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 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 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.