28 3 / 2012
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.
27 3 / 2012
12 3 / 2012
“I’m not a scientist. I’m a runner. So this… this is what I can do.”
Last week my dear friend’s dad passed away from cancer. I was stunned because just a couple of weeks ago, she had emailed me to let me know she was donating to my upcoming charity run for the Hirshberg Foundation for Pancreatic Cancer Research; that she knew how it felt to have a loved one battle cancer and she wanted to support in any way she could.
When I saw her yesterday, thru both our tears, I couldn’t help but be in awe over how her inner strength could shine through such sadness. Clearly, this was a result of how much her father and her loved and continue to love each other. I told her that I can’t even imagine the depth of her sadness, but when I think of her dad, I can only think good thoughts of how he was such an easy going and fun guy, how admirable his determination was to walk her down the aisle last year, and that while the slideshow of his photos will play, there will be tears, but there will also be so much laughter.
I also told her that what her dad taught me was that even though I’ve met my required fundraising commitment for my upcoming charity run to raise money for cancer research, that doesn’t mean I need to stop there. Those affected by cancer will continue to battle the disease, so, I should continue doing my part as well. Seeing her and her family’s pain, hearing stories from other supporters of their own loved ones who have lost the battle with cancer, and seeing my Auntie mourn my Uncle’s passing from pancreatic cancer - I mean, besides prayer and comforting words, what can I offer?
So, dear friends, if you’d like to support my charity run I will be doing this weekend in memory of so many loved ones who have passed away from cancer you can do so through this link to donate to pancreatic cancer research.
Rest in peace, Uncle. There’s not a doubt in my mind that you are in wonderful company right now.