Beetroot/Cabbage Coconut Sabji (South Indian food)

I’m in Delhi now (staying at a place where a cook comes daily) and am trying to take advantage of this to learn more about Indian cooking.

This is Ghomti. She is an amazing cook, a patient teacher, and has one of the best laughs I have heard in quite some time.

Here is a very simple and very delicious recipe that Ghomti (above) taught me.

You will need:
- beetroot or cabbage (grated) [the pictures show the cabbage but I prefer the beetroot taste]
- mustard seeds
- curry leaves (optional)
- oil
- salt
- grated coconut (sweetened or unsweetened are equally fine)
- 2 green chillis
- yellow lentils / split peas

Heat up some oil in the pan and add about 1 or 2 tsp of mustard seeds, and the sliced chilli. 

Add the yellow lentils (uncooked) to the mixture and let it cook for 2 or 3 minutes on high heat. The lentils should soften somewhat by this procedure. 

We took these curry leaves from our balcony...but maybe you could find some at a specific store?

Then add the curry leaves (removing stems) and the grated beet root. Curry leaves not only give a good flavour but they are also filled with vitamins. (Apparently particularly great for hair and nails!) Mix it around until the beet root has softened to taste.

At the very end, add the grated coconut (don’t add it too early or you will lose its beautiful taste) and stir it all together. (Note: proportionately, I would guess that you should have about 5+ times more beet root than coconut.) 

Add salt to taste and serve warm with fresh rotis (It would probably also be quite good as a cold salad...but we didn't have any left overs so I don't know!) 

Processing Sufferings and Creating Joy, Peace, and Love

Recently I left my "jungle ashram" and went with a lady who used to be affiliated with the ashram as its manager.

Evening service at the ashram

She invited me to go to Faridpur with her and to join her in some outreach project which happened in nearby villages., and I thought doing so would offer an interesting perspective. So we went.

For the most part, we were going to villages and talking about sanitary pads and menstruation and feminine hygiene.

A group of about 40 women (aged 17-35) gathered to learn about sanitary pads

I also sat in on some sewing classes for village girls, learned some stuff about village agricultural farming, and I saw the local hospital and how things are done there. It was an enlightening experience all around. I'm so very glad I went :).

Piles of black peppercorn being left out to dry before selling

Two village women cutting rice crops

But also at the hospital I saw a woman who died shortly after she left our premises. And because I'm this delicate mix of being simultaneously overly-sensitive and strangely-stoic, I now have all these feelings that I've been shoving down my throat and keeping them unprocessed.

I suppose I thought writing this out might help me process them; thanks for reading my processings.

She was a young girl, newly married, probably in her early twenties. She arrived at our hospital being carried in like a sack of potatoes because she was totally immobile; her pulse was 150 beats per minute, which is outrageously high. We gradually learned she had consumed poison, though her husband (the one carrying her) was not very helpful in giving such information upfront. She was mostly unresponsive; the poison having already gotten to her brain.

As time went on, and as I listened to the doctors and staff discuss, it became clear to me that there was a good chance her mother in law had poisoned her. Either that or she had drank the poison herself because she no longer wanted to live this life. Locals said it was probably kerosene that she consumed, or maybe some kind of pesticide. The doctors weren't sure.

Some of the girls from surrounding villages who came to take sewing classes
offered by the mission hospital's outreach programs.

Our tiny mission hospital didn't have the facilities for her so we had to refer her out, to a town hospital which had a poison specialist (because such things are so common here.) The husband loaded her onto a motorbike that our hospital had on hand, he sat behind her, and our driver sat at the front. The woman was plopped onto the bike, sandwiched between them, and her husband held her body to keep it upright as they drove off.

She died en route; we were notified of this later that evening.

In the days that followed (and even the days leading up to it, in a sort of eerily strange foreshadowing) I heard a number of stories about young women--especially newly married wives--who either killed themselves or who were killed by their husbands or mother in laws. The reasons for murder ranged: she wasn't pretty enough, she wasn't working hard enough, she didn't get pregnant fast enough, the dowry wasn't big enough...etc. The reasons for suicide were similiar: afterall, it is difficult to find value, beauty, or joy in life when these are the kinds of things being told to you about yourself.

