The Invitation

The Migraine From Hell is fading off into the sunset.....only dealing with its' aftershocks now. Today has been a philosophical-spriritual-analytical-quiet-kind-of-day. I found a great site to visit on just that kind of day! I've loved The Invitation for ages.....now I'll take the opportunity to share it with all my blogging friends. The author, Oriah Mountain Dreamer, has the coolest name...EVER!! Wonder if she was named Gertrude Gerkunkle by her parents and then had it changed? However she came to have that name all I can say is that it ROCKS....in a kind of poetic-philosophical-spiritual-analytical-quiet-kind-of-way.

The Invitation

Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for,
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love,
for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow,
if you have been opened by life's betrayals
or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain,
mine or your own,
without moving to
hide it,
fade it or
fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy,
mine or your own,
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us to be careful,
to be realistic,
to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true.
I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself;
if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and
not betray your own soul;
if you can be faithless and
therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty,
even when it's not pretty, every day,
and if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure,
yours or mine,
and still stand on the edge of the lake and
shout to the silver of the full moon,
"Yes!"

It doesn't interest me to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up,
after the night of grief and despair,
weary and bruised to the bone,
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know or
how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and
not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you,
from the inside,
when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.