Notably, the Diploma of Life is a credential that no university can issue. It is earned through the resilience we show when faced with injustice and failed expectations. As a Soul Geologist, I’ve learned that broken crystals are often the most beautiful because they reveal our character. Forging strength from mistakes is the ultimate engineering feat. Indeed, this journey is a core part of my philosophy of soul geology.

There are sounds that remain forever etched in your memory. For me, it was the sharp, dry sound of breaking glass. A short “crack” echoed through the silence of the crystallography lab. Specifically, I was a young geology student discovering the secrets of the earth. In front of me was a microscope, and under it a slide—a thin section of “twin” minerals. It was a rare sample, which the professor had spent hours preparing. In my haste, I lowered the lens too abruptly.

The microscope was stronger than the glass. The slide turned to dust.

At that moment, winter took over the lab. The look from that professor became colder than any sediment. From that day on, my student life became a walk along the edge of an abyss. I became invisible during lectures, and the primary target during practicals. I sat in the back row, and I was the last to receive new slides to study. Furthermore, they would be taken away just as I started to bring the image into focus.

I knew she was taking her revenge. Indeed, it wasn’t because of my ignorance; I loved crystals. She was punishing me for my clumsiness. Specifically, I learned the first great lesson that no textbook offers: in life, sometimes people will not like you. Sometimes your path will be deliberately made harder simply because you made a mistake. Therefore, you must learn to stand firm.

I failed the first time. I failed the second time. It was a test of ego, not of knowledge. The hardest part was returning to the first page. The crystallography book had exactly 288 pages. When you fail, you go back to zero. You open the cover and stare at the first page you know by heart. Consequently, the book felt thinner under my fingers because I was becoming stronger. I instinctively felt: “This is it. This is how character is forged.” This was my first experience with the erosion of the ego.

Furthermore, one evening, my mother looked at me with hope. She asked quietly: “Sanja, when will we get that diploma?” I didn’t get angry. I just looked at her deeply and said: “Mom, I will bring you the diploma of life.” Mom turned serious. Her eyes widened, seeing me for the first time as a grown woman. Later, I heard her talking to my dad with pride. “She told me she will bring me two diplomas: one from the university, and a Diploma of Life.”

Notably, I brought them both. I stood before that professor three times. The third time I got an eight. It wasn’t a ten, but to me, it shined brighter than gold. It was the moment she had to acknowledge my perseverance. Today, I realize those failed exams were sediments. Every time I reopened that book, I added a new layer of solidity. Such moments require the strength of tectonics of the heart.

The erosion of the ego is a painful process. You watch your pride crumble under pressure. But what remains after that erosion is a diamond. I am proud that today I am more resilient than those who went through college smoothly. This Diploma of Life is written in the scars we carry with pride. If you are learning to set boundaries, revisit my thoughts on the Tectonics of a No.

In conclusion, if you are on the “first page,” remember my microscope. You are sealing your Diploma of Life. And believe me, that is the only one that truly matters. Thank you for supporting my work on Ko-fi. You can also explore my journey in my books on Amazon. Truly, your light will return.