Meet Them at the Door Laughing?

Physical pain is daily visitor. It is by far not my only visitor but it certainly is a regular. If I were Rumi I would grandly exclaim, “Oh, good morning Pain. How great to see you! Please, do come on in and have a seat. May I take your hat and bring you some nice tea and toast? Wheat allergies, you say. No problem! I have a crisp juicy red apple I can slice up just for you. Welcome to my table of guests!” But I am not as delighted to see this visitor as Rumi would have me be. In fact I am pretty darn grumpy with this sparking fire cracker. This particular guest dominates the conversation with its companion Worry a close second. Still, I did remember, as I promise myself I would in winter, to notice how warm it was when I woke up. How lovely it is to slumber in a thin cotton spaghetti-strap top. To feel the soles of my bare feet slid softly against each other before they’re encased in socks that tug come the cold winter nights.

Two days ago I dissolved in fearsome quiet tears when my beloved friend and colleague, Pam, asked me how I was as I slipped stealthy into our small office shared with some 25 plus amazing clinicians interning at this agency of mercy and generosity. Because I know she loves me and I love her, because to hug her is like hugging something as big and softly enfolding as the great and compassionate divine mother, because her golden-brown eyes are deep and warm and her smile is radiantly bright and sweet, because she is a magical Celtic love knot of Goodness, because she just is one of the best, I let all of my fears and sadness freely reel out. They raced out of my mouth, out of my belly, these elliptical river rocks, rolling head over heals far down into the steep bank by the edge of the road we walk along. Through these hungry tears of mine and a whorl of words I told her of nearly all the things stored up in me I wanted no one to know. And here I am telling you some of them dear reader, though not in full… At least not for now. Here I am, I have worked so hard for 6 years to become a therapist, something I wanted to do since I was 12 years old and I am beseeched by pain. I’ve a confidence I never before possessed as so many of the fears that chased me have been tamed to manageable magnitudes. In the last 6 years I have challenged myself over and over again, willing to be a fool, make mistakes, try new and exciting ways to guide others on their healing journey and yet this cruel hearted lasso keeps rounding me up. Spiritual teachings would I suggest I surrender. Surrender to Unfairness, another unseemly guest, following many of us round each bend of the road. Will I ever outgrow, “It’s not fair! So and so gets to do such and such, why can’t I…?” It’s sort of funny in a way. How we can be such little kids in grown-up middle-age bodies!

The next morning I woke up happy because Pam listened to me “so good” it was a healing. My spirit felt cleansed and light even with the physical pain there. At work when I saw her she looked different too. Clearer, lighter than the day before. Instantly I realized she had given her all to me when she herself was close to empty. Guilt popped up for a sec but as soon as she gave me that radiant smile of hers I knew I need not worry. Speaking Oval was coming up for the afternoon’s training. I would have two and a half minutes to speak before my fellow interns. I knew I would tell them what my disability is followed by some impromptu reflections. A nervous excitement worked on me for hours. 1:00 pm we gathered. Talked about the format and finally started in. I uncharacteristically went up to the front of the room early. Feeling into the wholeness of me, grounding, moving and swaying slowly side to side, I look into the eyes of my listeners. A groundswell of powerful joy surged into my body, heart and soul. I began to talk, surprised at how slowly the words came out for the energy was so immense the words had to weave their way into this palpable amoeba of love filling the space. I felt myself grow bigger. Fill up the whole room, my legs, minutes earlier in pain were rushing with gentle pleasant quivers. Gentle quivers rolling just along the surface of a deep, deep river that flowed through a very large red rock canyon. All of it me, them, us. In essence, huge magic, wonderful, playful, transformative magic took front, center and back stage and I - I was in my joy. I wanted stay up there far longer than my allotted precious two and a half minutes but had no choice but make the most of my short time. It would only be fair. Yes, to make the most of my time here on this stage. With magic as my instrument it might be possible.


The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meaness,
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.

- Rumi