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.
Thanks for posting this. I went looking for the original (hoping it is in Arabic) just to find out that it is in farsi and that there is a dispute about the above translation. Many farsi speakers prefer the following translation by Kabir Helminski every morning someone new arrives. Don’t say, “O, another weight around my neck!” or your guest will fly back to nothingness. Whatever enters your heart is a guest from the invisible world: entertain it well. Every day, and every moment, a thought comes like an honored guest into your heart. My soul, regard each thought as a person, for every person’s value is in the thought they hold. If a sorrowful thought stands in the way, it is also preparing the way for joy. It furiously sweeps your house clean, in order that some new joy may appear from the Source. It scatters the withered leaves from the bough of the heart, in order that fresh green leaves might grow. It uproots the old joy so that a new joy may enter from Beyond. Sorrow pulls up the rotten root that was veiled from sight. Whatever sorrow takes away or causes the heart to shed, it puts something better in its place- especially for one who is certain that sorrow is the servant of the intuitive. Without the frown of clouds and lightning, the vines would be burned by the smiling sun. Both good and bad luck become guests in your heart: like planets traveling from sign to sign. When something transits your sign, adapt yourself, and be as harmonious as its ruling sign, so that when it rejoins the Moon, it will speak kindly to the Lord of the heart. Whenever sorrow comes again, meet it with smiles and laughter, saying, “O my Creator, save me from its harm, and do not deprive me of its good. Lord, remind me to be thankful, let me feel no regret if its benefit passes away.” And if the pearl is not in sorrow’s hand, let it go and still be pleased. Increase your sweet practice. Your practice will benefit you at another time; someday your need will be suddenly fulfilled.Darling, the body is a guest house;
It does. Then it doesn’t. Then it does again. Then it doesn’t. Ebbs and flows. I think I need to get better at navigating the river. Here’s another poem that might help. Autobiography in Five Short Chapters By Portia Nelson I walk down the street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk I fall in. I am lost ... I am helpless. It isn't my fault. It takes me forever to find a way out. II I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I pretend I don't see it. I fall in again. I can't believe I am in the same place but, it isn't my fault. It still takes a long time to get out. III I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I see it is there. I still fall in ... it's a habit. my eyes are open I know where I am. It is my fault. I get out immediately. IV I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I walk around it. V I walk down another street.I