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 centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened
by life’s betrayals or have become shrivelled 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 centre 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.
By Oriah © Mountain Dreaming,
from the book The Invitation
published by HarperONE, San Francisco,
1999 All rights reserved
It's not often that I read something on the internet and don't conclude I would need to mentally re-write sections in order for to me feel as if it fits me. Maybe I am just tired. The exam is done. It went well, but I feel kind of shell-shocked. Crazy right...