Ebru, the art of crafting images and pictures with special paints on the surface of water, originated on the continent of Asia, spread to Anatolia, and from there to the rest of the world. Ebru has long been the name given to the original Turkish art of “paper marbling” [1].

Enchanted by their interaction with water, human beings started practicing the art of paper marbling. By practicing Ebru, one may interpret the time on the marbling tray as a sort of time travel in which the wiggles of the water take a journey between the past and the future.

For ages, people have been using long-lasting rock surfaces to transfer information to future generations. These artworks and writings are reminders of past civilizations and they have always gained the attention of mankind around the world.

Some natural ingredients for traditional Ebru art include rose branches, dust paint, bile juice, and gum from a wild licorice plant. This natural combination of each ingredient of Ebru art ensures its uniqueness.

Each careful sprinkle of a color on the surface of the water is the reflection of the emotions that are felt by the artist yet are difficult to express otherwise.

Ebru is a delicate reflection of a civilization in which water is exalted as glorious and precious. It is one of the major elements of our world, that are essential for existence, along with soil, air, and fire. Ebru is the art of enthusiasm presented with sincere feelings.

Ebru gives a new perspective to the world of art and to cultures that are not familiar with it, since the concept of water serving as a base might initially seem impossible.  Throughout history, eastern and western civilizations were established around sources of water. Water in fact attracts human beings to its vibrancy like a magnet. It is the source of life for all the people from different ethnic groups, colors, languages, and religions. The mosaic appearance of Ebru art reflects human diversity in its tank with harmony and coherence [2].

In the past, people used to write thing they didn’t want to remember on water. Anything is doomed to disappear on the surface of water other than Ebru.

Using water as a medium is paradoxical because water signifies change as opposed to permanence. However, embroidery on the surface of the water is not something to be planned beforehand but rather an art form that the Ebru performer comes up with at the moment. A single stroke can be transformed but not reversed.

Once the artist has reflected his or her soul’s shape, and the colors have taken their place, the paper is gently laid on the water.

Ebru is like life itself; even if we think we do the same things every day, every moment differs from the others and is unique in its own way.

Ebru is either in the sky or on the Earth [3];

“O eye, do not sprinkle tears into my heart’s fierce fire, for there will be no way you can put out such a fire.
Is the revolving sky’s color the color of water? Or is it my tears that cover up the sky, I cannot know.”

Those who are interested in the art of Ebru and put their hearts into it will connect with a feeling of spiritual serenity and tranquility. Life in contemporary times is a never-ending wave of turmoil. Those who want to escape the hustle of the routines of life will never be rejected and will be welcomed to the ambiance of serenity by the peaceful waves of Ebru.

It takes people from their own world and brings them to another world of imagination where they can reflect on their feelings and get rid of the negative emotions within them.

For those who are stuck in the modern cycle of never-ending tasks, it is a way for them to reach a peaceful state of mind and relax.

Ebru art might take the artist back to their childhood when they used to play with dirt and mud. Perhaps the lack of preserving their childhood feelings can be remedied.

Ebru craftsmen use the biz, a tool used like a pencil to write on the surface of the water. In Ebru, every move on the water gives color patterns.

The art of Ebru in such a small container can take a human to anywhere that they wish to be or can be a canvas for any image that they wish for, such as a garden of flowers or a limitless sky. It will be anywhere other than any negative emotions inside.

Ebru art eventually makes the performer, as well as those that enjoy it, joyful once it is placed onto the wall of a house or at work and is thus able to begin emanating its bliss.

* This article was based on the speech given by Mualla Yazici in the Fountain Talks meeting at Fishers Public Library, Indiana.

References

1. Saracoğlu M. “Ebru or Water Marbling.” The Fountain 72 / November-December 2009.
2. Refik İ. “Uçsuz Bucaksız Bir Okyanusta Renklerin Dansı: Ebru.” Yağmur 3 Nisan, Mayıs, Haziran.1999.
3. “Su Kasidesi – Altın Nefesler,” Yeni Ümit Ekim, Kasım Aralık 1998.

The feeling of pity is the quiver of a person’s heartstrings and spirit, a quiver that resonates from a sincere sense of compassion deep in one’s soul. Feeling pity, as it were, can be found in all living beings and is a manifestation of many Divine names of compassion[1]; yet, it is actually a Divine grace special to humanity with its distinctive profundities. It is by this extraordinary gift (if a person is not completely distanced from humane qualities) that a person begins to suffer in the spirit and mind before a harrowing scene. Proportional to their sensitivity, such individuals are immersed in grief and sighs.

Feelings of compassion and pity are indispensably found in all living beings, primarily in humankind and especially in parents. People try to eliminate whatever triggers this emotion, even if it means risking and sacrificing one’s own life or standing against fires without considering what pity might cost. When feeling pity, one completely erases from the heart the feeling and thought of living. A hen attacks a cat or dog for the sake of protecting her young; a rabbit ventures death against wolves and hyenas; cattle defy lions or tigers with their horns. And human beings in particular, if they have not lost this magnanimous feeling and inner profundity, will virtually burn from within in the face of scenes that trigger pity; they will dare jumping into fires and walk against death without hesitation when feeling deep pity.                                                                                                                                    

Feelings of compassion and pity are directly proportional to the flourishing of the person’s heart. In lofty souls, it goes beyond every frame and reaches to the horizons of those closest to God. They react to selfish considerations expressed as, “an ember burns the very spot it falls on” (those who really suffer are only the first persons involved); instead they say, “no matter where it falls, that fire burns me up from within!” Thus, they run to extinguish the fire, shouting warnings and holding extinguishers of humane compassion.

In great personages, and more so in prominent ones among them, this feeling is so deep and sincere that they feel agonized on seeing those who suffer. With such an outburst and stupor of compassion, they do not see or feel themselves anymore; thus, they keep saying, like Nursi once did once: “Given that I see the faith of my people saved, I even accede to burning in the flames of Hell. For, as my body smolders in fire, my heart will transform into a rose garden.” They voice their feelings with notes that remind of the noble Prophet who returned down to the world after his journey up to the heavens (Mi’raj) for the sake of eternal bliss for humanity, and they even consider throwing themselves in the fire to burn instead of those victims. Their feelings of compassion and pity are of a nature to make angels envious and of a quality to serve as an invitation to rays of Divine beneficence to come from beyond.

