The Invitation by Oriah Mountain

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,
be realistic,
or 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.
I want to know if you can be faithful
and therefore be 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 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 a 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.

Shared by Sophie Stephenson