who's at your door today?

guest 1: while i was doing the dishes, a guest came dashing through the door without so much as a greeting. the door broke open, little pieces scattered all over the floor. the guest stood there, catching its breath, wrapped in a patched jacket.

“i’m a little nervous.”

it paced the room unable to stay in one place. i left the dishes in the sink and sat beside it.

“inhale for four seconds... hold for four seconds... exhale for four seconds...”

“are we both okay now?”

it nodded. then it walked out through the broken door.

goodbye, nervousness. see you another day, or another hour.

guest 2: the clock had just passed 2 a.m. i had just finished my prayer. work was piling up. then i heard a knock.

“hello... erm... you there? can i come in?”

no. i shut the door and drew the curtains.

“please…,” the voice whispered. i stayed quiet. then a tall shadow slipped beneath the door, slowly filling the room.

“i told you no!”

“you always do,” it said. then it sat beside me while i pretended to work. it wandered around my room, ran its fingers across the bookshelf, sat on the edge of my bed, and stared out the window i had just covered.

“people spend their whole lives trying to throw me out. they don’t realize i’m often just the waiting room before they meet themselves.”

i looked at it. i had nothing to say. i kept quiet as the night was. we sat together until my eyes grew heavy. i fell asleep.

when i woke up, it was gone.

you were here for a while, mr. loneliness.

guest 3: i was making breakfast when someone knocked on the door three times. knock. knock. knock. before i could reach it, the door flew open. a small guest tumbled in with pockets overflowing with confetti, wearing a grin too big for its face.

“guess what?” the guest shouted.

“i don’t know,” i said.

“exactly!!!”

it laughed before i could answer, already darting through the house, opening windows, letting the morning air rush in.

“come on. something good might happen today.”

“or nothing might...” i smirked.

“that’s the fun part! you’ve been surviving for so long, you forgot how to look forward to things.” it said.

i smiled. maybe just a little.

it stayed only for breakfast. before leaving, it turned back at the door.

“don’t wait for big news to invite me in. i like ordinary days too.”

then it skipped away and leaving tiny pieces of confetti behind. the coffee was still warm, and so was the morning.

peace.

what is peace? is it an empty house? no nervousness breaking the door... no loneliness filling the room... only excitement, sunlight, and warm coffee?

but houses were never built to stay empty.

we humans are houses too. we are built to welcome one guest at a time. some arrive laughing. some arrive crying. some leave the windows open. others leave the floor in pieces.

you don’t get to choose who knocks. you only get to choose how you greet them. every guest brings something with it. sometimes a wound. sometimes the key to a room within yourself that you had forgotten existed.

when one guest leaves, another will eventually find its way to your door.

so whenever you hear another knock, take a slow breath. open the door, welcome them and say, “come in. tell me what you came here to teach.”

Inspired by "The Guest House" by Rumi.