Sunday, May 07, 2006

It Doesn't Interest Me!

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare 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 the fool for love, for your dreams, 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 sorrow, if you have been opened up by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain, 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, be realistic, or 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 betray another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.
I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty even when it's not a pretty day, and if you can source your life from God's presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver light of the 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 a night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children.
It doesn't matter who you are, 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 the empty moments.
---Oriah Mountain Dreamer


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4:29 PM  
Blogger Jeff said...

I want to know if the writer of this blog is simply a generator of epiphenomena, or if the writer ever reads the reader, and, if so, why the writer does not acknowledge the reader who writes. I have no interest in the solipsist, because in his mind, I do not exist, except in his mind, and he believes all I have done he has created anyway.

Love ya, Tony!


11:18 PM  
Blogger Tony Forkush said...

To ubiquitous one known as "Jeff",

Please identify yourself.

10:43 AM  
Blogger Jeff said...

"I am Mr. Owen. Mr. U. N. Owen."

Oh, wait. I played Anthony Marston. And you weren't in that play. That was Steve Bushwall and Darryl Pearce. Dude! Surely the UFP and Landru and Star Trek references gave me away from the beginning?

I am a river crossing.
I am the first president of the USA who never received a vote.
I am the dirty little coward who shot Mr. Howard.
I have a better idea.

Goo goo g'joob.

Glad to draw you out into the peanut gallery.


7:15 PM  
Blogger Tony Forkush said...

Not for one split second had I the foggiest notion, even for a nano-second, that you are who I now believe you to be. It simply never ever crossed my mind that were a friend from so so long ago. But I now know that you are the one...the only...Gustavo Unterberger!!! Wow! It is so good to hear from you. The last I remember you had gone catatonic at a Mcdonald's in Northridge and spent several weeks in a semi-colon, uh...coma.
My best regards to you and your family.
Oh, by the way, do you ever hear from Jeff Ford?

9:11 AM  
Blogger Jeff said...

I see your deductive faculties are as keen as they were when you were seventeen. Ah, McDonald's. Yes, that brief stint at Harvey Mudd, coupled with the insufferable internal pressures generated by the lemon-sucker ombuchure and mighty diaphragmatic compressions necessary to play that sexiest of chick-magnet instruments, the oboe, finally lead to me blowing a gasket in the old pre-frontal cortex. Heh, heh. I'm now the assistant manager at that McDonald's in Northridge, and I do the schedule, so I get to set my own hours, thank you very much.

As to Ford, well, I haven't heard from the dude. I googled "Jeffery Ford" and came up with several links: one to a sci-fi writer, another to a bit part actor, another to a posturing member of an aged cover band, and last, to a chief tester of recliners at the Barcalounger factory in High Point, NC. Knowing Ford, I'll bet he is the latter.

Good to hear from you, Tony,


2:23 PM  
Blogger Tony Forkush said...

Paging Dr. Ford, Dr. Moe, Dr. Larry, Dr. Curly...

Who is M.Y. Affliction? I checked out the photo but cannot guess who you may be?

Tell me more. How is your family? Your brother? your mother? Your everyone?

Have you gotten over your Ronald Griffith scolding, that I too received with brash tongue lashment?

We're still writing so I guess we did.
Peace,Namaste...Dharma Seed...The Hanso Foundation...Lost

4:32 PM  
Blogger Jeff said...


You can't tell which one I am? I'm the cute Beatle, man!

I got a mess o' junk goin' on right now, so it may be a few days before I can write something of substance.

Keep fighting the good fight.


8:44 PM  

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