The Invitation
Sometimes in life you can get rung like a bell. You can experience something that resonates so deeply with you that surely those around you must have heard it – your soul chiming. From the inside it feels like time freezes, but also like there is something urgent attend to. It’s the feeling of your mind putting down everything that it is juggling to figure out what that was that drew out such a response, such an affinity from you. Sometimes you find it to be a person, other times a sight, still other times an idea. For me, the first time was a poem.
I was in my childhood home, in the basement TV room, with some family members. It was 2004 or 2005, so I was in high school. The TV was on, but I wasn’t watching it. That is, I wasn’t watching it till fragments of the poem that someone was reciting on the screen drifted into my awareness. That’s when something chimed, and I felt an affinity that compelled my attention. I listened to the rest of the poem and then grabbed the remote to rewind the TiVo (a recent invention). I fumbled for the closest pen (a red one) and began to copy it down word for word, willing them not to disappear from my life before I could capture them.
The poem, “The Invitation,” would go on to be one of the cohering elements of my life story. I would read it again and again – in every place that I’ve lived, in every type of mood that I’ve had, both before and after I came out, and with every community that I’ve belonged to. Its words, though physically folded up in my wallet, would (and still do) sometimes rise into my consciousness at moments when I needed them, not unlike how Scripture does for some people. Also like Scripture, its meaning has shifted for me over time. I’ve had “aha!” moments during which formerly opaque or meaningless phrases became clear and I was able to grasp their profundity. Usually this has happened because a life experience has given me a new lens through which to see. In short, for well over a decade, I’ve found myself in a hermeneutical circle with this poem; I use it to interpret my life and use my life to interpret it.
What is so special about this poem?
What is so special about this poem? Is it a perfectly crafted piece of art? No, it’s not. Sometimes I even find myself ashamed by its simpleness and kitschy spirituality. But I can’t help it. It expresses many of the things that I find important in life. It also gives voice to my yearning to cut the bullshit and interact with those around me based on what actually matters and interact with myself in a courageously real way. Ultimately, it summons me to be bold about living into happiness and unflagging about caring for the vulnerable. Both things will probably hurt, but, in this world, there is no escaping hurt, only numbing it. “The Invitation” has more than once helped me to ask myself if the cost of the numbness is worth it, and also if I can see the value of a life lived wide open.
There are a few lines that played a role in my coming out that I would encourage those of you who are still in the closet to consider. I have highlighted these lines below. Please know that these lines are not meant to push you out of the closet or to shame you. Rather, hear in these words me gently inviting you to take a patient, courageous look at yourself, your longings, your fears, your strength, and, simply, your life as it is and as you want it to be. And maybe, if you listen, a bell will ring for you too.
The Invitation
By Oriah
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
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 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.