Dear sis,

I want to share this beautiful prose- poem called,  “The Invitation”,  by Oriah House.

It touched me for many reasons.   It is a reminder of what is truly important in life.

Contrast is important to truly feel emotions.

Love and hurt.   Light and darkness.   Joy and sorrow.  Beautiful and unpleasant.   Life’s meaning is captured in contrast.

For me personally, this poem is a reminder of how I want to live and love.

I love you sis,

Kathy xo

ps.  Karen, after loosing mom and dad in our early 20’s I became so mindful of how very precious life is.  And now seeing you living your life as you are, my appreciation for each day is even deeper.  You are inspiring, courageous and my hero.  I love that you are the MSA warrior.   Living each day as best as you can.   So when you hear this poem below, please know it makes me believe that you ARE still living.  Because living is about feelings, emotions, acceptance.  All internal.  So all that “stuff” you had to rid of… your house, your belongings, your car….all have nothing to do with really living.   I am so grateful that you can still hear, see and feel a kiss from your children.  I am so grateful that I can share stories with you.

But most of all, I am so grateful that we can all still feel the love.

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, be realistic, 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, ‘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 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.