Standing There, I Loved Myself And I

There Is No Place So Awake And Alive As The Edge Of Becoming. But More Than That, Birthing The Kind Of Woman Who Can Authentically Say, 'my Soul Is My Own,' And Then Embody It In Her Life, Her Spirituality, And Her Community Is Worth The Risk And Hardship.

I Felt Amazed At The Choosing One Had To Do, Over And Over A Million Times Daily--choosing Love, Then Choosing It Again...how Loving And Being In Love Could Be So Different.

How Did We Ever Get The Idea That God Would Supply Us On Demand With Quick Fixes, That God Is Merely A Rescuer And Not A Midwife?

In A Weird Way I Must Have Loved My Little Collection Of Hurts And Wounds. They Provided Me With Some Real Nice Sympathy, With The Feeling I Was Exceptional... What A Special Case I Was.

All That Paddling Around In The Alphabet Soup Of One's Childhood, Scooping Up Letters, Hoping To Arrange Them Into Enlightening Sentences That Would Explain Why Things Had Turned Out The Way They Had. It Evoked A Certain Mutiny In Me.