colorado-561572_960_720Episode 21: Acceptance, by host, Laura Milkins. Our guest, Adam, tells the story of his depression after returning from Iraq and how he has founded an organization, Huts for Vets, to help veterans reintegrate into their communities:  Sunday, April 17, 2016

Find out more about Huts for Vets:

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 are 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 whatever comes.

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

-Rumi (translation by Coleman Barks)


The Indolent Mist of Autumn

The indolent mist of autumn at last dispersed…

It hovers between the towers, like the incense full of dreams

That will linger in the naves after the most solemn Mass;

And it sleeps like cloth spread on the dejected, grey ramparts.

It comes unfolded then folds back on itself, like a wing

In imperceptible motion, yet incessant, in the fog;

All is shaded to a blur and turns slightly divine,

As beneath the pallid brushing, all is vague and lost in dreams.

All is a shade of grey, cloaked in the colour of fog:

The sky with its ancient pinions, the water and the poplars,

Old friends, reconciled, so easily, with the haze of the past autumn,

Like all things that will soon be nothing but the faintest memory.

The victorious mist, against the pale depth of air,

Has diluted even the accustomed towers,

Whose grey thoughts are now gone forever,

Like some vague dream, or a geometry of vapour.

By Georges Rodenbach


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