“Suppression also played another tragic role. By burying my pain, by avoiding my heartaches, I lost touch with knowing and owning what was important to me. I no longer went within, which was a scary road. If you were once attacked on a road, you make sure to avoid it. But the avoidance means you also miss out on the wild flowers when they’re blooming, the snow-capped mountains in winter, the waterfall, the deer, the beautiful people, like Tony, who walk there every day. You also miss out on knowing yourself better, on understanding what is important to you.”

“Flowers that are offered for the dead, do not know the difference of where their beauty will be placed, they do not say, “This is not a palace” or “This is not a garden”; they just are. They are just beautiful, without giving regards to whether they are placed on a grave or in a castle. Flowers are just beautiful, whether they grow by the wayside or in a manicured garden. If we were all like flowers, then we would all be beautiful, with no regards to why or how. We just are. We are just beautiful.”