by Olivia Miller
@olive9124
During
our first staff meeting after the election one of our colleagues read the
following poem to us, The Invitation by Oriah Mountain Dreamer, and I wanted to
share it with all of you. It reminded me that in this field that we invite
students and others into our lives and are granted invitations into the lives
of others as well. This election, as we are all well aware, has been divisive
and disruptive. Now, more than ever, we must invite our students to come to us
– with their worries and concerns, to create a safe space, and at the same time
to practice self-care. I invite each of you to read this poem and share it with
others, and to move forward stronger together – as a profession and a country.
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 centre 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 limitation 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 is 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 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 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 centre of the fire
With
me
And
not shrink back.
It
doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom
You
have studies.
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.
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