Photo by Ahmad Odeh on Unsplash
A Science of the Heart
a platform for exploring Sufism
compiled by Jay McDaniel
Sufism is one of Islam's greatest gifts to the world.
It helps Muslims and people of all faiths discover
a sense of being loved in a cosmic sense,
a sense of being embraced by divine love in,
not apart from, our humanity: our yearning,
our desire for intimacy, our search for truth,
our brokenness, our humor, our confusion,
our thirst for beauty, and our compassion for others.
In its philosophies and practices, Sufism offers
a qualitative science of the heart, both complementing
and deepening quantitative sciences of the earth
and sky now called "science" in the modern university.
Recently a friend asked me if there are connections between open and relational (process) theology and Sufism. I responded that there are, or can be, connections; but that they have remained unexplored, with one important exception. That exception is a very good chapter called "Rumi: The Dance of Love" by Bruce Epperly in his book The Mystic in You: Discovering the God-Filled World. This page is a supplement and complement to that chapter, offering resources for those who are familiar with open and relational (process) theology and want to know more about Sufism.
One feature of process theology is its recognition that we human beings are not simply thinkers or even doers. We are, within our very depths, feelers. That is, our very existence consists of acts of feeling and responding to the the presence of others things: other people, the more than human world, and God. Whitehead believed that thinking itself is a form of feeling: namely a feeling of the presence of ideas. If the word "heart" is a metaphor for the feeling side of life; Whitehead believed that it's all "heart."
Another feature of process theology is the idea that the universe is embraced by a feeling Heart, a loving Consciousness, who lures each and every creaturely heart toward wholeness. This Heart is, of course, God.
From a process perspetive God is forever inviting us on a journey to be with God. This withness includes moral action and an enjoyment of life, but it can also include intimacy with God. Sufism invites to recognize this call to intimacy, to withness, with the loving Heart of the universe. It offers a qualitative science pf the heart.
Sufis have understood this withness much more deeply than have process theologians. We in the open and relational world need to learn much from them. One essay below - Dhikr in Process Perspective - draws connections with process theology. The other sections introduce relative newcomers to Sufism. I hope that fellow travellers in the open and relational (process) community will enjoy the material and make further connections.
- Jay McDaniel, June 29, 2021
- Jay McDaniel, June 29, 2021
One feature of process theology is its recognition that we human beings are not simply thinkers or even doers. We are, within our very depths, feelers. That is, our very existence consists of acts of feeling and responding to the the presence of others things: other people, the more than human world, and God. Whitehead believed that thinking itself is a form of feeling: namely a feeling of the presence of ideas. If the word "heart" is a metaphor for the feeling side of life; Whitehead believed that it's all "heart."
Another feature of process theology is the idea that the universe is embraced by a feeling Heart, a loving Consciousness, who lures each and every creaturely heart toward wholeness. This Heart is, of course, God.
From a process perspetive God is forever inviting us on a journey to be with God. This withness includes moral action and an enjoyment of life, but it can also include intimacy with God. Sufism invites to recognize this call to intimacy, to withness, with the loving Heart of the universe. It offers a qualitative science pf the heart.
Sufis have understood this withness much more deeply than have process theologians. We in the open and relational world need to learn much from them. One essay below - Dhikr in Process Perspective - draws connections with process theology. The other sections introduce relative newcomers to Sufism. I hope that fellow travellers in the open and relational (process) community will enjoy the material and make further connections.
- Jay McDaniel, June 29, 2021
- Jay McDaniel, June 29, 2021
Dhikr in Process Perspective
There dwells within each heart a beckoning, a calling, to live from the wisdom of the Poet of the World: to live from the wisdom of Allah.
This calling is not simply an abstraction we entertain in our minds. It is the baraka of Allah: the blessing and the presence of the divine Poet asking us to become co-poets and help create a world of beauty. Of course Islam is not the only religion in which the calling is heard. Baraka is within each human being as an invitation to become a vessel of divine poetry on earth. The best kinds of poetry we can create -- the ones most pleasing to Allah -- are wisdom and compassion, justice and beauty.
Sometimes this beckoning is hidden from us, like a reed hidden within a bed of reeds. It is hidden by our anger, our jealousies, our selfishness; and it can also be hidden by cultural and historical circumstances that shape our lives. Even our religions can hide it from us. Sometimes our religions help us to become vice-poets on earth and sometime they hinder us.
