Unexpected guest

I have an image in my mind of an unknown film or tv programme I saw when I was a child.  I think it was set in the mid-West and the mother or grandmother of the family set a place at table for the ‘unexpected guest’.  (I also have a gut-wrenching feeling it could have been ‘The Waltons’ or ‘Little House on the Prairie’, but I remember it being something less formulaic.)  It was possibly quite a sentimental film, where a family member or friend returned from a long absence.  The woman knew he was coming back – either because it had been a date set much earlier, even a year or years in advance, or just that feeling of intuitive expectation.  If anyone knows what film that was, let me know.
 
This image has stayed with me and I’ve always been interested in the tradition of the ‘unexpected guest’.  It has its roots in at least two very different cultures. 

In Poland there is a tradition called Wigilia which takes place on Christmas Eve.  Preparations for the meal include laying a place for ‘wandering travellers’.  A lighted candle in the window symbolises the hope that the Godchild, in the form of a stranger, may come to share the Wigilia.  This belief stems from the ancient Polish adage, “A guest in the home is God in the home.”  Zofia Kossak, a renowned Polish writer, has explained, “Whoever arrives at a Polish home on this holy evening, will occupy this place and will be received as a brother.’  The empty seat at the table is also there as a remembrance of family and friends who have died but live on in memory.  Apparently the patriotic duty to remember people who are in exile or far from home originates here.  It seems that the first casualties of French soldiers from Napoleon’s failed winter attack on Russia retreated to many of these open seats two centuries ago as unexpected guests. 

In Hindi culture the unexpected guest is called the atithi, meaning ‘without a set time’.  Householders are urged by the Scriptures to treat the atithi as God.  Whoever the guest is and from whatever background, they are due three things: welcoming words, somewhere to sit, and refreshment.  Even visiting enemies are offered a respectful welcome, and this may lead them to shed their animosity. 

In the world of Jungian psychology, the ‘inferior function’ or the shadow side is sometimes known as ‘the unexpected guest’.  This is the part of your character that is there – but is least available to you.  If you don’t welcome it, it can take you over, especially in stressful times, and overwhelm you.  If you figuratively lay a place at table for your inferior function and remember as best you can to include these aspects of yourself in your daily life, you may be less likely to fall foul of the arrival of your unexpected guest.

I have a soft spot for unexpected guests, and I think all blogs need to keep a place for them.  I like the idea of the Well House Circle being an open circle, and there always being space for one more unexpected guest – and another…  People who just turn up here are welcome, whether they are familiar or unknown.  I like the idea of surprise and unpredictability which the unexpected guest captures for me.
  
My first experience on a blog nearly a year ago was when I felt drawn to ‘just turn up’.  I guess I must have been wandering.  I didn’t actually know the person writing the blog, although I knew his work, and I found it really difficult to post my views at first.  It felt – well, just so public.  And it felt like I was turning up unexpectedly – what kind of a welcome would I get?
 
But from time to time, I experimented with putting up my thoughts and ideas, and I persevered – it was kind of interesting for someone like me, working so much of the time with human communication and interaction and relationship-building.  I had stumbled into a whole other world with huge potential for exploration.  It was a mixed experience – in some ways it was quite liberating to be able to just comment and not worry particularly about consequences, impact or relationships.  I was a ‘wandering stranger’ so I could do what I liked within reason, I would be gone soon after.  
 
At the same time, it was a little confusing, like there was a convention of blogging that I didn’t really fit in with or understand.  It was kind of like not being able to speak Polish or Hindi when in those places.  I wondered why people didn’t seem to want to talk to each other and build on each other’s comments, instead just staying in the comfortable space of their own thoughts.  I had a picture of a blog conversation being like improvisation in jazz, with all of our different voices coming in at different times.  This is how Simon R described it in a recent conversation.  But it wasn’t happening.  Then I found that participating in this blog and a couple select others I had discovered, was giving me insights.  There were unforeseen consequences.  Ideas would appear on my screen, randomly yet with serendipity.  I could take them into my day or my work, and there was at times an intriguing synchronicity between my internal world and the blog messages. 
 
