Broken Horses

I should address the word “forgiveness.” It’s got a bad rap. It’s become patronizing, whitewashed, upper-middle-class, a suburban kind of word in our culture that is used more often to vilify than to redeem. It’s #blessed for the twenty-first century. I hate this because to the divine, it’s radical. This word sticks in my craw the way the phrase “love the sinner, hate the sin” does. When someone says, “I’ll pray for you,” I feel like they’re saying, “From my platform of purity, I’ll pray for your iniquity.” When they say, “I forgive you,” they’re saying, “From my position of righteousness, I will accept you even though you’re wrong and inadequate.

With these words I have healed deep wounds and feelings of inadequacy within myself. If you get this far... if you're still reading this: Write your life. No matter how young or old. Even if you feel like you're not interesting enough. Do it. Believe me you are. Your life is in fact twisted and beautiful and you'll find that as you peel back the layers, the unexpected side effect is that it feels wonderful to be know. Even if it's just by you.

There is nothing more real or more practical in this universe than mysticism. Remember that…and it’s usually sitting right smack in the middle of grief.

Write your life. No matter how young or old, even if you feel like you're not interesting enough, do it. Believe me, you are. Your life is in fact twisted, and beautiful. And you'll find that as you peel back the layers, the unexpected side effect is that it feels wonderful to beknown, even if it's just by you.

People in this country who are in positions of privilege must learn to find ways of fighting for the just treatment of others, not by centering and platforming themselves, but by holding up the ones who are suffering.

I have apologized a lot and been apologized to…but I’ve never kept my mouth shut and then wished I hadn’t.

I had two broken horses…and they were the most unbroken creatures I’ve met here on earth.

You don't have to be famous to be a hero, anyone can do that. I'll never be my heroes, but I'll always have 'em.

I understand who I am as an artist because I understand that I don’t understand who I am as an artist.

If you find me in my work, I haven’t done my job. If you find yourself, then I’m an artist.

When Dolly Parton prayed over me, I believed in God again. Every part of my soul came crashing to the earth like it was riding on lightning. I became connected to it again. I remembered that I was just a tiny part of that day and that little moment in time. Most important, that I was in fact responsible for none of it. Good, bad, or indifferent. The prayer is just between me and Dolly. But it was life-affirming and I like to think Dolly prays for all of us like that.

Most people live in their childhood homes for a while. It softens the edges on the memories and gives them a comforting wash, a kind of afterglow, set against routine and consistency. For kids like me for whom every experience is set against a different visual and intense circumstance, it’s really easy to remember details of an early life. I see this now as a priceless gift…but it isn’t one I’d give to my kids.

When someone believes in you while you’re a work in progress, never forget them.

This experience and a few others have also given me a faith that is as impervious to political extremism as it is to the whims of culture. That tape was my comfort blanket or that one tattered stuffed animal that a child is fundamentally attached to. I must have lost it in one of our moves. I think things disappear when we don’t need them anymore. I listened to that music every night. It was my proof that God is real.

It can be hard to understand the difference between what you remember and the things other people tell you about your childhood, but I have a theory that people who are beyond consciousness or in a coma enter an astral plane of perception—what they hear in that state is clear and stored forever.

Love isn't a feeling. It's something we do, and a promise that we keep.

I personally feel more convicted than ever that the plight of the refugees is the defining crisis of our generation….It’s all I care about for the moment as the mother of a child not in need.

I of course was told for most of my childhood by multiple sources that to be gay was a one-way ticket to hell. Homosexuality and suicide were the “unforgivables,” and I believed this wholeheartedly. Thank God for books and libraries…and school.

There’s no telling when the ride’s gonna stop and you’ll have to go get back in line. It’s the way it’s supposed to be. Ebbs and flows; sometimes you’re first and sometimes you’re last. You meet the exact same people on the way up that you do on the way down, so be prepared for anyone to be your future boss. All these things are true.

Songs are like tattoos You know I’ve been to sea before Crown and anchor me Or let me sail away Hey Blue And there is a song for you Ink on a pin Underneath the skin An empty space to fill in

My mind’s distracted and diffused My thoughts are many miles away They lie with you when you’re asleep And kiss you when you start your day

I believe the Judds were one of the first important influences on my connection with my mother. I knew subconsciously that I wasn’t feminine or lighthearted enough for her…but I could sing, and I loved music as much as she did. That was our language.

I think we enter this state many times in our lives. Sometimes when we dream, sometimes when we disassociate, most extremely if we cross over through a near-death experience. This state informs who we are in between two worlds…which is probably who we really are.

But in this analogy you and your family love country music NOW. Turn on the radio and listen to what is being said to your daughter right this minute: That she’s an ass in a pair of blue jeans. That she belongs in the passenger seat of a pickup truck with a koozie. That she’s only into “backroad” guys. Show me even a right-wing mother or father who wants their daughter to believe this about herself and I’ll show you a liar.

It was the country out there…now it’s just the country for people who can afford it.

A person’s self-worth is dictated by what inalienable rights are allowed to them.

A persons self-worth is dictated by what inalienable rights are allowed to them.

The people and events that had come along and healed me never went unnoticed. My dad pointed out recently that after my botched baptism, I started to gather people--congregants, squads, cheerleaders. I knew in some way that if I was ever going to see this or any dream come true, I needed people. I now realized where this instinct had come from. It was an early childhood tactic that I had been given by being the first child born on both sides of my family. I was adored by my grandparents, parents, and aunts and uncles. Showered with affection. that religious rejection was enough to send me back to one of my earliest and most primitive instincts: to simply surround myself with love and acceptance. It saved my life many times.