With a resolution that can only be surpassed by that of a Prophet, they keep running for help night and day, offering prescriptions of all kinds to extinguish the fires of pity. Moaning with a melody of most heartfelt compassion, they say, “here I am.” They knock on every door they reach with laments to wake up those inside, and then they leave only to turn back a few more times. They leave as they turn over the duty to wake to the morning breeze. They do not feel sick and tired of their visits, of meeting insult and disrespect, because their road is that of the Prophets which averts people from Hell and takes them closer to Paradise and beyond; and they are well aware of the requirements of this path.

The source of inspiration for those distinguished servants was the conscientious magnanimity of the Master of the Prophets. He had ascended to the heavens to meet with the Divine; then, he had gone to the furthest boundary[2] and approached the Divine, as close as two bow lengths. A day of the former and a moment of the latter are more pleasurable than thousands of years in the world. He had the opportunity to stay up there, but he bid a temporary farewell to Paradise and returned to this realm of tribulation for the sake of saving others from falling to the lowest of the low and directing them to the highest horizons. He did it with a feeling of compassion and sense of deep pity special to him, for those who drifted towards Hell. He did it to let others also feel what he felt and allow them to enjoy what he had seen and to present brightness to unfortunate ones in pitiable condition who go through deformations of the heart and spirit.

With such a degree of altruism, while he was giving his loftiest character and mission their due, he was showing the ways to save people from the dark end unbelief is bound for, together with directing them to the ascent leading up to what faith promises. Actually, as that matchless person saw poor souls who had not completely lost their human quality but were struggling in a whirlpool of unbelief and misguidance, he writhed under their situation with a perpetual feeling of compassion and pity; and with that immense spirit of altruism he was blessed with, he would lament for them and immediately call everybody to his radiant course. These sighs and moans had even moved dwellers of heavens. The following counsel of moderation implied compliment while also reminding him of the frame of his duty: “Yet, it may be that you (O Muhammad) will torment yourself to death with grief, following after them, if they do not believe in this Message,” (Kahf 18:6). Thus, some water of relief was poured on his blazing heart.

Along with similar moderation and counsel, many other elucidating verses of the Qur’an also made emphasis to his noble character in this respect and gave a lesson of self-possession to those who took that course. They understood him, received their lesson, and contributed with their voices to that heavenly voice with a consideration of being a vanguard on the way to Paradise. The souls oriented to the lofty circle that followed his footsteps at every issue also showed the same attitude of beneficence and compassion; they kept sighing by adding new ones to his ballads of pity.

After them, neither did such moans cease nor the feeling of pity in hearts disappear. New compositions with melodies of the realms beyond were presented to those who staggered on; they were given glad tidings of a possibly blissful future. In the face of those who were taken by currents of unbelief and deviation and were drifting toward the destined fires, everybody was called to help: “Come, fetch water, hurry up! There is fire!” They cried to put off that inevitable end. As the glad tidings voiced a different aspect of compassion, the warnings aimed to stop the flowing towards Hell. They had belief in God and the Prophet; they saw their thoughts and actions as the necessity of being truly human—which can be in the sense of feeling pity, compassion, or purity of heart—and thus they acted without expecting anything in return. The theme and meaning is from God; the lyrics—as an outcome of their playing the part that falls to their freewill—are from the blessed Prophets and particularly the final one; and the composition is from those in the lofty circle and from the distinguished servants who are overjoyed with beholding the realms beyond the mundane world.

This blessed ember was so heartfelt to make the earth and the heavens whirl like dervishes, and its impact was forceful. Those who heard the melody, which sounded as if blown from the Trumpet of Israfil[1], were invigorated in accordance with the horizons of their comprehension, and, after some continuation, there would come a time when they also contributed to it with the sound of their own hearts. In time, this would turn to a tune of resurrection that resonated in ears. A time would come when those on the road, whose condition and feelings in terms of human values lagged much behind, also joined this feeling of compassion and pity. This humble author of yours remembers how he once wept for half-an-hour out of compassion and feeling of pity after the death of a bee – it was unthinkable for such a person not to wail on seeing intertwined problems causing different vicious circles of deformation in the world of humanity. By taking these into consideration, this humble servant also wished to join that sacred symphony and said, “I feel pity!” He sang ballads of pity for pitiable ones and offered moans for the waking of those who stumble their way on. With this, he expressed his pity for those who walk in the swamps of unbelief without a purpose and ideal, in spite of the blessed course of the Prophets.

“The universe is a great book of God all around,
whichever letter you try, you will find that its meaning points to God.”
(Recaizade)

I feel pity for those who have been blind all their lives and fail to study this book of the universe and what lies behind it. I feel pity for those who disregard the Hereafter and eternal life by falling for the outward beauty of this world and its deceptive magnificence and pomp. I feel pity for those who live blind and deaf to the eternal life in favor of transient sovereignty and ostentation. I feel pity for the slaves of an inferiority complex and who despise their past in slums and now boast of moving from one villa to another. I feel pity for those out of their mind to the degree of preferring this ephemeral and perishable worldly life over Paradise and Divine Beauty. I feel pity for the thickly heedless, who fell so low as to be bought off for the sake of this short-lived worldly life and fantasies of status, rank, money, and luxury. I feel pity for the dead at soul, the unfortunate ones who spend their time laughing and consuming vain entertainment in spite of the present violations of our dignity and honor. I feel pity for the mute devils who do not speak against intertwined destructions and irreparable collapses. I feel pity for those who eat, drink, and lie lazily, unaware of being no different than beasts in God’s sight. I feel pity for those in outward human form, unaware of the blessing of “the best stature” that the human is and what being one requires from us. I feel pity for those who came forward by saying “rights and justice!” like the Prophets did, but ended up as henchmen of the Pharaoh. I feel pity for those who treat human values like a cheap commodity, at a time when lying is so popular, betrayal is seen as a necessity, and rights are only entrusted to God. I feel pity for the hypocrites who make up religious legitimacy to deceive and slander in their attempt to pass these off as “battle tactics.” I feel pity for the so-called religious scholars who let their dignity be trampled under feet with sycophancy for the sake of a cursed appreciation or a dirty medal. I feel pity for the unfortunate “sold” ones who give rulings in return for a few banknotes.

I feel pity for those who go astray with light hearted statements like “let them steal…” I feel pity for the chameleons who vilify believers to obtain a short-lived worldly rank. I feel pity for those notorious ones oblivious to truth and who declare lies to be true and truths to be lies for fear of losing their lawful or unlawful benefits and titles. I pity those worshippers of worldliness who turn a blind eye to atrocities not even committed by crusaders. I pity those hypocrites who use their pen for besmirching people and call this vice a “war strategy.”