I do not know how to process the reality of a world in which one individual decides that such reasons are enough to poison someone, or to douse them in kerosene and then burn them to death.

How can this world be the same one that I live in? How can my reality be so different than the realities of others? How can this be the world we live in?

I wonder if I could find any reason to live if that were my life. I'm not sure that I could. I'd like to think that I'd change my scenario--I'd leave my husband, or I'd leave my in-laws........but what if I had no where else to go? What if I had no other options? What if even my parents didn't want me to return, or perhaps never even wanted me to be born in the first place since I'm a village girl and would only be a financial burden to them? What if the thought of taking care of myself and prioritising my own needs/wants never even crossed my mind?

......For my own part (and I realise that my perspective is limited), I feel that the subconscious minds of many village girls are trained from a young age to never even contemplate such thoughts. Certainly not all..but it seems that many are.

I don't even know her name. I'm not sure our mission hospital even recorded it; I think we discharged her without a record that she even came--we hadn't bothered registering her as her husband carried her in because we rushed her to our unused hospital ward where she could lay down on a bed as the doctor monitored her. We still don't know if it was a murder or a suicide; but since she is so newly married the police will likely investigate it as if it were a murder.

And, in all my bewilderment and sadness/confusion, I find myself wondering if she ever regretted having consumed poison or if she ever wished she hadn't. I don't know if, in even those final moments of life, she felt convinced that it would be better to be dead than be alive. I don't know.

I don't know that I know how to provoke any positive change in this particular phenomenon. I wouldn't even know where to start. I feel so overwhelmed and helpless and hopeless sometimes. But what I know is this: we all need to strive to transform our world into one in which all individuals experience joy, peace, and love. And I think we can, we must, each do this--- at least on some micro-level! That is all I know.

Today, may you experience joy, peace, and love. 

And may you share it with others.

(As always, feel free to comment below or to PM me. I would really love to hear from you.)

Searching for God [and 3G signals]

Namaste all:

For those of you who have been spared my woeful tales of killing 9 foot python cobras, of taking cold bucket showers, of sweeping palm-sized spiders out of my bedroom, etc. … I’m living in an Indian jungle at the moment(residing at an ashram.)I’ve been here for just under one month now and this is the first time I’m getting internet access on a computer. Pardon any errors of formatting etc..

And in essence, being at this ashram is about being on a search.


There are many ways that it is a search.

Inarguably I am near-constantly searching for ways to make sense of what I experience here so that it can become palpable “data” that I use for the ever-looming task of writing my PhD dissertation. (But this blog is not, will not!!, be about that!) Other times I search for the right word to express myself in Hindi… and sometimes I search for my “torch” (flashlight, for all you non-Indians and non-Brits)so that I can navigate my way back to my room without being bothered by (note: bothering) any of the quasi-dangerous wildlife here.

And, I readily admit, frequently I search for a network reception signal for my mobile so that I can try to feel connected to the world outside of this ashram—and to the people outside of it whom I love and miss. (“I lift my phone up to the mountains, where does my signal come from” is my personal new adapted version of that one bible verse in Isaiah…)

Importantly, I also(I think) search for God—though I feel that the meaning of this statement changes for me on a near-daily basis (if not more often than that.)



There is a sign at this ashram that says that anyone (well, it actually says any “man” but I will give it the benefit of the doubt) who genuinely wants to find God is welcome here—whether he be of the Christian faith, of a different faith, or of no faith. Currently, all of the people who have come to the ashram for this thirty-day program identify with the Christian faith (though some are new converts, all with their own background stories and reasons for beginning to ‘follow Jesus,’ as is said here).

In spite of (some) language barriers and many cultural/worldview barriers, I am trying to find ways to connect meaningfully with the people who are here. Because what are we doing with our lives if not connecting meaningfully to the people who we eat and drink with, and whom we live beside? I am being challenged in a number of different ways in this regard—not the least because, though I certainly crave meaningful interaction, I can sometimes have a tendency to close myself off to people.

This tendency, among with other sort of ‘knee-jerk reactions’ that I have,  has been something I’ve been able to explore in quiet times of meditation, etc. I’m not going to go into further detail at this point in time, but it is a process that I am working through. And I think this sort of self-reflective processing is a good thing to do—whether that be through individual meditation or through another means.

