The 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 havetouched
                                           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 ecstacy 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 dissapoint another to
                                           be true to yourself;  if you can bear the accusations 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 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 empty moments.

                                                                                                         -Oriah Mountain Dreamer.