And I also pity myself for I was overcome by my good opinion of others and failed to tell about these atrocities to the masses. I pity myself for mistaking everybody as a friend by disregarding the truth I expressed in this poem:

“The heart always keeps seeking a true friend
but sometimes one who appears a friend turns out to be a hypocrite!”

I feel deep pain within and sigh for having failed to recognize and having fallen for the faith of a couple of hypocrites. I feel remorse and pains in my bosom for failing to keep up this principle: “Have good opinion of others, but be cautious, too.”

I try to find consolation by saying that, “we should view the past and misfortunes from a perspective of Divine decrees,” but I still feel pangs of conscience for failing to take a stance in line with the Quranic teachings against what happened and thus feel to be in a pitiable condition. Although waves and rays of oppression and malice struck my horizons of thought in a very early phase, I accuse myself for having failed to take shelter in Divine protection in utter confidence in Him and feel agonized with pains.

How I wish that it would have been possible to detect hypocrisy when they spoke of rights and justice and gave pompous lip service to respecting believers while things were shifting towards a disaster like Karbala[2]; then innocent people wouldn’t be martyred and bloodshed wouldn’t amount to streams. But it is too late; oppression and malice have reached a level to incur Divine wrath. What falls to us after this point is to say, “goodness is what God has decreed,” by taking shelter in serenity from God (sakina), self-possession (tamkin), reliance on (tawakkul) and submission to (taslim) Him, commitment (tawfidh) and utter confidence (siqa) in Him, and then expect for extra graces from the Almighty concerning those completely astray; and this should be the very attitude indispensably expected from a believer.

Footnotes

[1] Like ar-Rahman, ar-Rahim, al-Hannan, al-Mannan

[2] Lote Tree (Sidrat al-Muntaha)

Notes

[1] Israfil: the angel to give start for the apocalypse.

[2] The heart-rending incident where the Prophet’s grandchildren and their company were brutally murdered.

Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS) is a terminal illness of the nervous system, resulting in the degeneration of neurons. When the motor neurons in the lateral spinal cord degenerate, the muscle cannot be stimulated and gradually atrophies. As the disease progresses, the brain cannot initiate and control muscle movement, so voluntary muscle actions, such as reaching for your phone or typing on a keyboard, are lost. Currently there are no treatments or cures to reverse the effects of ALS and the disease process is still widely unknown. Some noteworthy individuals diagnosed with this disease have included Lou Gehrig, Stephen Hawking, Jon Stone, George Yardley, Henry A. Wallace, and Steve Gleason. These are the facts, but I could have never realized what living with ALS was like until I listened to a retired senior, a teacher, and a musician tell me their stories.

The older couple told us of their past year as the husband wrote on an electronic note pad to fill in the gaps of his spouse’s version of their story. They had first noticed his symptoms when he began choking on his food, and they had to adapt as the disease progression got more and more severe. His wife comically said that she doesn’t know where to look when he’s trying to talk to her – “Should I look at his eyes, his mouth, this pad?” Every day, they had to face a new challenge and overcome it together, as a family.

Another patient was a mother, a teacher, now wheelchair bound and with a respirator to help her breathe. Because of her age, none of her physicians expected ALS and thought she was struggling from carpal tunnel syndrome or an ulnar nerve injury. She told us her husband was her biggest caregiver and supporter; her husband joked, “She makes the list and I carry it out.” He talked about his struggles, working full time as well as being a full-time caregiver for his wife and their 3-year-old daughter, as well as still finding time for self-care. Even with all this juggling, he felt guilty. This guilt was expressed by many of the caregivers: some because they didn’t even notice the symptoms and others because they felt like they couldn’t help their spouses. Guilt was felt by the patients too. The mother was upset because her daughter would only remember her in a wheelchair. Despite the difficulties, family was a major support system for each patient.

When asked about how she felt after getting her diagnosis, the musician said, “I felt like a deer in headlights… I never pictured I was going to go out that way… with a terminal illness… Last year I had no trouble walking, singing, cooking, gardening, and this year…” Despite all of this, she said she felt relieved. Her struggle to find a neurologist who respected her was heartbreaking. She had gone to a physician because she felt helpless; she was having trouble playing guitar, she was losing her identity as a musician. However, the physician assumed from her past medical history of anxiety that she was having mental issues with memory, anxiety, and depression. As she continued to receive hostile treatment, she found a second doctor who listened to her. Unfortunately, even though he took her seriously, he didn’t have the courage to diagnose her with ALS, telling her instead that she had a motor neuron disease and referring her to a specialist. When she finally received the diagnosis of ALS, she was relieved. She no longer felt crazy. She was able to be heard. She was able to communicate with someone who wanted to help her. ALS is already a hard disease to diagnose; not having someone on her side only made her situation more difficult. She says now, as each symptom appears, she isn’t afraid anymore, because she knows it’s ALS. This relief of having a concrete diagnosis, of having a diagnosable disease, even one that is untreatable, was reiterated by several of the other panelists.

Although a diagnosis was a relief for many of the patients, they all saw the importance of taking part in clinical trials. They recognized that ALS affects everyone at different times in different ways and hoped that one day they could explain why this illness is so hard to detect and track. Participating in various studies and trials made them feel like they were helping future patients and physicians to be able to better understand why this terminal disease can strike at any time, with no discernable warning signs, affecting each individual uniquely in initial symptoms and progression.

Getting a concrete diagnosis gave these patients the freedom to seize the day and live in the moment. For the musician, as her ability to play guitar diminished chord by chord, and she started slurring her words, preserving her voice and her identity became very important to her. She is using a message banking app to preserve her voice. The software requires her to read thousands of words and sentences. Although she had to accept the things she could no longer do, she realized that she did not have to give up her identity or love of music because of ALS. Overflowing with her love of music, she told us about how when choirs sings together, their hearts become synchronized; and how music lowers blood pressure and stimulates all areas of the brain. As she interwove details about her symptoms with her favorite song, Fire on the Mountain by the Grateful Dead, the two had become part of the same spiritual transformation. Smiling peacefully, she explained, “Maybe nobody else hears it the way I do. I see death as the final healing, finally being released from your body.” She viewed her diagnosis as graduating early and the symptoms that came attached with it as her disappearing slowly, rather than all at once. The unavoidable indignities were just something she had to accept. What mattered most to her was keeping her individual personality in the face of intense daily struggles.

