assumed my PhD would entail work in the arts, when I sat down to give it serious consideration and write a proposal, I found myself putting forth an idea combining the work I’ve been doing since 2000 in medical communication and the care giving I’ve done for my parents these last few years. Although it was a bit of a surprise to me, it also made a lot of sense. It’s work of larger social value, but it’s also necessary personal processing, so it’s a win-win proposition.
After a lengthy wait and despite the odds, I was accepted into the Communication & Culture joint program at Ryerson-York Universities this fall. Ryerson campus in downtown Toronto is my very dynamic and happening home base. Although I was very excited to return to school and it felt really right, there was also a great deal of anxiety. I completed my MA twelve years ago and hadn’t done any classroom work for about fifteen. It’s a much larger university than Trent was. I didn’t know any of the profs and had only one contact among the students. Electronic media and computers have radically changed the academic environment and I had to learn whole new ways of researching, administering and compiling data. It was an intimidating course of action to engage with. But having survived the stresses of the last few years, nothing really scares me anymore.
Few stresses equal that of care giving. School is a very different kind of thing. While care giving is incredibly demanding physically and psycho-emotionally, it’s not particularly demanding intellectually; of course school is intellectually demanding, but lighter on the physical and psycho-emotional demands. I’d spent years in the company of geriatrics, in and out of seniors’ residences and hospitals. I felt old and tired and deeply exhausted. Back on campus, I was surrounded by youths (although some of my peers are similar in age to myself). My energy has greatly improved. I’m feeling more able and more hopeful than I have in years. On some levels it feels like a karmic readjustment, a rebalancing of energies. After having spent several years under the stress of care giving and the first nine months of 2008 recovering, I was suddenly thrust into this bright new world.
The first week of classes, I was so excited I could hardly sleep! I don’t recall ever being quite this thrilled about going back to school. But it took a good month for my brain to start functioning and making connections to previous studies. By the end of term, I felt like I was almost back on track, with hundreds of pages of theoretical reading accomplished, many small assignments and a couple of essays and seminar presentations behind me. It’s like trying to flex a muscle you know you used to have, but feeling unsure if the neurons are still firing to make it work.
So now the first term of my PhD is completed. Because it’s semestered, that means I actually have two credits toward the requirements. I haven’t received my marks yet, but am confident that I’ve passed. I’m signed up for another three credits next term and hope to accomplish the remaining two in the summer. From there, I’ll sit comprehensive exams, get my dissertation proposal approved and then research and write the dissertation itself. As a fulltime student (how weird is that?) I’m hoping to complete in the minimum time of four years. But we’ll see how it all shakes out. Although I’m pumped about engaging with this work, I’m also past the point in my life of beating myself up if I don’t quite meet a goal. And now that I’m in it, this feels incredibly right. The timing couldn’t have been better. I’m in a space where I can engage without distraction; I have research that will sustain me through the process. And I’m in a safe environment I know how to engage with at a time when I’m still feeling kind of shaky and vulnerable. School is a good place for me to regain strength and direction, while simultaneously accomplishing something of value.
After such a busy fall, in which I had very little time for my own writing, I’m hoping the winter term will be a little more manageable, allowing me to re-engage with the non-fiction manuscript, The Wisdom of Aging Gracefully. I’d like to complete it by next fall, but certainly before I begin serious work on the dissertation.
I hope you’ve all had a wonderful holiday season. My good friend, Kathy Mac (whose new poetry collection is forthcoming this spring!), was here for a visit the weekend before Christmas and helped me decorate my three-foot-tall tree on Yule eve, the Solstice. I plan to leave the decorations up until Twelfth Night, Epiphany eve. I had an orphans’ Christmas at my place; I made roast beast and friends came with some fine potluck additions. So we had food, wine and good company. It was a very relaxed, warm way to celebrate. It also means I now have enough turkey soup and stew in the freezer to last well into the next school term.
It’s been fun having the holidays at home. I’ve enjoyed visits with lots of friends, but have also had some quiet time to myself at home, or wandering through the cold, clear, bright air and snow. I’ve enjoyed the opportunity to reflect on the year that’s passed and focus on the year to come. I’m easing into what I think is going to be the wonderful year of 2009. Wishing you and yours the best of the season and a happy, healthy, prosperous and successful New Year!
Last fall, and without much thought, I found myself buying a train ticket to the east coast to spend the holidays with friends. Christmas 2007 was the first Christmas I’d ever spent without my parents. I wasn’t sure what to expect. A complete change of scenery seemed like a good idea.
sumptuous feast, enjoying the goofiness of ringing in 2008 with dollar-store noisemakers and glow sticks. Much of the week was spent chatting, showing each other interesting Internet finds, watching movies and just hanging out. Of course, the dog had to be walked, so again that was an excuse to get outside and get some fresh air and exercise.
In mid-January, I boarded a train at Union Station that took me as far as Montréal, where, after a brief pause on my journey, I was able to board the train to Québec City, where, yes, there was snow! Albeit not enough snow to open all the ski resorts. Adding to the pleasure of the trip was that my good friend and fellow writer Kathy Mac was able to join me, also arriving by train, but from Fredericton, New Brunswick. Between us, we’d travelled across at least a third of the country to meet at a point roughly halfway between our two homes.
Spring is my favourite time of year, but this year it’s overshadowed by CBC news broadcasts. The first bombs were dropped just hours before I got on the train to embark on the Milds of New Brunswick mini-tour. Under the circumstances, I was relieved I’d decided to go by train rather than air. In transit, there was no news and I liked that, a blissful silence, a let’s pretend world where I didn’t know what was going on. Through the night we travelled endless miles of snowy white flats, wet-iced streams and trees black-shadowed against a wasted grey sky.
We had a very attentive audience who enjoyed the reading and chatted with us afterwards. Next time you’re in Moncton, you really should check out Ed and Elaine’s store at 885 Main St. It’s one of the largest, friendliest, best organized, mostly used bookstores I’ve ever been in. Kathy drove us back to Fredericton that night. I tried to stay awake, to be an extra pair of eyes watching for moose on the road, but ended up passing out for a while.
Sunday we were off to St. Andrews, Canada’s oldest seaside resort, and the weather was nasty. We were barely out of Fredericton when it started to rain, then sleet, then snow, then rain torrentially, which it kept up for the rest of the day. I could see that St. Andrews would be a really lovely place in the summer and I’m sure their seasonal population is widely variable. We read at the Sunbury Shores Arts & Nature Centre as planned, but the rain made for a small audience. We then drove up to the Algonquin, a resort hotel privately built in 1889 and later purchased by CP rail. The exterior is Tudor-esque and castle-like; the interior was reputedly used by Stanley Kubrick in filming The Shining. The drive home was somewhat less treacherous, as it was only raining and still daylight. I was glad of a hot shower when we got back though.
where I had a few hours to wander around before boarding the train home. Once aboard, I found I was tired and retired to my single room early, opened the bed, turned out the light and watched small towns emerge from vast expanses of wilderness until I fell into restless sleep.