I wonder what we as individuals and our societies more broadly would be like if we each took time to contemplate and reflect upon not only WHO we are or HOW we act, but WHY we are that way—and also whether we think that these traits are admirable. I have found that most of my social/work circles over the years of not placed nearly enough value on this practice. It’s something I hope to incorporate more and more into my life.  I’m currently pretty bad at “quieting/focusing my mind” to contemplate certain things without my mind wandering to other thoughts, but they say it is something that will improve with time…

As always, I welcome your thoughts in the comments below or by message. Many thanks to those of you who have PMedme over these last few weeks; I love hearing from you! 

Also, here's a photo of monkeys.

In the theme of both being in India and being on a search, I will finish this with a “bhajan” (devotional hymn) that I wrote during my first few days at this ashram. The English translation is at the bottom.

Mere aankhe kholo,
mera dil kholo.
To mai tujhko dekh sakhoo.
Meri aatma pyaasi hai.

Kya mai tera liye pyaasi hun?
Kahan jaao tujhse milne ke liye?
Meri aatma bahut pyaasi hai.

Duniya ka dhundt ki piche me, tere aatma hai.
Mai dhoondt rahi hun.
Tho pani do.

Jaldi se aa
ya dire se aa.
Subaha ko aa
ya sham ko aa.
Jaisa tu chahe.
Par meri aatma pyaasi hai.

Bhajo naam, bhajo naam, bhajo naam…
Mai tera naam bhaj rahi hun
aur usme kho jaa rahi hun.

Sab meri bhakti tere liye hai.
Mere aankhe tujhe dhoondti hai,
Mera dil bhi tujhe dhoondta hai.
Mera man aur meri aatma bhi tujhe dhoondte hain.

Meri paasaa.
Mai pyaasi hun.

Open my eyes,
open my heart.
So that I can see you.
My soul is thirsty.

Is it you I thirst for?
Where must I go to meet with you?
My soul is very thirsty.

Your face hides behind the mist
of this world.
And I am searching,
so give me water.

Come quickly
or come slowly.
Come in the morning
or in the evening:
Let it be whichever you wish
but my soul is thirsty.

Sing the name, sing the name, sing the name.
I am singing your name
and losing myself in it.

All of my devotion is toward you.
My eyes search for you.
My heart searches for you.
My mind and my soul also search for you.

Come near me.
I am thirsty.

Global Horrors and Good People

Summary: There are some really shitty, discouraging things that happen in our world. I wonder whether there is something that we might to do not only remain afloat but to make a change. I suspect that a lot of this comes from small, intentional acts of love.

Last week in Krakow, Poland I visited the Auschwitz Memorial/Museum. 

"arbeit macht frei" ["work sets you free"]

It was a deeply emotional experience for me which was of course, in many ways, expected. (As a friend pointed out to me, it would be sociopathic to be reminded/confronted with such a deep form of mass suffering and not feel emotionally moved.) But it also provoked some unexpected thoughts. One such thought was realising that what scares me the most about global horrors like the WW2 Holocaust is not actually the people like Hitler (…or, in different geo/cultural contexts: Joseph Kony, or Trump, or Mugabe, or countless others…) who spew hatred and encourage discrimination and call people to violence. 

place where night guard sat watch over the camp

To be sure, Hitler spewed hatred and is often attributed with the violence that ensued during the reign of Nazi Germany .  But it’s also the people who stood behind him, or around him—the people who couldn’t be bothered to stand in his way—which allowed the many horrors to take place. And it’s the societies which formed the structures that allowed him to stand up strong and high—rather than collectively deciding he ought to be blocked, or toppled over—which seem equally horrific. 

This really scares me.

I don’t know anyone (myself certainly included here) who is consistently kind and compassionate without any faults or shortcomings: we’re all human and we make mistakes and have moments where we are mean or unkind or disinterested. And this is probably okay and should certainly be expected.  But this becomes scary when either (a) individuals become more driven by cruelty and selfishness than by kindness and selflessness; or (b) societies/groups of individuals choose to sit back and let cruelties happen around them. 

barbed wire walls around the camp

There are always good people—throughout corners of our world—who stand up and do whatever is in their power to put an end to the horrors they see unfolding around them. There are always good people; I am convinced of this. There are a number of times I have witnessed or experienced complete strangers stand up and do something thoughtful/loving for someone who was being wronged. These experiences are life-giving. 

