It is a sunny Sunday morning as I slowly arise, do exercises and prayers and now completing my journal entry.
As I walked along the seawall yesterday evening, under a canopy of rose-colored sky streaked with wispy clouds I could still hear the chanting of the dervishes representing Turkey, Saudi Arabia, Palestine and many other Middle Eastern countries who had put on performances that afternoon at the Art Gallery for the Fifth Canadian Islamic Cultural Expo that took place on the fountains lawn as it does every year.
As I wandered downtown yesterday, I had no idea this would be happening but I could hear the drumming from a couple of blocks away and was drawn into the confluence of people gathered for the event.
I arrived just as a dervish demonstration was ending and as they left the courtyard where they had been dancing and doing zikr (chanting praises of Allah) I was surrounded by them and swept up in their effusive energy. There must’ve been 30 young men in their late teens and twenties and the energy of celebration was palpable.
It was strange to come from a very Western-style new age spiritual celebration at the Quaker Hall with the women of Ruby (see yesterday's post) the night before and to find myself once again and so soon immersed in a stream of devotees.
It was like standing in an electric current. In a few minutes my whole body was tingling with energy that had not been present moments before.
It was also strange that I seemed to be invisible to them, as they circled all around me barely brushing me (but never once jostling me) with their robes and congratulating each other on their performances, their smiling faces full of light and joy.
Picture standing in a group of BC Lions players just after they score a touchdown…it was like that only far more subtle but with just as much (maybe more) energy. If I had seen them coming I probably would have got out of the way.
The young men (of Palestinian origin I think) were holding long white batons about the size of spears which were stripped in green, like candy canes. They wore turbans wrapped around little conical hats that gave them the appearance of soldiers/knights/stage players celebrating days of glory.
On scene next came the contingent from the Peninsula of Saudi Arabia dressed in full headgear and waving not batons, but long curved swords.
It was like a scene out of Lawrence of Arabia. And within minutes I was drowned in the boom of the big drums and the drone of voices lifting me out of the realm of the ordinary into another place, another time.
And as I was leaving another synchronistic happening very much in tune with the energy of the past two days…I passed the Turkish tent and stopping to read a passage from Rumi’s Masnawi that was posted I was drawn into conversation with another young man who asked if I had ever been to Turkey. As I left he handed me a DVD of The Whirling Dervishes direct from Konya, which was recorded in Calgary…and included a full classical Turkish orchestra performing for a Sema (or the celebratory dance of the dervishes).
So last night I played that back to back with Ruby’s CD On the Way of Love: Songs inspired by Rumi.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Saturday, August 15, 2009
A Healing Gift
Yesterday was an unusual day in that I decided to head down to South Vancouver and do several things including shopping at Oakridge, saying hello to Nika who works there and visiting Karen’s new area.
I caught the bus to Oak and 41st which confused me at the start by taking a right off the bridge towards Kits (they now have a new route which bypasses busy Granville and Broadway). There was a new trainee driver on board and so the bus virtually crawled to its destination.
I had forgotten that Oakridge Mall was not on Oak Street and so when I got off, I wasn’t sure which way to head at first. I quickly got my bearings though and headed east.
Nika was not working that day and neither did I want to carry clothing in bags to South Van as I was already carrying my jacket. So after window shopping I left the mall empy-handed in a kind of daze and began making my way west before finally circling back through the mall and catching a bus on the north side of 41st heading south. I got off at 64th and began walking west through a residential area with no sidewalks.
The streets were deserted and it felt like the old days hiking in foreign territory and the walk soon became a hot slog. I kept thinking of Herb’s story of passing out in the street from fatigue and heat and hoped I would not repeat it.
I finally made it across 70th and walked past the Quaker Hall where I knew there would be a Sufi gathering & concert that evening which I had planned to attend for some time. But Karen’s new apartment was only a block from there so I tested my intuition to see if I could find it.
