Reflections on Solitude and other Essays

Visitors in my Guesthouse Many visitors come to my guesthouse. They may arrive excited or angry, happy or distraught; they may come laughing or screaming, singing or crying. Regardless of their temperament, I greet them all with a smile. I greet them with courtesy, joy, and perfect equanimity. I invite them to stay as long as they please, and they are always free to leave whenever they so desire. Often, my visitors sit for a while and I listen to them. I listen patiently to whatever it is they have to discuss, and I listen until they have exhausted what they have come to say. Where these travelers go when they leave my guesthouse, I do not know. Nor do I know from whence they came. I only know that when they arrive at my guesthouse they are loved, and acknowledged. When my guesthouse is empty, I rejoice in the pleasure of being. I rejoice in the pure pleasure of emptiness, and of dwelling in the sacred space of being, the still moments in between visitors. I rejoice, as I patiently await another visitor whose journey has led them to the guesthouse of my mind.