We never yell at each other, no matter how hard it gets. And tonight, we’re having a little celebration—not because things are easy, but because we’re still here. Still standing, still trying. The weight of our struggles sits between us like an unspoken guest at the table.

"This being human is a guest house," Rumi once wrote. "Every morning a new arrival."

I think about his words as I sit across from my husband, feeling the quiet between us. The poem continues:

"A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor."

Tonight, our visitor is ‘exhaustion’. The kind that settles in the bones, that whispers doubts and worries in the spaces between words. And yet, I try to remember the next lines:

"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 for some new delight."

And how difficult it is to treat such a guest honorably—especially the one who violently sweeps our house empty of its furniture? Difficult? No, almost impossible.”

 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.
 

So, this is our celebration night. We have our delicious food, we have each other, we have Rumi’s poem. And we have our problems—uninvited, yes, but here nonetheless. And Rumi tells us they are guides from beyond.” And to you, my dearest readers—if your burdens feel too heavy; if your sighs feel endless—I hope you, too, can find a quiet moment to celebrate your strength. Cheers.”

Karin Sabrina