Meet Them At the Door Laughing.

Well, my sweet father rang from East Tennessee and set up for us a Middle Tennessee pick- up feast from P.F. Chang's last night.

We’ll be happy to eat on our good food for another couple of days! Especially since we’re a) depressed over the outcome of the election in Tennessee, b) depressed over the fact that as of this writing 7 of the 8 states w/ the marriage amendment on the ballot PASSED IT (what the..?), c) heartened that the House has changed over to a Democratic majority, d) we are the house of PLAGUE.

The snot and coughing and body aches war continues. After a week plus of fighting, infection set in and I had to go the antibiotic route, an exceptionally rare occurance. Our little bunny, such a trooper always, went down over a spate of days, and My Beloved Mister, who'd done so well to take care of us over the last couple weeks while I've been miserably ill, was taken down last night. Apparently, we are excellent hosts.

Which brings me to one of my favorite Rumi shorties, applicable on both micro and macro levels of plague and politics:

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

-- Jelaluddin Rumi,
translation by Coleman Barks