Here is one of my favorite poems (translated into English *duh*) by the 13th century Muslim poet and philosopher (and Sufi Mystic) Rumi. Interpret it how you like.
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.
I take it to mean that (warning: incoming cliche) everything happens for a reason, and we must embrace each emotion that we feel, good bad, weird,whatever, as it is meant to lead us to where we are supposed to be, which in turn, is wherever we are.