This being human is a guest house

Today my sitting was like Rumi’s poem, full text below. My granddaughter, Hannah, had spent the night and was still asleep when I got up to pee, feed the cats, and do my sitting.

No sooner had I done my body scan than I heard a key in the door. My daughter, Lela, had come to wake Hannah up and get her ready for school.

I greeted Lela verbally with a buoyant “good morning”. I surmise she saw me sitting. I didn’t open my eyes.

I notice how Lela behaves differently when she knows I’m sitting. She behaves like she’s in church, all quiet and tip-toe-y.  She takes care not to disturb me. She’s very respectful.

I hear them speak in hushed voices. There is no yelling or galloping or anguish. The morning rituals are peaceful for them too.

Somehow this reverent attitude strikes me as hilarious! This church may look quiet and still, but it includes bursting forth!

When they leave, I yell, “Goodbye, you two fabulous beings! I love you!!”

And then I sat some more, welcoming other guests.

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 whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

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