under a pile of books

“Under a pile of books” is a phrase I’ve said a lot lately. That’s because I am.

I am in graduate school.

I expected this.

So far every minute has been beautiful. Even the exhaustion. Even my meager attempts at hybrid-annotated bibliographies.

Somewhere I picked up the notion that for learning to happen, death must occur. I wish I could attribute an eloquent quote. Alas. In many cases death brings life. So if you hear me say “This is killin’ me.” I probably mean it. To an extent anyway. That to me is beautiful. I’ve seen people die. I’ve held their hand. Death provides opportunites. Truly. Things to say that you might nto say. Triming a tree or a vine can bring bring new life other places. Forrests after confligration allow for new growth in the ashen terrain.

While I’m feeling pain and axiety, I’m also feeling love. Love from God. Love from my family. Love from my new friends in my cohort. Love from students ahead of me in the program. Love from the instructors. We are all walking with each other through our pain and beauty.

The work has only just begun in this season. I am dreadfully excited of the the days to come.

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