THE INVITATION
by Orian 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 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 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'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 center 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 Dreamer

copyright © 1999 by Oriah Mountain Dreamer.

FOOTSTEPS IN THE MORNING
By Jayne, August 2000

As I lay in bed, waiting for the morning
To take away the pains of my rebelling body,
I hear that soft and gentle sound--
The shuffle shuffle of Love coming my way.

Coming to greet me ,
as a new day dawns.
Her tiny body comes to me.
As I lift the covers to beckon her onward..

She climbs way up the side of the bed.
As I greet her with a sleepy "'Mornin!".
She's my Angel of Love as she cuddles next to my body.
Her tiny,tiny Hands of Healing...

They caress my face, my ears, my cheeks.
Her dark brown pools of love
Look at me as I drift away.
Patiently she waits as I being myself

Back to this Earth, from the valleys of my sleep.
I soak her up, her Joy of Life,
Her innocence,her Trust.
They are more powerful

Than any alchemy I know!
They heal my pain, my sorrow,
My loneliness....

And make me wish this moment
Will go on forever.
For...they are...
My Madison's--- Footsteps In the Morning.