There is a place within that cannot be destroyed by flood or fire, by bloodthirsty armies or devastating illness— it this untouchable essence of us that quakes with irrepressible light and bears the intolerable weight of all that must be felt to awaken. When I first remembered myself after surgery, my own name strange, both of my breasts removed— I did not feel loss nor grief, but a love so ferocious it rolled through me like thunder, bringing healing rain. After that, came a knowing of my own wholeness beyond any story, beyond any dismemberment— this revelation of our luminous body that remains intact in spite of all of our sacred shatterings. And yes, now the landscape is unrecognizable— yes, now, there is no old path to go back to— yes, now there is the quivering arrow of this moment piercing the heart— the illusion of invulnerability stripped away, laid bare to this truth. And so it is. And so we are. Before I came to this life, I was shown this world from the distant shores of it— and in that moment, I saw the full arc of my days here, the exquisite range of this embodied dreaming. Oh how beautiful, I cried. Oh how terrible. Oh—This terrible beauty. And the angel who guided me simply pointed and nodded, and said—Yes.