An Invitation

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's not pretty, everyday, 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 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.

Oriah Mountain Dreamer, from the book The Invitation
published by Harper SanFrancisco, 1999
www.oriahmountaindreamer.com