Still, with help from or despite our religions, the beckoning can be heard if we listen closely, with ears of the heart. This is because, as the Qur'an explains, the beckoning is closer to us than our own breathing. Moment by moment, breath by breath, the beckoning is our initial calling, our initial aim. It precedes our existence, coming from the distant source.
Toward what are we beckoned? We are beckoned to love one another and to live lightly on the earth. We are beckoned to be good parents, good friends, good neighbors, good people. We are beckoned to love all living beings, animals included. And we are beckoned to live from the wisdom of the Poet, rather than from the whims of the moment or the vicissitudes of personal preference. Only when we leave the center of our lives open, so that the spirit can enter, can we love others without making idols of them. When we make idols of things we don't really love them. We just love our attachments to them. This is why it is so important to love the Poet.
Beckoned to Remember
In leaving the center open, we simultaneously remember a quiet voice we may have forgotten. After all, the beckoning has been in us and with us from our very birth. Our remembrance is not the acquisition of new information or new knowledge, but rather a remembering of what we may have forgotten. It is a homecoming.
How to remember? Perhaps we can learn from the prophets and their ways. Prophet Abraham and prophet Moses, prophet Jesus and prophet Muhammad -- peace be unto them all -- offer invitations to remember. Every culture, every people, has its prophets. None of these prophets are perfect people; but all, in their prophetic moments, are invitations to the remembering.
Encouraged by the wisdom of the Prophets, we are encouraged to become prophets ourselves. This does not mean all have the same calling or that we are called to be the same. To the contrary, the Poet beckons all into differences -- different identities, different cultures, different personalities, different ways of loving -- so that we might know each other. In the very knowing there is the joy of being alive. This joy delights Allah, too.
Dhikr
One way to remember the calling is to repeat the names of the Poet, so that the very idea of living from the Center becomes a morning star -- a guiding impulse -- of our daily and corporate lives. The beckoning of the Center cannot be segmented into compartments of life, as if relevant only to the privacy of our minds or personal belief. The beckoning is for the whole of our lives.
The many religions of the world have developed practices which can help us respond to the calling and remember. One of them is dhikr, the practice of repeating the names of Allah in song and silence, so that the very guidance of Allah becomes our frame of reference, our morning star, in times of trial and in times of wonder.
The value of dhikr depends on the spiritual condition of the person who recites the names; he or she needs to be sincere and warm-hearted. He or she needs to want to live from the source. If a self-centered person recites the names of Allah, the very reciting can become a ventilation of the ego or, still worse, a falling into a frenzy of hatred. But if a kind person recites the names of the Poet, then the reciting can be a channel of goodness in the world.
The value of dhikr also depends on the cultural circumstances a person lives. Dhikr is effective if a person lives in a culture of generosity and justice; if there is a minimum of hatred and a maximum of love. Indeed one purpose of dhikr is to help the heart be transformed into a mercy, a compassion, that delights the divine Poet.
This Poet has many names -- at least ninety-nine. Some of them invite a recognition of the incomparable majesty of the Poet and also of the fact that we are accountable to the Poet at each moment and at the end of our lives. We cannot and do not live anonymous lives. Always there is the witness of the Poet. Others invite a recognition of the tenderness of the source, of the fact that the Poet longs for us as fervently, perhaps even more fervently, than we long for the source. Rumi put it well: The One Whom We Seek is Seeking Us, too.
Dhikr helps us remember the Poet and build upon times when we have lived from the Poet's guidance. It makes space within our hearts so that we can hear the Voice. The cumulative effect of dhikr -- the repetition -- creates a melody within our lives by which we can hear the voices of others in grateful ways. If we have ears to hear we know that all sounds are signs (ayat) of the Poet.
The natural world is likewise a sign of the Poet. And so are events in history, either because they remind us of how fall we fall short of who we are beckoned to be, or because they inspire us to become who we are beckoned to be, or both. When we have ears to hear, we also have eyes to see. Eyes of repentance and eyes of hope, eyes of sadness and eyes of wonder.
What to chant? Allah Hu, offered above and below, is one example of a chant available to the community of those who seek to live from the wisdom of the Poet. In listening to versions that come from the surrendered heart, we ourselves partake of the Melody within the melodies. For a moment, if we have ears to hear, we hear the meaning of surrender ourselves, and become the lovers we are beckoned to be. Whatever our religious affiliation, or absence thereof, we become carriers of the poetry and surrendered to its spirit. We become people of the breath.
