A Southerner in the Deep South: Day dreaming on the slope of Shades mountain

I saw this poem first on a dating site. Never contacted that particular Southern lady, although I was very impressed with her. Well, strictly she did not count as a Southern lady since she was not from around here - too keep with the topic of the blog, subtopic romance in the Deep South :-). The poem is a dream so far away from our daily lives, yet probably the truth and where we should head. Human beings are so crazy and living in their little self-created fantasy worlds (I just had another encounter of that), so why not being "crazy" like in the poem, and thereby actually being real. I sometimes fear to become closed and shrivelled by life's little betrayals, yet often I do shout 'Yes' again after another of my failures. I still wonder if we ever will be as open to life as in our dreams.

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 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.

By Oriah © Mountain Dreaming,