The Guest House
June heralds the summer solstice and the longest period of daylight for the year. The binary of day to night will be shifted, in this way, towards the light. What does it mean to meditate on something? Where meditation encourages stillness and silence, to meditate on illuminates aspects of our consciousness through deep, careful consideration. I view the practice of meditating on something as cultivating sacred thoughts, ideas which deserve respect and can be made holy. This month, with these extra moments of light to illuminate, I want us to focus on our internal “guest house”.
Since March of 2020, I have been meditating on collective grief and the wisdom to be found in understanding the stages of the grieving process. Through the extreme losses of the pandemic and compounded tragedies, there are still moments of vitality, connection, joy. The tension of these binaries, grief and joy, existing side by side can be overwhelming. The poem for this month’s meditation is by the great 13th century Sufi mystic poet, Rumi. Often noted as one of the most translated poets in the world, Rumi’s spiritual poetry transcends culture and time.
In the poem “The Guest House”, Rumi claims that every morning, the sun brings a new emotion and experience to our life and that we should learn to welcome all temporal experiences with radical love. Similarly echoed in Friedrich Nietzche’s, the great German philosopher, “amor fati”: the love of one’s fate, regardless of circumstance.
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,
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.
Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks
Here rests a mediation for this month, within the paradox of the longest period of sunlight, all experiences, emotions, and thoughts of our life have the potential to be illuminated. I suggest reading the poem each morning and meditating ON these questions:
What visitors will come to light for us this month? What brings these guests’ arrival? A new job, or goal, a surprise?
Better yet, what what visitors need to welcomed out of the shadows and into the warmth of the sun? Can they be met with “gratitude” instead of resistance?
Enjoy & be good,
Amanda
