I liked this idea; that peculiarness wasn’t a deficiency, but an abundance; that it wasn’t we who lacked something normals had, but they lacked peculiarness. That we were more, not less.
how we forget who we are for awhile can enrich and enliven space that needs to move…
inquiry for today~ what’s weird about you today? own it?
I’m discovering that a spiritual journey is a lot like a poem. You don’t merely recite a poem or analzye it intellectually. You dance it, sing it, cry it, feel it on your skin, and in your bones. You move with it and feel its caress. It falls on you like a teardrop or wraps around you like a smile. It lives in the heart and the body as well as the spirit and the head.
That’s the necessary act. In naming the many patterns of our false selves, that’s exactly what we need to do: bend down to the broken, horrible faces in ourselves and kiss each one.
~Sue Monk Kidd