Brother Dara O. Shayda, who has the website Untired with Loving in which he translates many Sufi texts never before seen in English, and moderates The Sufi Notes yahoo group, has been sending the group his reflections on Hajj (the sacred pilgrimage) and Mecca, where he decided to stay for some time. Here are his words, for those that have ears. (via Darvish's blog)[1.] A few nights ago I was making Tawaaf (Circumambulating) around the Ka'ba and was wondering how many more times I will circle here and see nothing! I see men jumping around and screaming Arabic words and yet I am sure our manly voices do not reach to Allah.
I was dragging my feet and reached the beginning of the circle, where the Black Stone is located. We usually raise our hands and kiss our palms since we cannot reach the Black Stone directly, due to the large crowd present in the Haram. Just before I could raise my hand to wave at the Black Stone, I saw a svelte Indian girl stop and place her feet together, and with some unbelievable strength stretch her arms towards the Black Stone, and I cannot explain to you what I felt, but it was an assurance in my heart that she reached the other world with ease and touched something out of the realm of this life. I was assured that she has made it to the other universe and Paradise is for her, though I know her not and never saw her again.
There are those who love Allah much, and they are chosen by Allah and their love affairs defies our conventional understanding of the relationship. The slave can yell as much as he likes, in the end it is the call of the Master that counts.
[2.] In front of the Ka'ba I saw a little girl hopping around like a puppy, and though she was very pretty, I could not stand her yelping and drooling. But after an hour or more of watching her dogging after the other kids, I realized that she was autistic, and also badly handicapped. She was not pretending to be a puppy! That was the only means of locomotion and exchange for her!
I asked my self why was she there? And the response came immediately: She is the honored guest of Ar-Rahman (the Most Merciful) and that is who and how and where and when the Regal Highness wishes to see Hu's/His loved ones!
[3.] One night I saw a super rich prince circling the Ka'ba with his armed guards, another night I saw an Iranian woman suffering from osteoporosis, refusing the wheelchair, circling the Ka'ba in great pain. I stood there, sat there, slept there, read there and wrote there, and all the while I understood only one thing: The Sultan of all hearts chooses who to remember Hu and who to serve Hu and who to disobey Hu and who to forget Hu and who to visit Hu and who to move away from Hu!
[4.] A few nights ago a blind Iranian was sitting next to me, without knowing that I spoke Farsi, and asked me: “Am I in front of Ka'ba?” I replied, “You are.” Then he asked me to recite some Dhikr I told him my voice is too ugly and he replied: “Ok I read for you…” He chanted some words from the Qur'an and then rubbed his bony hands on his long-dead sunken eyes, then an Iranian woman came with a wheelchair and took him away.
[5.] Last night I wore my Italian suit with a dashing red tie, circled the Ka'ba amongst the Iranian women in white chadurs, graceful white robbed Malayan ladies in prostration, Arab women crying for their dead, Turkish men running with zeal, Africans power walking in colorful robes, Algerians praising Allah in rows, Ahmad Bukhari crying for his father and at the end of the seventh circle what did I see: Nothing belongs to me, not even my own Self and we are all guests here, the guests of Ar-Rahman and it really matters not what we wear or what we claim or what we do, what matters is that The Nur (Light) of our hearts; That Supreme Divine Beauty wants us; wants me in a suit; wants the Iranians in Chadurs; wants the little girl autistic; wants the prince rich; And that is all that matters i.e. what Hu wants! And right here I stopped and could not walk anymore.
I was dragging my feet and reached the beginning of the circle, where the Black Stone is located. We usually raise our hands and kiss our palms since we cannot reach the Black Stone directly, due to the large crowd present in the Haram. Just before I could raise my hand to wave at the Black Stone, I saw a svelte Indian girl stop and place her feet together, and with some unbelievable strength stretch her arms towards the Black Stone, and I cannot explain to you what I felt, but it was an assurance in my heart that she reached the other world with ease and touched something out of the realm of this life. I was assured that she has made it to the other universe and Paradise is for her, though I know her not and never saw her again.
There are those who love Allah much, and they are chosen by Allah and their love affairs defies our conventional understanding of the relationship. The slave can yell as much as he likes, in the end it is the call of the Master that counts.
[2.] In front of the Ka'ba I saw a little girl hopping around like a puppy, and though she was very pretty, I could not stand her yelping and drooling. But after an hour or more of watching her dogging after the other kids, I realized that she was autistic, and also badly handicapped. She was not pretending to be a puppy! That was the only means of locomotion and exchange for her!
I asked my self why was she there? And the response came immediately: She is the honored guest of Ar-Rahman (the Most Merciful) and that is who and how and where and when the Regal Highness wishes to see Hu's/His loved ones!
[3.] One night I saw a super rich prince circling the Ka'ba with his armed guards, another night I saw an Iranian woman suffering from osteoporosis, refusing the wheelchair, circling the Ka'ba in great pain. I stood there, sat there, slept there, read there and wrote there, and all the while I understood only one thing: The Sultan of all hearts chooses who to remember Hu and who to serve Hu and who to disobey Hu and who to forget Hu and who to visit Hu and who to move away from Hu!
[4.] A few nights ago a blind Iranian was sitting next to me, without knowing that I spoke Farsi, and asked me: “Am I in front of Ka'ba?” I replied, “You are.” Then he asked me to recite some Dhikr I told him my voice is too ugly and he replied: “Ok I read for you…” He chanted some words from the Qur'an and then rubbed his bony hands on his long-dead sunken eyes, then an Iranian woman came with a wheelchair and took him away.
[5.] Last night I wore my Italian suit with a dashing red tie, circled the Ka'ba amongst the Iranian women in white chadurs, graceful white robbed Malayan ladies in prostration, Arab women crying for their dead, Turkish men running with zeal, Africans power walking in colorful robes, Algerians praising Allah in rows, Ahmad Bukhari crying for his father and at the end of the seventh circle what did I see: Nothing belongs to me, not even my own Self and we are all guests here, the guests of Ar-Rahman and it really matters not what we wear or what we claim or what we do, what matters is that The Nur (Light) of our hearts; That Supreme Divine Beauty wants us; wants me in a suit; wants the Iranians in Chadurs; wants the little girl autistic; wants the prince rich; And that is all that matters i.e. what Hu wants! And right here I stopped and could not walk anymore.
Credit: Untired with Loving by Dara O. Shayda / and Darvish Blog
Related Posts: Celebration of Oneness of God/ History of Hajj
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