I don’t know if anyone else out there can identify with any of the discomfort around blogging that I’ve described; or with the serendipity of ideas coming at you at the right time to prompt your thoughts and creativity.  Or of a blog somehow linking in with your day, as with Chris and Walking to hear the music.  If you’re sitting there reading this and thinking how excruciating it is to put your ideas up in public, take my word for it, it has an interesting effect on you.  Rather like hearing your voice say something aloud gives that thought a different reality, so writing something on a blog also can give it another resonance which can be refreshing, exhilarating, challenging and liberating.  It can also make you challenge all sorts of expectations you might have about two-way or multi-dimensional communication. 
 
I’m suddenly transported back to childhood and remember in the summer vacations creating a newsletter/broadsheet, it was called The Informer, with a leafy tree on its cover drawn laboriously by me.  It featured neighbourhood news stories, poetry and a serial novel I was writing called The Children of Tanglewood Tower modelled after books by Noel Streatfield.  My father helpfully copied it at his office using pre-Xerox technology.  A couple of friends contributed articles too though I did most of the writing.  I then took it door to door selling it for 5 or 10 cents.  It was horrible but also exciting knocking on neighbours’ and strangers’ doors – would somebody want my prized product that I had laboured over?  Would they be friendly even if they didn’t?  (Being a child helps!)  Would I feel rejected if they didn’t?  For some reason, I just had to go out there and find out.
 
Going out there on a blog is both easier and harder.  It’s easier because you just push a few buttons, you don’t have to ring doorbells!  But you do have to wait.  It’s harder because who knows where it’s going or who’s there?  And the possibility of no response is even greater.  You don’t get to see the people who might visit.  If they think it’s dull or a waste of time, you’ll probably never know.  And equally you might not know if they’re enjoying it.

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43 Responses to Unexpected guest

  1. Janet Deeb says:

    Very interesting stuff here. I, too, was afraid to ‘go public’ for many years. However, once you get your ‘feet wet’ its great sailing and quite cathartic. Keep up the great blogs. Jan

  2. Chris says:

    Two thoughts.

    One is that somewhere, and I think it might have been in the American Museum at Bath, which is a wonderful place to visit, there is a room set up to be as it would have been some time ago (years? centuries?) in a Mexican? Peruvian? peasant house. And it shows a bed covered with a brightly covered blanket and it explains that the bed, although it would have been the only one in the house, was not for the residents to sleep in but was kept for guests. Not necessarily unexpected ones but I wonder how many expected ones they would have had? Ever since I saw it I have been so admiring of a culture (even though I can’t remember which culture it is!) where you would sleep on the floor to preserve the bed for visitors.

    Secondly you don’t get stuff out of blogs if you don’t join in. Since I started tracking this one I’ve welcomed unexpected guests on to my reading list. And although I read the newspaper fairly thoroughly every day I would have seen the obituary notice about Jack Parnell, recorded that I associated the name with a band leader and then passed on. But with Karin’ s talk about music and drumming I was drawn in by the headline that said he was a drummer before he became a band leader. And it enriched me by making me think about music and bands and how they come together to produce music more than I would otherwise have done.

    By way of payment I hope that somewhere in my contributions I have said something that has sparked someone else to think differently about something or to feel that they have learnt something new or even made them smile for a moment.

  3. Karin says:

    I like the Mexican/Peruvian example which chimes with the other cultures. I’ve never been to the American museum in Bath, will make a mental note. Re the second point, well you’ve certainly written comments that have had all three of those effects on me (not necessarily at the same time). Keep writing.

    • Chris says:

      Among its many other delights The American Museum has a wonderful collection of quilts. It was there that my passing intellectual interest was really moved forward and I resolved that one day I was going to make these things. And here I am now – veteran of many quilt classes and really excited that today I am heading out to the Festival of Quilts at NEC. I shall spend the night in a hotel crammed with quilters which is in itself a most enjoyable experience as quilters are almost universally friendly, outgoing and thoroughly pleasant to brush shoulders with. And tomorrow – an absolute riot of colour, shape, texture, tradition, modernity, huge skill, and lots more. Envy me folks, envy me!

      On a completely different tack the Museum also has a replica of the sort of house pioneers in the Wild West would have had, including, hanging on the staircase where it could be grabbed in the event of an Indian raid, a sack which contained the things the family held most dear. I look after the Emergency Plan for my Parish and whenever I have to make some small amendment to it I think of the Plan those pioneers had which was so simple – “In case of unexpected guests grab the sack!”

