Manifest Your Heart’s Calling With Wolf Moon

With many of us feeling baffled and shattered in the past year, intuitively we are looking for ways to mend and heal our roots. Nature is full of gifts even in the coldest days, and in this case, she offers us, well, roots…

Radish, parsnip, turnip, salsify…anything that organically grows underground can tonify our sense of safety and connection with the land we live and dream on.

It doesn’t matter which corner of the world you are in, today we both are under the fullness of the Wolf Moon. And I want to share this poem, The Invitation by Oriah Mountain Dreamer.

Since I initially read this poem in 2001, I’ve kept it and taken it across the ocean with me to the UK. 

The Wolf Moon 19 years ago was my first ever winter in the UK, on my own in the University accommodation. All other students had gone home. I was snowed in and struggled to find a part-time job (any part-time job) to support myself going forward. Just when I was about to give up, I found this little poem in my luggage.

“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 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 trust worthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty even when it’s 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 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 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 the empty moments.”

Only 421 words, but there was something magical in it. It helped me connect with something bigger than my trouble and fear.

I don’t read this poem very often, but when I need it, it’s right there for me. I’m sharing it today in case it comforts and inspires you too.

In the past few days, London was caressed by snow. As the white charm is now melting away, daffodils are not shy about shooting up, magpies proudly singing their songs, we too can ponder about our next step – there is always enchantment in transition. 

With love until next time,

Yiye Zhang 章一叶