If you happen to read this blog regularly enough to notice how long it has been since I last wrote then I do apologize for the tardiness of this post. But that’s undoubtedly not the case for anyone, and so, for everyone either welcome back or welcome to my blog.
In the last entry I wrote of my adventures and decisions. I was confronted with the choice of whether to stay in Oxford for a second term or to return home to Canada. Without going into an auto-biography, which the first draft of this seemed to contain, a quick preface to my personal identity should be provided. I have always been divided in my allegiance and curious as to my identity. When I came to England in September, I was in a way coming ‘home’, as I had spent by then a few months more in England than I had in Canada (I moved in august of 1999). It was my hope that in coming here I would be able to revive old things, which seem now, for the most part, long gone. Rather than finding a home here I have found a house, a very familiar one, but not my own. Please don’t construe this as a loss for me, on the whole I am quite glad and feel in a way liberated. Before coming here I often remarked (that in a general sense) I had two houses and no home. What I have discovered is that Canada has become, for the first time by my own choosing, my place of belonging. This doesn’t mean that I am not enjoying myself, I am thoroughly, and Oxford has in no way disappointed, and I shall miss much of it immensely, but once you find a home it is always sweeter to return to it than it is to leave it.
I owe TWU much thanks in helping me to find my home and to make it so sweet a place to return to. Oxford is the place of my dreams, everything about this place is a dream: its century old spires, its whispering walls and stacked libraries; it a place of dreams, it is in my dreams, but it is not in my heart. In a world of dreams everything is appealing because it’s all your own – no one else’s – there is nothing to upset the dream: this is what Oxford was before I came and shall no doubt return too once I leave. TWU is the place of my heart because it is isn't a dream: there i find my pleasure and my pain, where I love and am loved. Oxford has furnished me well, it has taught me much, but it has not loved me the way I have loved it. At Trinity Western I have grown up but I have not grown alone. In no way do I look down upon my time at Oxford, but I now look even more highly upon Trinity Western. Oxford has improved my ability to answer timely questions, but it neglects to encourage alongside them the timeless ones, which are always timely to consider. TWU concerns itself with both types of questions, in the former it has progressed laudably and in the latter it has achieved something even more commendable. To me these are not mere words, if they were, then I wouldn’t have chosen to decline the offer of a second term at Oxford: a university that needs no introduction nor elaboration in regards to its appeal. The more I learn at Oxford the more I long for TWU; not because Oxford isn’t excellent at teaching about life, but because TWU excels at teaching about living.
I had hoped to tell you about some of thing I have been doing here, and afraid of exhausting your good will and readership I won’t delay in ending for too much longer. Here are a few recent highlights I will hopefully be able to elaborate on further in a later post.
1) Incredible weekend trip to Wales with my friends. I basically bussed all the way to Wales, climbed their highest mountain in wind, rain, snow and the bitter cold, and then bussed back through the night to Oxford so that I could spend Sunday working on my paper.
2) Elegant dining at two Oxford College Halls. Imagine the banquets in Harry Potter, take out the cool magical bits but keep the room and the amazing food.
3) St. Alldate’s Ball. This was a black-tie ball that I went to, which had some brilliant food, fun people and great dancing – a night to remember for a long time.
4) American Thanksgiving. I live with 40 Americans and only one other Canadian, so it was great to be immersed in something so genuine. I played back yard football (tackle) in the park, and all of us are so stiff today that we can barely walk.
Well, that’s all for now. If you made it through the whole past thanks for reading, and if not, thanks for giving it a go.