So just settling in as you already are.
And that doesn't mean anything particular.
That's not directive.
Just let yourself connect to how you already are.
Or if you want to settle in more,
Get comfortable,
Take some time to do that.
And today's poem is called The Guest House.
It's one that you have probably heard before,
Or maybe have heard before,
Maybe even heard me read it.
It's called The Guest House by Rumi.
The Guest House by Rumi.
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival,
A joy,
A desperation,
I'm sorry,
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 or she 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.
Taking a moment to just notice how your system is already taking in those words or has taken in those words.
Feeling the breath as you feel whatever else you do with those words.
Noticing your own guest house,
Your own existence,
Your own being.
Noticing what comes to mind right away when you consider yourself as your own guest house.
And then allow your attention to include more than what you've already considered to be your guest house.
What is this guest house that is you?
What does it seemingly include?
What does it seemingly exclude?
Does it include all of you or just certain things that may be allowed in a moment or obvious?
And slowing down a bit,
Let's just see together without there being a right answer or a wrong answer or supposed to or should in your own experience considering does the guest house include your contact or your connection with what you're sitting upon or leaning against?
Noticing your bones as they're pressing into chair,
Pillow,
Wall,
Floor,
Cushion.
Noticing that relationship between your bones,
Your body,
And what is holding your body.
Is this space of holding,
Of literal holding,
The wall,
The pillow,
The bed,
The cushion,
Etc.
,
Is this experience included in your guest house?
And just being curious to see if it does.
There isn't a right answer or a wrong answer or supposed to answer.
There's just what you will discover as you consider it from your body that's experiencing the object that's holding your form in all the different ways from head to toes.
Is any of that in your guest house?
The nuances of comfort and discomfort,
The nuances of hard and soft,
Of space,
Or very concrete,
Solidity that might be here.
Just noticing your body as it's leaned back or resting into this object that you're in,
This underside of your body that's connecting in some way with floor or chair or couch or whatever.
Just noticing if that is part of your guest house.
And if so,
Or if not,
How it is or isn't.
Not from some kind of intellectualness,
But just from the experience itself.
To connect into these questions you've been journeying into the space of touch,
The sense of touch.
And so we'll now move to the sense of sound.
And just noticing as sound comes in,
As it's received,
Is the reception of sound,
However that happens,
Is that part of your guest house?
And again,
No right answer,
No wrong answer,
No supposed to's or should's.
Just taking a moment to be curious.
The sounds of my voice,
The words,
The letters.
Is that part of the experience of your guest house?
The sounds in your room,
Are those part of your guest house?
The sounds of your own narrative,
The words inside your head,
So to speak,
Are those two guests in your house of being?
The words coming and going.
The sounds,
The different sounds.
Coming,
Going.
The space of anticipating what words might come next.
And the space where there's no words.
Is that a part of your guest house or guests in your house of being?
And taste and scent.
Is there any sense of scent right now for you or a sense of taste?
Another thing that you can't come to your head to answer that question,
You have to come to the senses directly to find out and discover.
And is that place of discovery in your guest house or a guest in your house of being?
If the eyes are closed,
The direct experience of visuals will be very muted.
However,
We often see imagery from our imagined imagination.
So you may have images with the eyes closed.
They're not here and now,
They're the mind's ability to recall and to imagine.
And so those images,
Whether it's dulled out colors or other things that you're seeing in your mind's eye,
Just noticing if these visuals,
Sight,
Is,
If these are guests in your house of being,
Or is this part of your guest house in this moment?
Noticing at any point to do about what you're discovering,
Just noticing your experience.
Noticing the space of breath in this house of being.
Maybe the guest of the inhalation and the guest of the exhalation.
And how is it to consider them as guests in this house of being as a part of your guest house,
This exchange?
Noticing what you notice with this invitation to include breath and noticing all the different kinds of guests that arise within this experience of breath.
Likes and dislikes,
Comforts and discomforts,
Perhaps hardness and softnesses,
Maybe fluidity as well as tension.
Noticing all the different guests as you watch the breath come in and out.
Feeling that the chest engaged,
The belly engaged.
Maybe you notice more areas of you engaged as the breath comes in and out,
The nostrils or even other more subtle resonances of breath.
Those two are perhaps guests.
Some aspects of the breath or sitting here or being here may feel like familiar guests that you like to give a chair to and have them stay around.
There's ease maybe in familiarity of these guests or a particular guest as you're here right now.
And you may also have guests that you're familiar with and would rather not offer up a chair to that you would rather them not stick around and that's okay too.
There will be guests that we like and guests that we may not.
And noticing any sense of emotions that are here with what you've already been noticing.
Maybe you've already noticed some emotion.
Maybe there's as in the poem,
Sorrow.
Maybe there's shame.
Maybe there's joy or anger or okayness.
Maybe you can invite them in and maybe you can only invite some in.
And in this moment giving yourself permission to feel exactly as you already do toward whatever has already shown up.
You may not feel delight at what you discover and you may not want to have them here.
While you may laugh at some or accept others and even be grateful for others still.
Noticing all the guests,
So many guests here.
And continuing to have the eyes closed just for a moment.
I'm going to read some possible writing prompts if you'd like to write about your experience.
And for now just letting the questions move through you and then you can come back to the prompts themselves to write about them if you'd like.
First I will reread the poem and then read the prompts.
The Guest House by Rumi.
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 or she 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.
Writing as writing prompts,
What guest do you like the most?
What guest do you like the least?
Are there guests you'd like to know more about or would like to go away?
Which would you like to learn how to make friends with?
How do you try to manage your guests?
What delight might be on its way?
What delight might you want to be on its way?
Do you resonate with as a guide from beyond?
How do you practice gratitude amidst the challenges of some of your guests?
And lastly,
Just following your own muse for writing what's true for you.
Taking a moment to slowly come back into your space.
And if you're listening to this recording later and you want a list of those prompts sent to you,
You can email me for them and I'll send them.
