The Invitation

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 shrivelled

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 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,


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 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.

~~ Oriah Mountain Dreamer ~~


As Time Goes By

As time goes by,

You will loosen your grip on that rock,

The one you always thought was home,

And you will realise that home is not a place,

It’s a state of mind.

Let it go.

As times goes by,

You will learn to see yourself more clearly,

The girl who was always too much of one thing,

And too little of another, was actually

Everything she needed to be.

Let her out.

As time goes by,

You will let the simple things become the big,

And you will allow the big things to become the simple,

And that readjustment will be,

The day you really start to live,

Let it be.

As time goes by,

You will be forced to say goodbye many times,

And your soft little heart will shatter but,

It will still beat and that will bring you,

All the purpose you need.

Let it beat.

As time goes by,

You will stop choosing wealth over peace,

You will stop choosing money over time,

And you will see that the treasures you need,

Are in the smiles and the laughter.

Let them in.

As times goes by,

The moments you remember when your life flashes past,

Are never the awful memories my friend, it’s the joy,

The summer nights, the lazy days with loved ones,

The midnight chats and the morning hugs,

Let them happen.

Let them all happen.

~~ Donna Ashworth ~~

Hymn for the Hurting

Everything hurts,
Our hearts shadowed and strange,
Minds made muddied and mute.
We carry tragedy, terrifying and true.
And yet none of it is new;
We knew it as home,
As horror,
As heritage.
Even our children
Cannot be children,
Cannot be.

Everything hurts.
It’s a hard time to be alive,
And even harder to stay that way.
We’re burdened to live out these days,
While at the same time, blessed to outlive them.

This alarm is how we know
We must be altered —
That we must differ or die,
That we must triumph or try.
Thus while hate cannot be terminated,
It can be transformed
Into a love that lets us live.

May we not just grieve, but give:
May we not just ache, but act;
May our signed right to bear arms
Never blind our sight from shared harm;
May we choose our children over chaos.
May another innocent never be lost.

Maybe everything hurts,
Our hearts shadowed & strange.
But only when everything hurts
May everything change.

~~ Amanda Gorman ~~


Sometimes, when a bird cries out,

Or the wind sweeps through a tree,

Or a dog howls in a far off farm,

I hold still and listen a long time.

My soul turns and goes back to the place

Where, a thousand forgotten years ago,

The bird and the blowing wind

Were like me, and were my brothers.

My soul turns into a tree,

And an animal, and a cloud bank.

Then changed and odd it comes home

And asks me questions. What should I reply?

~~ Hermann Hesse ~~

3 week old baby boy ~ and his mom

It’s a portrait of a 3 week old male baby mourning dove ~ he’s really only about 7 inches tall and was perched on the fence for a while this morning so I went out to visit with him. The entire family allows me to visit within a foot of them because they’ve seen me so often and heard me talking to them. He’s looking pretty scrawny still, and I’ve posted a photo of his mom as a reminder of what he will look like when he’s grown out of this “tween” stage. He was so anxious to leave the nest and I kind of felt like he left a day or two too early. From watching birds for so long, I know they have a tough life, always needing to look out for predators. I’m hoping this little one will come back again for a bit each day so that I can see how he’s doing. I haven’t seen the little female dove at all. All anyone can do is hope for the best for these precious little lives.

And then…there was one.

Yep, sometime between last night and early morning, the bigger of the two babies flew away. I’m pretty sure he is a male dove because males are bigger than the females, although I don’t really know for sure. For the sake of telling this story, the one who has left already will be “he” and the smaller dove will be “she.” I did see the one who disappeared from the nest overnight perched on the fence for a while this morning. He looks big in the photo, but he’s really only about six inches tall. He stayed for a while and then it was really something to see him fly off into a nearby tree. The smaller dove has been trying so hard to fly from the nest, but she just can’t quite do it. I’ve watched the parents perch about 20 feet away on the fence and call to her, and even fly to the nest for about five seconds and then quickly leave…as if to say “this is how you do it.” Surely today, she will be courageous enough to leave and join the rest of her family. I’ve learned SO much from this experience and I have the utmost respect for dove parents. Their dedication throughout this whole process has been astounding. All of this will remain in my heart forever. I will still post a few photos every now and then if I still see the babies.

The seeker is you…

“It is almost as if we are all playing a big game of hide-and-go-seek. We all hide, expecting to be found, but no one has been labelled the seeker. We stand behind the wall, at first excited, then worried, then bored, then anxious, then angry. We hide and hide. After a while, the game is not fun anymore.

Where is the seeker? Where is the person who is supposed to come find me here in my protected shell and cut me open? Where is that one who will make me trust him, make me comfortable, make me feel whole? Some people rot on the spot, waiting for the seeker who never comes.

The most important truth I can relate to you, if you are hiding and waiting, is that the seeker is you, and the world, behind so many walls, awaits.” ~~ Vironika Tugaleva