C'mon, Professor. Throw me a bone here...

I've noticed something strange about my relationships with my professors lately. It's a really interesting phenomenon that I think stems both from the fact that I look up to my professors intellectually and from the fact that my classes are so small that I get to be fairly personal with all of them.

The thing I've noticed is that I really care about what they think. When we finish studying a religion or learning about a new philosopher, I really want to know how they feel about it and how it affects them. I know that I should be making up my own mind on these issues, but I really want to know how my role models feel about this stuff, you know?

Today, for example, we finished talking about George Berkeley in my Modern Philosophy course and I found myself wanting to ask Dr. Panza, "So do you think he's right? How does he affect you and your view of the world?" I don't know whether it's appropriate of me to ask questions like that to people who are only being paid to teach me the material, but it's difficult sometimes.

I think that because of the small classes and with how often I see the professors both in and out of class, I feel like we're involved in each other's lives as more than just a teacher and student relationship. To steal from Confucius, I feel like it's more of an elder friend and younger friend relationship. I feel like my professors play a "mentor" role more often than a "professor" role.

I just wish every now and then they'd throw me a bone and tell me whether they think a theory is earth shattering or if it's all wet. It'd help me figure out what I believe a bit more to know how much weight philosophies carry with the people I look up to. Perhaps I'll just put a professor on the spot one of these days and see how they react.

Change

I'm moving this summer. For the first few days I was visibly upset over the move, but I've since calmed down somewhat. I'm still really struggling in my mind over this situation but have decided there really isn't anything I can do about it. Some things are just out of my control. Life is about dealing with things you can't change as gracefully as possible.

The reason I've decided to post about it today is because my friend Peter Clothier from The Buddha Diaries made a post about his stomping ground being consumed by fires in California. It parallels my emotions in a lot of ways. The places he loves to walk with his wife are gone, taken away by the forest fires. I started to think to myself, "Wow. I don't know what I would do if my favorite spots to watch the sunset back home were taken away." Then I realized that is exactly what is happening in June. All of my favorite parks, sunset bluffs, bike trails, birdwatching coves. I don't know what to think about it.

On a lighter side, it will all still exist outside of me. I've been dealing with that a lot lately too. There are things in life that I want near me all of the time. I'm happier when they're there, when I'm amongst the endangered green herons in my cove at home, when I'm with good friends leaving for home this week, when I'm on my bike on the steel bridge overlooking the river on the trail here at Drury. There is a thought that consoles me throughout the whole thing: Regardless of whether I'm with these people or near these places, they exist. They exist outside of me and the world is a much more beautiful place because of that. I can call up my friends or drive home and visit these places when I get the desire. I guess change just isn't easy.

It also reminds me of my recent meditations. Thinking about my breathing is like being home. Breathing connects me with life. All of the life here on this planet needs the same oxygen I'm breathing in to survive, so we're all connected when I'm being mindful about my breath. I wonder if it is the same with people or places. When I'm thinking about my friends and our relationship, when I abide in the loves that we share, we're connected again regardless of where we are. I can close my eyes and think about that cliff that nobody else knows about and I'm there once more.

Still, nothing can replace the embrace of a friend or the feeling of the dirt between my toes back home...