A cold has been nipping at my heels for more than a week now and it bit down hard this weekend. I can't drink enough fluids today to drown the fever blistering my lips and burning my throat. I managed to drive Coranna to swimming lessons, but haven't done anything else today. This is my first time on the computer and I had planned to finish my on-line class. So much for that, so much for running my 8 miles today either. Instead I read magazines, played Candyland with Coranna, and slept and had strange fever-induced dreams. I do have a poem from Rumi to share. Not surprisingly, I like Rumi. I'm a mystic-lover, though I will confess to nodding off during the Mevlana (whirling Dervishes) in Konya, Turkey, but there's a long story behind that involving men,CaltalHyuk, and carpets.
This being human is a guesthouse
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're a crowd of sorrows
Who violently sweep your house
Empty of its furniture
Still treat each guest honorably
He may be cleaning 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 the beyond
Translated by Coleman Barks