Have you ever gone to a concert and been bored to death -- and then ashamed of yourself because you were? I think it happens more often than one supposes. I happen to be crazy about organ music. When we were living in Orange, the Crystal Cathedral had organ concerts on Wednesday nights during the summer and I asked Jerry to go with me. I suspect he thought organ music would be like what one hears at skating rinks - or maybe even ball games. Instead, the organist usually opened with something really wonderful like a Bach fugue - and it took Jerry about two-and one-half minutes to fall asleep. He went with me twice, and I excused him from going after that.
I have only been "trapped" once - and I still feel guilty for not appreciating what I saw and heard. This was when we went with friends to a performance of the Whirling Dervishes is Istanbul. I had seen pictures of them mid-dance, and thinking that here in the U.S. very busy, active people are sometimes called "whirling dervishes" I assumed it we would be seeing a fast-paced spectacle. Was I wrong!
First, the ritual dances are a form of worship that represents union with God. The music that accompanies the dancing is traditional old Turkish music, played on old Turkish instruments - drums, flute-like instruments and a gourd viol. It is very foreign to the western ear and frankly not easy to listen to. Second, from the beginning to the end of the concert - a matter of 90 minutes or so - the only thing that happens is that the dervishes whirl - very slowly, which was a big surprise. The basic "dance" is repeated three times. And those of us Americans who were trying to be respectful and appreciative would have been satisfied after the first dance, since -- I'm sorry to say this -- if you've seen one dervish whirl, you've seen them all. We found it a somewhat grueling ordeal to sit attentively through the entire program. Needless to say, almost all the men fell asleep immediately.
The good part? Visually it was beautiful. And amazing. These men would whirl with their eyes closed for 10 minutes and then come to a dead stop and not fall over. It was hard to believe that they could do this without their equilibrium being shot all to pieces. Surely they were in a self-induced trance. But how did they alter the physical part of their body that governs balance?
What we were missing, and we all realized this from the get-go, is that we had no understanding of the "mystic" part of the program. Tom Brosnahan, in his book "Turkey, A Travel Survivor's Kit," shares this: The worship ceremony is a ritual dance representing union with God. The Dervishes' long white robes, with full skirts, represent their shrouds, and the tall conical red hats represent their tombstones, as they relinquish the earthly life to be reborn in mystical union with God. They pass before their Seyh (leader - a spiritual descendant of Mevlana) with their arms folded and he whispers in their ears. Each Dervish then moves on, unfurling his arms and starting the dance. By holding their right arm up, palm upwards, they receive the blessings of Heaven and communicate them to Earth by holding their left arm down, palm downwards."
The founder of the Dervishes was Celaleddin Rumi, called Mevlana, meaning Our Guide" and was one of the world's great mystic philosophers. He lived during the 1200s. His teachings were ecumenical and he has a large following today, even outside the near and middle east.
I think if one is into "mysticism" in any form, this person would be far more in tune with the Dervishes than we and our friends were. For us -- and here's where the guilt is -- we were bored and anxious for the "concert" to end. From today's vantage point, however, Jerry and I both recall it as a wonderful experience. And to the extent that we saw it once, it was. We are glad we went, but we sure wouldn't rush to buy tickets if they scheduled a concert here in here Southern California.
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