ahh! the always passion!
the ever process!
since we are settled into a place that is our own, my Mom sent me a couple of boxes brimming with the past. cookware (the main goal of the shipment), costuming, art, photos.. . journals. many journals. my heart was flooded. touching every item recollected scenes and feelings possibly forgotten, or at least put away. but especially the writing ~ thumbing through just a few of those private pages painfully took me back. and i see once again that i am, indeed, on a journey. it spirals up the mountain, and the view is sometimes the same, with a slightly different angle, or some different beam of light, perhaps colored or adjusted with the lens of newer experience.
a dear kindred spirit sent me an email, and connected me with this poem that felt quite appropriate. but doesn't Rumi *always* feel appropriate?
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 are 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 whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
thank you, Soulfriend, and soulfriends!