Primitive religion is not believed, it is danced!

Arthur Darby Nock

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

Elizabeth Browning

Thursday, June 23, 2016

Unwanted Guests

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.

each day I welcome so many things
into that deep place
where I am most me
where my humanity and my sacred nature

like close friends
gather intimately over coffee

or join together, perhaps
for a sip of wine

some visitors I welcome
for there are joys in this life
warm memories
hot expectations
or just the pleasure of this moment
as the sun shines
or the rain falls

some guests I do not

for life can be difficult,
and often I wander back
into the past
to moments I would like to forget,
moments that bring me pain or shame

and I often wander forward,
into places unknown and fearful

yet all must be welcomed,
accepted with a graciousness                          
emerging from grace

greeted kindly
and offered a place to sit
where they might, at least for a moment
join in the conversation

sometimes those things that come
are unruly and rude
gross and ugly

disrupting the peace

l must love them anyway,
and gently seek to reconcile with them,
those angry ones,
before they go on their way

and if the room is left a shambles,
it can always be set aright

at times those that come
light up the room
and I smile

everything these visitors bring
is woven into my story,
my narrative,
and becomes a part of who I am
and who I am becoming

each caller, each thought and memory,
enriches and blesses in its own way

there is nothing sadder
and more lifeless,

than a house
where the lights are out
and the door

No comments:

Post a Comment