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, 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 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.

Oriah Mountain Dreamer. Post-VD poem for everyone. Thanks, Ka! 😉

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Published by

pinxwitch

My name is Terrie. I write for a living and blog for pleasure. Some days, I get up in the morning and know precisely what kind of day it is. At other times, I get knocked over for a loop. People seem to like confiding in me. When I was younger, I thought I knew everything and can tell you what you need to do if you ask me. Now that I'm older, I realize I don't know anything. That's been my motivation for the blog and for writing. To figure out the unknown and unknowable.

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