My entire life I’ve craved more words. Words nourished me when I was little, gave me refuge when I was lonely or confused. And words guided me in my twenties, when I set off from my home in the Pacific Northwest for Western China and often felt even more alone, but increasingly witnessed by myself on the written page. When I had few companions to speak to in English, and still too few words in Chinese. When I wanted close friendships and romantic love, but it felt more tangible to reach for ideas of spiritual union. All I knew was—I was filled with an intense longing and sorrow. Sorrow for the magnitude of suffering in the world, in China and Tibet, and within myself. Sorrow which I felt so clearly, but couldn’t understand why I felt so deep. And as much as I wanted to be patient and not need to know or control exactly where my journey would take me, a huge part of me also wanted it all to make sense right away—a logical rational explanation of “why this is meant to be.” Karma. Fate. My Path with a capital P. The People you are meant to meet. The Person you are meant to become. The ways in which you will be better loved once you do your Part to save the world.

Twenty-plus years later, I can’t say I’ve eliminated that kind of ego-driven desire. But I can say that I’ve lived long enough to come back to my core of love and self-acceptance many times, in cycles. Looking outward, looking inward. Outward. Inward. Over and over. Reaching for a sense of being settled in my skin.

Throughout these cycles, words have been my constant. My steady awareness: noticing, documenting, remembering. Making meaning. Writing. Yes, writing has saved me. Writing has filled me. Writing has emptied me. Writing has showered necessary, nourishing words, helping me to understand and reckon with my choices. And writing has brought me back to myself—again and again and again. A steady eye/I: witness. Lover. Guide. Friend.

Heart Radical is a record of a younger me, during a time when the trajectory of my life was still barely known, when I was just setting out on my Path with a capital P.

Now, there is still so much I do not know, but I do know that we each have an essential nature. And that it is our job to listen to that nature and figure out how to work with it, not how to become someone we are not.

Now, twenty-some years later, I am still the same person. And: I am vastly different. And so, I return to look at my past to discover what I may have forgotten in my middle age. For while I may no longer have the desire or ability to take off alone and forge a life in another country, I am able to see, name, and accept all of my layers with ever-sharpening clarity. To see all the ways I’ve evolved, and all the ways I’ve stayed the same. To see how my story keeps changing, even if my essential longing—to love and be loved— stays the same.

Excerpted with permission from Heart Radical: A Search for Language, Love, and Belonging by Anne Liu Kellor (She Writes Press). Heart Radical is available from Amazon and Bookshop.