The Invitation

My therapist of old gave this to me about five years ago because of my frustrations of living in a material world.  I have held it close to my heart, until now where I share it with those who care.

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 centre of your own sorrow; if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shrivelled 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 out 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 fo 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 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 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.

By Oriah Mountain Dreamer

So from here on, I invite you accordingly.

Lady Gaga’s Flashed Gash at Glasto

Maybe I have turned into the Mary Whitehouse of the 21st Century, perhaps a sexier version though.  It’s not that I believe sex is bad, I really don’t.  I just want to stop and question what young people are absorbing as part of their culture.  And how this may shape who they become as they grow into young people.

As the 21st Century sees girls as young as 10 year with computers in their room I can’t help but feel a moral obligation to question the music video to Telephone by Lady Gaga, featuring Beyonce.  I was able to stumble upon this video quite easily, all I typed into Google was Lady Gaga and it was there, infront of my at the touch of button.  As Lady Gaga flashes her gash yet once again, to feed her own ego as she gets lost in the news stories of, is she or isn’t he, she somehow loses sight of the reality of the young girls who she is influencing.  Lady Gaga’s gash flash is has an explicit sense to it.  With the amount of controversy surrounding her clitoris, it’s almost as though she wanted to show the world that she’s not a man.  The meaning her fans may give her gash flash, is that’s showing your clitoris is acceptable.  I suppose I’m thinking along the lines of domestic violence and rape and how pornography can and does exploit some women.  I’m not sure that Lady Gaga sees herself as an advocate for women rights, more an artist who is so caught up in her own self obsession she has lost sense of others reality.

As Lady Gaga symbolises the rise in moral decline for the 21st Century, portraying the decisive moment in a new period of humanity.  A ‘flash your gash’ attitude to the female form, ‘I will always get what I want because I have a clitoris.’  Well lucky you Lady Gaga as you flash from a place of safety as women continue to be exploited because of the sexual needs of men.   This was no accident as all girls know whether their bits are hanging out or not.  Shown live on BBC3 it was not repeated and Lady Gaga’s underwear moment was forgotten, until now. 

In countries such as Afghanistan Lady Gaga would be cloaked so she maybe protected from the exploitation of men, according to the Koran.  Who makes the most money out of Lady Gaga?  She or he?  Why does religion want to control us?  I think Jesus was all for a bit of cunnilingus personally, otherwise what purpose did Mary Magdalene serve?  The female aspect of ones Self will always return to cunnilingus, whether male or female.

Loving ones self was the best thing she had ever done, it seemed a better way to be, a better way than self harming and loathing the face she saw in the mirror just because she wasn’t as slim or as beautiful as Lady Gaga.

Bring back Mary Whitehouse.

 

She refused to accept Lady Gaga as a role model for her 5 year old daughter, there’s something that’s not quite right.

She couldn’t help but think those 3 Brit awards were because of this Glastonbury moment.