  4. Susan says:

    I prefer to talk rather than write and so it has taken me a few visits here, lurking, before I have dared to even to make this statement. There is also something about the anonymity of blogging, you don’t know me, how will I convey my true thoughts and feelings through this medium? You all seem like serious types (have I type-cast you already?) and so I match your tone, like falling into step with someone walking along side you. Only I have an arthritic gait, which makes me self conscious. It is new to me and I am getting used to it and trying to catch up.

    • estragon007 says:

      Hmmmm

      Arthitis benefits hugely from red wine. I have it. I recommend a bottle of good claret for breakfast.

      Advise you not to limit yourself to truth. Truth can be so restricting.

      As for disclosing feelings-always be careful on the net – things are not always as they seem.

      Yours etc

      Napoleon.

  5. Karin says:

    Hello Susan, Great to have you on board! I’m so glad you’ve taken the plunge, believe me, I know how hard it is. I have had various off-line comments about how everyone seems very serious, but really we’re not – at least not all the time! And there is a line of discussion on the previous post – Walking to hear the music – which is a mix of the serious and light-hearted, so do join in there or wherever, as I think the themes about our current culture etc will strike a chord. It can be a lot like talking once you join in, in this mode. You might also like the page on The Well Readers. Look forward to reading more.

    • Stephen says:

      Hi Susan and welcome. OK we may not all be serious but if you read through the comments there aren’t many that make you laugh out loud. I know I’m always trying to come up with something deep and meaningful rather than light and pointless (other than bringing a smile to others) so I keep falling into this intellectual trap.
      So in tune with the unexpected guest here’s an unexpected joke taken from today’s Times and voted by the viewers of Dave (that positions it) as the best joke at the Edinbirgh Festival: ” I’ve just been on a once in a lifetime holiday. I’ll tell you what – never again”
      As for estragon007’s bottle of claret for breakfast I think I’d consult my liver before following his advice…
      And finally why do newspapers always use asterisks when printing swear words? We all know what f**k and s**t mean so why not print them? This all seems very Victorian to me. Let’s call a spade a spade or should this be s***e?

      • estragon007 says:

        (Now interestingly Susan’s latest didn’t have a reply option at the bottom. We need to understand this teccie point.)

        ”What is the point of truth without feeling and feeling without truth?”

        Three concepts there. Truth and feeling are often completely unrelated. People, daily, react towards their feelings without considering rationality or truth.

        It is said those of us with autistic tendencies (we don’t do emotion)are better at being truthful than those without. We care much less if it offends. (Have you noticed how few autistic politicians there are- they wouldn’t be able to lie).

        Feelings – what are they? – a chemical reaction to circumstance.

        Take today’s local paper -an heroic report of a police force nicking around 40 people for not wearing a seat belt and fining them. They are proud of this. They say their interest is saving lives.

        But how many people died from not wearing a seat belt in Northampton last year ? Without that information we cannot judge the matter. (I suspect the number is tiny). And why do we care?- if they are stupid enough to kill themselves is that not a matter for them? But people reach for feelings ”it saves lives-therefore it must be good” . Really ? why is saving the lives of stupid people at huge cost a good thing ? It actually damages the gene pool. Better surely to encourage stupid people not to wear seat belts so we evolve into smarter people ?

        If we really wanted to save lots of lives we would have flown those police (currently knicking stupid folk for not wearing seat belts) to Pakistan to supervise the food distribution to ensure the elderly and the children got some food-for the strong are taking it all and the vulnerable are starving.

        That simple act would probably save more lives in a month than all the road deaths in the UK for a whole year. But a UK road death is a different currency from an orphaned child in Sind.

      • Susan says:

        Thanks to all for the warm welcome, it does feel like there are some comfortable chairs and sofas in this blog/room, an open bottle of wine and a cosy fire ready to be lit when necessary.

        I have been thinking about the issue of humour in the blog and the perceived tension between being funny and being taken seriously. I think Stephen describes this when he talks about trying to come up with something deep and meaningful rather than light and pointless. But must these two be mutually exclusive?

  6. Andrew Hoppit says:

    You mention The Waltons and Little House on the Prairie like they are a bad thing! I remember looking forward to watching the Waltons with great joy. Anyway onto the specifics of your question in the opening paragraph, I can’t think what the name of the film/TV programme was. Are you sure about it being an ‘unexpected guest’? I seem to have a similar recollection but this was of a mother waiting for her deceased son to return home from war I think (American Civil War) and setting a place for him.

