For what do you ache?

People of zee whirl: Most of you reading this know me at least a little; you know that when it comes to people, I value character, integrity, empathy, depth, vulnerability, thoughts, originality, hard work, risks and failure. I seek to harvest ideas, explore experiences and viewpoints and encourage outrageous dreams (with a strategic gameplan, of course).

Well, talk about coincidence. While dusting off my copy of "The Living I Ching" last night, an old, folded, photo-copied piece of paper fell out. It's an invitation, in fact "The Invitation," masterfully authored by Oriah M. Dreamer. It radiates shared sentiments with such finesse and pith it's remarkable - it's exhilarating. Challenging. And I promise it will make your heart beat faster as you read it, if you really read it...:

THE INVITATION
( by Oriah M. 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 hearts 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've touched the center of your sorrow, if you've been opened by life's betrayals, or have you 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 or to remember the limitations of the human being.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling 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's 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 at 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 a 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've studied. I want to know what sustains you 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.