Sunday, April 20, 2008

sick, sick, sick, sick

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.

The Guesthouse
By Rumi

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


Hayden said...

Ahh the dervishes...those were heady, heady days...

Kalirati said...

Hey Hayden-head! Didn't know you read my blog! As you said, those were some heady, heady, days.

Kalirati said...

Hey, Hayden, should I also mention the sutlac? Or was that more an Eastern Turkey/Black Sea ritual? Sutlac, men, carpets, and the occasional tank.