something about me 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 ou are. I want to know if you will risk looking 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 center or your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain. I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or you 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 without the wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning 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's not pretty, every day, and source your own life from its presence. I want to know if you can live with failure, your and mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the sliver of the full moon, "yes!" It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want tot know if you can get up, after the night of 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 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