by Adina Dabija
-There, said the boy,
struggling to catch his breath, pointing towards the stone well.
As fast as we have
run here, now I didn't want to move. I didn't want to get close to
the well. My feet would just not move. I didn't want to check if the
boy was saying the truth. I knew he was. But I would have
rather go home now and believe that Shams left again to Syria, like
three years before, or somewhere else, maybe even back to his
hometown in Tabriz. I could have imagine him angry and revoted or
calm and loving, like he used to be. I could have kept the hope that
he is well and alive and one day he will return to me. Or I could
have sent my son Sultan to search for him again and bring him back.
Sultan could have became a rambling dervish, he would not find his
peace until I would not find mine...Was that what I envisioned for
Sultan? Is that what a father would wish for his son?
I've seen them with my own eyes, said
again the boy, intrigued that I wasn't moving.
Or I could spare
Sultan and my wife Kira all this agony right now, facing the
It was just the head they threw in,
they carried the body away, that way, said again the boy pointing
towards the bushes.
My feet started to
move without me knowing of them. I shank, ready to become a stone in
the well's wall. It seemed to me that all my life I have been moving
towards the well, since the moment I was born. I arrived. I stood
there. It seemed to me like my entire existence was just a
preparation for this moment. My life has been a dream and I was now
coming to Reality. There, at the border of the well, I've seen my
existence with painful clarity. But not as a recollection of events.
I've seen it condensed in a point, round, perfect and perfectly
meaningless. A point hanging in time, holding on nothing but God's
breath. I've seen you seeing me in the first day we've met. From the
bottom of the well two eyes of fire were watching me. They too were
starring at that point. Our gazes met there. We were seeing together
from Eternity. Past, present and future melted into each other. The
wind started to whisper your name in the leaves of the magnolia
tree: Shams, Shams... And from the rose garden came the fragrant
answer: I am here, I exist, I exist. Space filled with an intense
vibration: from shrunken I began to grow.
“You who know/ Jelaluddin,
You the One in all,/ say who I am./ Say I am You”
whispered the garden. That's when I became you. I was everywhere, I
was free, I was spirit.
From that moment
words would not stop coming out of my mouth. But it is not me saying
them. It is something vibrating, resonating with me, finding me. Me
finding Me, Me finding You, You finding Me, You finding You. Only in
this vibration I find peace. Only there, in the saying, I am one
with your spirit again. You used to say
“Whatever enters in the
words, is an invitation”.
I am inviting God to replace your presence. I have a moment. I have
an alif. “When
everything becomes know from the alif, there is no need for anything
else, you used to say”.
I am speaking now. “There
is a voice that doesn't use words”.
I am listening. I am nothing but movement and fluidity. I don't know
if I am saying the words or the words are saying me. The borders
became blurred. “I am
dust particles in sunlight./ I am the round sun./ To the bits of
dust I say, Stay. / To the sun, Keep moving./ I am a tree with a
trained parrot in its branches./ Silence, thought, and voice./ The
musical air coming through a flute,/ a spark of a stone, a
flickering/ in metal. Both candle,/ and the moth crazy around it./
Rose, and the nightingale/ lost in the fragrance./ I am all orders
of being, the circling galaxy,/ the evolutionary intelligence, the
lift,/ and the falling away. What is,/ and what isn’t”.
There is no point in
mourning you, my beloved. The moments when we've been together
melted us in one eternal entity. No departure or coming is a cure
for this. We are an eternal embrace, sun and moon dancing together,
separated, but a reflection of the one plan of the universe.
It is year 1248 in
Konya. Shams has been murdered. This is a fact. I see the blood on
the well's wall. I taste it, it's your blood. The boy is telling the
truth. I do live now past your death. In France the king starts the
seventh crusade this year. Other thousand, maybe hundred thousands
of death are coming. But still, the Universe keeps a balance. Not by
chance they start to build the gardens of Alhambra this year in
Spain. It's because I am staying here at the border of the well
right now and I don't become a stone. I dissolve myself into your
being and I dissolve your beloved being into God. I start to flow. I
am doing it for all the lovers who ever lost or will loose their
beloved, only to become everything, only to become God. I am doing
it for women who lost their children. For husbands who lost their
wives. For countries who lost their men at war. It is me who blows
in the air the spirit of the inscription on the Alhambra wall:
“A running stream evokes
the illusion of a solid substance for the eye, so that we wonder
which one is fluid. So alike are fluid and solid in the river that
you can't tell which one is flowing”.
This is the day the earth was changed into other than the
earth (14:48). Right here, right now.