I wanted to share a brief excerpt from a book called foolsgold by Susan G. Wooldridge.
"The creative, it seems, is spawned from emptiness. Giving over to silence, waiting, allowing, listening. Coming to emptiness may mean coming through grief. Something has been lost, a marriage, a child, a house, a city, a world. An idea of who we are. Whatever seems familiar, tried and true.
In the emptiness we might get an inkling---as if something lights up and twinkles---of how we'll begin to form and open to who we're becoming, who we most truly are. We need to leave space both for what we'll discover and what will emerge to discover us."
In the emptiness we might get an inkling---as if something lights up and twinkles---of how we'll begin to form and open to who we're becoming, who we most truly are. We need to leave space both for what we'll discover and what will emerge to discover us."
At the end of this particular chapter she shares a thoughtful poem by Rumi.
The human being 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 sweep
your house empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you our for some new delight.
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