I Do Not Choose to be Common

It is my right to be uncommon--if I can.
I seek opportunity--not security
I want to take the calculated risk:
To dream and to build, to fail and to succeed.

I refuse to barter incentive for a dole.
I prefer the challenges of life to the guaranteed existence;
The thrill of fulfillment to the stale calm of utopia.

I will not trade freedom for beneficence
nor my dignity for a handout.

I will never cower before any master
nor bend to any threat.

It is my heritage to stand erect, proud and unafraid;
To think and act for myself, enjoy the benefit
of my creations and to face the world
Boldly and say,
This I have done.

~"My Creed" by Dean Alfange

The Invitation

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 center of your own sorrow,

if you have been opened by life's betrayals

or have become shriveled and closed

from the 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 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 hear 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 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 empty moments.

Inspired by Oriah Mountain Dreamer,

Native American Elder, May 1994