This calling is not simply an abstraction we entertain in our minds. It is the baraka of Allah: the blessing and the presence of the divine Poet asking us to become co-poets and help create a world of beauty. Of course Islam is not the only religion in which the calling is heard. Baraka is within each human being as an invitation to become a vessel of divine poetry on earth. The best kinds of poetry we can create -- the ones most pleasing to Allah -- are wisdom and compassion, justice and beauty.
Sometimes this beckoning is hidden from us, like a reed hidden within a bed of reeds. It is hidden by our anger, our jealousies, our selfishness; and it can also be hidden by cultural and historical circumstances that shape our lives. Even our religions can hide it from us. Sometimes our religions help us to become vice-poets on earth and sometime they hinder us.
Still, with help from or despite our religions, the beckoning can be heard if we listen closely, with ears of the heart. This is because, as the Qur'an explains, the beckoning is closer to us than our own breathing. Moment by moment, breath by breath, the beckoning is our initial calling, our initial aim. It precedes our existence, coming from the distant source.
Toward what are we beckoned? We are beckoned to love one another and to live lightly on the earth. We are beckoned to be good parents, good friends, good neighbors, good people. We are beckoned to love all living beings, animals included. And we are beckoned to live from the wisdom of the Poet, rather than from the whims of the moment or the vicissitudes of personal preference. Only when we leave the center of our lives open, so that the spirit can enter, can we love others without making idols of them. When we make idols of things we don't really love them. We just love our attachments to them. This is why it is so important to love the Poet.
Beckoned to Remember
In leaving the center open, we simultaneously remember a quiet voice we may have forgotten. After all, the beckoning has been in us and with us from our very birth. Our remembrance is not the acquisition of new information or new knowledge, but rather a remembering of what we may have forgotten. It is a homecoming.
How to remember? Perhaps we can learn from the prophets and their ways. Prophet Abraham and prophet Moses, prophet Jesus and prophet Muhammad -- peace be unto them all -- offer invitations to remember. Every culture, every people, has its prophets. None of these prophets are perfect people; but all, in their prophetic moments, are invitations to the remembering.
Encouraged by the wisdom of the Prophets, we are encouraged to become prophets ourselves. This does not mean all have the same calling or that we are called to be the same. To the contrary, the Poet beckons all into differences -- different identities, different cultures, different personalities, different ways of loving -- so that we might know each other. In the very knowing there is the joy of being alive. This joy delights Allah, too.
Dhikr
One way to remember the calling is to repeat the names of the Poet, so that the very idea of living from the Center becomes a morning star -- a guiding impulse -- of our daily and corporate lives. The beckoning of the Center cannot be segmented into compartments of life, as if relevant only to the privacy of our minds or personal belief. The beckoning is for the whole of our lives.
The many religions of the world have developed practices which can help us respond to the calling and remember. One of them is dhikr, the practice of repeating the names of Allah in song and silence, so that the very guidance of Allah becomes our frame of reference, our morning star, in times of trial and in times of wonder.
The value of dhikr depends on the spiritual condition of the person who recites the names; he or she needs to be sincere and warm-hearted. He or she needs to want to live from the source. If a self-centered person recites the names of Allah, the very reciting can become a ventilation of the ego or, still worse, a falling into a frenzy of hatred. But if a kind person recites the names of the Poet, then the reciting can be a channel of goodness in the world.
The value of dhikr also depends on the cultural circumstances a person lives. Dhikr is effective if a person lives in a culture of generosity and justice; if there is a minimum of hatred and a maximum of love. Indeed one purpose of dhikr is to help the heart be transformed into a mercy, a compassion, that delights the divine Poet.
This Poet has many names -- at least ninety-nine. Some of them invite a recognition of the incomparable majesty of the Poet and also of the fact that we are accountable to the Poet at each moment and at the end of our lives. We cannot and do not live anonymous lives. Always there is the witness of the Poet. Others invite a recognition of the tenderness of the source, of the fact that the Poet longs for us as fervently, perhaps even more fervently, than we long for the source. Rumi put it well: The One Whom We Seek is Seeking Us, too.
Dhikr helps us remember the Poet and build upon times when we have lived from the Poet's guidance. It makes space within our hearts so that we can hear the Voice. The cumulative effect of dhikr -- the repetition -- creates a melody within our lives by which we can hear the voices of others in grateful ways. If we have ears to hear we know that all sounds are signs (ayat) of the Poet.
The natural world is likewise a sign of the Poet. And so are events in history, either because they remind us of how fall we fall short of who we are beckoned to be, or because they inspire us to become who we are beckoned to be, or both. When we have ears to hear, we also have eyes to see. Eyes of repentance and eyes of hope, eyes of sadness and eyes of wonder.
