The Invitation - Oriah Mountain Dreamer

Today I heard that my neighbour had been shot, one bullet in his head in a heated moment. He lived a charmed life and often I wondered about the people that visited him, so did the rest of the people in our little complex..... but he was nice to me. Even though I sometimes shouted like the bitch troll from hell, when his friends rang my bell once again 3h00 in the morning, he treated me with respect and dignity.

He was nice to me, and kind, and helpful. He fixed my garage when it was broken and welded the gate, so that we would be safe. Even though he was apparently well known in the realm of gangsters and the flats, in my world he was a dad to a step-son who had lost his mother, and the hero dad to a four year old whose world revolved around her daddy. He had three other children, well-mannered, beautiful, precious. He was soft-spoken though I could see that he had a temper. He kept to himself, and kept the door closed not to disturb anyone with his friends' late night visits or their smoking or his son's loud youthful bounty of life.

But today, I heard that someone just shot him. One bullet, one moment of rage and his life was ended. I was angry and outraged and felt ill.

And I suddenly was soooo sad. I couldnt understand it, I had known him for 3 years, but yet never really did. But that which I had known about him, I knew that he loved his children, he cared for his partner and he wished that all the strife that happened in his life, he could rather abandon and get away from it. He even left some of his businesses just to get away from that which haunted him, must have been for his whole life. He was my age, we would have been born in the same year.

And I wondered where he would have been if he had had a different life.

Tonight I mourn for the Jerome Cloete I never knew.... and especially for the one that I got to know so fleetingly.

Tonight I wonder what chance he ever had? When he moved in here, 3.5 years ago, wanting a better life for his boy, wanting a life away from his other life, whether he did it to choose a different life?

Some would say that he most probably died the way that he lived, but I knew that there was a different side to him. A man that could be concerned about how to raise a son without a mother, a man that would help me pick up the things that were too heavy, a man whose friends who would wait for me to walk out the gate. A man loved and adored by his mates.

I spoke to one of his friends today. He was so sad, that he could barely look me in the eyes.

Tonight I mourn for a wasted life. It is the biggest waste of all....

The Invitation
It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.

I want to know what you ache forand 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 foolfor love

for your dreamfor 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 closedfrom fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with painmine or your own

without moving to hide itor fade it

or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy

mine or your ownif you can dance with wildness

and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes

without cautioning us

to be carefulto 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 betrayaland not betray your own soul.

If you can be faithlessand therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty

even when it is not prettyevery 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 meto know where you live or how much money you have.

I want to know if you can get upafter 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 knowor how you came to be here.

I want to know if you will standin 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 insidewhen 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.

God bless you.