I believe that we are all "life drummers" just waiting to join in the rhythm.

Spirit and Breath, create an openness that violence has constricted.

The power to choose is the power of life in the midst of brokenness.

We are full, sovereign human beings.

To understand that my humanity and my abundant flesh both demand dignity is to embrace fat liberation.

When you're shamed and ashamed, it takes a lot of positives to make up for even a few negatives.

Since I was a kid, I have had a penchant and passion for my touch on my body. This was sometimes shameful, sometimes wonderful, and deeply private from fairly early on, as I received messages from family and neighbors that it wasn’t “right.” It has only been as an adult, as i have witnessed...

We all have our foibles; pieces of ourselves that we both admire and occasionally revile. These gifts and struggles exist in tandem.

Pleasure reminds us to enjoy being alive and on purpose... Pleasure—embodied, connected pleasure—is one of the way we know when we are free. That we are always free. That we always have the power to co-create the world. Pleasure helps us move through the times that are unfair, through grief and...

Oh, divine Love, With the kindling of this flame, may we realize and love our true selves: Our true, round belly selves. Our true, bags under our eyes, selves. Our true, naturally hairy, selves. Our true, wrinkles on our skin, selves. May our self-love help keep our chalice ablaze.

I saw a woman surrounded by the pressures to conform to adulthood, being the adult she always wanted to be when she was a child. She was as God made her, not who everyone else wanted her to be.

It is deeply spiritual work to learn to treat ourselves with compassion; to learn to see ourselves, if only in moments, the same way we look at something or someone we find beautiful: a newborn baby, the ocean, a sunset.

Once I quit drinking, my inner voice and I began the harder work: that of creating a life from which I do not need or want to escape.

My heart broke the day my son stood in the bathroom crying. He handed me a pair of scissors and told me to just cut it. I told him how beautiful his hair was and how sad I would be to see him cut it.

I’m not the same person who stood in that tattoo parlor eleven years ago. Still, I don’t for a minute regret being permanently marked with this snapshot in time, of my wounds and my hope.

I wanted so badly to break free and let loose—but I just couldn't. I was stuck in my own false ideas of the congregation's expectations of me. Luckily, there’s still time.

Spirit of Compassion, help us draw strength from all that we are. Give us new language with which to claim our wholeness, a new litany of joy built out of words that wounded.

The blasphemy of body hatred has no place in this temple.

Spirit of Life, your very presence among us is what gives us connection. Help us to sense that beneath our feet is the strength we need to keep us grounded. Help us to feel that behind our back is the protection we need to feel safe facing our fears. Help us to know that before our eyes lies the...

For all who left a relationship in order to save your heart, may your own heartbeat be your blessing. Its rhythm, its particular kinships, its unique rhythm. May you know your own heart as God's blessing....