What to chant? Allah Hu, offered above and below, is one example of a chant available to the community of those who seek to live from the wisdom of the Poet. In listening to versions that come from the surrendered heart, we ourselves partake of the Melody within the melodies. For a moment, if we have ears to hear, we hear the meaning of surrender ourselves, and become the lovers we are beckoned to be. Whatever our religious affiliation, or absence thereof, we become carriers of the poetry and surrendered to its spirit. We become people of the breath.
Harvard Pluralism Project on Sufism
"Sufism refers to the inner dimension of Islam which aims to attain mystical knowledge and love of God through meditative practices, or dhikr, ethical cultivation, and purification of the heart and self. Though Sufism began with individuals, Sufi communities, or tariqahs, were formed around them providing a template for spiritual guidance. Poetry, art, liturgies, biographical and philosophical works, and other forms of Sufi literature were also produced. Today, Muslims practice Sufism in a variety of modes and mediums."
"Sufism, or tasawwuf, is not a separate sect of Islam, but rather a stream of interpretation emphasizing the interior path of mystical love, knowledge, and devotion to God. Though the Prophet Muhammad and his companions can be considered the first Sufis, Sufism formally began in the 8th century as a homage to Muhammad’s simple lifestyle and spiritual life during a time in which some Muslims considered the community as straying from this ideal. Many attribute the origins of the name “Sufi” to the coarse wool garment (suf) worn by these early ascetics, symbolizing renunciation of material luxuries. Others suggest the term derives from the Arabic word for purity (safa). This early movement would soon develop a variety of orientations, doctrines, ritual practices, literature, and formal communities."
"Sufism, or tasawwuf, is not a separate sect of Islam, but rather a stream of interpretation emphasizing the interior path of mystical love, knowledge, and devotion to God. Though the Prophet Muhammad and his companions can be considered the first Sufis, Sufism formally began in the 8th century as a homage to Muhammad’s simple lifestyle and spiritual life during a time in which some Muslims considered the community as straying from this ideal. Many attribute the origins of the name “Sufi” to the coarse wool garment (suf) worn by these early ascetics, symbolizing renunciation of material luxuries. Others suggest the term derives from the Arabic word for purity (safa). This early movement would soon develop a variety of orientations, doctrines, ritual practices, literature, and formal communities."
The Listening of the Soul
While much has been written about human speech and the distinction it bestows upon our species, far less attention has been paid to the human’s ability to listen. For Muslims, listening can be even more important than speech, for it is the ability to listen that serves as the beginning of spiritual guidance, which in turn is a critical means for achieving the raison d’être of human existence—namely, serving God. We read in the Qur’an, “I have only created the jinn and humankind that they serve me” (51:56).
For the conscientious believer, the highest function of our ability to listen is to support the journey to God while still in this world. Success in that journey is predicated on a person’s ability to nurture his soul, or the nafs, which Muslim scholars understand as the essence of a person, as the part of the human constitution that serves as the locus of emotions, appetites, and passions—whether praiseworthy or blameworthy—and that gives the physical human body its personhood. Like the physical body, the nafs can change; it possesses the ability to move beyond its basest form, the lustful or bestial soul (al-nafs al-shahwāniyyah/al-bahīmiyyah) to the realm of human perfection (al-nafs al-kāmilah).
- Zaid Shakir, Zaytuna College, The Listening of the Soul
For the conscientious believer, the highest function of our ability to listen is to support the journey to God while still in this world. Success in that journey is predicated on a person’s ability to nurture his soul, or the nafs, which Muslim scholars understand as the essence of a person, as the part of the human constitution that serves as the locus of emotions, appetites, and passions—whether praiseworthy or blameworthy—and that gives the physical human body its personhood. Like the physical body, the nafs can change; it possesses the ability to move beyond its basest form, the lustful or bestial soul (al-nafs al-shahwāniyyah/al-bahīmiyyah) to the realm of human perfection (al-nafs al-kāmilah).
- Zaid Shakir, Zaytuna College, The Listening of the Soul
What is Sufism, Anyway?
This page is a platform for exploration, intended for the spiritually curious
and the spiritually hungry. Please click on the link for a brief introduction
explaining its relation to Islam and its twin virtues of presence and love.
and the spiritually hungry. Please click on the link for a brief introduction
explaining its relation to Islam and its twin virtues of presence and love.
