The Guest House...by Rumi
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning, a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all.
they are a crowd of sorrows, who
violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
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
My whole life I've been envious of those people who seem so even-keeled. Few things rattle or shake them. They move through the world with a calm demeanor, not trying to prove anything or to create a ruckus. They know who they are; speak when it's important; restrict themselves from emotional roller coaster rides and live lives that project stability and predictability.
These people allude me. I couldn't be further from them.
Which is why Rumi's words above resonate so loudly, wildly, beautifully and painfully for me.
Many times, I fear that I do myself a disservice by wearing my heart so visibly on my sleeve or really, on my forehead. Particularly when I'm in new social settings or trying to make an impression, I know that I can over-share and that there are big parts of the world who really could give two shits about all of my opinions and thoughts on things especially, when they're packaged with sprinklings of the f-bomb (and long run-on sentences like this one).
But the truth is, I know no other way to be and when I try to be anything but, I feel like a fraud. I also recognize that being vulnerable in the world is really the only way to be. And that as Rumi says, instead of stuffing our feelings of fear or rejection or wonder or hope or excitement or horror...we need to welcome them as guests in our home and trust that they've come for a reason.
To be human means to be varied. To be on a roller coaster ride of sorts. To be in the muck and the mountains. To be high and low, sometimes at varying highs and lows all in the same moment.
The question is what do we do when we're there?
Do we savor the experience or the feeling? Or do we push it away if it's painful and not fully soak it in if it's beautiful for fear that the moment is elusive and fleeting?
I had the chance to try it out yesterday, I'm less than two weeks away from race day and while on a 10-mile windy run, I started to give up. The north wind was howling, my quads were on fire, my eyes were burning and while my legs were moving, I wasn't gaining distance. In general, the mood is how I've been feeling about running as of late...which makes me sick knowing that this race marks three years of running and of saving grace in my life. And so, I stopped and breathed deeply. Too far away from home to call it quits. Too close to race day to throw in the towel on my second to last long run. Too committed for too long to simply throw all of it away.
Pain, beauty, fear, hope, anticipation and then, slowly, one foot in front of the other...me and the guest moving toward the lesson, inching our way along the journey.
To be fully human and fully present means to feel all of
it...the good, the hard, the certain and the incomprehensible as if they
were each guests here to teach us varied lessons about who we are and
where we're going.