My Guest House

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival. 

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.

meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

-- Rumi

Tonight I read this poem at just the right time...so I'm thinking you might need it too.

Lately, things have been hard.

Not necessarily directly for me or to me but swirling around for people I love,

it's been hard.

Real hard.

And I stand in awe of those people...

getting out of bed,

every single day,

putting their lives on and getting out there.

Sometimes, when the universe forces me to s-t-o-p and wait in a long line or

sit in traffic,

sometimes I tear up at the bravery of every single one of these people around me

cloaking themselves in the love of family or good music or faith or whatever
gets them through that day
and out into this hard world.

It's hard...no way around it.

But, then I read Rumi's ancient words

and find comfort.

I've experienced the violent sweep...

a crowd of sorrows,

 as Rumi so heartbreakingly writes.

I'm sure you have too.

And I have to admit that I never thought of that as a guest...or a guide.

Maybe now I can.

So, tonight, I'm grateful for my guest house...
for tomorrow's new arrivals...
and the chance at another day.

And, I'm grateful for you.