There is a sort of writers whom

I style 'guest-writers' and who

Do not admit that the heavens

Are the only hosts to all things.

They play the part of 'a guest,'

Turning from place to place,

From one chapter to another,

Through and through, inside out.

Going on in the same old rut,

They spend their days and nights

As though in a wild-goose chase.

What this actually tells us about?

Let me explain myself this way:

A traveller who puts up at an inn

May stay overnight and even get

Something to bite, but then when

He is finished and rested enough,

He packs and continues his way,

For he does not have time to stay

Any longer in the very same place.

If he were a host of that country inn,

He would have no other place to go.

Therefore I reason: He who does not

Stay in one place may be called 'guest'

Because not staying is the essence

Of being a guest, but he who stays

May be called 'host.' On a clear day,

When the sun rises and the sunlight

Enters a dark room thru an opening,

We can see dust awhirl in the space.

The dust is moving but the space is still.

That, which is still, is called 'the space';

That, which is moving, is called 'the dust'

Because moving is the essence of bustle

Depicted so precisely in the image of dust.

A guest and dust refer to illusory thoughts

While a host and space refer to the nature

Of self-sufficiency. That a host does not

Follow a guest in his comings and goings

Illustrates that the permanent self-nature

Of the first is not to follow illusory thoughts

In fleeting rises and falls of the second.

This way the moving dust does not block

The still and transparent empty space;

Illusory thoughts that rise and fall do not

Hinder a writer's nature out from reality.

Therefore it is said, "If the selfishness

Does not arise, all things are blameless."

In such a state of mind, none of itinerants

Drifts with illusory thoughts. If he grasps

The gist of the 'space and dust' doctrine,

For him, the illusory thoughts will

No longer be a hindrance in his writing.

The old hand guest-writers try very hard;

They often understand that it is high time

To deliver up something hotly striking.

For this, they search demonically on the roads

Of dust and in the territories of itinerants,

And in the storeroom of their poor memories

For all sorts of details and reminiscences,

But all the same, their companion-readers

Wrinkle their noses, saying: 'Bland and still flat,'

They return a verdict, bearing no malice.

When at last they recognise the road as a road,

There'll be no more 'road' in their inquiring mind

And investigation of a true writer; and if they can

Understand all these things before starting

To be engaged in their literary careers and

Action in their chapters and on their pages,

It is unlikely that they will make serious failures.

That's the key difference between the host and

Guest in writing; so, which side to take is up to you.