I have sent you my invitation,
the note inscribed on the palm of my hand by the fire of living.
the note inscribed on the palm of my hand by the fire of living.
Don't jump up and shout "Yes! This is what I want! Let's do it!"
Just stand up quietly and dance with me.
Show me how you follow your deepest desires,
spiraling down into the ache within the ache,
and I will show you how I reach inward and open outward
to feel the kiss of the Mystery, sweet lips on my own, every day.
Don't tell me you want to hold the whole world in your heart.
Show me how you turn away from making another wrong
without abandoning yourself when you are hurt and afraid of being unloved.
without abandoning yourself when you are hurt and afraid of being unloved.
Tell me a story of who you are,
and see who I am in the stories I am living.
And together we will remember that each of us always has a choice.
Don't tell me how wonderful things will be.... some day
Show me you can risk being completely at peace,
truly okay with the way things are right now in this moment,
and again in the next and the next and the next...
I have heard enough warrior stories of heroic daring.
Tell me how you crumble when you hit the wall,
the place you cannot go beyond by the strength of your own will.
What carries you to the other side of the wall,
to the fragile beauty of your own humanness?
And after we have shown each other how we have set and kept the clear, healthy boundaries that help us live side by side with each other, let us risk remembering that we never stop silently loving those we once loved out loud.
Take me to the places on the earth that teach you how to dance,
the places where you can risk letting the world break your heart,
and I will take you to the places where the earth
beneath my feet and the stars overhead make my heart whole again and again.
beneath my feet and the stars overhead make my heart whole again and again.
Show me how you take care of business without letting business define who you are.
When the children are fed but still the voices within and around us shout
that soul's desires have too high a price,
let us remind each other that it is never about the money.
Show me how you offer to your people and the world
the stories and the songs you want our children's children to remember,
and I will show you how I struggle,
not to change the world but to love it.
Sit beside me in the long moments of shared solitude,
knowing both our absolute aloneness and our undeniable belonging.
Dance with me in the silence and in the sound of small daily words,
holding neither against me at the end of the day.
And when the sound of all the declarations of our sincerest
intentions has died away on the winds,
dance with me in the infinite pause before the next great inhale
of the breath that is breathing us all into being,
not filling the emptiness from the outside or from within.
Don't say "Yes!'
Just take my hand and dance with me.
Oriah Mountain Dreamer
~*
10 comments:
This is beautiful still after many years of dancing and not dancing, both alone and not alone.
We should all struggle not to change the world but to love it as we breathe ourselves into being.
I don't know what time it is where you are or what time you have set in your blogger, but I just got this now. It tells me it was posted at 6:21pm my time, just 3 minutes ago. Apparently. ;)
Cheers,
Snoskred
Thank you for sharing this, it's new to me. And it reminds me that no matter how profound our feelings, someone else has shared that feeling, thought, experience. Long ago, today, tomorrow. It is so freeing to let oneself go into the One.
I love Oriah. Another piece about screaming yes at the moon has always stuck with me too. The realness it calls for. How freeing is that.
I loved reading this.
This is beautiful and it somehow lifts my spirit.
Thank you for sharing this, Chani.
Thank you for posting this - wonderful to read today~
so just do? Don't say you will do?
nice.
dancing....
Dance is the hidden language of the soul.
thank you for posting this and introducing oriah to those of us who were unfamilar with her poetry/prose. it is indeed a gift.
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