By the end of our discussion, I felt the weight of my white coat as I never had before and recognized that this would be the first of many times that I would have to carry this symbol of patient advocacy. As these patients spilled all their vulnerabilities to a group of 50 students, I realized the most important thing I will learn in medical school is opening my heart without getting crushed under negativity. I learned that, as doctors, we have the tendency to think the ultimate solution is life, when in truth, mortality is the reality. What matters is being present when there is a fire, realizing that “a pail of water” may not be enough to put it out, but continuing to carry that water for your patient.

Long distance runner, what you standin there for?
Get up, get out, get out of the door

There’s a dragon with matches that’s loose on the town
Takes a whole pail of water just to cool him down
-The Grateful Dead

Gasparetto (not his real name)[1] was a young Turkish medical student when he was arrested and imprisoned for eight months by Turkey’s government, merely for his connection to the Hizmet, a social movement inspired by Fethullah Gülen and Sufi thought, which Turkey’s President Erdoğan blamed for the July 15, 2016 coup attempt. While incarcerated, Gasparetto experienced a range of feelings—heightened spirituality and camaraderie with others, but also devastating emotional torture at the hands of prison guards. In prison, they had crammed 57 people into a room meant for 12, and so the inmates took turns sleeping and sharing beds. He was only given permission to leave his cell on four occasions over an eight-month period. He asked his family to bring National Geographic magazines to him so that he could see color photographs of the outside world. The worst part was that his mother, who suffers from bipolar disorder, was unable to manage her own medications at home because of the stress, and rapidly deteriorated during his absence. Sadly, as soon as Gasparetto was released, he knew he would soon likely be rearrested, and so he planned his escape from Turkey via the dangerous Evros River, known as the “refugee cemetery.”[2] Crossing the river on a flimsy inflatable boat, he was terrified he would drown in the rushing currents, as far too many had before him, or be thrown back into prison again by Turkish soldiers, before his boat reached Greece.

I met him in Greece during the summer of 2018, where I had travelled to interview other refugees of Erdoğan’s ongoing purge. According to Mehmet, a Hizmet representative there, approximately 800 Turkish refugee families are temporarily residing in Greece (the number fluctuates), hoping to gain asylum somewhere, anywhere, in Europe. At least 41,500 Turks have already reached Europe to seek refuge after the attempted coup, and many more are still desperately trying to reach safety and gain asylum there.[3]

Firdevs, a former teacher who crossed the river with her three children, told me that after arriving in Greece, she kissed the first tree she saw. She felt her burdens lifting, and that at that moment she could breathe for the first time in two years. “All Turkish refugees are thankful to the people of Greece,” Mehmet explained to me.

Due to its strategic location and (relative) hospitality as of June 2018, Greece houses approximately 60,000 refugees.[4] From January to September 2018 alone, over 23,000 refugees, most of them (72%) from Syria, Iraq (including Syrian and Iraqi Yazidis and Kurds), and Afghanistan, came to Greece by sea.[5] Others risked the treacherous Evros River—from January to May, 2018, 7,200 refugees survived the crossing to Greece.[6] When asylum seekers arrive, often exhausted, hungry, and thirsty, unfortunately many find conditions in the refugee camps less than ideal. Crowded, squalid, and dirty, the camps nonetheless offer refuge for those awaiting their asylum decisions. Residents have complained that living in the camps can be dangerous: there have been reports of physical and sexual assault, threats of violence, and a rise in mental health problems.[7]

One of the worst examples is the Moria Camp, on the island of Lesbos. It is supposed to house 2,000 refugees, but as of August, 2018, it houses four times that many, and sexual harassment and assault are commonplace.[8] It also reeks—there is one toilet for every seventy people. Some have lived there for over two years. Many, including children, are suicidal.[9] The same camp recently witnessed violence against Kurdish refugees by Arabs, in which over seventy Kurds were injured, at least ten left in critical condition, mirroring sectarian violence against Kurds in Syria and Iraq, at the hands of religious extremists.[10]

My 9-day trip was marred by several tragedies. The day before I arrived, fires in the region of East Attica, near Rafina, horrifyingly killed 99 people,[11] with 200 more being injured.[12] In two separate incidents around the duration of my stay seven Turkish refugees, including children, lost their lives drowning in the Evros trying to reach safety in Greece. For days one Turkish father, Murat Akcabay,[13] who had survived the trip while the rest of his family fell into the water after the boat hit a rock, prayed that one of his three sons, five year-old Mesut, who had been wearing a life vest when he fell off the boat, would still be alive. The bodies of his wife and two sons had already been recovered.[14] Sadly, during my trip, Mesut’s body was also found.

Despite the problems faced by the Turkish refugee community in Greece, which include trauma, financial difficulties, displacement, grief, depression, and an uncertain future, those I spoke with were deeply concerned with how to best help the Greek fire survivors and their families, in their new host country.

On a more positive note, six other Turkish refugees, one a 5-months pregnant woman, were rescued and brought to Greece after being stranded for four days without food or water on a tiny island between Turkey and Greece. Their boat sank and they made it to the island, where they slept on the muddy ground and survived by drinking river water. Another success story involved a young Turkish refugee who arrived on a boat, but his boat was pushed back towards Turkey by Greek officials (which happens on occasion). In an act of sheer desperation, he leapt off that boat into Greek waters, and to the cheers of spectators he too was rescued and brought into Greece by representatives of the UN High Committee for Refugees.

Despite the problems faced by the Turkish refugee community in Greece, which include trauma, financial difficulties, displacement, grief, depression, and an uncertain future, those I spoke with were deeply concerned with how to best help the Greek fire survivors and their families, in their new host country. They, along with the world, mourned with Greece. Another refugee, and former government official from Ankara, Çetin, explained: “The pain doesn’t differ. Language, ethnicity, religion, none of these are different. We suffered the same. When we see the pictures of the Greek babies [fire victims], we suffer just as we do when we see Turkish babies who sank in the Evros River.”

Humanitarian groups quickly began to raise funds for the survivors of the devastating fire. Help also came from an unlikely source: the Turkish refugee community. Historically, Greece and Turkey have been at odds. This has been fueled, in part, by Greek independence from the Ottoman Empire in 1832, a series of military conflicts including the Greco-Turkish war of 1912-1922, the Cyprus issue, and the current tensions between Turkey and Greece. Turkish jets have invaded Greek airspace on dozens of occasions this year alone, and the Turkish government has implied it might seek jurisdiction over islands in the Aegean occupied by Greeks.[15]

Despite that history, those refugees I interviewed were deeply grateful for the friendly welcome they received in Greece which, combined with Erdoğan’s brutal two-year purge, completely quashed any previously held feelings of Turkish superiority and/or xenophobia. Firdevs, a former teacher who crossed the river with her three children, told me that after arriving in Greece, she kissed the first tree she saw. She felt her burdens lifting, and that at that moment she could breathe for the first time in two years. “All Turkish refugees are thankful to the people of Greece,” Mehmet explained to me.