The Auschwitz memorial museum wrote out the story of a man who offered his life for another prisoner who had been sentenced to death. It told of the number of individuals who risked (and sometimes lost) their lives and their family’s lives in order to feed/house/protect a neighbour, a friend, or even a stranger. Many did intentional acts of goodness even if this came at a cost to their own well being. Jesus was like this. Gandhi...Aung San Suu Kyi…. Mother Theresa… Nelson Mandela…. Malala….  The nameless woman who I saw the other week helping a homeless man… People who stand in active solidarity with the marginalised or oppressed-----there are plenty such people—of all ages, and from all cultural/religious backgrounds. 

one of many photos of individuals who perished at the camps;
I find this photo of this gentleman to be particularly striking.

And yet in this very same breath it can sometimes seem so easy to be overwhelmed by the horror and the cruelty of humans—both on a global and local scale. The state of our world really does break me sometimes. And in these moments it becomes difficult to focus on (and cultivate, and contribute to) the people who do loving things.

I need to remind myself—probably every day—that love is ultimately stronger than cruelty.

And there are PLENTY of opportunities in our current-day affairs to respond with kindness, goodness, love, etc. (And, perhaps we even ought to take a rather strong stand against people or systems that we think go against these values.) Unfortunately, we don’t have to look far to see injustices—some are already in full swing; some are piling up like a dam about to burst. If you open a newspaper, turn on the TV channel, or even just walk around your city, you will see it. Cruelty abounds. It’s cancerous and pervasive and sometimes it seems to be contagious. 

But, as overwhelming and all-consuming that such cruelties may seem, love is ultimately stronger. It is; it absolutely is. And we have always known that love is stronger; we have always believed it and held to this with conviction. That is why some wars could never be won even when battles were finished; love had simultaneously nullified and transcended them. 

Cemetery attached to the Old Synagogue in Krakow;
Jews partake in the mitzvah (command) of commemorating the deceased
by placing a stone at the burial site

I think that, if we wish to act lovingly and compassionately, we must take a serious look at the circles we inhabit—our neighbourhoods, our workplaces, our countries, our online communities, other spheres of influence, etc.—and see if there are small or large injustices or cruelties that we might take a stand against. And/or, we might see if there are ways that we can bring love, compassion, joy, hope, grace, etc. into the lives of those who need it. (Which is probably all of us.)

outer wall of the Jewish cemetery attached to the Old Synagogue in Krakow

I quite like this quote by Gandhi—he refers to it as his ‘talisman’—I’ll end with it:

" Whenever you are in doubt, or when the self becomes too much with you, apply the following test. Recall the face of the poorest and the weakest man [woman] whom you may have seen, and ask yourself, if the step you contemplate is going to be of any use to him [her]. Will he [she] gain anything by it? Will it restore him [her] to a control over his [her] own life and destiny? In other words, will it lead to swaraj [freedom] for the hungry and spiritually starving millions?
- Source: Mahatma Gandhi [Last Phase, Vol. II (1958), P. 65]

p.s. This is a beautiful song about love and forgiveness, written by my friend Karis Taylor.

Goals and Prioritising + and Living Meaningfully

What are your goals for this next 12 months? (Is that a question you ever ask yourself?)

It’s a question I ask myself a lot—in various forms/time-lines. In fact, I am willing to entertain the possibility that I just may be too Type-A/task-driven ;).   I make goals for what I want to do on that particular day (or in that particular 50-minute period) and I usually also have a ~7 day, ~3 month, ~12 month, and ~3 year list of to-dos/goals either pinned to my bulletin board or just floating around somewhere in my mind. I feel immensely more calm when I have some sort of plan—preferably written out in a spreadsheet with colour-coding and hyperlinks J. I really like having a sense of where I might head, even if past experience has shown me that that almost always changes.

Now, I’m about to go to India for approximately one year of fieldwork (focused on interreligious relations and based at an ashram.) And, now knowing this ^ about my goal-orientedness, you can appreciate my feelings of chaos when the ashram estate manager informed me “you can come and stay for 2-3 months, but after that let’s see.” I felt like I was treading water and a big wave splashed me in the face; I gasped and choked a little bit.

