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 dreams, 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 sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals, or have become shriveled and closed by fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, fade it or fix it. I want to know if you can be with joy, mine and your own, if you can dance with the wildness and let ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes, without cautioning to be careful, realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling 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. I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore trustworthy. I want to know if you can see beauty when the day is not pretty, and if you can source your 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 ocean and shout "yes. " It doesn't interest me where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after a night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what is needed for your loved ones.
It doesn't interest me who you are and 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.