May 29, 2014

wholehearted wisdom: the invitation


Week after week, we've been on this beautiful journey together, watching as this space unfolds organically with each and every story and photograph shared. Today, we are all so excited to release to the world our newest addition: Wholehearted Wisdom. The intention for this new series is to create a moment of reflection for our readers, a possibility to uncover our own wisdom that can often be muffled by the physically and emotional busyness of motherhood. Some days the words may create a deep connection and others they may meet us with resistance, neither emotions are either good or bad - but rather, serve as an anchor point to explore and discover how we are really feeling in that moment - if we are willing to offer ourselves the space to do so. We hope that the words and image will provide that space; The possibility of learning provides the ultimate possibility for growth.


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. 

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.


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