Week 3.3 of 29: The Guest House

photos by C.E. Smith, from inside the Provincetown Public Library, a converted church building that houses a 50% scale model of the Rose Dorothea, winner of the 1907 Fisherman's Cup












Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment.
-- Jalal ud-Din Rumi

I came across this quote in the margins of The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. I am looking these days at the cost of being clever, particularly as it pertains to whatever my next settled position or long-term work might be. If I trade in cleverness in pursuit of that work, I will be relying upon tactics that bring about results, rather than coming from a more heart-centered place.

Cleverness can sometimes be useful. I remember my extended stay in Paris after I finished my undergraduate degree. One day as I was walking down the street, I realized a man was following me from about 50 paces behind. I didn’t know who he was or why he was on my trail, but I knew I didn’t like it, and I didn’t want him following me to where I lived. How could I manage the situation that was honoring of my intention and the least confrontational?

I went down into the Metro, and a train pulled up to the platform. I got on the train, and he got on a few doors further back. Just as the horn sounded and the doors began to close, I stepped back out onto the platform. He didn’t react quickly enough, so I watched the train carry him off to the next stop while I went back upstairs out of the station to finish my walk home. Then in my very early 20s, I had impressed myself with my cleverness.

I’m not always so effective in bringing about a desired result. What I see these days is that cleverness can simply be a way of controlling or attempting to control a situation when I feel afraid or vulnerable, rather than making space for the fear and the vulnerability and what they offer. Instead of trying to avoid them, I see the opportunity to sit with them, and be bewildered. Hm. I wonder what brings the two of you here today? And then being willing to listen patiently for a response.

Yesterday, I went for a nice long bike ride on Route 6A, from the East End of P’town to the junction of 6A and 6 in north Truro. The day started out sunny, with the light reflecting beautifully on the waves of the Bay. My face was to the wind, and it took effort and will to keep peddling up the hills, with the promise of some flat land (or even better, a declining slope) ahead. One of my childhood fantasies was to bike from one small town to another, and discover a community I’d never seen before. This was that fantasy coming to life. I came to a crossroads, where there was the Christian Union Church. A little further up the road, I stopped and sat on a bench, and I was going to write there for a while, but then, I started feeling afraid and vulnerable. The sky had clouded over -- What if it started to rain? I didn’t know anyone in the neighborhood. How would I get back?

So rather than rest, I began to peddle back. Then I remembered that there was the little post office, and just across the church was an old-time country store that was open where I might be able to take shelter. I kept on peddling, though, until I was back in my familiar East End surroundings.

Four days from now, we’ll be back on the road, and en route to Boston. I’m grateful for this time to catch my breath a bit, and get ready for what’s next. I’m glad for the freedom I’ve given myself just to write, not holding tightly to what I’m “supposed” to be doing, but giving myself the space to see what is emerging. Making space to be bewildered.

One of my favorite Rumi poems is “The Guest House”, which is a particularly relevant metaphor since I’ve been in this lovely condo these past two weeks:

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 whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.

Welcome, guides and friends … welcome to you all.