The Guesthouse

Tonight I went to a talk at the meditation center by Jack Engler. He is very well-known in the Boston area as a Harvard professor of psychology and a long-term Buddhist. He may have a reputation beyond this area -- not sure about that. In any case, my friend Vanessa invited me to go with her tonight. A few of us met up for dinner before class. Jack is known to have made the statement, "you must have a self before you can lose yourself". In Buddhism one of the central ideas is that there is no "self" as we in the West understand it. In a way the whole point of psychotherapy is to strengthen the sense of self, not to "lose" it as in deep meditation. So there is a lot of discussion about this in Buddhist circles, especially where psychotherapy and spiritual practice intersect.

He used the following poem by Rumi to discuss how we should not disavow parts of ourselves, but to make room for all of it.

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.


~ Rumi ~

At the end of the talk I was still confused about what he's talking about. Initially he said that you need to make room for all parts of yourself, and talked some about Internal Family Systems which is a school of psychotherapy that acknowledges the parts of ourselves that are painful, shameful, etc. He also talked about horses and how horses can't be fooled, that you have to be totally present and mindful around them, and how they can teach us. Clearly I found his talk puzzling and it did not answer my question that I've been thinking about for years -- how to understand "self"?

I rode my bike today. It was in the 30's and brisk and beautiful. The antidote to a windowless office where I spend 8+ hours every day. Lovely.