Sufism and Rumi
Introducing Kabir Helminski,
Camille Helminski and the Threshold Foundation
Camille Helminski: artist, musician, and co-director of the Threshold Foundation
Sufism as a Qualitative Science of the Heart"Sufism is a discipline, a methodology, for enhancing and refining spiritual perception. The human being has a range of subtle faculties for knowing, the totality of which we can call the spiritual heart. The science of the heart is a science of qualities, not quantities. Through the heart we can know this existence qualitatively. Behind the beautiful images and met- aphors of Sufi poetry lies a systematic knowledge of spiritual perception. When Rumi, for instance, speaks of the Beloved, he is describing a qualitative relationship with Being. The heart is the core of our subjective experience through which we experience relationship with other living beings, and ultimately with Being itself. Ultimately, knowledge and love are not two contrary functions, but a synergy through which we discover this communion and intimacy with the Absolute." |
Introduction to the Sufi-Rumi Connection
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New Sufi Sounds
Introducing Arooj Aftab and Petros Klampanis
"The music of Sufi vocalist and songwriter Arooj Aftab expresses a stark yet hypnotizing paradox: the substantial, complex, and oftentimes overwhelming in vastness is often made of barley tangible textures. Here she is joined by master bassist Petros Klampanis to perform a new work called "Suroor" from her upcoming album Vulture Prince. " -- Newsounds.org
Miscellaneous Videos
Coleman Barks
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The Ecstatic Faith of Rumi
Krista Tippett's Interview with Fatemah Keshavarz
Poems read by Fatemeh KeshavarzGod
When His light shines — without a veil — neither the sky remains nor the earth, not the sun, nor the moon. God embraces all…there is nothing that is not a part of him already. Remember God! His remembrance is the strength in the wings of the bird that is your soul The souls of all friends of God are connected with one another You must seek anything that you wish to find Not so with the Friend… You begin to seek after you find him Like This!
If anyone asks you about the huris, show your face, say: like this! If anyone asks you about the moon, climb up on the roof, say: like this! If anyone seeks a fairy, let them see your countenance, If anyone talks about the aroma of musk, untie your hair [and] say: like this! If anyone asks: "How do the clouds uncover the moon?" untie the front of Your robe, knot by knot, say: like this! If anyone asks: "How did Jesus raise the dead?" kiss me on the lips, say: like this! If anyone asks: What are those killed by love like?" direct him to me, say: like this! If anyone kindly asks you how tall I am, show him your arched eyebrows, say: like this! Yusuf Islam (Cat Stevens)
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Interview with Fatemeh Keshavarz on RumiA Great Wagon
When I see your face, the stones start spinning! You appear; all studying wanders. I lose my place. Water turns pearly. Fire dies down and doesn’t destroy. In your presence I don’t want what I thought I wanted, those three little hanging lamps. Inside your face the ancient manuscripts Seem like rusty mirrors. You breathe; new shapes appear, and the music of a desire as widespread as Spring begins to move like a great wagon. Drive slowly. Some of us walking alongside are lame! ~ Today, like every other day, we wake up empty and frightened. Don’t open the door to the study and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument. Let the beauty we love be what we do. There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground. ~ Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there. When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about. Ideas, language, even the phrase each other doesn’t make any sense. ~ The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you. Don’t go back to sleep. You must ask for what you really want. Don’t go back to sleep. People are going back and forth across the doorsill where the two worlds touch. The door is round and open. Don’t go back to sleep. I would love to kiss you. The price of kissing is your life. Now my loving is running toward my life shouting, What a bargain, let’s buy it. ~ Daylight, full of small dancing particles and the one great turning, our souls are dancing with you, without feet, they dance. Can you see them when I whisper in your ear? ~ They try to say what you are, spiritual or sexual? They wonder about Solomon and all his wives. In the body of the world, they say, there is a soul and you are that. But we have ways within each other that will never be said by anyone. ~ Come to the orchard in Spring. There is light and wine, and sweethearts in the pomegranate flowers. If you do not come, these do not matter. If you do come, these do not matter. |
The Call to PrayerGod is most Great! God is most Great!
