"Round and round the Earth is turning, turning ever into morning, Round and round the Earth is turning, and from morning into night." Chant
On Sunday evening, I was in the presence of whirling
dervishes. Really. At the retreat center where I am staying we were invited to
an evening worship experience with a community whose spiritual practice is this
form of dance, prayer, poetry and meditation. Finding its roots in the mystical strains of Islam, it is probably best known to us today as the practice of the poet Rumi.This slowly evolving process
leads individuals to an invitation to a whirling dance of prayer and sacred
communion with the Holy.
I admit to having gone out of curiosity. I mean when have I
ever received such an invitation and when might it happen again? So several of
us entered the hall where many were seated on sheepskins and others on chairs
in an outer ring around them.Unsure and a bit self-conscious, we chose the outer ring of seats. The music was
hypnotic and repetitious with a Middle Eastern beauty and simplicity. Those
gathered sang a simple two word phrase over and over accompanied by gentle hand movements. With
each consecutive chant the community moved more and more into dance. First they stood, then
added slow swaying motions, then circled in a walking fashion and finally moved into a
fairly traditional circle dance. It was fascinating.
Of course what became the most fascinating was the moment at
which certain people would move to the center of the circle and ever so slowly
begin to twirl, at first quite deliberate and then with grace and speed…..spinning,
twirling, whirling. One hand gently opened toward the earth while the other
reached up toward heaven, they whirled. Eyes closed, they whirled. Around and
around, in the same space, never stumbling or bumping one another, they
whirled. White robes, blue skirts, flowing outward, they whirled. As they whirled they seemed almost to not touch the ground, to float instead above it in the smoothest motions I have ever seen.
prayer. Generally, in our common prayer life, we close our eyes, avoid looking at another, lest we invade their ‘private’ time, or we follow along with the words written on the page before us. It is simply a different prayer life. One might assume we are seeking a different kind of communion with God than those I witnessed on Sunday but I am not so sure. I can’t presume to know what they were experiencing. But I was drawn into the beauty, the warmth, the suspension of time, and held in something powerful by being in their presence.And I was sure of one thing….we were indeed in the presence of the Holy.
The poet Mary Oliver writes: "I do not know how to pray….I do know how to kneel down and kiss the ground." Somehow I believe that is what these whirling dervishes were doing……and I was blessed to share that moment in my own feeble fashion.