Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Meet Them At The Door Laughing

This came to me yesterday, and I had to share it, all the way from the 13th Century.

The Guest House

This being human is a great 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, (as translated by Coleman Barks, The Essential Rumi)


  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

  2. Great, great piece and great words of wisdom
    a perfect recipe and guideline for having happy and satisfying life, even though difficult for most of the people to follow

    used to read Rumi's poems but embarrassingly quite unfamiliar with this piece and must confess that this translation is perfect and clearer than original poem in Persian, a little expanded to deliver right meaning

    thanks for sharing and reminding us of Rumi

  3. Here is another piece from him, first time I saw this blog’s name I found a connection with this poem (if I'm not wrong):

    All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
    Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
    I have no idea.
    My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that,
    and I intend to end up there.

    This drunkenness began in some other tavern.
    When I get back around to that place,
    I'll be completely sober. Meanwhile,
    I'm like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary.
    The day is coming when I fly off,
    but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice?
    Who says words with my mouth?

    Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul?
    I cannot stop asking.
    If I could taste one sip of an answer,
    I could break out of this prison for drunks.
    I didn't come here of my own accord, and I can't leave that way.
    Whoever brought me here will have to take me home.

    This poetry. I never know what I'm going to say.
    I don't plan it.
    When I'm outside the saying of it, I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.

    (same source)


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