“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.”
A few years ago, I used to believe God was there, and maybe for other people He was there often, but for me, it was really only during emergencies. So I didn’t actively engage in any attempts to communicate with Allah, except to ask for things without any expectations of them being granted. I didn’t even know it was possible for a normal human being to have a relationship with Allah. Saints, sure. Me? Uuhh, I didn’t think so.
One day, I hit a terrible bottom in my life. I became desperate enough to consider new possibilities, new truths. The gift of desperation. Then, I began hearing people share their experiences of having a relationship with Allah. What they described was a two-way communication, not one sided. Allah answered them back and they didn’t have to be a saint. I wanted that. How did I get that?
I heard two different women share two tools they used and decided to try them out myself. One of the tools was: if the same thing came up three times, or more, from three different people, I would try trusting that it came from Allah. I would hold off dismissing it as something from Shaytan or the result of mass popularity resulting in coincidence. What resulted was an opening. In any healthy relationship there’s two-way communication. For the first time, I was open to receiving communication back from Allah.
One month, someone read me Rumi’s poem “The Guest House”. Okay, cool. I didn’t think anything of it. Then the next month, someone different (in a different state even) read it to me. When I hear something twice, my ears usually begin to perk up. Is Allah telling me something here? I start to reflect and wonder.
The next month a third person, in a completely different state, read me the same poem. I started reading it more closely. What is here for me?
When I heard it a fourth time, the following month, I knew I hadn’t gotten the message yet. I looked closer. From this poem, I discovered a tool for myself.
When I’m struggling to identify, or even simply sit with an emotion, I’ll imagine a guest house in my heart and I’ll actually imagine opening a front door and wait to see what emotion is standing on the other side, waiting to be invited in. There’s always an emotion. I’ll welcome it in, and offer it a seat on the couch. I’ll even offer tea before seating myself. Then, I’ll wait for it to talk to me.
It’s really effective for me. I’ve since learned that my feelings are a message and a gift to me. Not something to manage, control or manipulate. My emotions are a gift and help inform me. Allah purposely designed me this way and there’s a deep wisdom in it. I’m missing out in big ways if I don’t pay attention. Besides, I’ve tried ignoring the messages. It didn’t work out so well. It contributed to hitting my bottom in a big way.
Side note: I wrote more about this in another post “Emotions are Logical”.
All these understandings and realizations blossomed from reflecting upon this poem. And once I opened the door to looking for and listening to Allah, this was one of the first gifts He gave me. So generous!
No one has read me the poem since. I like to think I finally got the message, Insha’Allah.
Peace and Light.
What does Rumi’s poem, The Guest House, mean to you? Please share your experience in the comments below.
Related Post: “Emotions are Logical”
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