Zeynep, a divorced mother and former cook, confirmed that her refugee experience created greater empathy for others outside of those groups of people with whom she used to most identify. She said, “Before this [purge in Turkey], when we heard a refugee ship had sunk in the Aegean Sea, of course we were sorry. But we never thought that each person died had a family, children; we never humanized them, one by one. We used to just think about Turkey, what we could do for Turkey, but after this experience, we see what we can do for humanity.”

My 9-day trip was marred by several tragedies. The day before I arrived, fires in the region of East Attica, near Rafina, horrifyingly killed 99 people, with 200 more being injured. Seven Turkish refugees, including children, lost their lives drowning in the Evros trying to reach safety in Greece.

Similarly, Yesma, a former teacher, argued that being a refugee also made her more empathetic towards other refugees. She stated, “In our country we had Syrian refugees and we should have done more for them. We didn’t help them enough.” She also crossed the Evros with her family, and told me that eerily, she was able to feel the spirits of those who had drowned in it, but were never found.

Accompanying Mehmet, Gasparetto, and several other refugees with medical backgrounds, I toured the neighborhoods affected by the fire. They wanted to offer aid through their Hizmet-affiliated organization, Time to Help. In one of over at least 1,000 homes gutted by the fire, a burnt television sat askance on the living room floor, surrounded by charred furniture and debris. A brass teapot sat unscathed on a charred, round antique table. I was told that thankfully, the elderly resident of that home survived, carried out by her son.

Mehmet, who had organized the small group composed of two refugee doctors and one nurse, purchased water and paper goods to donate to Rafina’s city hall. We met with Ms. Vasiliki Beka, the Mayor’s Advisor, and Mehmet began by telling her that they were there simply to help, and that on behalf of Time to Help they could bring more doctors or whatever else was needed. He offered to organize a blood drive, paint homes, bring medicines, or provide victims’ families with financial aid. Ms. Beka graciously responded that they did not need more basic items such as clothes, food, or medicine, but rather volunteers to help clear the area of burnt wood, and of course, funds. Seemingly touched by the offers of assistance, she said that receiving global offers of support restored her faith in humanity. Exhausted, but smiling, she added: “There is more that brings us together than that which separates us.” Afterwards, the group visited a young woman in the hospital, who was badly burned on her arms and legs, and gave her mother funds to help her daughter with her medical bills.

Refugees commonly suffer from feelings of humiliation and societal uselessness because of their dependence on aid organizations, especially when they are unemployed.[16] I noticed that being able to provide help to fire victims raised the spirits of the Turkish refugees I met in Greece; indeed, Mehmet much preferred to think about ways to help the Greek victims rather than about his own refugee status, or the fact that the rest of his family still remained in Turkey. Thankfully, Gasparetto was able to reach Germany, where he hopes to continue his medical studies after learning German. While he still struggles with depression and his traumatic memories, he is one of the more fortunate. While those that fled the brutal purge in Turkey have a long road in front of them, their horrible experiences have not yet caused them to lose their humanity. In fact, being able to perform even small acts of kindness helps them move forward.

The pain doesn’t differ. Language, ethnicity, religion, none of these are different. We suffered the same. When we see the pictures of the Greek babies [fire victims], we suffer just as we do when we see Turkish babies who sank in the Evros River.

Let’s conclude this story with the words of a refugee. Ahsen, a 33-year-old psychological consultant and mother of two, listened to the stories of purge victims in Turkey before becoming a refugee herself. Her hair turned white from the stress of listening to the painful stories of others. Her Kurdish husband, a psychiatrist, cried when I interviewed him, telling me he heard stories that were so terrible he couldn’t tell them to anyone. Before fleeing Turkey via the Evros, Ahsen told her seven-year-old daughter that they were playing a game of “Survivor.” Surprised with her daughter’s adult-like demeanor during the voyage, Ahsen recalled that after reaching Greece the girl calmly asked her who had won the game. Ahsen conveyed what she had learned from the harrowing ordeal: “Passing through the Evros taught us about other people. We had heard about the refugee experiences from Afghans and Syrians, but we hadn’t experienced it [ourselves]. Also, when we came here we found that Greek people are very kind, polite, believe in humanity, and offer us respect and understanding. They also help us, which is very important. [If granted asylum], we will go and carry out more service (Hizmet) in the countries we visit. I’m sorry I left my friends in Turkey, but I learned there is a great need here as well. A new life is beginning for all of us.”

[1] All names of Turkish refugees have been changed, for their safety.

[2] Deniz Zengin, “Turkish Refugees Crossing Evros River,” Politurco, August 2, 2018.

[3] Ibid.

[4] “Greece,” UNHCR, June, 2018.

[5] “Sea Arrivals Dashboard: Greece,” UNHCR, September, 2018.

[6] Leo Dobbs, “Fewer refugees arriving in Greece’s Evros region, but problems remain,” UNHCR, June 12, 2018.

[7] “UNHCR urges action to ease conditions on Greek islands,” UNHCR, September 8, 2017.

[8] Catrin Nye and Leo Sands, “UN urges Greece to act as Moria refugee camp reaches ‘boiling point,’” BBC Victoria Derbyshire Program, August 31, 2018.

[9] Ibid.

[10] Helbast Shekhani, “Ten Syrian Kurds in critical condition after attack at refugee camp in Greece,” Kurdistan 24, May 26, 2018.

[11] “Attica’s Devastating Wildfire Death Toll Rises to 99,” Greek News, September 12, 2018.

[12] Bill Hutchinson, “Death toll from fires in Greece climbs to 91 as investigation points toward arson,” ABC News, July 29, 2018.

[13] His real name.

[14] Tasos Kokkinidis, “Turkish Father Makes Emotional Plea for Family Missing in Greek River,” Greek Reporter, July 20, 2018.

[15] Yannis Babaoulias, “Greece and Turkey Are Inching Toward War,” Foreign Policy, April 18, 2018.

[16] Constanze Quosh, Liyam Eloul, and Rawan Ajlani, “Mental health of refugees and displaced persons in Syria and surrounding countries: a systematic review,” Intervention Volume 11 (3) (November 2013).

