Sometimes I spend many long days working tirelessly on my senior thesis, also known here in the valley as a Div III. Senior thesis is an understatement -- Div III is more like a graduate research project meeting your entire courseload and then wrapping its little tentacles into your whole life. Everyone fourth year at Hampshire lives, eats and breathes Div III.

Mine is on wellness, sickness, and healing, specifically in regards to holistic medicine as it structures itself around Multiple Sclerosis, HIV, and Cancer. This might sound dark and intense. And honestly... it is. Well, not dark, although it could degenerate into that if I wasn't keeping a watchful eye on it (and on my perspective). Its a difficult Div III, to write about suffering and healing, and inevitably, death. But I also get to write about hope, and survival, and healing. I get frustrated, of course. Anyone who is passionate about something, and has all their hopes set on writing the great American Novel about that topic is bound and set to get a whole lotta frustration. I'm trying to ignore the prospect of a product, and focus instead on the journey.

Point is (and I'm sure I'll have a 20 other 'point is's about my Div III as the weeks go by) that while writing about such deep, complex, and personal topics, I sometimes let myself get really wrapped up in the sad and troubling aspects of both the American treatment of disease, and the sad reality of sickness and death. That sounds morose and perhaps it is. But this happens only infrequently, and I temper it by remembering that what I'm writing has a lot to do with NOT letting that happen, and about NOT suffering. Maybe even about spirituality. We'll see.

So, when that moment happens where I start wanting to curl up and begin to think: "Uh, maybe I should just go back to being naive and not acknowledging pain at all", I listen to this song and it cheers me up.

Excuse the blatant... well I don't know what this blatantly is, but its blatantly something and forgive me for that!

When the Saints - Sara Grove

Lord I have a heavy burden
of all I’ve seen and know
It’s more than I can handle.

But your word is burning like a fire
shut up in my bones
and I can’t let it go...

And when I’m weary
and overwrought
with so many battles left unfought

I think of Paul and Silas in the prison yard
I hear their song of freedom
rising to the stars
And when the Saints
go marching in
I want to be one of them.

Lord it’s all that I can’t carry
and cannot leave behind;
it all can overwhelm me.
but I think of all who’ve gone before them
and lived the faithful life, their courage compels me.
And when I’m weary and overwrought
with so many battles left unfought

I think of Paul and Silas in the prison yard
I hear their song of freedom
rising to the stars
I see the shepherd Moses in the Pharaohs court
I hear his call for freedom for the people of the Lord

And when the Saints
go marching in
I want to be one of them.
And when the Saints
go marching in
I want to be one of them...

I see the long quiet walk along the Underground Railroad
I see the slave awakenin' to the value of her soul
I see the young missionary at the angry spear
I see his family returning with no trace of fear
I see the long hard shadows of Calcutta nights
I see the sisters standing by the dying mans side
I see the young girl huddled on the brothel floor
I see the man with a passion come and kicking down that door...
I see the man of sorrow
and his long troubled road
I see the world on his shoulders and my easy load.

And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them.
And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them.
I want to be one of them.