There’s a box of Kleenex sitting next to me and I’m not afraid to admit that I’ve dipped into it more than a time or two. I’ve just read the most incredible poem. I’m trying to remember the last time I read something so poignant, so beautiful.
The way I came upon it is like a lot of gifts I encounter, as odd as it sounds. A click here . . . to read this. Or, a click there . . . to read that and then suddenly, it happens . . . the perfect gem comes to rest right before my eyes.
I think of these kinds of things as messages and I think we’re given them all the time . . . we just need to be still long enough to see them . . . to receive them. Have you ever had that experience?
What you’re about to read is so special (in my humble opinion) that I want you to go to the place you love to curl up with your favorite book. Maybe its by a window with a beautiful ray of sunshine streaming through it . . . perhaps its a favorite chair. Wherever it is, I want you to go there before you read what I’m about to share with you.
I hope you make sure that you have enough time to drink in every wonderful word and then I want to make a suggestion . . . be sure to take some time to reflect on those words and what they mean and say to you.
I offer you . . .
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, be realistic, 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 sliver 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.
~ Oriah Mountain Dreamer
As I read this I realized that there’s so many things that have touched so many places deep within me. I’ve reflected time and time again over the words, the message. It’s like a calling for each of us to show up for our own stories and our own lives, isn’t it? Have we done it? . . . Can we do it better? Have we received and accepted the invitation to life and all it has to offer?
And so my friends I leave you with those thoughts for today. Please feel free to share this post. (There’s buttons below for Facebook, Pinterest, Twitter and Google+) I know many of you will have come across it before but I truly think the message is one we can never be reminded of too often. Have a wonderful day and thanks for stopping by.