It was depressing to me to think she might be in a rundown neighborhood but I was pleasantly surprised by the peaceful ambience and big trees just off a major traffic artery out of the city. There were several older but respectable-looking apartment buildings and I decided she must be in one of these. And I was happy to discover that there were no old rooming houses in the area, laying to rest another nightmare about her possible situation.
I finally caught a B-Line bus home which was a quick trip but after getting off at Seymour and transferring to a Davie bus to get home, I was tired. I put aside my plans for the evening concert on the south side and opted instead to go grocery shopping and make dinner.
As planned I cooked and ate my dinner but was inspired to call Karen and ask if she would like to attend the concert with me. She eased my mind further by informing me that she was in one of the nicer buildings I had seen earlier in the day. She was busy but encouraged me to attend the concert on my own. So I called a taxi with only an hour to spare and was soon walking through the doors of the hall.
I was also walking back in time about 10 years when I used to regularly attend Sufi meetings there. When I had passed the hall earlier in day it looked deserted and there was no signage to advertise a concert that evening. But I was not surprised to see the chairs all set up, the sound system ready and many of the chairs already occupied.
I walked downstairs to use the washroom and was met by two women and my friend Amir who is with the Sufi Order in Vancouver. We hugged and then as I looked at the women in his company the penny dropped; these were the women of Ruby who I’d come to listen to. I immediately told them that I’d downloaded and heard their song “Listen O Drop” from a poem by Rumi.
When they began their concert they gave me the healing gift of dedicating this song to me, causing me to weep many and much needed tears.
I caught the bus to Oak and 41st which confused me at the start by taking a right off the bridge towards Kits (they now have a new route which bypasses busy Granville and Broadway). There was a new trainee driver on board and so the bus virtually crawled to its destination.
I had forgotten that Oakridge Mall was not on Oak Street and so when I got off, I wasn’t sure which way to head at first. I quickly got my bearings though and headed east.
Nika was not working that day and neither did I want to carry clothing in bags to South Van as I was already carrying my jacket. So after window shopping I left the mall empy-handed in a kind of daze and began making my way west before finally circling back through the mall and catching a bus on the north side of 41st heading south. I got off at 64th and began walking west through a residential area with no sidewalks.
The streets were deserted and it felt like the old days hiking in foreign territory and the walk soon became a hot slog. I kept thinking of Herb’s story of passing out in the street from fatigue and heat and hoped I would not repeat it.
I finally made it across 70th and walked past the Quaker Hall where I knew there would be a Sufi gathering & concert that evening which I had planned to attend for some time. But Karen’s new apartment was only a block from there so I tested my intuition to see if I could find it.
It was depressing to me to think she might be in a rundown neighborhood but I was pleasantly surprised by the peaceful ambience and big trees just off a major traffic artery out of the city. There were several older but respectable-looking apartment buildings and I decided she must be in one of these. And I was happy to discover that there were no old rooming houses in the area, laying to rest another nightmare about her possible situation.
I finally caught a B-Line bus home which was a quick trip but after getting off at Seymour and transferring to a Davie bus to get home, I was tired. I put aside my plans for the evening concert on the south side and opted instead to go grocery shopping and make dinner.
As planned I cooked and ate my dinner but was inspired to call Karen and ask if she would like to attend the concert with me. She eased my mind further by informing me that she was in one of the nicer buildings I had seen earlier in the day. She was busy but encouraged me to attend the concert on my own. So I called a taxi with only an hour to spare and was soon walking through the doors of the hall.
I was also walking back in time about 10 years when I used to regularly attend Sufi meetings there. When I had passed the hall earlier in day it looked deserted and there was no signage to advertise a concert that evening. But I was not surprised to see the chairs all set up, the sound system ready and many of the chairs already occupied.
I walked downstairs to use the washroom and was met by two women and my friend Amir who is with the Sufi Order in Vancouver. We hugged and then as I looked at the women in his company the penny dropped; these were the women of Ruby who I’d come to listen to. I immediately told them that I’d downloaded and heard their song “Listen O Drop” from a poem by Rumi.
When they began their concert they gave me the healing gift of dedicating this song to me, causing me to weep many and much needed tears.
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