Aaaaaand...Exhale

Deep breath in, looooooooooooooong breath out. I remember when I was in labor with Rebecca, I had miserable lower back pain and ridiculous, irregular contractions. The nurses were patient, even as loud as I was (they said they'd heard worse....) At one point, one of them told me it helped to hold the exhale as long as I could. And she was right. When I could really focus and hold my exhale, the pain lessened. Of course, when the new love of my life showed up in the form of the anesthesiologist and I finally received the pain injection, the pain really lessened.

Still, there is something to be said for breathing...especially breathing out. Long, long breath out. There, that's better.

The Invitation

Beautiful words, need to revisit these often:

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.

copyright © 1999 by Oriah Mountain Dreamer.

Judge Less, Talk More

It would be better not to know so many things
than to know so many things that are not so. ~ Felix Okoye

This about sums things up for me lately. I have been the target of misguided judgments and attacks recently. I've been told the 'truth will set me free'. I've been told I am 'hardwired to be critical' and have been the beneficiary of snide and passive-aggressive comments on Facebook (really?!)

I feel like I'm back in sixth grade. I remember vividly when some of the neighborhood girls would get it into their heads to 'gang up' on my best friends and I. Once my family came home from vacation to find that my friends had written with charcoal all over our sidewalk and driveway; unkind, juvenile comments.

I suppose when people have insecurities of their own, it is easier to heap the blame on someone around them for those things they can't face head on. And I find myself wanting to defend myself. But then I realize, if blaming me is the only way these people can feel good, then so be it. I prefer not to succumb to the he said/she said of it all. I know in my heart what I have done (and have not done.) I have made my attempts to reach out to these people, explain my perception of things, ask directly "What have I done to have you hold this grudge all this time?" But the bottom line is, I can't change the way people think about me. They haven't taken the time to talk to me face to face, and would rather make assumptions and judgments, and take pleasure in spreading their poison. They have made determinations about me with very little knowledge of me or my story.

It is exhausting and disheartening. And a lesson in the shallowness of people's souls. I breathe in peace, and breathe out love. I breathe in peace, and breathe out hope. I am tired.