My Very Own Guest House
I went to a women’s writing workshop retreat awhile ago for some much needed R and R. It was wonderful. We were asked to read a couple of poems and write from that. Here’s the first – a poem by Rumi translated by Coleman Barks.
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…