i've been trying to give myself lots of little things to look forward to: tyanne's birthday happy hour was great fun on friday, involving photobooths and mrs. pac man. a valentine's dinner-and-movie date with caitlin ensued on saturday. and today, i spent time reading oriah mountain dreamer's the invitation followed by a glorius nap. i wonder if there will come a point where i don't have to work so hard to be happy. staying away from capitol hill helps, as does painting my fingernails pink and taking baths with eucalyptus-scented salts. also, now that i've noticed a tendency in myself to steamroll people with ideas that i don't even necessarily believe—my mantra is: soften, soften, soften. and i feel softer, softer, softer inside.
excerpts from the poem the invitation was based upon:
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.
. . .
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.
i want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “yes!”
. . .
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.