by Julie Fitzpatrick, PDC Executive Director
How does one write a snappy little intro while the world is at a pinnacle point of social and racial unrest, amid a global health and economic crisis? The answer is you don’t.
It has been a rough few months, and the worst part is that none of us know what to expect and anticipate in the next few months. We can hope and pray for the pandemic to be over. We can certainly do our own part in being responsible to those around us – and wear a mask! We can educate ourselves and be responsible for what we say and what we do. We can speak up, because we have a voice – and we have a responsibility to use it. We can continue to push ahead and be the leaders we are called to be. It’s scary; it’s hard; and it’s exhausting.
I believe that the poignancy of all of this happening this year, 2020 (20/20), is not lost. It is an opportunity to look towards the future and create what that vision looks like. Each of us has a role in creating the future that we want – for us – and for future generations. This is the time for us to leave our legacy. Only you can decide what that legacy will be.
I invite you to reflect on a poem that I found as I was planning my wedding ceremony 20 years ago. You can apply to a marriage or any relationship, or how you lead your life…
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.
The Invitation
By Oriah
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 shriveled 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.