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 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.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Unexpected Guest

She was about to close the door when she saw him. A man in a tattered coat, holding a suitcase and a guitar. He had a beard that covered most of his face, and his eyes were weary and sad.

"Excuse me, miss," he said in a low voice. "I'm looking for a place to stay for the night. Do you have any spare room?"

She hesitated. She lived alone in a small apartment, and she didn't know this stranger. She was afraid of letting him in, but she also felt sorry for him. He looked like he had been through a lot, and he seemed harmless enough.

She remembered the poem by Rumi that she had read that morning. It was about welcoming every guest, even the ones that bring sorrow or trouble, because they are sent as guides from beyond. She wondered if this man was one of those guests, and what he had to teach her.

She decided to take a chance. She opened the door wider and said, "Come in. I have a couch you can sleep on."

He smiled gratefully and stepped inside. He thanked her and put his suitcase and guitar in the corner. He asked her if she wanted to hear a song, and she agreed. He took out his guitar and started to play. His voice was raspy but beautiful, and his song was about love and loss.

She listened to him, and felt a strange connection. She felt like she knew him, or at least his pain. She felt her own pain, the pain of losing her husband in a car accident, the pain of living alone, the pain of being lonely. She felt tears in her eyes, and she let them fall.

He finished his song and looked at her. He saw her tears, and he reached out his hand. He said, "Don't cry, miss. You're not alone. I'm here with you."

She took his hand, and felt a warmth. She felt a spark, a hope, a possibility. She felt something she hadn't felt in a long time. She felt alive.

He said, "Can I stay with you for a while? Not just for the night, but for a few days, maybe more. I don't have anywhere else to go, and I like you. You're kind, and you're beautiful."

She looked at him, and felt a fear. She felt a doubt, a risk, a challenge. She felt something she hadn't felt in a long time. She felt scared.

She thought of the poem by Rumi again. It was about being grateful for whatever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond. She wondered if this man was one of those guides, and what he had to offer her.

She decided to take another chance. She nodded and said, "Yes, you can stay with me for a while. I don't have much to offer, but I like you too. You're brave, and you're talented."

He smiled and hugged her. He said, "Thank you, miss. You're the best thing that ever happened to me."

She smiled and hugged him back. She said, "Thank you, sir. You're the most unexpected guest I ever had."