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.

Rumi

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Don't know if I agree with all of that as theological statement. But luckily it's poetry. And I agree with all of it as poetry.

Distilling life into theology is fine if you want your life spread thin, an efficient life with all the answers - and a mindset that can become monstrous, can end up raping everything in its path. And a life that loses all sense of mystery. We all are living in such a world created out of that mindset - we well understand its limitations; we feel the thirst in our souls. But God remains in the still, small voice. Which sometimes yells in art, in poetry :) Which reminds me of what Gandhi said:

“I have a definite feeling that if you want to feel the aroma of Christianity, you must copy the rose. The rose irresistibly draws people to itself and the scent remains with them. Even so, the aroma of Christianity is subtler even than that of the rose and should, therefore, be imparted in an even quieter and more imperceptible manner, if possible”

I don't know if any of this makes any sense. I haven't been sleeping very well the last several nights. I had an interesting spiritual experience in my bed the other night which I'm trying to get settled in my mind and heart before I blog about it. And so if this post is more convoluted and nonsensical than usual, blame it on lack of sleep :)