God is most Great! God is most Great! I bear witness that there is no God but Allah. I bear witness that there is no God but Allah. I bear witness that Muhammad is the Messenger of Allah. I bear witness that Muhammad is the Messenger of Allah. Come to prayer. Come to prayer. Come to success. Come to success. God is most Great! God is most Great! There is no God but Allah. (transliteration) Allahu akbar! Allahu akbar! Allahu akbar! Allahu akbar! Ashhadu an la ilaha illa Allah. Ashhadu an la ilaha illa Allah. Ashhadu anna Muhammadan Rasulu Allah. Ashhadu anna Muhammadan Rasulu Allah. Hayya ‘ala al-salah. Hayya ‘ala al-salah. Hayya ‘ala al-falah. Hayya ‘ala al-falah. Allahu akbar! Allahu akbar! La ilaha illa Allah. |
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Qawwali
"Qawwali, also spelled qavvali, in India and Pakistan, an energetic musical performance of Sufi Muslim poetry that aims to lead listeners to a state of religious ecstasy—to a spiritual union with Allah (God). The music was popularized outside of South Asia in the late 20th century, owing largely to its promotion by the world-music industry."
"The bulk of the repertoire addresses spiritual love in terms of worldly love and intoxication. To the unaccustomed listener, these songs may seem antithetical to the teachings of orthodox Islam, but qawwals and their audiences readily recognize the imagery as a metaphorical expression of the euphoria brought by communion with the divine spirit."
- Encyclopedia Brittanicca, https://www.britannica.com/art/qawwali#ref1090554
- Encyclopedia Brittanicca, https://www.britannica.com/art/qawwali#ref1090554
Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, 1997.
John Pomfret/AP
In the House of Remembering:
The Living Tradition of Sufi Teaching
By Kabir Helminski
Thirty sohbets or spiritual conversations
about the Sufi path from a shaikh of the Mevlevi Order.
Book Review by Frederic and Mary Ann Brussat,
reposted from Spirituality and Practice
Have you ever wondered what happens in a Sufi circle and what teachings are conveyed there? Then this volume is for you. An excellent introduction by Mahmoud Mostafa, a dervish from the Threshold Society in the Mevlevi Order founded by the son of the Persian saint Jelaluddin Rumi, provides a primer on key terms — zhikr (chanting the names of God), ilahis (songs about Divine love and Sufi themes), adab (spiritual comportment), and presence (an inner capacity to consciously witness both the context and the content of experience). He then invites the reader "into the heart of the Theshold Mevlevi circle where you can experience some of the spiritual conversations that have been shared over the years by Shaikh Kabir Helminski with his dervishes."
Full disclosure: We are initiates of the Mevlevi Order and Kabir Helminski is our shaikh. He is profiled in S&P's Living Spiritual Teachers Project, and he has led many of our e-courses. So the teachings in this book are familiar to us, and we can vouch for their ability to touch the heart, expand awareness, and make important and essential connections to a community.
The first essay "What Do We Need a Spiritual Path For?" reminds us of our first encounter in person with Kabir Helminski. It was at a retreat about the poetry of Rumi, and a small group of people new to Sufi teachings were gathered in a circle. Kabir asked "What do you yearn for?" Here is his explanation of why that is a central question from In the House of Remembering:
"First of all, my sense is that people are led to various religions and mystical traditions by a yearning from within. Something in them feels unfulfilled. It's like an inner drive or hunger. It's not, 'I want to follow a religion so I can be a good person.' Or maybe it's more a sense of 'I don't want to just be at home. I want to be together with others. I feel like I need to be in a holy place.' There is something more than just being nice, kind, and all of that. There's a deeper yearning operating within humans who undertake a spiritual practice. There is something else calling us. These things are part of a bigger whole."
Many of the sobhets here explore what it means to be part of that bigger whole and what is necessary to enter into an experiential relationship with the Divine. These talks cover dealing with fear; going through an initiatory process such as fasting; making regular room in our day for a relationship with the Divine; polishing the heart to be a reflection of the Divine; the inner ablution to cleanse oneself of the negative influences of envy, pride, and resentment in order to be ready for prayer and worship; educating the heart; and more practices.
Throughout these talks, Helminski quotes from the Qur'an, the sayings of the Prophet Muhammad, the poetry and discourses of Jelaluddin Rumi, and the writings of other Sufi saints such as Hafez and Ibn Arabi. He also takes up difficult questions such as why certain prayers are not answered and how to dissolve the false self. He explores why we need to be grateful for challenges and difficulties. Defining a dervish, Helminski writes: "A dervish is one who stands on the threshold where two worlds, the finite and the Infinite, the physical and the spiritual, meet." And it is best not to take up this role alone. Community life and spiritual companionship are essential to the Sufi path.
