"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 are 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 whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond." — Jellaludin Rumi
What if a self - an owner of experience - cannot be found in the stream of consciousness? What if the sense of self is just a guest that comes and goes? A guest that may have been mistaken for an owner? Every time this guest arrives its as if they had never left the scene - great wonder. Its only when their absence is sustained while life goes on that the penny-drops.
The stories we live by are a ‘made-up’ world. Personal stories can be interesting, tragic, absurd etc. but they do not give rise to Nibbanic peace, contentment with little, serenity and true happiness. We are not who we think we are?
“O house builder, you have been seen;
You shall not build the house again.
Your rafters have been broken up,
Your ridgepole is demolished too.” - the Buddha
