July/August 2022 - these are the bones I was born with
Boyo Boyo... It’s one of those spans of time that feels so chock-full of tests. Tests of patience and tests of skills and tests of the capacity to love others and yourself. As a distraction technique, I found myself working in the shop a lot more, getting acquainted with the lovely lathe again and bought myself and set-up a cheap-o but good-enuf 3d printer!
Although times like these are difficult, they tend to help us grow. And hopefully if we remain open to learning and shifting we are primed to land ourselves in better territory when the dust settles.
Here’s a poem that I found framed at my parents house just a couple days ago.
The Guest House by Jelaluddin Balkhi Rumi (1207-1248)
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.
They 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.