    • Karin says:

      I confess I also looked forward to The Waltons when I was a child, but looking back at it, it’s incredibly sentimental, don’t you think? and a kind of Pollyanna or sanitised view of living in the west kind of like John Denver’s music – sorry, maybe you liked him too!! I am particularly interested in your comments on the film. I guess you don’t remember what film it was, but maybe someone else might? The way you describe it definitely is linked with the Polish idea of the unexpected guest. Thanks Andrew.

      • Stephen says:

        Here’s a choice – Eastenders or the Waltons? Constant misery or halcyon days. I know which gets my vote and no, it isn’t Eastenders even though I was born there.

  7. Karin says:

    Susan – what a great question. It says it all.

    • Susan says:

      Thanks Karin, that is very kind of you! You write so beautifully and thoughtfully and have created a welcoming lovely space here in the bloggesphere. I am with the Waltons by the way!

      • Karin says:

        I think everyone is with the Waltons so far – I may have committed a terrible gaffe in suggesting they were/are sentimental. Who knows? I haven’t seen that programme for decades!

  8. Chris says:

    Susan, As one of the less serious, or perhaps less often serious, types contributing to this blog I’m really pleased to welcome you. Keep contributing. And like Karin I love your question. Chris

  9. bank loan says:

    Wow, this was a really quality post. In theory I’ d like to write like this too – taking time and actual effort to make a great article… but what can I say… I procrastinate alot and in no way appear to get something done.

    • Karin says:

      Thanks for the comment and welcome to a truly unexpected and unknown guest!

      • Chris says:

        Hi,

        And welcome. I too am a procrastinator. I think I do it because I quite like the feeling of pressure to get something done. It feels like cheating if you have enough time. But too often pressure slides into panic and then I do something that is less good than it could be.

        I read the other day that if you have something you are putting off doing you should give it just two concentrated minutes of your time to see whether it is as large, or as difficult, or as necessary, or as scary a task as you are subconsciously feeling it is. And it’s worked. Two jobs that have been hanging over me for ages became much simpler than I had half-imagined them to be when I was resolutely not really weighing them up. And now they’re done. It’s a great feeling.

        So why am I sitting here typing this when I should be packing my bags to take off for a few days away?

  10. Chris says:

    May I go back to Karin’s piece at the start of Unexpected Guest? In that she talked about blogging – and how some people feel uncomfortable about it and so on. It set me thinking about my own attitudes to blogging and to the whole new range of possible means of communication which have come about in my lifetime.

    I enjoy participating in this blog. Enjoy reading it and enjoy writing for it. But I’m not by nature a blogger. I follow only one other and that’s as different in nature as you can imagine. A friend of mine whom I rarely see in person effectively writes her diary and I follow it to keep up with her news. She runs the International Birds of Prey Centre in Newent, Gloucestershire and her blog is well followed but it’s almost a one-way blog – she writes, friends and admirers and fellow professionals read. (www.ibpc.org if you want to check up on one of my interests and see some good bird photography as well.)

    It’s fascinating to me the opinions one has about the different ways of communicating available now. I, for instance, do not understand people who cannot walk along the street without a mobile glued to their ears. Or why people text each other incessantly. And on the odd occasion I do I, probably like a lot of my generation, use full English with punctuation. I don’t like to see the language debased – but then tell myself that Shakespeare might have felt the same if he had had the chance to experience 21st Century English ‘as she is spoke’. I am totally unable to understand the appeal of Facebook and Twitter. It seems to me that people just can’t bear to be alone with their thoughts any more. Whereas a lot of my time is spent yearning for that as a luxury beyond price.

    I wonder – am I an anchronism communicatively speaking?

    • Chris says:

      And will I ever learn to spell anachronism?

    • Karin says:

      Chris, I agree with your reflection that many (not all, by any means) people try and avoid being alone with not just their thoughts but themselves in the broadest sense. Gadgets and technology generally are a great escape. (Someone told me this preoccupation with gadgets was very American the other day, but I took great umbrage at this comment for obvious reasons! I see it as a non-nation-specific pastime and just as likely to be British as American.) Why do people fear (if it is fear) being alone with themselves? What is it they think they might discover? Isn’t it better to know than to not know?