The lover pursues more and more knowledge of God, for every new Divine gift increases his or her desire. As this desire increases, new gifts pour into the lover’s heart. He or she embroiders the acquired knowledge of God with the feelings and thoughts traveling between his or her heart and things. Like a honeybee collecting nectar from flowers and thus making flowers the source of honey, the lover collects the nectar of the knowledge of God from the manifestations of Divine Names and Attributes that open like flowers in the garden of the universe. He or she distills the collected nectar through the filter of his or her appreciative, grateful conscience, and feels as if his or her sight has reached the rays of the Attributes themselves. Then the dream of reaching the Divine Being is realized, and the lover is stricken with the utter astonishment.

Sa’di, The writer of Gulistan (The Rose Garden) expresses the traveler’s feelings of astonishment and amazement while burning and drinking:

At times You show Your Beautiful Face,
but It is veiled without being completely seen,
thus You incite us to compete to be able to see You
and increase our fire.
When I see unveiled the Beloved
with Whom I have fallen in love,
something occurs to me
and I am bewildered on my way.
The Beloved lights a fire in my breast
and then puts it out with a drizzle.
That is why you find me burnt away
and drowned in an ocean.
Ismail Haqqi Bursavi presents travelers as incessantly intoxicated:
All saintly ones are intoxicated
with the pure water their Lord offers them (76:21);
seven, five, and four are intoxicated
with His Beautiful “Face.”

If the traveler has not prepared his or her heart according to the requirements of the spiritual journey and the commandments of the Shari’a, that is, if one does not think and reason in the light of the Prophethood while one’s feelings fly in the boundless realm of the achieved spiritual state, he or she will inevitably fall, be confused and bewildered, and speak and act contrary to the spirit of the Shari’a.

Mulla Jami’ expresses astonishment and amazement in his vivid language:
The women of Egypt were astounded and cut their hands when
they saw the beauty of Joseph. O Master, the light of my eyes,
if they had seen Your Beauty, they would have thrust the daggers
in their hands into their breasts. Speaking of Joseph’s
beauty where Your Beauty is mentioned, is no more than making
up stories.

In other words, if transient, worldly beauty and perfection that only reflect the Infinitely Perfect and Beautiful One through many veils can seduce us, how great will be our inability to perceive the dazzling awe and amazement produced by beholding and gazing upon that Beauty.

Those who prefer to serve Islam and the Qur’an at this point in time should not aim at all the pleasures, whether bodily or spiritual. Rather, they should continue their service, assisted by God, in awe of and with amazement at the extent to which God comes to their aid and makes them successful. They should never conceive of anything other than serving Islam. This is a special gift of amazement to the army of light from God’s special treasury of: We make the distribution among them (43:32).

O God! Create a light in my heart, a light in my tongue, a light in my sight, a light in my hearing, a light on my right, a light on my left, a light before me, a light after me, a light above me, and a light below me. And bestow blessing and peace on the one whom You sent as a light, on his Family and Companions, all of them.

Literally meaning strong desire, excessive yearning, joy issuing from knowing, delight, and longing, shawq (joyful zeal) is used by Sufis to express the heart’s overwhelming desire to meet with the Beloved, Who cannot be comprehended and “vanishes” after being “observed.” Some have described this as joyful desire, excitement, and a lover’s excessive heartfelt longing to see the Face of the Beloved. Others have regarded it as a fire that reduces to ashes all desires, wishes, yearnings, and inclinations other than the love for and inclination toward the Beloved.

Joyful zeal originates in love. The remedy of a heart burning with such a longing to meet with the Beloved is meeting with Him, and shawq is the wing of light that carries the lover to this meeting. Zeal disappears when a lover finds the Beloved, while the yearning for Him (ishtiyaq) continues to increase. One who yearns for Him never stops yearning and, whenever favored with a special manifestation of His Essence, wishes for more. This is why the prince of the Prophets and the greatest of humanity, upon him be peace and blessings, who, equipped at each moment with a new radiance of knowledge, love of God, and spiritual delight, incessantly traveled between the summits of love, joyful zeal, and yearning, and used to pray: O God! I ask You for zeal to observe Your perfectly beautiful “Face” and to meet with You.

Some interpreters of the Qur’an, when writing about: Those who believe are firmer in love of God (2:265) remark that joyful zeal is felt toward things that are partly perceivable and partly unperceivable, partly comprehensible and partly incomprehensible. One feels no zeal toward that which he or she has never seen or heard of, or about which he or she knows nothing. Nor does he or she feel interest in that which he or she completely comprehends or perceives.

Zeal and yearning can be divided into two categories. The first is the yearning produced by separation from the Beloved after meeting with and gazing upon Him in the past eternity. The sighs uttered by the flute of Rumi, and the creaking, painful sounds heard by Yunus Emre from the revolving water-wheel express such a separation. These sighs will continue until the final union or meeting with Him. The second category is when a lover sees the Beloved from behind a veil, and thus cannot completely comprehend Him. The believer feels His presence, but cannot see Him; he or she dips a finger into the honey of love but is not allowed to take a further step. Consumed with thirst, the believer cries: I am being consumed with thirst! Give me some water! but receives no answer.

The spirit of all men and women observed Him in an assembly of past eternity, where God asked them: Am I not your Lord? and they answered: Yes, assuredly. We testify! After this assembly, either because humanity’s very humanness required it or because humanity had to be tested, to believe in Him without seeing Him, humanity was thrown into the pangs of temporary separation. This is why people always dream of Him in a conscious or unconscious longing for Him, and burn with a yearning to re-unite with Him. What is more significant than this is the yearning which the All-Sacred Being has toward pure, innocent, and unadulterated souls, but only in a way that is appropriate for His essential independence of all being. This Divine eagerness may be the real source of the yearning that enters one’s heart.

Zeal means turning to the Beloved with all inner and outer feelings, and locking out all appetites other than those one feels to meet with Him. In the context of yearning, it means one is overflowing with desires and wishes related to Him. Both zeal and yearning feed the spirit. Both are painful but exhilarating, and distressing but promising.

No individual experiences more anguish, nor is none happier, than the one who burns with love and groans with zeal. Such people become so spiritualized when enraptured with the thought and hope of meeting with God that they would not agree to enter Paradise at that moment, even if allowed to do so. They burn inwardly with the pangs of separation to such a degree that even the waters of Paradise cannot extinguish the fire in their hearts. Only meeting with the Friend can extinguish such a fire. Paradoxically, they never think of escaping that fire, for even if they were offered the sanctuary of the palaces of Paradise to prevent them from burning with the fire of zeal to meet with the Friend, such people would scream out like the inhabitants of Hell who seek to be rescued from Hellfire.

