The Invitation
By Oriah
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
or 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 is
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 and mine
and still stand at
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.
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