It Does Not Interest Me

It does not 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 does not 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 does not interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow...if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear or further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own . . . if you can dance with wildness and let ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.

It does not interest me if the story you're 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.

I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not pretty every day, and if you can source your life from God's presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "yes!"

It does not 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 for the children.

It does not interest me who you are, 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 does not 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

This is to have Succeeded

I write this at a crossroads with my job. I've written before that while I love my coworkers and my commute, I don't like what I do. Yet I haven't really done much to change my circumstances. I took some steps, got myself on several registers, went back to school. But when opportunities arose, I didn't jump on them. I alway found an excuse. Either the commute was too far or the schedule wasn't flexible enough for my needs. While I am a bit of a procrastinator, dragging my feet like this was uncharacteristic. It's like my body knew what I should do, but my mind hadn't reconciled with the idea yet. But an idea finally came to me that got me jazzed more than any other opportunity.

So I talked to Gareth about my going back to my old office and taking a voluntary demotion. He wasn't happy with the pay cut, but he knew it would be less stressful for me so he told me to go for it. My current job isn't difficult. We joke at my office that a trained monkey could do our work. But when you don't like what you do, there's little motivation in doing your best. I wanted a change, but not so much that the element of new would add more stress. So I'm going back to what I know, what I was good at, and somewhere I know I'd feel instantly welcome.

Hopefully, the new manager is swayed by my old coworker's recommendations and takes me on without much ceremony. It's not a sure thing, and I'm trying not to have my heart too set on it. But once I decided to do this, a sense of calm & peace came over me. So I know I'm making the right decision. It's like making a U-turn or backing up to take the other fork in the road.

It may be an awkward road, and I'm not thrilled about the pay cut, but the pay off will be being in a better place personally if not professionally. And I know it's only temporary. I have other plans in the works, but my first stop is back to my old job.

Dancing in Canada

So here I am, back in Vancouver, British Columbia. Richmond to be more exact. But then again, our hotel location is Vancouver-Airport. But it's in Richmond. Whatever.

Nice suite. Has a mini kitchen, a separate bedroom and living room. Don't know how the husband does it, but he lines up some nice hotels whenever we travel. Free, too, which makes it nicer. Been online all morning working on my homework and half listening to the TV. I've half-listened to Mickey Blue Eyes & now half listening to American President. Hadn't watched Mickey Blue Eyes before, it was quite funny. American President I've always enjoyed watching every time I catch it on TV. That press corp speech Michael Douglas gives after Sidney (Annette Bening) leaves him kicks ass.

So, hey. I'm a college student again, and can I tell you? I LOVE online classes. As long as I keep the due dates straight, I can work on as much or as little as I want. I am a little behind because I enrolled late to do the state employee tuition waiver, which requires you wait until 4 days after quarter starts to register on space available basis. I could've done the tuition reimbursement but $80 is easier to swallow than a $451 hit out of pocket, even if it comes back eventually. Can't believe how much textbooks costs. How do they justify $170 for books I'll use for 3 months? Books I might be able to sell back for $30? This is for 1 class. Can you imagine if I went for two classes, which I'm considering next quarter? I'd love to go full time, but with a full time job during the day and a part-time "job" 3 nights a week, it's just not practical.

So I started taking Metformin & Prometrium last week. Made me sick to my stomach. Literally. Couldn't keep anything down. I think I lost 5 lbs this week because of it. I'd keep taking 'em just for that benefit, but I feel awful. I actually became scared to eat. Yesterday, I decided not to take them and I felt wonderful. So, yeah. Need to talk to the doctor about alternatives or a better schedule because I whether I took them before I ate something or after I ate something, it didn't matter. One of them also gave me one of those nagging headaches. One of those that don't actually pound or throb. Just gave you the sense of an impending migraine but it never would turn into one. A tease of a headache. So, yeah. These pills aren't doing it for me.

I'm dancing around Oct. 8. A day that will live in infamy. For me anyway. Maybe for Gareth, too. It's hard to gauge how he feels about things sometimes. As for me. Honestly, I ache. I hurt. One year ago tomorrow I lost someone I never got to meet but loved with all my heart. I'm sure Gareth hurts, too. But when you physically carry the fleeting possibility inside you, then lose it suddenly & without explanation, it hurts through to the core of your being. You feel like the one who failed. You feel like the one who did something wrong. I know I shouldn't feel that way. I've been told countless times that this was Nature's way of saying it wasn't the right time, that there was something wrong with the fetus, not me. But I feel it anyway, as my ovaries throb uselessly. As my uterus thuds empty.

My counselor told me earlier this year it may help to write a letter to say goodbye. I never got around to doing so, so maybe that's why I still dance around this experience and my voice cracks and my eyes water as I try to smile and pretend I'm okay. Maybe I'll do so tomorrow. Maybe one year later, I can really let go.