    • Susan says:

      Hi Chris, I am liking your posts and will check out the web site. I love birds of prey and have spent many happy hours in cold fields with binoculars, a flask of tea and a meat paste sandwich, watching out for them. Kites are my favorites and can be seen in numbers above Watlington in Oxfordshire, it is so magical to see them flying above the town.

      The thing about the constant communication is that it is just that. You no longer need to be out of contact and it is actually now quite difficult to be alone with your thoughts. I, like Karin am an only child and I spent hours alone as a child, and dream about living alone again and re-creating the peace and quiet that comes when you have time to consider your own thoughts but this will probably not happen in the way I want it to!

      I admit to having a facebook page and enjoying that. I like catching up with old friends and seeing pictures of them and their children and grandchildren growing up and hearing their news. But now that I have this blog too, it is hard to keep ahead of it all, because, once you have been an unexpected guest, you become part of the blogging family and therein lie expectations….

      • Karin says:

        Hi Susan, hoping that the expectations are pleasant and not too onerous! It’s great to have your comments here, I am enjoying them.

      • Chris says:

        Hello again Susan,

        If you like the look of that website do try and fit in a visit to the Centre at some time. From what you have said you are guaranteed to enjoy it. If Mima (the owner) is doing the flying exhibitions that day you’re in for a special treat.

  11. miranda says:

    Reading this struck a chord with me in a couple of ways but I’ll go with the first. It reminded me that, when I was a small child, we always laid an extra place at the table, not for an unexpected guest but for my imaginary friend Bealue. Until the age of nearly eight I was an only child and we lived in rural locations for much of that time so an imaginary friend seemed the perfect solution. We had great times together and, I seem to remember, got into several scrapes, as Bealue could be very persuasive! I can’t recall any kind of physical image of my friend, I’m not even sure of gender, but just saying the name again conjures up really happy memories and I think the ‘presence’ of Bealue ushered away any loneliness I may have experienced. I know such ‘friendships’ are common amongst small children, and I have veered away from the theme somewhat, but the picture of an extra table-setting made me smile.

    There. My first post. I feel slightly exposed and very aware that I have gone off at a tangent but…..

  12. Karin says:

    Hello Miranda, I really enjoyed your comment and thanks for writing it. There are no tangents on my blog – you only have to read the range of comments (especially under Walking to hear the music) to see that.

    As an only child (still), your comment reminds me of my many imaginary friends – I like to think I had/have some real ones too! I never actually set a place at the table for any of the imaginary ones, except when setting up the photo for this blog, but I like the idea. I hope it doesn’t feel too uncomfortable writing here, I know others will enjoy your comment also. And please do say more about the other chords that were struck, if you feel so inclined.

  13. Dody Jane says:

    Karin – this is a wonderful post! So much to think about here. I started blogging because I felt I was bursting to express some of my opinions. I really didn’t know what I was doing, I just wrote a post and threw it out there. No one ever read my first blog. In fact, I once wrote a post “if you publish a blog post and nobody reads it, does it really exist? ” At first, my blogging was more about commenting on social/political issues. But, it seemed so alienating. I myself am a political blog junkie and that is primarily where I comment.

    I decided for my second blog to just write about the stuff I read or love. It seemed safer and less prone to ruffling feathers. It is hard, though, to reach down and find things to blog about. I have some ideas percolating, but I am experiencing one of those uncertain times where I wonder what the heck the point is. It does become something you think of walking away from. So, your post about the uninvited guest and all the symbolism that goes with the notion has made me think. I loved what you wrote about my interior uninvited guest – Jung? I think I have been struggling with that lately.

    I am racking my brains to come up with that movie/TV show. Was it an old black and white or was it in color?

  14. Karin says:

    Dody Jane, since you are one of the more experienced bloggers here, I’m interested by your comments. I agree with you about wanting to write about the stuff I love, that interests me or really grasps my engagement at a point in time, as opposed to writing about social/political issues (unless they fulfil the first criteria) – though there are some subtle (not so subtle!) pressures both on and off the blog to do that….There is one potential political topic brewing which I’m hoping at least one other person will write with me. As a general rule though, I’ll leave that to others, I think! But I’m more than happy for politics to enter into this blog in the comments, where relevant or appropriate.

