I sent some emails out yesterday to inquire from some of my Master of Arts in English professors (I earned the M.A. ‘way back in 2006) about the possibility of getting a Ph.D. in English in one year or less. I don’t want to slog through a multi-year exercise in endurance that seems to benefit the school as much as the student or, worse, begins to box in the intellect to a formalized and other-approved literary model! The responses were kind and, while not unexpected, caused me to stop and reevaluate, as well as meditate upon, the continued pursuit of another set of initials after my name. I already have a J.D. and a M.A. - do I need more? The upshot was it could take many years – five, six, or more – to earn the Ph.D. and there are no accredited online courses or low-residency accredited universities that have the Ph.D. program.
So, as is my usual ruminative behavior, I pondered it at length. I could go to UC Davis (about a 2.5 hour drive away which has a ‘five year’ expected timeframe for a Ph.D. even with a M.A.) but as I read the guidelines it confirmed the niggling thoughts that such an exercise is really an avoidance from doing what I love: reading and creative writing. It struck me, too, as another exercise in bureaucracy: do this, in this order, follow the rules, kiss the appropriate number of derrieres, and, ‘if we deem thee worthy, oh acolyte, we may bestow upon thee, thine degree…if we want to.’
The M.A. was bliss as it was ten classes of literature from a graduate perspective. It provided depth and insight – and a true love of the literature – beyond a level I did not know existed. I could argue that the Ph.D. would be equally educational and fulfilling and it may well be. But the troubling thought is that it would be like Julia Cameron’s ‘shadow artist’ in that I would be dabbling at the boundaries of literature and studying it rather than diving in myself. Again, the M.A. opened the door…and my gut feeling is that while the Ph.D. would certainly enhance my expertise in literature, it appears to be an eddy or a diversion from the flow of where I want to go and what I want to be.
Either way will create a path-not-taken: the pursuit would be an intellectual challenge (and cost quite a few $$) and engender a feeling of completion, a goal realized. However, the other path may be even more exhilarating as my innate creativity will take the forefront rather than the formalized study. The back and forth continues: the pursuit will open up ideas and concepts I have not been exposed to and enhance my literary love. On the other hand, the path of fully-engaging in my writing (and taking due advantage of what I have learned academically and in life) is the deep end of the pool and that is where the adventure lies.
Ahhhh, I seem to have arrived at the answer to my dilemma: I honor those who have the doctorate in literature and I count them as dear friends…but my destiny lies in writing now, in traveling now, in creating, now. I think of my favorite authors and poets and I find that, with rare exception, all were engaged in gritty living, observing, and writing…and not in the halls of academia deconstructing the works of others. Jack London, W. Somerset Maugham, Oscar Wilde, Dumas, Flaubert, Twain, Hemingway, Faulkner, Melville, Hesse, Stevenson, and countless more were studying and writing about humanity by living it and not by being bound to a desk studying literary theory.
The M.A. opened the door to formalized literary exploration and I’ve entered it and seen what is has to offer and am better for it. The Ph.D. door, though, seems dissonant to my heart. I go back to Thoreau’s “Simplify! Simplify! Simplify!” I think that sometimes we far too often wander down into the marketplace of ideas and are entranced by the myriad offerings. Perhaps an attribute of wisdom is simply saying: This is my ‘insular Tahiti’ and this is where I’m to stay.
Namaste’
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