The Invitation by Oriah 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 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.

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 your own soul;

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 life with failure,

yours or mine,

and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the sliver of the 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 feel 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.