Whirling Dervishes

All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being.

What has come into being was life.

While I was in Turkey over the weekend, my friend Jenn took me to Konya to see the Sufi Whirling Dervishes. Although familiar with the slang meaning of a whirling dervish here in the States, I had no idea that the Whirling Dervishes were an Islamic version of a monastic movement dating back to the 13th century and founded by the the great Islamic poet and philosopher, Rumi.  

The Dervishes "perform" during special festivals and prayer days. But performance is really the wrong word. The audience shares sacred space with the Dervishes who are engaging in a very ritualized and mystical form of union with God. All the Dervishes have spent years in study and prayer, renouncing worldly concerns. The "whirling" part is the embodiment of the belief that all objects and beings are made up of things that revolve, e.g. electrons in atoms. By spinning in harmony with the smallest cell and the stars in the firmament, the Dervish sets his mind, heart and body to revolve around the Divine center in love and submission. 

I can't capture in words the simple elegance and deep devotion expressed through this prayer dance. It was poetry in motion - minimalist, profound and sublime. Although our role was different, the audience was also invited into the prayer. Captivated, I found myself remembering the joy and freedom of spinning in circles as a child. The dance isn't particularly exuberant but rather more contemplative, rich with love and euphoria.  

When was the last time I had that sense of pure harmony in my life? 

Last May, I was lying on my back in one of the meadows in Yosemite Valley looking up at El Capitan. The breeze flirted with the trees until the leaves kissed back. The jays startled these natural lovers with their occasional reminder that they were not alone. The meadow grass was alive with earthly energy while the granite overhead was still, solid, and sure. Above, below, and within - all things were one held by the One.   

I don't want to privilege this memory as some sort of talisman but rather as a reminder to be more attentive to my dependence on God's presence with each breath. Is this what Paul meant when he wrote, "he himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together"? How can I entrust myself more fully to this One who holds all things together? 

Like the Dervishes, perhaps it involves more synchronized spinning around the sacred center. 

Who wants to join me in the dance?