We are all Visitors.
There is comfort in knowing that everything is temporary.
Rumi wrote this spectacular poem:
"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."
I have a beautifully printed copy of this poem, and I want to laminate it, placing it right by my front door — for people to see as they enter but, most importantly, for me, as I come and go through the days of my life.
In my guesthouse live not only myself but my dark side too. Not just my thoughts, emotions, and feelings but every experience — both pleasant and difficult.
My guesthouse is my human mind and body — a space where experiences, thoughts, and emotions come and go like visitors passing through.
What this poem tries to tell us, I believe, is that emotions and feelings are temporary and will eventually pass. That I should welcome each experience — whether filled with joy or sorrow — and treat it with the same kindness and respect. For ultimately, each one comes bearing a hidden lesson and growth yet unseen.
If I choose to meet challenging and even painful emotions with a measure of compassion and understanding, how can I then cast myself down like Job and cover myself with ashes?
Instead of resisting the feeling of being "down in the dumps" or repressing the anger rising within me, I must become an observer — a witness to what is transpiring before my eyes. If I am not the "thinker" of my thoughts, not labeling them as "good" or "bad," I can see them for what they truly are.
This way, I avoid feeling defeated or sorry for myself — hosting a pity party. Instead, I become more self-aware, embracing both the light and the dark, and I grow through the experience.
So, take out your curiosity and your looking glass. Shine a light on your feelings instead of judging them. Ask the questions:
Why am I reacting this way?
Why does it make me feel useless?
Why am I blaming and shaming myself?
Get to the root. Go back as far as you need to, so you gain the freedom to move as far forward as you can.
Then, sit with the mystery. Let your emotions move through you. Wait for the answer. Give yourself enough space to feel every bottled-up emotion and then let them go before they burst within you.
This isn’t dwelling on the past. It’s you giving yourself a chance to unload — to move that mountain blocking your way forward.
And when the storm passes, never leave without the lesson in your pocket and the wisdom in your heart. Use it generously. Share the knowledge with love, with everyone who enters your orbit.
"Bless the things I've lost, the people who have left, and the loneliness they all traded places with. It forced me to build a home in the gravity of their absence. Now I know better how to treat visitors." (Rudi Francisco)