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 lovefor your dreamfor 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 ownwithout moving to hide itor 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 betrayaland not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithlessand therefore trustworthy.I
want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not prettyevery 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 despairweary 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 standin the centre of the fire
with meand not shrink back.
It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains youfrom 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 keepin the empty moments.