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 ~ aN oNlInE sCrApBoOk FoR nAnInG ~
dIs BlOg WaS cReAteD sOlElY tO bE ernani epondulan's UnOfFiCiAl SiTe. In ThE nExT cOuPlE oF dAyS, nEwS aRtIcLeS aNd AnYtHiNg AbOuT ernani wIlL bE fEaTuReD hErE.
tHe AuThoR wOuLd LiKe To EmPhAsIzE tHaT tHe SuBjEcT, uNlEsS nOtIfIed, Is NoT aWaRe Of ThIs BlOg'S eXiStEnCe. AnY aNd AlL eNtRiEs ApPeArInG hErE aRe SoLe ReSpOnSiBiLiTy Of ThE aUtHoR.
~ WARNING LABEL ~ | Informationi | | ernani epondulan is a RESTRICTED AREA. Authorised personnel only. Enter at your own risk. |
  | How to make a NANING cocktail |
Ingredients:
1 part intelligence
5 parts self-sufficiency
2 parts understanding
3 parts patience |
Method:
Combine in a tall glass half filled with crushed ice. Serve with a slice of caring, a quarter of self-preservation and a pinch of salt. Yum! |
~ an 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 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 own sorrow, if you have been opened 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, 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's not pretty, everyday, 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 on 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 to 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 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.
It doesn't interest me who you are. I just want to know YOU.
-oriah mountain dreamer-
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Thursday, August 26, 2004
"From the time I was little, I knew I was great
'cause the people would tell me, "You'll make it - just wait."
But they never did tell me how great I would be
If I ever played someone who was greater than me.
When I'm in the back yard, I'm king with the ball
To swish all those baskets is no sweat at all.
But all of a sudden there's a defender in my face
Who doesn't seem to realize that I'm king of this place.
So the pressure gets to me; I rush with the ball.
My passes to teammates could go through the wall.
My jumpers not falling, my dribbles not sure.
My hand is not steady; my eye is not pure.
The fault is my teammates - they don't understand.
The fault is my coaches - what a terrible plan.
The fault is the call by the blind referee.
But the fault is not mine; I'm the greatest, you see.
Then finally it hit me when I started to see
That the face in the mirror looked exactly like me.
It wasn't my teammates who were dropping the ball,
and it wasn't my coach shooting bricks at the wall.
That face in the mirror that was always so great
Had some room for improvement instead of just hate.
So I stopped blaming others and I started to grow.
My play got much better and it started to show.
And all of my teammates didn't seem quite so bad.
I learned to depend on the good friends I had.
Now I like myself better since I started to see
That I was lousy being great - I'm much better being me."a poem by: Tom Krause
Posted at 10:21 am by bisay
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