The Guest House

Posted by in letters to the boys

Over the past few weeks of nearly unbearable grief, I found comfort in these words.

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