Worldly people cannot know what that zeal means or the state of those who possess it, while people of zeal are amazed at worldly people, so engrossed in their worldly affairs and pleasures.

Their amazement is quite natural, for God Almighty told Prophet David, upon him be peace:

O David! If those who love and show inclination to the world knew how much I care about them, want them to resist against sins, and how I expect to meet with human beings, they would be dying with the zeal to meet with Me.

When the zeal to meet with God invades a lover’s being, the result is an overflow of feelings of pain and delight and cries of:

Zeal has bewildered me, zeal has burnt me.
Zeal has intervened between sleep and my eyes.
Zeal has invaded me, zeal has engrossed me.
Zeal has overwhelmed me, zeal has stricken me with awe.

This degree of zeal sometimes incites the lover to stand up and dance or spin. The lover should be excused for such movements, as he or she cannot resist such a spiritual state:

Say to him who wants to prevent a man of ecstasies from going into ecstasies:

You have not tasted the wine of love together with us, so leave us.
When souls overflow with the zeal to meet with the Beloved,
know, O you unaware of spirituality, that bodies begin to dance.
O guide who incites lovers, stand up and move us
with the name of the Beloved, and breathe life into us.

In our own day, some prefer to serve the Qur’an and faith by the way based on acknowledging one’s poverty or destitution and impotence or helplessness before God’s Wealth and Power, and on thankfulness and zeal. In this context, zeal means constant hope and continuing to serve without becoming dispirited or losing one’s energy. It also means seeking an aspect of Divine mercy even in the most distressing conditions, and then relying upon Him alone for His help and victory.

O God! I ask You for zeal and yearning to meet with You, and bestow blessing and peace on our master Muhammad, the master of those full of this zeal and yearning.

I think about my own mom, and her mother, my grandmother. I remember the day I told my grandmother that I was applying for a Master’s degree. She looked at me as if I had lost my mind. I love her dearly but we sometimes just agree to disagree. The same is true with my mother, who always criticized my taste in jeans and junk food. Now that I come to think about it, we – my daughters, myself, my mom, and my grandmother – all have our unique preferences.

When it comes to spiritual matters, however, regardless of differences in our worldly pursuits, all of us, three generations, all read the Qur’an, which was revealed to the Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him. We all receive our own share of wisdom and spiritual nutrition. This aspect of the Qur’an is striking. It’s like a table where everybody can enjoy feeding their heart and souls.

For more than 1,400 years, for Muslims all around the world, the Qur’an has been a book for supplication and remembering God, a shelter from misfortune, a source of information and wisdom, and a reference for law-making. Since the Qur’an is a manifestation of God’s infinite knowledge, it is a miraculous book that never gets outdated, but gets ever younger by having something to offer everyone willing to listen and be its student.

Imagine a person in the library reading about the Pacific Ocean. He has finished reading all the books about the ocean.. He has so much knowledge about the ocean, and yet, he has never seen one. Now imagine these other people: the first one does not have much information about the sea, but he is standing on the beach. He knows how the sand feels, he can hear the sound of the waves, he sees the blue sky over the ocean, he enjoys the sunset on the horizon. The second one comes a little closer. His feet get wet; he can feel how cold the water is. Another one is swimming in the ocean. He can taste it, the water is salty, and he can feel the thrust of the powerful waves. Some jump into it and swim forward and fast without really knowing how deep it could get, and maybe drown.

There are also the explorers. They travel long distances, see different countries, visit distant shores, swim and dive expertly, and even find treasures hidden underneath.

The Qur’an is like a big ocean, living, breathing, growing, and supporting life. It is full of treasures and beauty, over and under. Just like each person in the above analogy enjoys and benefits from the ocean differently, the Qur’an has been enjoyed and benefitted in different methods and forms, at different levels, for hundreds of years. Some learn a lot from it, but unfortunately cannot feel its true nature and depth, like the first person in the metaphor who reads about the ocean in the library. Others illuminate both their minds and their hearts as much as they can. Individuals explore different shores of the Qur’an, doing, learning, and feeling – seeing more than others. On the other hand, there are people who also read the same Qur’an but get it wrong, or maybe partially read out of context and lose their way, much like the person who gets drowned in deep waters.

One explorer of the Qur’an, Said Nursi, in his book The Words, gives an analogy about divers plunging to depths searching for the jewels of a treasure. Their eyes are closed; they understand what is they are looking for through the use of their hands. A longish diamond comes into the hand of one of them. The diver assumes that the whole treasure consists of a long diamond like a pillar. Into the hand of another passes a round ruby, while another finds a square piece of amber, and so on. If you asked each diver to describe the treasure, they would tell you what they have in their hands, which is true, only it is their own grasp, but there is more to it than that. People studying the Qur’an all have different lenses, which are shaped and colored according to their abilities, backgrounds, past knowledge, and prejudices. If you ask two people about the treasures of the Qur’an, they might give you different interpretations of the same verse. All the interpretations might be true, and there could even be more interpretations, because the Qur’an has all the wisdom and knowledge of the past and all that we will have in the future. This is also confirmed by the Qur’an itself: “With Him are the keys to the Unseen; none knows them but He. And He knows whatever is on land and in the sea; and not a leaf falls but He knows it; and neither is there a grain in the dark layers of earth, nor anything green or dry, but is (recorded) in a Manifest Book” (6:59).

By virtue of this comprehensiveness, the Manifest Book’s verses are like monumental trees. The main stem of the tree has large branches, and then there are smaller branches, leaves, flowers, fruits, and seeds. The knowledge in the Qur’an is at all of those levels. The 15th Century Ottoman Sultan Yildirim Bayezid‘s time serves as an exemplar for this phenomenon:

After the construction of Ulu Cami (The Great Mosque) was completed in Bursa, Turkey, the Sultan gave the duty of the Friday sermon to Somuncu Baba (the Baker father), by the advice of Amir Sultan, his son-in-law, a saint of his time. Everybody was surprised by this decision of giving the duty of first Friday sermon in the Great mosque to the person who supplied bread to the workers during the building of the mosque. When the day came, Somuncu Baba gave a commentary of the first Chapter, “The Opening,” (Surah Al-Fatiha) from seven different levels, using over 20 different sciences. People were astonished by his knowledge and wisdom. At the end of the sermon, Molla Fenari, another great scholar of the time, stood up in the congregation and said, “Somuncu Baba tackled our problems in the commentaries of Fatiha. The first explanation of Fatiha was known and understood by all the people in the mosque. The second commentary was understood by some, the third was understood by only the academics. The fourth and thereafter, we have never heard before. He explained, but none of us could comprehend them fully.”

