Drifting off to sleep, I thought about her. How nobody is perfect. How you just have to close your eyes and breathe out and let the puzzle of the human heart be what it is.

Gazing into the mirror, I saw myself as I was-a black silhouette in the room, a woman whose darkness had completely leaked through.

Until we look from the bottom up we have nothing.

To fashion an inner story of our pain carries us into the heart of it, which is where rebirth inevitably occurs.

Unraveling external selves and coming home to our real identity is the true meaning of soul work.

Make the world better. Take the meanness out of people's hearts.

I learned a long time ago that some people would rather die than forgive. It's a strange truth, but forgiveness is a painful and difficult process. It's not something that happens overnight. It's an evolution of the heart.