Dear Friends,
This is Letter #7 on my Substack, GOD & ELEMENTS. It’s the evening of Saint Valentine’s Day, but it’s also the Memorial of Saints Cyril, Monk, and Methodius, Bishop. For the honor and love of priests and martyrs from the 3rd and 9th centuries, I wanted to reflect on life.
In my last letter, I shared my AI‑generated, me‑reworked schedule for my dissertation‑writing month of February: 3K words/day Deep Writing Block, OMAD fasting, quiet mornings, two‑hour workout, family stuff, and containment blocks to keep up with my regular teaching and administrative duties. I’m happy to report that I am on track. I am only writing this letter because I hit 36,000 words this evening and have a minute.
My teens are at the Winter Formal. My husband is vying for a win at the Southwest Nationals, Desert Sharpshooters Rifle Club in Phoenix. I’ve grown bored watching their pulsating heads bob around on the Life360 app, so I thought I’d share my progress and profound insights from a self‑imposed month of stress.
Yes, I more or less kept to the schedule. A schedule is a two‑dimensional concept grid, not a rigid steel framework. It’s a reference point. I kept to the early Deep Writing Block for the first week, but as I expected, that block stretched to lunch and then the afternoon once I got into the writing. That meant I had to make up my work hours at night or the next morning. But that’s okay. I was keeping track in my mind and paying attention. A schedule gives me awareness.
It also adds to the stress when I don’t follow it. By week two I was quite behind on sleep, which starts a spiral. I expected that too. I have bounced back in the last two days. What happens when I write is that at times I am VERY frustrated, near panic, and letting a few un‑lady‑like words flow out of my mouth—and at other times, I break through and cannot stop until I get the thoughts written.
I cussed out Aristotle, and for that I am sorry. Parsing his work is about as fun as being pulled underwater by a cannonball. Every time I thought I might come up for air, I would get yanked back down into some abyss of this thing is a this…matter in which…primary substance…aliquid, alloiōsis, energeia, sōma, kinesis, eidos, hylē, meson, physis, dynamis, sterēsis, scientia, ousia, etcetera. One night, I walked into the kitchen, looked at my husband who was cooking dinner, made an I’m‑about‑to‑cry face, sucked it up, pivoted, and went back to my office. He knows.
Yes, I really did the OMAD fasting. This is so cool. As you probably noticed, we are not having family mealtime, and I absolutely have no mom guilt about that. The teens are unpredictable and pretty self‑sufficient. My husband loves to cook, so he makes sure food is there. We hang out for coffee; that is our together time. One thing he does to support me in all this is grill lots of chicken breast, make gallons (really, gallons) of fresh salsa, and throw dried beans in the Crock‑Pot for a steady supply. All I do for a high‑protein, high‑fiber meal is throw some of each in a bowl (with cheese) and warm it up. I also eat a smallish bowl of ice cream daily. I’m full and not thinking about food the rest of the time. On a few bad days, there were snacks, Oreos, to be precise, and again, I make no apologies. Mr. T also keeps lots of bottled water on hand, so I stay hydrated.
Yes, I really work out a couple of hours a day. I learned a few years ago that walking = happy. If I don’t have my walks, I am not okay. I put no other expectation on myself than to move during that time. (This, I now know, is called locomotion, but it’s not the only kind of motion because growing, changing, and even learning new things are also kinds of motion!) I can listen to whatever I want, think about whatever I want, and go wherever I want during that time. Mostly I am at the gym with my very tall (and very handsome) teenage son. He needs a ride, and I need to walk, so I’m content on the treadmill. I have hit my target of at least 10,000 steps every day. Also, he plays basketball, and I have been to all the games this month. These things bring me joy!
Yes, I’m doing this. I have two more weeks. The truth is, I am not going to completely FINISH a dissertation in a month, but I will be long over the activation‑energy hump that I need to conquer so that I am on the downside toward finishing. I chose this month to tackle this thing because I have no travel until mid‑March, after which I have four trips until May (Hungary, Ireland, Birmingham, AL for EWTN, and CT for work at Holy Apostles). In May, our youngest daughter graduates from high school, so I will be here all month for all the things. I want to have the dissertation done by August so I can spend a year preparing for the defense. I aim to finish the degree before I am age 59. I finished my Ph.D. in chemistry at 29. I taught high school for two years before going to graduate school, and I had two children, so it took a while. Now I have seven children and seven grandchildren. My life is not traditional, but I love it.
About five years ago, Mr. T and I were walking on a beach because a marriage therapist told us to (long story, another time). We each named our personal dreams. His was to compete in long‑range rifle shooting. He’s retired Special Forces and loves the physics of the sport. My dream was to pursue another doctorate, this time in philosophy. And, well, here we are. That’s why sitting here on Valentine’s Day alone and reflecting is perfect. He’s at a national competition shooting the 600‑yard and team matches. I’m halfway through that dissertation.
Also, if you must know, what I ponder when I wander on my long walks is how someday I’m going to wear my Mono, all‑black Doc Martens and be able to say I properly earned my pair of Docs. It’s really all about that: #LIFEGOALS.
God bless you,
It is good to have a relationship that pushes you into the right adventures!
“I cussed out Aristotle, and for that I am sorry. Parsing his work is about as fun as being pulled underwater by a cannonball.”
I have a feeling that generations (centuries?) of philosophy students would sympathize. 🤣