CRANK POT

I woke up this morning cranky. I went to yoga hoping it would help, it didn't. The girl next to me put her sweaty towel on my mat, she clocked me in the head with her elbow, and then breathed heavily in my face with bad breath. Now I was in a worse mood and instead of being calm, my head was spinning with things to be more cranky about like, why don't people write thank you notes anymore? Emails DO NOT count.. neither do facebook ones (that is a joke... seriously, how lazy can you get?). Or, how gross it is to walk around holding a beer bottle (instead of having it poured into a glass) at a formal event like a wedding? Nothing ruins the look of a beautiful table LIKE A BROWN BEER BOTTLE!!! (I told you I was cranky)
But then the instructor read a poem called The Guest House. I'll post it. It says I'm supposed to invite cranky in... did I have a choice? (A yogi would say I do, which quite honestly is annoying me more right now but maybe this will help any other crank pots today.) Om, blah blah blah.


The Guest House 


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.



~ Rumi ~