Sometimes, I Could Just…

I suspect that it will come as no surprise to you when I say that driving in the DC metro gridlock_smarea is not one of the reasons that Chris and I moved up here a couple of years ago. In fact, after commuting over 60 miles a day my first year in College Park, and losing more of the precious few hairs remaining on my head, I avoid driving whenever possible. Alas, for one reason or another, I have needed to drive more than usual over the last few days, and I must admit that it does not bring out the best in me. I have, in truth, exhibited behavior that belies my calm and composed demeanor at the office. Suffice it to say that I do not readily find any upside to traversing the streets of our area by car.

This morning in my inbox I found this:

The Guest House – 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 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.

So, it would appear (Thanks, God, for the not so subtle hint!) that an attitude adjustment is called for. I’ve got some work to do!




P.S. This poem came to me from Click here to see the full email.


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