    I think you have to follow the feeling and write what is right for you at any given moment, and see where it leads…..I’m finding that tends to be somewhere unexpected which is wonderful.

    I’ll let Andrew comment otherwise but in my mind the film was definitely black and white and the woman is maybe even wearing an apron. I see her standing next to the table which may or may not have anyone sitting at it – it’s quite a vivid image in my mind. But does it exist anywhere else?!

    Look forward to reading your next blog.

  15. Glenn says:

    Well first of all thank you so much for being my unexpected guest, it was and indeed is a pleasure to have your company.

    I love the idea of my various ‘facets of self’ being my unexpected guests and I look forward to welcoming them with a rather more congruent attitude than I have of late, been a little busy!

    Great blog, thanks for the invite and I look for5 ward to writing and reading more

    Glenn

    • Karin says:

      Hi Glenn, great to have you here as an international correspondent from the Maldives! And I like the idea of us being reciprocally unexpected guests. I also look forward to more contributions from you and hope you are well, Karin

  16. estragon007 says:

    Today is the 1st September. Dew is heavy on the lawns. There is mist on the early morning fields

    The Autumn–Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1833)

    Go, sit upon the lofty hill,
    And turn your eyes around,
    Where waving woods and waters wild
    Do hymn an autumn sound.
    The summer sun is faint on them —
    The summer flowers depart —
    Sit still — as all transform’d to stone,
    Except your musing heart.

    How there you sat in summer-time,
    May yet be in your mind;
    And how you heard the green woods sing
    Beneath the freshening wind.
    Though the same wind now blows around,
    You would its blast recall;
    For every breath that stirs the trees,
    Doth cause a leaf to fall.

    Oh! like that wind, is all the mirth
    That flesh and dust impart:
    We cannot bear its visitings,
    When change is on the heart.
    Gay words and jests may make us smile,
    When Sorrow is asleep;
    But other things must make us smile,
    When Sorrow bids us weep!

    The dearest hands that clasp our hands, —
    Their presence may be o’er;
    The dearest voice that meets our ear,
    That tone may come no more!
    Youth fades; and then, the joys of youth,
    Which once refresh’d our mind,
    Shall come — as, on those sighing woods,
    The chilling autumn wind.

    Hear not the wind — view not the woods;
    Look out o’er vale and hill —
    In spring, the sky encircled them —
    The sky is round them still.
    Come autumn’s scathe — come winter’s cold —
    Come change — and human fate!
    Whatever prospect Heaven doth bound,
    Can ne’er be desolate.

    • Stephen says:

      I fear we maybe heading for pseuds corner with this one. A flicker of impish spirit crossed my mind (a short journey) when I read this and thought about searching the web for obtuse poems and posting them on the blog just to get a reaction and maybe this is the purpose of this submission.

  17. Karin says:

    Thank you. Dimly remembered poetry of this calibre is a truly welcome unexpected guest. And as I sit looking at the still warm yet autumnal sunlit garden, it is most appropriate. I do prefer the light in spring and autumn to summer.

  18. Michael Reid says:

    What is about the British Press – a bunch of overborrowed drunks who falsify their expenses most of them – that they finds so fascinating about other people’s private sex lives ?

    Gosh Hague shared a hotel room- mention the twin beds- so what ? Who cares. No one except the purient journo’s.

    Why Hague responded in the manner he did is also pathetic. He should have said .” I shall sleep with who the hell I feel like – now * orf”

    Ross Perot set the bench mark for dealing with these reptiles . When asked (he was a candidate at the time) by some po faced journo ”have you ever smoked pot ?” He responded ”Only when I was committing adultery”.

  19. Sophie Leek says:

    I thought this poem by Rumi [The Guest House] was a good comment a propos the unexpected guest:

    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 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 beyond.

  20. Karin says:

    Hi Sophie, what an unexpected pleasure – you and the poem.
    The poem is wonderful in its own right. I like the idea of being ‘cleaned out’ particularly for some new delight. I am especially appreciative as the timing is perfect for me to be able to share it with another friend who may benefit from its messages. And also it is a good reminder of how to welcome not only inner experiences and feelings but also life generally. Many thanks!
    Karin

  21. Wow that was unusual. I just wrote an incredibly long comment
    but after I clicked submit my comment didn’t appear. Grrrr…
    well I’m not writing all that over again. Anyway, just wanted to
    say superb blog!

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