At the Soul Collage meeting last night, my good friend who leads us read a poem by Rumi. It was a breath of fresh air! I haven’t had enough poetry lately, and actually hadn’t even thought of this poet in a year or so.
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.
-- Jelaluddin Rumi,
translation by Coleman Barks
Well, today my lodgers are all very boisterous, happy guests. They are the spring dwellers. My son’s photos of his Manhattan neighborhood capture them very well! …even in New York!