We would call this book a primer on applied spirituality. An important reality of the Sufi path is that it goes through the ordinary events and circumstances of our lives. The goal is to be aware of that. Helminski says, "We can live our lives in such a way and develop to a point where we're more sensitive to those moments when we are present with Divine Spirit. . . . We have to work. We have responsibilities and obligations. However, all of that work can take place within this wider field of remembrance. Within this context we know we're in Love's universe."
Full disclosure: We are initiates of the Mevlevi Order and Kabir Helminski is our shaikh. He is profiled in S&P's Living Spiritual Teachers Project, and he has led many of our e-courses. So the teachings in this book are familiar to us, and we can vouch for their ability to touch the heart, expand awareness, and make important and essential connections to a community.
The first essay "What Do We Need a Spiritual Path For?" reminds us of our first encounter in person with Kabir Helminski. It was at a retreat about the poetry of Rumi, and a small group of people new to Sufi teachings were gathered in a circle. Kabir asked "What do you yearn for?" Here is his explanation of why that is a central question from In the House of Remembering:
"First of all, my sense is that people are led to various religions and mystical traditions by a yearning from within. Something in them feels unfulfilled. It's like an inner drive or hunger. It's not, 'I want to follow a religion so I can be a good person.' Or maybe it's more a sense of 'I don't want to just be at home. I want to be together with others. I feel like I need to be in a holy place.' There is something more than just being nice, kind, and all of that. There's a deeper yearning operating within humans who undertake a spiritual practice. There is something else calling us. These things are part of a bigger whole."
Many of the sobhets here explore what it means to be part of that bigger whole and what is necessary to enter into an experiential relationship with the Divine. These talks cover dealing with fear; going through an initiatory process such as fasting; making regular room in our day for a relationship with the Divine; polishing the heart to be a reflection of the Divine; the inner ablution to cleanse oneself of the negative influences of envy, pride, and resentment in order to be ready for prayer and worship; educating the heart; and more practices.
Throughout these talks, Helminski quotes from the Qur'an, the sayings of the Prophet Muhammad, the poetry and discourses of Jelaluddin Rumi, and the writings of other Sufi saints such as Hafez and Ibn Arabi. He also takes up difficult questions such as why certain prayers are not answered and how to dissolve the false self. He explores why we need to be grateful for challenges and difficulties. Defining a dervish, Helminski writes: "A dervish is one who stands on the threshold where two worlds, the finite and the Infinite, the physical and the spiritual, meet." And it is best not to take up this role alone. Community life and spiritual companionship are essential to the Sufi path.
We would call this book a primer on applied spirituality. An important reality of the Sufi path is that it goes through the ordinary events and circumstances of our lives. The goal is to be aware of that. Helminski says, "We can live our lives in such a way and develop to a point where we're more sensitive to those moments when we are present with Divine Spirit. . . . We have to work. We have responsibilities and obligations. However, all of that work can take place within this wider field of remembrance. Within this context we know we're in Love's universe."
Excerpt
"Mevlana Rumi, the inspiration of our Tradition, offers the following in a poem of his:
Expanding Friendship
"Money and real estate occupy the body,
but all the heart wants is expanding friendship.
"A rose-garden without a friend is indeed a prison;
a prison with a friend becomes a rose-garden.
"If the pleasure of friendship did not exist,
there would be no reason for men or women to exist.
"A thorn from the friend's garden is worth more
than a thousand cypresses and lilies.
"Love sewed us securely together,
We owe nothing to the needle and thread.
"If the house of the world is dark,
Love will find a way to create windows.
"If the world is full of arrows and swords,
the Armorer of Love has fashioned our defense.
"Love itself describes its own perfection.
Listen and be speechless."
(Divani Shamsi Tabrizi, 1926)
"This kind of poetry grows in resonance over time. The more you read of it and of Rumi, the more bells go off in the heart and the more overtones you hear. There are some really important essential things expressed in this poem. Silence is not a lack of sounds. Silence is presence itself.
"In a Sufi circle one of our primary objectives has to do with opening up our inner life. This develops a capacity of the soul to sustain a certain kind of consciousness.
"That consciousness is not unlike what some call 'mindfulness.' We call it 'presence.' One dimension is becoming present to our own inner space and allowing the spaciousness to open up. That spaciousness is usually filled with a lot of content, thinking, emotion, desires, and distractions.
"We tend to focus on the content. We think we are the content. An inner voice making statements like 'I'm happy,' 'I'm sad,' 'I feel good about myself,' 'I feel terrible about myself,' is the typical content of our inner space. But what each of us essentially is, is not the content, but rather the context. Our essence is a frame of consciousness. It is a capacity for seeing and perception. Beyond any kind of belief or religion, there is the reality of opening up inner and outer consciousness.
