This Here Flesh: Spirituality, Liberation, and the Stories That Make Us

Reconciliation cannot be forced if it is to last. And unity should not come at the expense of the vulnerable. Its integrity depends upon its ability to make the union safe and honorable. How can you become one with a person or system who will not acknowledge or relent in their torment of you? This is not unity; it’s annihilation.

Maybe getting lost let her be found on her terms.

There will always be people who are threatened by freedom in another person. Who have something to gain from our bondage.

He was formed in uncertainty. Uncertain of food, of place, of worth. It does not matter that he is safe now and has enough. The memory followed him. Some remnant of it clings to him even now.

It was one of those rare occasions that I knew was becoming a part of me as I lived it. The moment wasn’t just happiness, though that was a quality of it. It was a kind of pleasure that made me feel a part of something—where beauty meets belonging.

Still, it is not unusual to want to wish our own stories away. To discard the painful ones, the humiliating ones, and preserve only triumphs and satisfaction. But liberation cannot be found by tearing holes into oneself.

Rest is an act of defiance, and it cannot be predicated on apology. It’s the audacity to face the demands of this world and proclaim, We will not be owned.

But in the end, it is much easier to locate love in rage than in apathy.

People say in heaven we won’t remember any of the sorrow anymore. I hope they’re wrong. It would be a disingenuous eternity to exist without all that has made me.