WHAT DO YOU ACHE FOR?

[Island Girl Prose Papers and Compass Paper Weight by My DigiStyle, Mabelle Rubia; Journal paper from Naturally, Retro Diva, Tracy Collins; Key Element from Gals Heritage Kit; Font Courier]

Journaling:

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.

- Mountaindreaming, from the book The Invitation

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My cousin shared this poem from the book "The Invitation", by Oriah Mountain Dreamer. I had never heard of the book or the author before until today. The poem struck a chord and reverberates in my most innermost recesses. I was speechless, reading it shifted me into an introspective and pensive mood. It was like my soul was shouting out and clamoring to be set free. And me to question the "whys" I have not dared to answer or even seek.

I decided to look the author up on the internet and found her site (I'm sharing the link): http://www.oriahmountaindreamer.com/home.html

What I further read from the excerpts of the book (and these are just excerpts mind you, I have not read the book yet) have me questioning everything in my life at this point. "What do I ache for and do I dare to dream of meeting my heart's longing?" It has been such I long time since I even dared to feel what I ached for, oh yes, it is there. The longing buried deep under layers and layers of conformity and blending into the woodwork. Of being afraid to confront and be labeled mediocre. Where is my bravery? I am not brave, because I have not sought to know who I truly am and learned to accept what I may be or what I may become. The bud never blooming into the rose.

It is a brave soul to know and accept oneself. How many of us really know what we want? How long has it been since I have truly felt alive, empowered, purpose driven? We go on and on, lost in our so called encapsulated lives, forgetting what it is like to see the world like a child, without fear, without boundaries... full of questions and vivid imaginations.

My heart craves and yearns to be understood, to be accepted, to be loved. Without recriminations, without expectations, without despair. I do not want to be what is comfortable, nor do I want to be one who is just there. I want to give and feel good giving, I want to take and not be guilty taking. I want to laugh and run unfettered. I want to enjoy my children and not feel bad when I forget to be a child with them or to be the kind of mother you are told you should be but are not. I yearn to learn and discover, feel, create, nourish. To be me and cherished for being so.

And if I were to be true to myself, the line in the poem that cries out to me would be:

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.

This tears at me and rocks my core and so very describes everything...my inner turmoil and the questions of what ifs and whys, the causes and the potential effects. It is harder than it appears to be because the layers have become comfortable and have masked my true soul. I feel at a crossroad and afraid to dare to ache for anything yet knowing that I cannot hide from this.