At present, I plan to be in India for ~11 months. How was I to cope with this “stay for 2-3 months and then we’ll see”? If I wasn’t going to remain at that place, I wanted to at least write down on a piece of colour-coded paper where I thought I’d be for the remaining months.

And so, my type-A brain is doing the next-best thing. I am planning not WHERE I want to be for the next 12 months, but WHO I want to be. Another way of conceptualising this has been: what do I want to get out of the next 12 months? Yet another way has been: what do I want to focus my energy on and contribute to during the next 12 months?


Who do you want to be (or, perhaps, to become) in the next 12 months? (Is that a question you ever ask yourself?)



I continue to ask these sorts of questions while preparing to head to India because, over my multiple trips to India in the past ~4 years, India has become a place where I have allowed myself to explore these questions in a very real way. Of course, I pose them in other places too, but I seem to pose them especially whilst out of my "regular" routine--and a lot of this has happened to be in India.

Evening aarti on the Ganges river in Varanasi

I think these are important questions to think through. (And so I’ve made a list and colour coded them.) Just kidding. Or am I?

Here are some of the things I want to spend my time doing. (And yes, I note they are still in the form of a to-do list. You can’t completely strip me of my organisational tendencies..)

- learn Hindi
- try to play an Indian classical instrument. Maybe the sarod.
- be happy
- be involved in the community I find myself in
- gather enough data to write a good PhD thesis
- don't become consumed by getting enough data to write a good PhD thesis
- sketch and draw
- meditate lots
- learn to record good audio (my own songs? Bhakti bhajans?)
- become better at video shooting and editing; make short videos about life in the ashram and life in india
- live simply and sustainably (maybe get involved with some community-kitchen projects, or agriculture)
- appreciate small things; say ‘thank you’ more often
- become less judgmental and more compassionate
- learn local ways of doing things (sewing? agriculture? cooking?) that I do not currently know
- learn what people outside of academia think about God/religion/interreligious relations
- practice communicating my thoughts on ^ for people inside and outside of academia
- spend time outdoors; go hiking
- write poetry
- find creative ways to enter [non-academic] discussions about what it means to live meaningfully
- learn more about who/what God is

Sunshine in Croatia

Of course I do realise that some of these are a bit more ambiguous than others are…

Broadly speaking, I find that, all too readily, I become stressed out about planning details and striving for goals that—in the grand scheme of things—don’t really matter all that much. For example, writing my PhD thesis: this is a good and admirable goal, and I intend to focus on content that I think is important for a number of reasons…but as soon as this particular goal takes over my ability to be a loving friend/family member, a kind neighbour, or a compassionate stranger, I think I have to seriously question whether I have my priorities straight.

This is difficult because, for the most part, we live in societies that are career/results-driven. At least in my experience, careers (and steps towards improving our careers) are the one thing that people are almost bound to congratulate others on.

I had a sort-of “aha!” moment in this regard when I was accepted for my PhD. Around the same time, a friend of mine (who is extremely intelligent and could certainly have gone on to do a PhD had she wanted to) decided to take a short-term contract position. At this same time, she also chose to put off any imminent plan of doing a PhD so that she and her husband could start their family without worrying about PhD stresses. People congratulated me on my PhD. And people congratulated her on her contract work. But a number of people asked her why she wasn’t doing a PhD, and I think very few (if any) congratulated her on her decision to devote her time and energy to her future-kids, to her marriage, and to all the other ways she was now able to volunteer within her community.  Why is this?

Why is it that we automatically congratulate and praise things associated with “measurable intelligence” and (presumably) pay-checks, but we rarely think to congratulate or praise people who have chosen to live in a way that leaves a small carbon footprint, or who grow their own vegetables, or who volunteer at the soup kitchen, or who do any number of other things that are inarguable examples of love for their community around them and/or for the world in which we live.

