The Invitation

Peoples, I am busy. Very busy. Writing a book - or rather editing it, hoping for publication some time in the near future (no, not a novel! Yes, 'self-help', as it were - no, not 'as it were', it IS self-help. So there you go.) I will flog it to y'all when it's physically manifest in the universe (grin, meaning, made of proper bound printed paper and not pixels). No I haven't got a book deal. Yet!

Here's a poem, in the meantime - not mine, I hasten to admit, though I might try my hand next time:

The Invitation
(What follows was written by a Native American poet named Orion 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 dreams,
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 shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.

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,
or to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you’re 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 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 life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine,
and still stand on the edge of a 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 your children.

It doesn’t interest me who you are,
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 truly like the company you keep in empty moments.