Someone’s At The Door
Warmhearted welcome to the table of life, dear friends, where some unexpected guests may join, so pull up a chair and let’s see who’s at the door.
“Be grateful for whoever comes, for each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.”
Rumi, The Guest House
Sometimes our feelings are like dear friends.
We plan a visit. I look forward to seeing them. When they arrive,
I want to draw them close, make them tea, curl up on the couch, and listen to them for hours.
Sometimes feelings are like peasandcarrots and mashedpotatoesandgravy on the plate of our lives.
It’s okay if some feelings are touching, like, say, contentmentandjoy, but if the edges of joy mingle with the gravy of grief, we want to take a fork and nudge the boundaries on our plate into clean lines. Uh-uh, no thanks, I’ve had my fill.
Sometimes feelings are like the load of dishes, pots, and pans left over after a big meal.
We just look at them all with a sigh and go sit in the living room a while.
Sometimes feelings persist like bossy guests knocking at our door.
They show up unannounced and rummage through the fridge for leftovers, eating us out of house and home.
If you joined us for our November Gentle Journal Hour, you saw my visit with Grief and her sisters. They were definitely unexpected, coming in through the cellar door and creeping up the stairs of my consciousness. Grief brought along some memories, stitched together a few old stories, and shined a light on a part of my past that was over but not yet…complete. I realized I hadn’t visited long enough, hadn’t learned all that Grief wanted to teach me those years ago, so she had returned to offer up some wisdom I was now ready to hear. When my tears joined the gathering, Grief’s visit was, surprisingly, a relief.
A relief, because it felt like a part of myself was being recognized, was coming home again for a seat at the table of my life.
As I wrote in my journal and then shared with our group that night, I was able to welcome my guests, Grief, Loss, and Longing, and honor my own heart in acknowledging them and allowing them to come sit beside me for a spell. Naming these feelings arising from my emotions and journaling about them helps me to honor what is showing up in each moment without suppressing or deny them – or myself.
My grief guests have gone their way now, waving as they drove off, and I am going my way, too, clearer and more whole for their visit.
In a space of allowing, we invite all feelings to show up. Single, pairs, a whole jumble…we welcome them to our door, set the table, listen to their stories, and tidy up after their visit. It is natural to allow.
Wishing you a safe space of allowing around you – and within you – for all your guests to visit.
With brave love and a warm cup of tea,