"This process of mindfulness is more than a way to achieve stress reduction and relaxation as it has been and is being used in the corporate world, pop psychology, and academia. Mindfulness is just a first step.
"We're intending to awaken a capacity to see and to be present. Ultimately that capacity is going to lead to something quite extraordinary, aside from ourselves, aside from who we think we are. Ultimately it's going to lead to a relationship with what we could call 'Divine Guidance,' 'Wisdom,' and 'The Source of Cosmic Love' itself.
"It's said in our Tradition that the human heart is a threshold between two worlds. The threshold is between the limited material world and the infinite spiritual reality. The heart is the threshold. We should be on that threshold all the time, bridging these two worlds.
"When we live in that reality and are aware of that presence, we are in remembrance. It changes everything. We can realize that we are not just the content of our experience. We're also this beautiful context, which is divine and purposeful, guiding us stage by stage to deeper and deeper truth. Every stage of our life, if we're seekers, leads to a greater richness of meaning in our lives. Then we can be grateful even for the thorns because we know it has come from the Beloved.
"All the heart wants is expanding friendship. It is not the kind of friendship that is a social satisfaction and can even lead to dependency and attachment. Rather, it is the friendship of other conscious hearts, who are in that state of remembrance and in that state of coherence and resonance. That's what lifts and heals us."
Expanding Friendship
"Money and real estate occupy the body,
but all the heart wants is expanding friendship.
"A rose-garden without a friend is indeed a prison;
a prison with a friend becomes a rose-garden.
"If the pleasure of friendship did not exist,
there would be no reason for men or women to exist.
"A thorn from the friend's garden is worth more
than a thousand cypresses and lilies.
"Love sewed us securely together,
We owe nothing to the needle and thread.
"If the house of the world is dark,
Love will find a way to create windows.
"If the world is full of arrows and swords,
the Armorer of Love has fashioned our defense.
"Love itself describes its own perfection.
Listen and be speechless."
(Divani Shamsi Tabrizi, 1926)
"This kind of poetry grows in resonance over time. The more you read of it and of Rumi, the more bells go off in the heart and the more overtones you hear. There are some really important essential things expressed in this poem. Silence is not a lack of sounds. Silence is presence itself.
"In a Sufi circle one of our primary objectives has to do with opening up our inner life. This develops a capacity of the soul to sustain a certain kind of consciousness.
"That consciousness is not unlike what some call 'mindfulness.' We call it 'presence.' One dimension is becoming present to our own inner space and allowing the spaciousness to open up. That spaciousness is usually filled with a lot of content, thinking, emotion, desires, and distractions.
"We tend to focus on the content. We think we are the content. An inner voice making statements like 'I'm happy,' 'I'm sad,' 'I feel good about myself,' 'I feel terrible about myself,' is the typical content of our inner space. But what each of us essentially is, is not the content, but rather the context. Our essence is a frame of consciousness. It is a capacity for seeing and perception. Beyond any kind of belief or religion, there is the reality of opening up inner and outer consciousness.
"This process of mindfulness is more than a way to achieve stress reduction and relaxation as it has been and is being used in the corporate world, pop psychology, and academia. Mindfulness is just a first step.
"We're intending to awaken a capacity to see and to be present. Ultimately that capacity is going to lead to something quite extraordinary, aside from ourselves, aside from who we think we are. Ultimately it's going to lead to a relationship with what we could call 'Divine Guidance,' 'Wisdom,' and 'The Source of Cosmic Love' itself.
"It's said in our Tradition that the human heart is a threshold between two worlds. The threshold is between the limited material world and the infinite spiritual reality. The heart is the threshold. We should be on that threshold all the time, bridging these two worlds.
"When we live in that reality and are aware of that presence, we are in remembrance. It changes everything. We can realize that we are not just the content of our experience. We're also this beautiful context, which is divine and purposeful, guiding us stage by stage to deeper and deeper truth. Every stage of our life, if we're seekers, leads to a greater richness of meaning in our lives. Then we can be grateful even for the thorns because we know it has come from the Beloved.
"All the heart wants is expanding friendship. It is not the kind of friendship that is a social satisfaction and can even lead to dependency and attachment. Rather, it is the friendship of other conscious hearts, who are in that state of remembrance and in that state of coherence and resonance. That's what lifts and heals us."