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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 dreams, 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 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 and
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, or 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. I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore trustworthy. I
want to know if you
can see beauty even when it is not pretty everyday, and if you can source your
life from its
presence. I want to know if you can live with failure, yours or mine, and still
stand on the edge
of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon.
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 for the children.
It doesn't interest me who you are, 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.