She baptized herself because she realized she could. She realized that all along within her she contained the power to save herself. And so she did.

This arduous and somewhat calamitous process of Mary’s gospel finally making its way into print feels significant to me. It reflects the almost magnetic reluctance of shifting our perspective about her, like the effort of what it would take for a river to change direction.

And by sermon, I don’t mean a formal or official one; they’re more like love letters.

There is no hierarchy in the spiritual world.

It’s simpler than that, and far more difficult. It’s more of a series of perpetual moments when you remember that you don’t have to feel separate from love—if you don’t want to.

I didn’t understand why but finding this voice made these crazy rivulets of joy, these electric currents of energy, race through me.

It’s the Christianity that existed before the church. It’s

Back then before I felt separated from it, there was this wide expanse of love inside me, like my own private ocean.

In saving herself, Thecla has unified the force of love in all the women around her. In freeing herself, she has freed them.