by Oriah Mountain Dreamer
Back to The Wisdom Garden
I have sent you my invitation,
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,
Spiralling 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, everyday.
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.
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 okey 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 that 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.
Show me how you take care of business
Without letting business determine 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
The 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 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 wind,
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 but from within.
Don't say, "Yes!"
Just take my hand and dance with me.
2. Traveling with my tribe.
3. Having all my family under one roof. (Or sky.)
4. Watching the day begin.
5. Playing with Cormac.
6. Hanging with my friends of the alley.
7. Painting on different canvases.
8. One on one time with my tribe.
9. Visiting the Rumpus Room.
10. Comfy clothing, long and flowing.
When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
When the road you’re trudging seems all uphill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest, if you must, but don’t you quit.
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about,
When he might have won had he stuck it out;
Don’t give up though the pace seems slow–
You may succeed with another blow.
Often the goal is nearer than,
It seems to a faint and faltering man,
Often the struggler has given up,
When he might have captured the victor’s cup,
And he learned too late when the night slipped down,
How close he was to the golden crown.
Success is failure turned inside out–
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are,
It may be near when it seems so far,
So stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit–
It’s when things seem worst that you must not quit.
|Never Give Up!|
Dear Mr. Fibro,
You do not even know me! If you did, you would know to call before you came over during this time of year or any time of year. But, no! And when you arrive, you do not even have the decency to gently use your knuckles to knock on the door. Nope, not you. You Mr. Fibro barge in like a bandit hiding out from your last victim.
I am no fool Mr. Fibro, we are not friends. You are more like an unwanted houseguest who arrives with bags on both sides ready to settle in without an exit plan or even permission to stay.
So here is the deal. You do not get the best room in the house or the center of my attention. Rather a back room will be your place of residency until you deem it time to disappear. And even though I know you will fight for the center of my attention, you need to know up front, you will be more like a pot on the back burner of the stove. Also, let me make one thing clear, you were not nor are you invited or welcomed into my space, okay maybe that is two things, no big deal, my letter, and my rules.
Furthermore, this I know to be true. For me to be good to me, I need to be good to you. I will be kind and gentle and even turn the other cheek but not without first bringing up my hand as a reminder of who is in charge and it aint you!
The heater will be a blazing, movement will happen and you may not be comfortable because making you feel good is not my job. I will take care of myself first so I can take care of others, and you are not on that list of others. You are not a friend, what would I call you?
Maybe after all these years I would call you teacher, of course not one I was looking for. You just arrived one day without warning and started taking over my body and sometimes my brain. You
taught me patients, perseverance and believe it or not peace. Peace in the middle of my pain. You taught me to fold into my faith a faith that promises that all things will work out for the good.
See Mr. Fibro, not everyone you try to take out will allow you to win. There is a group of us out here in the world with hearts bigger than your business. We band together, we remind one another of what matters most. We hold space to laugh, giggle, cry and just be. Those actions diminish your powers, the powers you use to try to make us small and unworthy. We are enough just the way we are.
We are the brave, bold, beautiful warriors who use words to lift each other up instead of tear one another down, which appears to be part of your plan. We are warriors who are not willing to give up or give into just because we hurt. We choose love the opposite of your plan even in our pain.
So, take that Mr. Fibro, you truly are what my definition of an F word would be, something offensive and abusive. You are foul and we are free, maybe not always from the outside in but from the inside out and you cannot take that away.
Today I am thankful for my Fibro family and those who get this invisible condition, remember if you are reading this you are not alone. Mr. Fibro you do not own us! Just F---- It! We are free….