The big ear on the outside of our head should be closed.
It is so good at hearing that the inner ear goes deaf.
What if you had no hearing at all, no nose, no mind-stuff!
Then one could hear well the three syllables: “Turn Around.”
Our sounds, our work, our renown, these are our outer.
Our sounds, our work, our renown, these are our outer.
When we move inwardly, we move through inner space.
Our feet walk firmly, they experience sidewalks well.
There is one inside who walks like Jesus on the Sea
- Rumi
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| Sketches from my journal |
“Allah, Allah, Allah” they chanted together, swaying back
and forth from their knees, eyes closed.
I had never seen anything like it before. Muslims engaged in a kind of call and response liturgy where
physical performance played such a large role in accessing the divine. Sure there are the five daily prayers
with rituals of washing and kneeling, but this chanting followed by endless
twirling was something completely new to me.
Sufism has been described as “a science whose objective is the reparation of the heart and turning it
away from all else but God” (1) – largely through mystical interpretations
of scripture and seeking transcendent personal experiences. It is often traced back to early
Islamic practices but some claim it precedes Islam as a way of thinking about
the world, the self and God.
There are brands of Sufism in North Africa where musically induced
trances play a significant role in the process of turning
away from all else but God, and in Turkey, Whirling Dervish Ceremonies or
“Sema” allow practitioner to transcend death of self, the material world, and be
reborn.
The Sema ceremony was created by Rumi, the 13th century Persian poet, mystic and theologian who immigrated to Turkey where his influence can still be seen among practicing Sufi orders. During the ceremony men wear black cloaks, symbols of worldly attachments that are removed toward the beginning to reveal flowing white robes. They wear tall, tombstone shaped hats that symbolize death of the ego. The ceremony includes a ritualized procession around a circle and culminates in whirling around and around on one foot. The act of revolution allows practitioners to “turn towards the truth, grow through love, desert the ego and arrive to the ‘perfect.’” (So says information our Turkish friends gave us.)
“But why is one hand lifted to the sky and the other facing
the ground?” I whisper to Max,
who, for some reason, generally has answer to these kinds of questions.
“It is to receive blessings and enlightenment from God with
the one hand and give to those in need with the other,” he says.
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| The only picture I took - it seemed a bit indecent and I tucked my camera away |
We watched, completely enraptured, as the dervishes spun
around, their left foot planted like an axel, skirts spread out wide around
them. We visited a fairly
progressive lodge where women were allowed to participate and watched as sweat
trickled down the face of an elderly woman in front of us. The ceremony, while spiritual in purpose, is intensely physical. The young man in front of us, who couldn’t have been more
than 18, tilted his head to heaven, eyes closed and never faltered in
his perfect revolutions. The look
on his face was of completely serenity – and surrender for that matter.
This experience proved the perfect counterpoint to what
had for us, admittedly, been a form of worldly worship based on food and architecture
and history and gave us a lot more to think about. Which is what any good trip is about anyway.
(1) Ahmed Zarruq, Zaineb
Istrabadi, Hamza Yusuf Hanson. The
Principles of Sufism. Amal Press. 2008.
