Wayfarers on the path

Today I met another guy at the mosque . He showed up long after Isha while I was still doing zikr. 

Started hanging around , looking at the locked door . 

He finally asked me if the mosque was still open. I said no , you are late. 

He said “ Hmm” and kept looking around . I finally asked “ Can I help you with something ?” He said “ Yeah, I was going to ask them about prayer...like , can I join them , can I just go in there and pray with them ?” 

We started a long conversation, it turned out that he was American , from Seattle, he knew two of my Jewish friends here ... I wondered if he was a Jew himself . 

He told me, he had been in the Philippines and visited Mindanao, the Muslim island , and he had watched the islamic prayer there and discovered that it was something that united people from all over the world in a peaceful way.

And now he had come to the mosque still with the Mindanao dust on his boots , to pray salat himself... He asked me if that would be acceptable if he just joined the prayers , even though he is not as muslim ? 

I started to wonder if my sufi master had sent me this guy ... 

He wanted to know if it is enough if he just believes in God and prays . “ I mean, there are five pillars, right?” he said. 

I told him that people would probably  want him to believe in Mohammed the prophet as well but that that takes some time getting used to. That he shouldn’t drink alcohol before he comes. And explained to him how to do ablutions . 

He accepted all that . 

He said , he would probably see me more often from now on since he is going to join the prayers sometimes ...

I told him that I had showed up one day here too,  the same way like he did...

Ya Shams!

In Konya my first walk was to visit Shams of Tabriz mosque. Dhur prayer time at 12.57h. I went upstairs after offering salat in the women's room downstairs to avoid walking through the crowd of male worshippers in search of the stairs. Upstairs are two spaces, one above the prayer hall with a curtained fence that prevents view of the mihrab. And another room after that , at the side, with white walls. This room was filled with energy, I could see it . I went inside and there was a woman reading from the Quran to another. I did my Zikr , using my beads, and she touched my arm and started talking to me and told me , she is from Syria. We changed from Turkish to Arabic then , I said " tasharafna " and " Ahlan wa Sahlan" and she was delighted. Then she put her hand on mine and said a prayer and a Quran Surah and read to me from the Quran , and I could feel her energy radiating and flowing through my body. I wondered how lucky I was, whether Shams had made me be here at the same time like this woman to let us share our namaz. 

Prayer

Zayed mosque prayer 

Oh my Lord

Give me water

For thy sun creates thirst

Water be thy mercy

Make me fall like a stone

A smooth shiny stone

 Dropped into thy fountain

 Wash over me with the coolness

Of thy love

Wash off all edges

Grind me , grate me

Until I be one oval rock

Resting in the palm

Of thy great hand

Reflecting the sunlight

Giving coolness 

Amen

Those who do not belong

"So you stand in a long and pretty civilized queue in the post office, thinking, inevitably, about those 50+ human beings killed "by mistake" in their homes in Raqqa, with bombs paid for by Western tax-payers who are trembling in fear of ISIS. Then, about how the West is not so concerned anymore about the dictator still murdering the good people of your country every day, priority is ISIS now, Assad is bad but not a threat to the famous Western Way of Life... your turn is up, the lady asks you if you intend to send the letters Normal or something else... you try to remember what was the term for Registered Mail in German... you fail to remember, she becomes impatient and starts looking around and over your shoulder, you end up surrendering: Normal, bitte... Nur Normal!
She processes your mail, you pay, leave the queue to the next person; what is she, the next person,  thinking about? It cannot possibly be more than 50 people killed... such thoughts do not seem to fit, such thoughts cannot "integrate"."

Written by a Syrian movie director

I spent years reading everything Milan Kundera ever wrote. Then I went through all of John Irving . Then finally decided there is no cure for not belonging .
The first time I felt roots again was when I set foot into Damascus old city. I slept like a log in my hotel with it's half a meter thick walls. Asked what it takes to move in and live there for a while.
Then this happened .
Nothing left other than Rumi's other tavern.
" Einschreiben", Orwa.
This morning I realized , I have forgotten the name of the martyred cousin of my friend . Was it Dr Jamal ( that just came back?) Jaffar ? The pharmacist who died in a shabeeha prison in Homs in about June 2011 after being caught with a video camera and footage of demonstrations ?
I tried to mention him when Rami spoke about Bassel Safadi and how he spoke up. Jamal said :" Once I started speaking my mind and breathing freely, I felt like a bird out of a cage and could not go back ..." Something like that .

I was asked to write for a new Syria website , but not about Raqqa, not about daesh, not about the hostages we never saw again, not about whose bones might be found in that cave of theirs once they are gone ... " because only Westerners worry about that" " Raqqa is not a priority" the editor said .

Another comment by his friend : 

"Orwa never fully arriving is why we're always on our toes, and cannot forget cruelties and injustice. it's what we do. sending you love <3" 

Me: " I think you must be right. Those without a comfort zone don't stop thinking and feeling unsettling things." 

Shams, the dervish

I am someone who can relate to Shams e Tabrizi better than to Rumi.
Rumi is esthetically beautiful and describes the ideal, but Shams is human, the rough unpolished diamond, who expresses the whole range of feeling and thought, who talks wisely and also gets angry and impatient and defiant .
Shams was a rebel while Rumi was from the establishment .
I feel welcomed like by a soulmate and breathe freely when I read Shams.

My prayer

Allah 

Turn me into water

Make me a stone 

Grow me into a tree

Let me reach the sky

To see your light

Amen

Received on laylatul baraat 2017

Angels?

When I pray
When I do my Dua's
Sometimes
There is a presence
Who you are I don't know
Why you watch me I don't know
Your intention
Is unknown to me
But I thank you for your kindness
And for holding me in your arms
Once
In an invisible hug.