Sunday, November 27, 2011

From 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 with 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, 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 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'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 on 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 alone in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back...."

-- Oriah

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Things change, and then they change and change and change.

Im struggling for work-life balance and failing, desperately, miserably, hopelessly. My job is good, the weight it demands is not.

I want to live on acres and acres. I want to build a simple meaningful home with my hands, with my mind, with my soul.

I want to plant a garden, preserve a harvest, sustain my family with fruits of my own labor, from my own dirt and clean flowing water.

I want my children to know hard work, rich soil, sunshine, mountains, peace, pure joy, themselves. I want them to lust for simplicity and goodness, not for commercialism.

I dont really think this is too much to ask. I just have to figure out how.