Rocks and rivers in Vancouver, Canada

Priorities change with opportunities, and this is inexorably wrapped up in priviledge. I recognise that, and I recognise that I'm not addressing that here. But, with the opportunities (and yes, the priviledges and Priviledge) that I have, I think I must seriously question whether I am using my time, energies, and passion well. Am I choosing to live in ways that grow me into a more loving and compassionate person? Am I choosing things that make me happy---and doing so in a way that does not abuse or hurt others--rather than choosing things that make me (in the eyes of some) "successful"? What might our world look like if we all strived to become more focused on love, compassion, and service to others rather than on success, prestige, and wealth? (I've written out some thoughts on a related topic here)

All this to say, I want to keep my priorities in check. And I want to be someone whose schedule and goals reflects their theoretical priorities. And I want to be someone who tries to praise and encourage others who engage in intentional acts of loving kindness. How about you, who/what do you want to be? As always, feel free to comment below or PM me. 

5 Things That Teaching Has Taught Me

5 Things That Teaching Has Taught Me

This summer I have been teaching a creative writing course to high school students, 6 days a week. I'm pretty passionate about what I do, and it's no exaggeration (despite being horribly cliche) to say that I am pouring my heart and soul into it. It's exhausting and I love it.That being said, here are some things I am learning as I teach.

1. Sometimes the best learning happens when I stop teaching.

Even before going into this month of teaching, I was of the philosophy that a big part of teaching was not simply lecturing or giving information, but actively creating an environment in which students were able to explore new things in creative ways. This mandates that the atmosphere be both comfortable and challenging; it’s an interesting balance to strike.
This being said, as I entered the classroom I found a temptation to continue to give more and more information. To lecture. To instruct. To guide. To (re)direct and (re)adjust). To a certain extent, this is fine—students need to receive knowledge and guidance. But it is easy to go overboard on this, and to never allow space for students to explore through independent learning or group discussion. Some of the best moments of learning happened when I was not directly involved. This is a humbling recognition.

2. I am a micro-manager, a mother-hen, and a hand-holder. This isn't inherently a bad thing...but these tendencies do not (always) do justice to the intelligent and creative minds on the receiving end of this.

Those of you who know me well are probably smiling at the fact that I think this even merits any mention, as if it is new information that I am a control freak. (Okay, so I’ve always known that I’ve been this way..) but I did not realise the extent to which I was this way. I had to make conscious efforts to step back and let my students do things in a way that I KNEW was not the most efficient, or the most brilliant, or the most sensical. They learned through doing, through making mistakes, and through trying again—and this is an important process. After all, isn’t that how I’ve learned some of my most important lessons? I had to be very conscientious of this, and to let myself step back and let them explore and try things out on their own. I’m glad to be aware of this now—better late than never.

3. Organisations are bureaucratic and sometimes suck. It is important to remember, and focus on, those students whose lives might very well be changed by their interaction with their teacher.

I am doing this job for the experience of interacting with students—not for the money nor for the CV line (though both of those things are nice perks.) It can be difficult to remember that I am doing this for the students when other bureaucratic things get in the way of this. I have had, in the (I think) most literal of sense, life-changing and life-saving teachers throughout my MANY years as a student. Some of those teachers probably didn’t even realise the influence they had on me; they were just plain old great, passionate teachers and happened to have a student (probably more!) who needed such a teacher in their life at that time. I want to be one of those teachers. Seeing one of my students smile as they quietly read my feedback on one of their drafts is the best feeling. If I can make students smile, and help show them both how they are /their work is impressive and valuable and important AND how their writing can be improved...well then I think I'm doing alright. This should be what I focus on.

4. Thirteen year olds have a lot of feelings; they are still so new to the world and only beginning to grapple with failure, with being indignant, with disappointment, with cruelty. Their versions (and degrees) of each of these things take up their entire capacity for these feelings, no matter how small their particular 13-year-old vessel is. Don’t belittle it. Don’t dismiss it. And don’t wish it away. If you can, help them to wade through it.

I’m teaching creative writing. My students write poetry and they are thirteen years old…I don’t think much more needs to be said about that in terms of the angst-ridden content that is all too readily produced. I’m learning to meet them where they are at, and to share in that part of their life—and maybe even to speak into it, if the moment strikes!

5.  Everyone has a story that is waiting to be shared and that will be interesting when told by someone who trusts their listener. Learn to be that listener, and learn to show you are such a listener. And, learn to trust others when sharing your own story.

