Principia College, or bust. That was my philosophy on choosing a college my senior year of high school. If Principia accepted me, I would be spending the next four years of my life in a place I imagined to be a lot like a Christian Science camp — only for older kids.

Orientation week was like camp, except that we had nicer showers. I prepared myself for classes, and the beginning of my education at Principia went something like this:

I spent my first quarter consumed by Dr. Tom Fennell’s class on the Essence of Creativity. I would spend hours wondering, What is the essence of creativity? What makes something truly creative?

This was nothing like camp. I was writing papers on a subject I didn’t understand and getting into livid arguments over whether or not the invention of the refrigerator was creative or just innovative.

Every day Dr. Tom would tell us not to worry, we were not deficient thinkers — we just needed to think in different ways. And then Dr. Tom’s prophecy came to pass; we all began thinking in different ways. We learned that the struggle to understand creativity goes beyond paintings and music into recognizing the highest expressions of Truth and beauty in ourselves.

Now I knew why I wanted to be at Principia and nowhere else. I wanted to be a whole woman in translating all of my scholarly pursuits back to the metaphysical and the spiritual part of my thinking, and here were professors who would specifically encourage me

Then came African Politics 250 the winter of my sophomore year. I chose the Democratic Republic of Congo as my focus country for the quarter. The more research I did on the political past and present of my chosen country, the more dejected I got.

One night in particular, as I hefted my library books back to Sylvester House, I decided that the depression of discovering the world’s problems was not worth the money or the political science degree.

With all my heart I looked up at the stars and asked God to please deliver me from the misery of higher education. The response came instantly, "Be patient." With such a prompt reply, I thought maybe I could give it another 24 hours.

The next day, Dr. Frank Biggs saved my college career when he visited our class to give an economics lecture on basic micro-economic principles. At the very end of class time, he looked up, smiled at us, and said, "But really, what you must understand is that what this all constitutes is a search for Truth."

Every subject and idea which you explore is really your search for Truth. And, with that, I thanked God for economics and decided to stay in college.

With academic progress in hand, my education still needed advancement in other areas. Thus far I had approved of every aspect of the whole man concept except for the athletic. I secretly thought that somehow I could bury myself so deeply in the fine arts that the athletic department wouldn’t even know I existed, and I could breeze through college with a minimum of physical activity.

Therefore the shock was mine when Sara Rockabrand, my voice teacher, told me gently but firmly that if I was truly serious about building my voice for theatre and singing, I needed to engage in daily physical activity. Daily physical activity! Apparently I was going to become a whole woman whether I liked it or not.

That summer I reluctantly joined a gym, and every day after work I would go sit on a stationary bike and occasionally read Education at The Principia hoping to find a clue to why sweating was so necessary to my instruction.

This time the answer came more gradually. The bike rides turned into aerobics classes, weight lifting, and long walks over favorite parts of Boston. I was developing a discipline I had never known and seeing the beauty of a liberal arts education that would promote physical dominion as well as scholastic.

More importantly, I discovered that when I focused on expressing God’s complete idea of man and woman, I lost all self-consciousness and was free to express qualities I never knew I possessed.

One of the greatest gifts Principia gave me was an understanding of the connection between spiritual growth and the theatre. Some theories say that a good actor experiments with the world so that he can portray his characters realistically.

How could I portray a worldly character while trying to shed my own worldliness? This question plagued me my first year, but when I learned about the spring musical, I auditioned and was cast.

Throughout the rehearsals, I became more and more impressed with the level of thought surrounding me. Each night the cast shared inspiration, and then the rehearsal would commence. Not only were these men and women metaphysically inspiring, but their characters developed into superb dramatic figures.

Four days before our opening night I woke up ill and unable to move. I immediately picked up Science and Health, by Mary Baker Eddy, and read some favorite passages. As time for rehearsal neared, a cast member came to fetch me. Despite my discomfort, when our eyes met I couldn’t help but smile because of her instant love and support.

Each cast member I encountered that day gave me one more inspiring thought to hold as I sang my songs and danced across stage. While singing our final song I was healed of any lingering physical discomfort. And, even better, I realized that these wonderful men and women were my proof that goodness and purity of thought can only enrich an artist.