It is cold in my desert this morning, -28℃. The sun is shining bright. It feels right, almost normal. Even in the desert, it is hard to keep out the noise and the chatter. The Prince has fallen off his horse. There are no knights in shining armour. There are no gurus to lead us out of temptation and evil. We have to rescue ourselves. I’m here in the desert, listening to and for my own wisdom.

We all have it, our own inner wisdom. I have it but I often doubt myself, trusting in the words and teaching of others. It’s not that I have been misled down the wrong garden path. It’s that I’ve always thought that I am wrong and in the wrong. It’s always my fault for whatever. I have been a martyr but I no longer want to be one. It’s a step in recognition. It’ll be another to follow through.

Stepping into the desert has given me the energy I long for. It’s wonderful to feel alive, not moping, not feeling hopelessly lost in inertia. I have finally seeded some onions, shallots, leeks and celery. This morning I practiced my qigong routines. I was surprised it was a bit challenging. I was tired at the end. Now I am in the process of clearing and cleaning the house to welcome in the new year. Cleaning house reminds me of Rumi’s poem, 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.