I am, among other things, a poet and song-writer. My knees still buckle when I read my poems or play my songs to my thirteen year old students. “Will they like it?,” I wonder. “Will they laugh at me behind my back after class?” (These are real thoughts I have…I am more than twice their age; how is this a genuine concern of mine?!?! And yet it is.) Sharing parts of ourselves is a scary thing—especially so, I think, when it involves both our own story and our creative spin of it. But I think that, through demonstrating vulnerability, we can create an environment where others are also more free to be vulnerable. And I suspect this is overall a positive thing. 

-------

So, what'd I miss? What have you learned this month? Or what have you learned when in the role of teaching? I welcome your thoughts and comments!

Living in Academia's Ivory Tower and 'Filling the Gap'

A major preoccupation of academics is finding and filling a “gap in the literature.” These “gaps” can be quite elusive and difficult to find but, so we’re told, finding them and filling them is an important contribution to our field/s of study, and to academia in general. Especially as graduate students, we are told to make sure we write about something that hasn’t been written about before, or do something that hasn’t been done before, if we want to make a splash and have ourselves and our work be noticed by the Big Fish in academia.  

And yet—in the same breath—we are cautioned to not do something too wild or too unfamiliar. Afterall, ‘who do we think we are?’ We have to make sure we simultaneously secure our work comfortably in the protective arms of a successful academic’s theories and ideas while saying something new. 

I imagine this balancing act to be something like this:

But, a pretty important question that should be asked is why it matters to follow this model of scholarship. What is worthwhile about it? Of course, we can’t sustain a model of academia in which no one contributes (in the broadest possible sense of the word) anything new to the existing bodies of work, but why is it that so much emphasis has been placed on finding and filling a content gap?

In some fields this makes sense: i.e. in Medicine: “Thus far, people have found cures/ effective treatments for laryngitis, smallpox, and polio, but no one has yet found a cure/effective treatment for tuberculosis; my research seeks to find that.” You can imagine Robert Koch, the German physician and scientist who in 1882 discovered the bacteria that causes tuberculosis, proposing something like this in a thesis proposal or grant application. Alright, it seems legitimate. Good job and finding and filling a content gap, Dr. Koch!

Dr. Robert Koch keeping it cool; yanked from Wikipedia Images

But this same model of academia is slightly less straightforward in other disciplines. I feel I have a right to pick on anthropology of religion because that is my own field. I wrote my master’s thesis on Protestant Charismatic Christian practices of spiritual healing in a Canadian (Ottawa, to be specific) context. It was a small-scale ethnographic study that drew from a tiny sample. In justifying its validity as a research topic, I argued something like this: “there are studies of spiritual healing in non-Western countries, and in non-Christian religions, okay and there’s also one of a Catholic Charismatic Christian community in the USA…but no one has written about the phenomenon in a Canadian, Protestant context! I’ll write about that!”

Gap = found and filled.

…But to what end? And for what point? 

Don’t get me wrong. I think there’s value in studying a variety of topics, even the ones that don’t contribute to the cure of tuberculosis. As a cultural anthropologist, I believe that learning more about the diversity of human thought and behaviour (both past and present) is extremely valuable. And as an (aspiring) advocate and activist, I think it’s important to bring underrepresented and marginalised experiences/stories/voices into broader conversations—to know that not everyone thinks/believes the same things we do, and that even within a religious community like “Canadian Protestants” there’s a lot of diversity of beliefs. Being reminded of these beliefs and learning more about the details of them can, I think, help us to reduce prejudice and hatred for people who believe/think/act differently than we do.  This hope is a significant motivating factor behind my scholarly pursuits.

But, realistically, did my writing an academic dissertation about this accomplish the very thing that motivated me to write it? Let’s see.
□ Learn about the diversity of human thought and behaviour?
Check.
□ Bring underrepresented and marginalised experiences into broader [scholarly] conversations?
Check.
□ Help reduce people’s prejudice and hatred for people who believe/think/act differently.
....I’m personally not so sure about that last one, and here’s why:

Let’s consider my master’s thesis, which I successfully defended in June 2015.

 

Even though I wrote its opening pages in a narrative voice that read like fiction, and even though I tried to keep academic jargon to a minimum throughout it, at ~60,000 words and tonnes of footnotes and references, it isn’t exactly a cake-walk. And, because of the expectations of academic theses, I had to include a full-scale literature review and methods/theory section, both of which can be quite boring to read through for a specialist in your field, let alone someone outside of that.

