Graduation day is the 22nd. Hard to believe it, but I now have a Masters Degree in English Literature.
Six years ago, moving to Montreal, I had no idea I'd end up with an MA. I only intended to complete my Creative Writing degree in the two years of coursework remaining. What began as a quick fix to just 'get a damned degree' turned into an introspective journey which led me to another Major discipline of study, which then turned into an outright switch to an Honours program, in Classics. What can I say, I fell in love: 3 years training in Ancient Greek and Latin, poetry, art, drama, theory (may the gods save me--how I love theory), and now I'm some kind of Master of Arts. Seems unreal, I'm in a bit of shock. And I feel incredible.
When one sets out to achieve a goal, the end is never clear it seems. Good life advice: never look to the end. In fact, the end can seem entirely gray, nihilistic. And when that so called end is reached, what is to come? What dreams? It is an interesting time and I'm embracing the excitement and uncertainty with a level of calm, which is followed by moments of pure panic. How colourful, how fun, how terrifying.
And now, considerations on the PhD... the return to poetry... Plato in Greek... a return to yoga, running... and chocolate. May the alchemy continue to enhance.
Oracle seduces the tripod, or is it the other way round...