I mentioned in my last post that I am a spiritual student, and though that remark wasn’t entirely serious, I’ve come to realize that it wasn’t really a joke either. After all, being a student is work. It’s fucking exhausting.
I am crying my way through graduate school, as my mother would put it (and as she did too). I want those red robes to make my ancestors proud. Those red robes are my goal. That parchment paper with the gold leaf is my reward. It will go on the wall next to my other awards, for the glory of My Lady.
I am a spiritual student. Learning is my work. It’s hard work. It’s exhausting work. Yet I love it, because it rewards me in ways that no other work can. It is My Lady’s work. I would have it no other way.