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 have touched 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 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 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 the empty moments.
–Oriah Mountain Dreamer
i'm not an "on the surface" kinda gal. talking about surface stuff---like: the weather, what the traffic was like on your drive to work, or who won the football game---it bores me to tears. but those conversations are part of life...i get that.
what i'm saying is...the reason this poem strikes a chord within me is because i have the same deep longing to really know people like described in this poem. always have. always will. but with our fast-paced world, where people barely have time for 'on the surface' relationships, i'm learning that the type of relationships Oriah talks about are seemingly non-existent.
there have been very few people in my adult life who i know that have this same desire to really dig deep and know their friends. being this way makes me feel like i'm constantly starving for a deep conversation, richly peppered with things that really make me think about who i am and where i'm going in this life.
you know, those are the kind of conversations you walk away from feeling full like you've just stuffed your face with double helpings of Thanksgiving dinner.
i haven't had one of those conversations in a long time.
i'm feeling starved.
Me too.
ReplyDeleteThis line
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.
made me close my eyes and breathe very deeply. Reminded me of my mom ... but then so much still does.
Okay, a question ... a deep question. LOL.
My mom passed away a year and a half ago. I am not sure when your mom did? ... but anytime my siblings and I get together, I immediately dread it and we spend the whole time avoiding talking about her. How long does that last? Will it ever go away?
hey, you wanted deep conversation! and it has been on my mind lately with the holidays coming up.
Oh, Tania, my heart hurts for you. You are seen...you are known...you are loved by our Father. Praying your heart takes refuge and finds comfort in Him today. And praying that He will bring into your life one with whom you can have a deep connection and kindredness as you share and live life. I love you, friend.
ReplyDeletemelanie, my mom passed away july 19, 2007...over 3 years ago now.
ReplyDeletei can tell you this. the anxiety/dread you are feeling is more than likely because you aren't sure you want to talk about it yet yourself. possibly? or fear that the pain/sting of death is going to rip you open and take you back to the raw realness of the truth---which is, she's gone and isn't coming back. that's such a hard truth to accept and oftentimes you accept it only to find yourself months later questioning it and having that deep longing that she'll walk through the door tomorrow.
i've been there, i completely understand.
everyone handles grief differently. for me, the tough moments are when i'm by myself and it washes over me. the easiest moments are sharing memories or talking about it with others who knew her. the relating to others and knowing i'm not the only one feeling this way. but i can tell you, it easy for me to tell who's uncomfortable (read: squirming on the inside) and who isn't when talking about it. i'm sure you'll be able to tell too. they turn cold, uninterested, make a snide remark. whatever it be, it is their way of coping.
there's no right or wrong. just comfortable or uncomfortable.
i'm not sure there is a timeline for when the dread will go away. quite possibly everyone else wants to talk about her, but isn't sure how others will react, so it becomes the white elephant in the room. does that makes sense? my suggestion would be to take it upon yourself to do something to pay tribute to your mom during that holiday so it becomes more of an ice-breaker...to ease into conversation.
maybe that means baking her signature dish, or making a small framed ornament with a picture of her in it to give to each sibling, or putting together a movie using pictures of her and burning it to DVDs to give. or donating to her favorite charity or the charity that represented her illness on behalf of the family. all very simple tasks if you can remove yourself emotionally. (FYI: Windows Movie Maker is a free download and very easy to use.)
there have been a few family holiday gatherings where it was easy to talk about mom, and others where the pain was so obviously fresh that mid-conversation the subject is changed. and other gatherings where life went on as if nothing has changed.
i think the most healing thing for me was putting together the In Loving Memory scrapbook album---you were in that class, right?
i'm not sure i have an answer for you sweetie, but ask yourself this: what is it that i'm dreading? is it the conversation? is it the reaction from my siblings? is it fear of that raw emotion ripping you open again? once you pinpoint what it is, it's easier to face it square on and overcome the obstacle.
nikki....thank you sweet friend! oh, how i miss your company. i need more of you in my life. :) and yes, He is with me. (and now i'm singing Mandisa's "He is with You", LOL).
ReplyDeleteTania ... THANK YOU. You are entirely correct in all you said ... I do know the few times (three times to be exact) that I brought Mom up in front of everyone, nothing was said and everyone acted like they didn't hear me. Turned away.
ReplyDeleteAnyway, thank you so very very much. It is so hard to know to whom to ask the hard questions. (is that grammatically correct? not sure...)
Anyway, I will quit taking up your blog space ...sending huge hugs to you.
Oh, I didn't take that class by the way ... I wasn't ready then.
melanie....if they won't talk, talk to yourself through cathartic scrapbooking. i'm telling you it was SO helpful. i wish i could run the class again. it's in the process of being converted to e-book format. of course you'll know when it's ready here on the blog. :)
ReplyDeletein the meantime, feel free to email me any time.
huge (((((HUGS))). i still stick to my guns in that i don't think "time heals all pain", but time sure does make it sting a little less. the pain fades away and the cream rises to the top, so to speak.