Dancing, Stray Cats, and an Apertif

I was recently asked to share my experience/advice/wisdom/stupidity/etc in finding a thesis topic with several bright-eyed-with-wonder, excited, first year masters students. Honestly, where do you start? How do you explain a process that developed gradually and really had very little to do with you?

My thesis topic evolved like a building of a Lego set. No way would I have chosen this topic. But, like the wisdom once shared with me on a campaign trail after several glasses of refreshment *cough - scotch - cough*, you don't choose a career, a career chooses you. Apparently, in my case, my thesis chose me, kind of like a stray cat that will not leave your back porch in the middle of the night but instead yowls into the wee hours of the morning until you drag your sorry butt out of bed and toss it a can of tuna... but you only open it half way in silent protest before stumbling over a book bag, three pairs of stillettos, and a bunched floor throw your own cat created in its quest to play I Gotcha! with his furry blue mouse at 2 am while snickering at the stray out back.

My process for discovery of said thesis really began with things I noticed. I noticed stuff that I wasn't really all that fond of, like a church that hired an armed off duty police officer to keep the poor away and how the world beat up disaster response ministers so badly that they themselves became victims of their own ministry. This stuff ticked me off and our collective response to both was, "oh well. We'll just forget them or give them a little respite and it will all be okay." No, it's not going to be ok. Not without a lot of other stuff happening. But it is a lot easier to sweep things under the rug, isn't it?

The problem is that when you sweep things under the rug, your cat, in an effort to play hide-the-mouse, kicks up all that dirt and dust. And before you know it, you're covered in it while wearing white with 40 people on their way to enjoy an aperitif or two and your stunning comestibles.

I decided that I could research and reason and wonder and growl and throw shoes and all the rest to make sense of what I saw. Or, I could be sensible and ask God. So, I prayed. God eventually revealed to me a vision that, over time, I am confident will become a revelation worthy of an 85-100 page thesis. Research, rhetoric, writing, etc helped me to make sense of this idea and before long, I had a topic.

Two other colleagues spoke on their experiences of topic selection. One beautiful soul entered into her coursework determined to write on the prophets only to discover that she had a love affair with a woman who pleads with a king. Another soul had some powerful experiences in his life that has led him to seek answers to questions about why and how. Both were seemingly driven anthropologically, one by heart, one by head, both valid in their approach.

In my case, I have done enough stuff for me over the years. I truly want my work to be for someone else. So I opened my heart and my head to God, trusted in the divine, and laid my tired and frightened head upon his lap to listen. Of course, being an exhausted grad student, I fell asleep. But when I awoke! it was clear and I was to use both my heart and my head to care for the task I was given.

The spiritual disciplines, in the words of Richard Foster, are "liberation from the stifling slavery to self interest and fear. When the inner spirit is liberated from all that weighs it down, it can hardly be described as dull drudgery. Singing, dancing, even shouting characterize the Disciplines of the spiritual life." Dance I will. And as deep calls to deep (and in the words of my departed grandmother), I shall let the words flooooooow!