you might be asking: who is rumi?
a Sufi poet and mystic born in 1207. long gone, though his teachings remain. definitely some powerful stuff. good old professor wikipedia can explain him in a bit more detail. really though, he’s a poet i’ve attempted to read over the past few months but never committed to it. only in idea, but never in action. now? i can’t stop. i’m addicted. i picked up a book at a little, local bookstore the other week and can’t put it down.
it all started a few weeks ago, at the end of a yoga class. as i lay there, still, quiet, and unraveling, the teacher read aloud a poem. i breathed softly, simply listening. though only words, their intense poignancy reached me through my stillness. and i cried. in a room full of strangers with their eyes closed, tears slipped out and down my cheeks. the words continue to bring out surprise tears. it spoke to every emotion, thought, action, and idea i’ve experienced in the past few months. so i want to share with you the thing that touched me so deeply.
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’re 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 whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
i invite you to ruminate. read it a few times. think. react. and tell me…
what did these words do for you, if anything?
i’m off of work today and it’s sunny. i’ve got a nice run/walk via c25k under my belt, grocery shopping to do, and some rock climbing to look forward to later. my thoughts? it’s going to be a good day. enjoy yours just the same!