Last Friday was our last ‘Leadership Friday’ in Challenge Detroit. Throughout the year, these days have been filled messages from influential community and business leaders, time for professional growth, and important conversations related to race and gentrification in Detroit.

During this final Leadership Friday, we took time at the end of the day to express gratitude for what we have gained during the fellowship. For me, this may have been the single more powerful thing we have experienced together as fellows.

Even in the busiest of times, I have found that gratitude is the one ‘trick’ that almost never fails for putting life in perspective and reminding me that my worries are oftentimes irrelevant to the greater story and purpose of my life.

Hearing all of the fellows—my friends, colleagues, and teachers—express gratitude was an incredibly powerful experience for me. Pain, joy, and nostalgia came out in tears and choked voices and I was reminded of the universality of the human experience.

Through this experience, I could not help but reflect on the beginning of my Challenge Detroit year. We were asked to share a piece of ourselves in a 3-minute ‘Ted Talk’. During my talk, I decided to share a poem that is deeply personal for me. It is The Invitation by Oriah and it speaks to the depth of the relationships I hope to cultivate throughout my life. As the Challenge Detroit year comes to a close, I find solace in trusting my many lifelong relationships have only just begun.

Below is the poem. Thanks for reading!

The Invitation by Oriah

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 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 is 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 at 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 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.