...but that is not the end of the story.

I believe in the beauty and elegance of the broken and the downtrodden. More than anything, I think. The strong and invulnerable, without those broken places, do not interest me...not unless it is a strength that comes from having suffered much.

Not only am I not interested in what is perfect, but I feel terribly uncomfortable in the presence of something that has not been in some way broken. Wounded. Where would my wound find true welcome otherwise?




The healing of the wound comes in this recognition: What is vulnerable, broken, is of special and fragile beauty. And to that end, it is fully and deeply embraced.

If we cannot do this, we can never find peace.