The Dance

The Dance
by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

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 OK 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 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 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 or from within.

Don’t say, “Yes!”
Just take my hand and dance with me.

Oriah Mountain Dreamer

For All Moms

FOR ALL MOMS (PRESENT, PAST OR POSSIBLY FUTURE)
AND MOMS AT HEART (FATHERS)

We are sitting at lunch when my daughter casually
mentions that she and her husband are thinking of
“starting a family.”

“We’re taking a survey,” she says, half-joking. “Do
you think I should have a baby?”

“It will change your life,” I say, carefully keeping
my tone neutral. “I know,” she says, “no more
sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous
vacations….”

But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my
daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want
her to know what she will never learn in childbirth
classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds
of child bearing will heal, but that becoming a
mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw
that she will forever be vulnerable.

I consider warning her that she will never again
read a newspaper without asking “What if that had
been MY child?” That every plane crash, every house
fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of
starving children, she will wonder if anything could
be worse than watching your child die.

I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish
suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she
is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the
primitive level of a bear protecting her cub.

That an urgent call of “Mom!” will cause her to drop
a souffle or her best crystal without a moment’s
hesitation.

I feel I should warn her that no matter how many
years she has invested in her career, she will be
professionally derailed by motherhood.

She might arrange for childcare, but one day she
will be going into an important business meeting and
she will think of her baby’s sweet smell. She will
have to use every ounce of her discipline to keep
from running home, just to make sure her baby is all
right.

I want my daughter to know that everyday decisions
will no longer be routine. That a five year old
boy’s desire to go to the men’s room rather than the
women’s at McDonald’s will become a major dilemma.
That right there, in the midst of clattering trays
and screaming children, issues of independence and
gender identity will be weighed against the prospect
that a child molester may be lurking in that
restroom.

However decisive she may be at the office, she will
second-guess herself constantly as a mother.

Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure
her that eventually she will shed the pounds of
pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about
herself. That her life, now so important, will be of
less value to her once she has a child. That she
would give it up in a moment to save her offspring,
but will also begin to hope for more years — not to
accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child
accomplish theirs.

I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny
stretch marks will become badges of honor. My
daughter’s relationship with her husband will
change, but not in the way she thinks. I wish she
could understand how much more you can love a man
who is careful to powder the baby or who never
hesitates to play with his child. I think she should
know that she will fall in love with him again for
reasons she would now find very unromantic.

I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will
feel with women throughout history who have tried to
stop war, prejudice and drunk driving.

I hope she will understand why I can think
rationally about most issues, but become temporarily
insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear war to
my children’s future.

I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration
of seeing your child learn to ride a bike. I want to
capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is
touching the soft fur of a dog or a cat for the
first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so
real, it actually hurts.

My daughter’s quizzical look makes me realize that
tears have formed in my eyes. “You’ll never regret
it,” I finally say. Then I reach across the table,
squeeze my daughter’s hand and offer a silent prayer
for her, and for me, and for all of the mere mortal
women who stumble their way into this most wonderful
of callings. This blessed gift from God . . . that
of being a Mother.

 

author unknown

The Meaning of Love

 

 by Rumi

 

Both light and shadow
are the dance of Love.

Love has no cause;
it is the astrolabe of God’s secrets.

Lover and Loving are inseparable
and timeless.

 

Although I may try to describe Love
when I experience it I am speechless.

Although I may try to write about Love
I am rendered helpless;
my pen breaks and the paper slips away
at the ineffable place
where Lover, Loving and Loved are one.

 

Every moment is made glorious
by the light of Love.

Do You Love Me

Love for Arts (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

by Rumi

 

A lover asked his beloved,
Do you love yourself more
than you love me?

The beloved replied,
I have died to myself
and I live for you.

I’ve disappeared from myself
and my attributes.
I am present only for you.

I have forgotten all my learning,
but from knowing you
I have become a scholar.

I have lost all my strength,
but from your power
I am able.

If I love myself
I love you.
If I love you
I love myself.

Seeking You

The moment I heard my first love story I began seeking you,
not realizing the search was useless.
Lovers don’t meet somewhere along the way.
They’re in one another’s souls from the beginning.

Rumi
(1207-1273)

Cherokee Prayer

 

God in heaven above please protect the ones we love.
We honor all you created as we pledge
our hearts and lives together.
We honor mother-earth – and ask for our marriage to
be abundant and grow stronger through the seasons;
We honor fire – and ask that our union
be warm and glowing with love in our hearts;
We honor wind – and ask we sail though life
safe and calm as in our father’s arms;
We honor water – to clean and soothe our relationship –
that it may never thirsts for love;
With all the forces of the universe you created,
we pray for harmony and true happiness as
we forever grow young together. Amen.

Native American Ten Commandments

Treat the Earth and all that dwell thereon with respect.
Remain close to the Great Spirit.
Show great respect for your fellow beings.
Work together for the benefit of all Mankind.
Give assistance and kindness wherever needed.
Do what you know to be right.
Look after the well being of mind and body.
Dedicate a share of your efforts to the greater good.
Be truthful and honest at all times.
Take full responsibility for your actions.

An Indian Prayer

My Grandfather is the FireMy Grandmother is the Wind

The Earth is my Mother

The Great Spirit is my Father

The World stopped at my birth and laid itself at my feet

And I shall swallow the Earth whole when I die,
and the Earth and I will be one.

Hail The Great Spirit, my Father, without him no one
could exist because there would be no will to live.

Hail The Earth, my Mother, without which no food
could be grown and so cause the will to live to starve.
Hail the wind, my Grandmother, for she brings loving,
life-giving rain nourishing us as she nourishes our crops.
Hail the fire, my Grandfather, for the light, the warmth,
the comfort he brings without which we be animals, not men.

Hail my parent and grandparents without which,
not I, nor you, nor anyone else could have existed.

Life gives life which gives unto itself a promise of new life.

Hail the Great Spirit, The Earth, the Wind, the Fire
praise my parents loudly for they are your parents, too.

Oh, Great Spirit, giver of my life please accept this
humble offering of prayer, this offering of praise,
this honest reverence of my love for you.

I Loved You Best of All

 

Before we met, you and I were halves unjoined except in the wide

rivers of our minds.  We were each other’s distant shore, the

opposite wings of a bird, the other half of a seashell.  We did not

know the other then, did not know our determination to keep alive

the cry of one riverbank to the other.  We were apart, yet connected

in our ignorance of each other, like two apples sharing a common

tree.  Remember?

 

I knew you existed long before you understood my desire to join my

freedom to yours.  Our paths collided long enough for our indecision

to be swallowed up by the greater need of love.  When you came to me,

the sun surged towards the earth and moon escaped from darkness to

bless the union of two spirits, so alike that the creator had designed them

for life’s endless circle.  Beloved partner, keeper of my heart’s odd secrets,

clothed in summer blossoms so the icy hand of winter never touches us.

I thank your patience.  Our joining is like a tree to earth,

a cloud to sky and even more.  We are the reason the world can laugh

on its battlefields and rise from the ashes of its selfishness to hear me say,

in this time, this place, this way – I loved you best of all.

To My Best Friend

I love you.
You are my best friend.
I promise to encourage and inspire you,
to laugh with you, and to comfort you
in times of sorrow and struggle.
I promise to love you in good times and in bad,
when life seems easy and when it seems hard,
when our love is simple, and when it is an effort.
I promise to cherish you,
and to always hold you in highest regard.
These things I give to you today,
and all the days of our life.