“I am learning to forgive all those who are not sorry.”

You were so gentle with my messy burdens, my tender wounds and the cracks in my broken soul that I became gentle with them, too.

I am mystic bones and a curious heart. Pain and joy and stardust skin. A sacred soul container. Time and space and matter and illusion. Expansion and contraction. A breathing universe.

I can feel hope beginning to sprout from all parts of me that were once punctured.

Choose to soften. Again and again and again. Despite, despite, despite.

Those who are unkind to themselves will not appreciate your kindness. Do it anyway.

I know our bodies were engagement in the act of sex. But did you hear how loudly our souls were making music?

Glass can shatter, yet still be created into nothing short of art. And so can you.

It is a paradox, you see the act of giving is what fills you.

It’s time for that spark that twinkles inside your stomach to become a roaring forest fire.

I have died and rebirth a million times inside this body, and I have met a million people because of it.

Take refuge in your own arms. Collapse into the protection of your own body. It’s the safest home you will ever know.

We remained youthful never aging a single second because we promised each other that we wouldn’t.

Beneath your mind chatter is your very own grounded wisdom. Open yourself to it.

There is a reason I cannot stay away from you. I think it is because you are a little more soul than you are human.

Nothing defies you more than the intentions in your heart.

Whenever you are without a map, always navigate back to the state of love – your heart being the only compass you will ever need.

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned.

It’s human to lose your way. It’s human to feel out of control.

I don’t think there’s an act that could possibly be more selfless and gratifying than being able to forgive yourself.

See the mountains kiss high Heaven And the waves clasp one another; No sister-flower would be forgiven If it disdained its brother; And the sunlight clasps the earth, And the moonbeams kiss the sea – What is all this sweet work worth If thou kiss not me?

I don’t know who needs to hear this right now but forgive yourself.

Where there is injury let me sow pardon.

Forgiveness is commendable, but apply not ointment to the wound of an oppressor.

I wondered if that was how forgiveness budded; not with the fanfare of epiphany, but with pain gathering its things, packing up, and slipping away unannounced in the middle of the night.