The Guest House
This week I’m offering some of you the pleasure of reading Rumi’s poem for the first time. For the rest of us, there is the pleasure—often greater in my experience—of revisiting a familiar place, in this case Rumi’s beautiful guest house.
The poem strikes a deep chord, sounding notes of presence, openness, hospitality, acceptance, and gratitude—even toward difficult experiences. The chord resonates with contemplative traditions, ancient and modern. You can also hear Rumi’s wisdom echoed in contemporary therapeutic modalities, including mindfulness, DBT, and ACT, to name a few.
Don’t let Rumi’s warm invitation fool you. This wisdom is as radical as it is evergreen—which becomes obvious to anyone who tries taking the advice to “welcome and entertain them all!” You may find it helpful as you read to ask yourself: what is so hard about welcoming them all? What, exactly, am I afraid will happen?
As for who Rumi is, here’s the opening paragraph from Wikipedia. After reading the whole entry, I felt, well, lazy.
Jalāl al-Dīn Muḥammad Rūmī (Persian: جلالالدین محمّد رومی), or simply Rumi (30 September 1207 – 17 December 1273), was a 13th-century poet, Hanafi faqih (jurist), Islamic scholar, Maturidi theologian (mutakallim),[9] and Sufi mystic originally from Greater Khorasan in Greater Iran.
The Guest House by Jalaluddin Rumi (Translated by Coleman Barks) 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.