What Matters..
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.
-Oriah Mountain Dreamer
31
It’s my 31st birthday today. I’m officially “in my 30’s”. I hate having to face that I’m getting old- it seems like I missed so much I wanted to do in my youth.
But, I have to say that I feel pretty good about this past year. I quit smoking. I got a great new job (a grown up one with a laptop and my own phone extension and everything). I finally saw my doctor about my depression and got that under control after suffering with it for 18 years. I bit the bullet and went back to school. And, now I am taking charge of my weight as well. I hope that I can continue to make positive changes in my life this year too.
New Digital Camera
Here are a couple of new pictures of me for no better reason than that Ryan just got a digital camera for work and is picture happy.
This is my annoyed look-
And this is me hugging Ian while he tries to get away-
The Crying Game- Toddler Style
My darling child has developed a crying habit. So far today he has cried because I left the room while he was going potty first thing this morning, because there was a bug on the carpet, because he didn’t remember he wanted his sunglasses until we got to school, because he didn’t like the afternoon snack, and because I said no to pizza for dinner again. And I don’t mean one little tear, I mean tantrum crying, without the flailing. His teachers are concerned. I am totally annoyed and threatening time out if he cries for anything less than blood. I know he misses his Daddy but come on! Okay, enough. I guess this is a “You reap what you sow” phase, as my parents apparently nicknamed me “Faucet” when I was about his age.
Counting Calories
I’ve been dieting for about 2 weeks now and I’ve lost 4 pounds. I’m counting calories. The theory is that I can have whatever I want as long as I have a calorie deficit of 1000 calories/day from what it takes to maintain this weight. I am using http://www.fitday.com ,which has lots of neat charts and graphs that appeal to my inner control freak.
I’m actually kind of proud of myself. 2 weeks is about 1 1/2 weeks longer than I’ve stuck to a diet in the past, at least since I “got over” my anorexia in 8th grade and went waayyyyyyy overboard the other direction.
