The Guest House

​As we move through this Winter and our third spell of isolation I am reminded of this famous poem by Rumi. A poem I read at my dear friend Jocelyn’s funeral a decade ago. upon her request.

I am trying to treat the joys and the sorrows with equal reverence and welcome the lessons that each bring to my experience. Some days are better than others but there is comfort knowing that nothing is permanent. This too shall pass.

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every day 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’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honourably.
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 whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.