You may know that Ben Franklin aphorism, Fish and visitors smell in 3 days. Just like this decorative sign in a friend’s bathroom, Dear friends, we’re happy to see you arrive, and we’re happy to see you depart. More funny than weird, and I get it.

Then The Odyssey arrived this summer. I’m not giving a spoiler by revealing a main theme, that being a guest has rules, hosting a guest has rules, and when we break these, a good mess or epic story ensues.

Old stories and myths have the same motifs here. As a guest, bring gifts, follow the customs of the house, help out, and don’t overstay your welcome. When you’re a host, treat your guests like a god, angel, or ruler in disguise, because that’s exactly who they might be. From Penelope to Jesus, a host might wash some dusty feet. Whenever the same details or guidelines show up in stories across cultures, we’d better pay attention.

The current film version of The Odyssey develops this Zeus’s Law to showcase the complexity of the story and its characters. How do we understand our hero when he breaks the laws of hospitality in order to win the Trojan War (that horse trick), get home (“find provisions” = plunder and steal), then rid his home of the suitors (also broke the rules).

In the original poem, Odysseus is a trademark “wily” or “clever.” To what degree does being clever, winning a war, and having success justify breaking a law, especially God’s law? Oddly or perfectly, another major theme in the story is loyalty. You can see why this is one of our best, most foundational stories—it calls into play big ideas holding contradiction, paradox, and irony.

I’ve been thinking now about how to treat guests. The stories emphasize that guests are both invited and not—you’re supposed to treat them the same. Because again, if it’s a god, angel, or king, they might have arrived to test you, and they surely want to bless you. So wash their feet and serve the best wine and fatted calf.

I’m wondering where on this planet can I show up and expect to find these rules still in place. My friend Bill rides his motorcycle into super-remote places, where people invite him into their homes to eat and sleep. They are proud to host a dusty traveler. Why does this happen in these relatively poor, remote places? How is it that our wealth, privilege, and security have pre-empted hospitality? How can we find our own generosity and sense of security to trust strangers?

My best travel stories involve strangers helping me–getting down Mount Olympus, the taxi driver circumventing a festival in Haridwar by going across the Ganges and skirting another mountain, a woman paying my train fare when I didn’t have enough drachmas. I was a guest. That’s what you do. It’s the unexpected, warm exchanges that strengthen our common humanity.

Another friend teaches math in Springfield, Ohio. He’s learned Haitian-Creole and some French to help his students in their original language. This is his chosen community—he feels connected to his Haitian students, co-workers, and neighbors. They are people who are here because we said they could be, that they’d be safe from harm. Whether we call them refugees, residents, immigrants, or guests, we are changing the rules. They might now be threatened, detained, made unsafe, even removed to another country. We’re doing that for a lot of people, even citizens, at such a pace it’s hard to know the new rules and how to follow them.

I’m all about “progress” and change if it makes people’s lives easier. And, can we generally agree on some basics, like the Golden Rule? Maybe you prefer the Beatitudes or the Yoga ethics version—they all say the same thing, respect others.

Remember—they might be god, an angel, or a queen. Even if they aren’t, they’re still a cloud of stardust like you and me.

Inside a Rishikesh TukTuk