What usually happens is a word, a situation, or an experience will present itself and contain the stirrings of a post. And I'll 'know' that it is a post. But not this week. Or last.
And its not like there's been nothing to write about - it's probably more that my inner censor has decided that certain topics or events are 'too big' to write about or get into. It's my old mate fear, hovering over my left shoulder, watching my every thought and choice, tricking me into believing I can't, I shouldn't and so eventually I don't.
Last night I was rummaging in my desk drawer looking for a sign - something, anything! to point me toward a blog post.
I found this...
It's an excerpt from Rumi's poem, The Guest House, which is stuck up on the wall across from my desk.
Why? Because it's been a great comfort to me of late.
Being human and a traveller on this journey called 'life' we will naturally encounter and experience a myriad of emotions over and over again.
Some of them are fleeting - often the joyous ones, the ones we love to feel, the ones that make our heart soar - the ones we try so desperately to cling to. Others hang around like a bad smell - they are the ones we do everything we can to avoid - fear, anger, rage, resentment - the list goes on. But it seems the more we wish them away, the more insistent they are, and stay!
Rumi reminds us that each 'new arrival' is a guest to be honoured - whether it be happiness or heaviness - there is something to be gained.
The notion that they may be clearing me out for some new delight has helped me move from unease and bewilderment and toward greater calm and acceptance.
The real comfort comes from Rumi's message - that each feeling and thought are a part of the wisdom of this mysterious and wonderful universe, sent to teach us and help us learn and grow. And although I may not understand each visitor's purpose at the time of their arrival, I can boil the kettle and settle in knowing that the lesson will unfold.