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accusation
October 2009 
The Invitation
Amazume
(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 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
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 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.
© Mountaindreaming, from the book The Invitation published by HarperSanFrancisco, 1999 All rights reserved
Access: Public
The illuminary Oriah!
It feels as though I have lived this poem all along, before ever reading it. And it feels like home every time I read this poem.
And oh, the luxury of the company I keep in the empty moments!
In gratitude,
Nell ;-)
Yes, I'm touched by these words and feelings, Nell! Thanks for sharing.
Okay. I hope this is the place that you invited me to BLOW OFF SOME STEAM. Smiles. I'm not as pissed off as I was the other day while posting my blog, but I'm sure I can get right back into the pissed off frame-of-mind I was in a couple of days ago. Laughs.
First off, San Diego, and California as a whole, has many more men than women. So, I guess that about tells you how I feel. It's a jungle over here and I need to be in a city with more women than men. By the way, East Coast has more women than men.
Next, people are so effing paranoid in America. I can't deal with this crap. Everybody is so afraid of people that no one can trust each other enough to build relationships; professional or personal.
America wants to dominate the universe. The American culture is rude, crude, violent, and completely self-centered. The culture believes that it is the best among others, and because of that belief they feel they deserve to force others to do things the American way. I am one second away from filling this blog comment of mine with numerous explicatives.
I want to feel free and happy, and I don't yet feel this way. Who's fault is it? Mine, or my environment? Who made me who I am; me or the environment? I felt so much more free in Russia. God I hope that America will leave a few countries alone so that there will continue to exist a place to escape the power-hungry bottomless pit of the savage American culture.
Ef this place, and ef San Diego!
Ah, now. Thank you for sharing. Stay a while. Let's build a campfire. We're on the beach. It is moonlit and the stars are brighter than ever. The fire starts crackling. Let's sit for a while, and reflect on what you have just shared. I hear you in your rant about this effing place you are in right now. Boy you are pissed! Stay with this feeling for a while, and feel it deeply. Once you feel complete in this feeling, ask yourself: what is underneath?
Jordan did reply from the core of his being, and I decided to cut it and copy it to email, so we can do this more in private. We are continuing the campfire via email, and let me tell you, the heat is on. Who knows, we could start a campfire pod.
I'll bring the marshmallows!
I finally read this posting, re-posted on Michele's blog. I am re-posting my post to her blog here:
“WOW! This is one of the most beautiful things I have ever read. Yes. Yes Yes. I am once again sitting on the edge of the mesa looking out across the landscape of my heart, of all being. The place where I tend the sacred fire for what was, is and forever shall be when all else of duality falls away. Thank you Michele. Thank you Amazume. Thank you. Om namah.”
And thanks be to Oriah for giving voice to these eternal words.
I have some sage bundles for each of you around the campfire. I am smudging you all right now. I am sitting to join you. My gaze is fixed on the crackling of the fire of the one true love. The sacred fire circle is just another divine gimmick to get us to this place of recognition of the real hearth of life.
Oh how I love being here.