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 love this poem by Rumi, acknowledging that good and bad come to everyone, and encouraging us to welcome both equally.

I would argue though that we don’t need to invite in everything that knocks on our door. Sometimes people knock on my front door and I don’t want to buy what they are selling. I open the door, tell them “No, Thank you” with a smile and close the door again. I see no reason we can’t do that with our feelings as well – “Sorry, now isn’t a good time.”

On the flip side, I do enjoy having visitors in my home, but however much I love them I don’t want them to over stay their welcome. Anyone who comes to mine fairly often knows this, they have probably on at least one occasion been told (In the most loving way) “Get out now.”

We all love blue skies, but after a while we long for a bit of rain, nothing grows without it.

We need the shit stuff in our lives to help us grow, and so we can appreciate all the great things.

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