Thankfully my throat let me get some sleep last night, but I’m not 100-percent and never quite found the energy to pick up my camera. Therefore, I’m adding one of my older images to this post (from way back in 2013), which will amount to little more than the text of a poem by Rumi (1207–1273) that I read in Soul Food this morning. I find it beautiful.
The Guesthouse
This being human is a guesthouse.
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 to whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
