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 bare 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 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.

(From Dreams of Desire) 1995 by Oriah House.

All Rights Reserved. 

Published by Mountain Dreaming, 300 Coxwell Avenue, Box 22546 Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4L 2A0

Excerpted with permission from 'THE INVITATION' (published May 1999)

Message from Oriah Mountain Dreamer:

"While I am pleased that this piece, 'The Invitation' has spoken to many others and happy that it is being shared, I would ask that you honour the original by sharing it as it was written.

I am a teacher and writer living in Toronto with my two teenage sons. While my family history includes stories of Scottish, German and Native American descent I am a Canadian woman, and not an "Indian Elder" as has sometimes been reported, being neither old enough nor wise enough to claim the status of "elder" for any people. I have had the privilege of studying with and learning from the wisdom of Native American elders who gave me the medicine name, Mountain Dreamer. My first book, 'Confessions of a Spiritual Thrillseeker' is currently out of print. 'Dreams of Desire' is a small collection of poetry only available through Mountain Dreaming".

The inspiring book:

The Invitation

by

Oriah Mountain Dreamer

Please note: The above cover is  the illustration on the Boxed Set. Currently, this item appears to be available in the U.S. only.