Although it’s by no means a hard and fast rule, there is a tendency within specialised academic writing to spiral deeper and deeper into a hole of intimidating jargon and confusing ideas, wherein what once started off as interesting and intelligent transforms into a boring beast.

Or, as one of my professors at the University of Ottawa used to say: “you know that story where that guy can turn whatever he wants into gold? So theoretically you could take a big shit and then turn it into gold? Well academics already have the gold, but they somehow have found a way to make everything they touch turn to shit.”

Here’s how I sometimes picture this going.

(Okay, so I’m being a bit facetious and don’t really think this graph is always true, but you get my point.)

I wonder if all the thought and time I put into my thesis topic would have been better served if I had done something else with the material. Something other than an academic dissertation. Because, really, who even read the thing? My supervisor, bless her soul, read my full thesis--and more than once! My two evaluators read it. My graduate director read it and, in a surprising turn of events, the secretary of my faculty read it. It’s on academia.edu and other similar academic sites, and some colleagues have downloaded it and probably read bits and pieces of it. Although I gave a copy of it to all of my research participants, most of them admitted to only skimming the first few pages before deciding to just read the two-page summary that I wrote especially for them. So, other than my adoring parents, I wonder if it has been read by anyone outside of the academy. I would guess not...which feels like a shame, because I think that (at least some of!) the ideas within it have potential to promote positive change. (Also, the federal government funded my studies, which is a whole other thing to consider..!)

I think academics need to focus on finding and filling a different gap. Not simply a content-based gap, but the more general gap between ivory tower thoughts and the world outside of the ivory tower. Some people advocate for leaving academia's Ivory Tower and this blog has some interesting posts on that if you want to check the out! And this blog tries to demystify the Ivory Tower and reclaim the term in a positive sense. 

And yet, academia has arguably retained some pretty smart minds (you can debate me on this if you want); and a significant part of an academic’s job is literally to think, to learn, and to teach. This is an amazing privilege for each individual, and it could be a great contribution to others—both inside and outside of academia. But a lot of this potential is lost if only other academics are affected by (or included in) academic pursuits.

Let me break this down.

Out of the 7.125 billion people in the world, roughly 6.16 million are academics. That’s roughly 0.8% of the world.

Now, out of that 0.8%, how many do you suppose are in ANY of your overlapping fields? *Gulp*. Now, out of that ridiculously small number, how many do you suppose have gotten around to reading your particular work? *Double gulp.*

I estimate that roughly 8 (eight) people read my master’s thesis from cover to cover. (Did I mention there are 7.125 billion people in the world? ....8.) 

I don't know about you, but I don't feel so great. 

Don’t get me wrong. This is NOT a post to make you feel like your work is meaningless and worthless and has no point. Far from it. I really, really do believe that academic inquiry is important and valuable. I couldn’t keep at it otherwise.

But I’m not convinced that our work is having the impact that it could have if the academy broadened its definition of what counts as a “contribution” and what constitutes as “filling a gap.” We need to not just focus on filling and finding a gap in terms of content that has been covered, but we need to find creative and innovative ways to fill the gap that exists between academia and the world outside of the ivory tower. This effort to connect with the world outside of academia should be celebrated as a positive contribution. 

Some academics like Craig Calhoun at LSE are calling academia out on its focus on specialised publications:

It is a great error for universities to prize publications over scholarship, teaching, and really original research. https://t.co/rsdapTs9hX

— Craig Calhoun (@craigjcalhoun) January 1, 2016

Others are trying to re-imagine the dissertation itself:

Sandra den Otter makes the case for reimagining the diss to include publicly engaged scholarship. #FutureHumanities pic.twitter.com/0EjfYatPqX

— Josh Lambier (@JoshuaLambier) May 18, 2016

Other conference-like events are bringing together academics and artists and trying to increase public engagement. 

Excited to hear Dr. Tim Eatman from @ImaginingAmer speak on "Publicly Engaged Scholarship: The Power of Imagining" #foodinsecurity

— K-StateRes&Extension (@KStateResExt) April 4, 2016

In the interest of keeping this post from becoming dissertation-length, I'll cut myself off here. What are your thoughts about this model of academic contributions? Does it gain anything? Lose anything? How do you think publicly-engaged scholarship can be practically achieved? Feel free to comment below or to PM me.