There are times when I believe in the expression when the student is ready, the teacher will appear. Deep in the throes of self-defeat after losing a wrestling match with PPDemons. I dragged myself onto my mat for Yoga class. I was full of caveats for being there: “only because it’s a Yin class so I can just restore without effort;” “allow myself to leave whenever I wished;” “give myself permission to be anti-social without worrying about it;” I wasn’t exactly open to anything.
I found out we had a substitute teacher and almost rolled up my mat right then. But, I decided to stay because this substitute teacher normally teaches beginner’s classes and I enjoy her easy laughter. Not much, but I allowed a tiny bit of light into my dark thoughts. I let go of my expectations and just listened to her voice and my breath.
And she read this poem by Rumi:
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’re 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.
I was gently opened by these words. They settled into my heart without causing me pain. And I have let them stay with me. I’m observing their effect on my Post Partum Depression. I’m meditating upon the realization that everything-all of it-is welcome and loved within me. I’m still taking it on faith that I can begin to feel joy or even simply good most of the time.
I’m open to the possibilities.
And maybe, just maybe, this openness is as loving of the light as much as the dark.