Different understandings and interpretations of the Qur’an do not only arise from differences in people’s viewpoints and intellects, but also depend on the conditions of time and place. For instance, those verses that are about science and technology will be understood better with the progress made in that area. The mature and perfect understanding of the verses comes from people helping each other; it is like lifting a heavy stone together. The more hands that go under the stone, the easier it gets to move it.

Every so often many scientists, from different disciplines, come together to explain a single paradox. The acquired knowledge of a certain era shapes and strongly influences whether an individual will master the verses’ deeper meanings. A person reading this verse, “He, Who has made for you fire from the green tree, and see, you kindle fire with it…” (36:80) during the Prophet’s time could have learnt he could kindle fire from the Markh and Afar trees, which grow in the Arabian Desert. He would certainly be thankful to God for that! If he were a man in denial of the hereafter, or a man with rotten bones, he could have reflected on the fact that the One Who extracts something as luminous as fire from the dense, dark matter of a tree could easily give life and consciousness to bones which are like wood. If this very same man were not a nomad at the time of the Prophet, but a professor in the 19th century, the Markh tree might not have occurred to him. On the other hand he might have reflected more on petroleum, which is formed from rotten plants, and that Saudi Arabia, which was once lush and green, is now a country rich in petroleum. And if he were a middle school student right now, he could contemplate this verse during Science class, when learning about photosynthesis – how oxygen is produced during this process, and how you cannot burn anything in the absence of this gas that comes from trees.

All this said, the understanding of some verses about spiritual matters, like the pillars of Islam, the daily prayers, or other types of worship, do not usually change from person to person, time to time, or place to place. Unlike the improvement of existing technology, whatever has been revealed by the Qur’an has been understood and practiced first by the Prophet, and in the best possible way.

The Quran is a generous source of knowledge. Anybody knocking on its door – from innocent children, to important academics, from the contemporaries of the Prophet to the ones yet to come – will have their own share of the wisdom it carries.

In the northern hemisphere, where annual average rainfall is around 100 kg per square meter in cold and dry regions, boreal forests, with needle-leaf trees, dominate. The southern hemisphere is dominated by savanna; bushes and meadows occupy millions of hectares.. In these regions, natural fires can be the most important factor of ecosystem changes. When looking at the results of these fires, it sometimes seems they were preprogrammed as to when, where, and how they spread.

Examples of fire dependent ecosystems

The cone of the Jack Pine species (Pinus banksiana), which is widely distributed throughout North American forests, requires absolute forest fire in order to release its seeds. The cone of this species can remain on the trees without releasing seeds for years because of climate and the resin layer covering it. Seeds preserved in the cones wait for the next fire; the cone’s scales open with the heat generated during such a fire. The seeds then start their journey towards a piece of soil that they can grow into. Here the role of fire is very important, not only for the dispersal of seeds but also in preparation of germination. The high humidity and low temperatures in the forests of these regions delays the decomposition of fallen leaves. This layer of dead material over the mineral soil is another hindrance for seeds to meet the soil. When scales of the cones open with the help of forest fire, this thick layer of dead leaves is also removed, having burned down to create fertile new soil.

Another example of fire benefiting plants is the chaparral vegetation of the North American forest. This type of plant cover is composed of short, perennial wooden plants and annual non-woody plants. During the hot, dry weather of summer, this vegetative cover becomes particularly vulnerable to fire. A dark black cover composed of unburned parts, frames, and ashes of the plants is left behind. This sight, which is saddening at first, actually hides various beauties in it, and these beauties only emerge after a series of events.

Golden eardrops (Dicentra chrysantha), which is a member of the perennial Chaparral family, is deeply affected by fire. The seed of this plant requires a fire event in the germination season and should be exposed to smoke for at least 10 minutes.

The positive effects of forest fires can also be seen in the healthy survival of an ecosystem. Due to its thick bark, the widely distributed Ponderosa pine (Pinus ponderosa), of North America, is minimally affected by the low, medium level cover fires that happen every five to twenty years. The weak and unhealthy individuals in this dense forest get burned as a result of natural forest fires, leaving healthy, thick barked trees. This way, possible epidemics of harmful forest organisms, via these unhealthy trees, is prevented. In the meantime, due to periodic fires, dead cover, or fallen and dead trees are removed, thus preventing bigger fires.

In the eastern Mediterranean, brutia pine, yellow pine, black pine, aleppo pine, and stone pine can are widely distributed. Among these, brutia pine is spread across a wide area, especially in most fire sensitive regions. It is created with a thicker bark around the trunk compared to other pines. This species can be minimally impacted from low and medium level cover fires. On the other hand, seeds in the cones of brutia pine are thrown far away by the heat of the fire, reaching fertile germinating grounds, thus helping to spread the forest.

References

• Fuller, M. 1991. Forest Fires: An Introduction to Wildland Fire Behavior, Management, Firefighting, and Prevention, SD421.F84, Wiley & Sons, Inc., NY, pp. 238.
• Keeley, J. E. 2007. “Chaparral and Fire,” Fremontia, Volume 35:4, pp. 16-21.
• Bond, W. J., Wilgen, B.W. 1996. Fire and Plants, SE18HN, UK, Chapman & Hall, UK, pp. 259.

Not long after, I saw a minuscule thing coming to me from that direction; I thought it was a bird of some kind. Strange enough, the bird came to me so abruptly that I heard its sound only after it passed me… Guess what? It was not a bird; it was a fighter jet. This time, I knew where to look, and I followed it for the short while it played pick-a-boo with me.

The following day, mom took me to the celebration arena for a national day. I couldn’t believe my eyes, everywhere was full of fighter jets; but my eyes looked for the one that mesmerized me the day before. And, it was standing right there, waiting for me to come. I approached it with respectful steps, and carefully touched it. It was so cold and tough, yet so beautiful. That day, I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up. The smell of the jet fuel coming from the engines was so powerful that even I could fly with that kind of a drink.

“Hey; come here” I heard someone calling me. There was really nobody around. “Follow the sharp smell, come on here,” insisted the voice. Was I daydreaming, or had I been poisoned by the jet fuel and lost my conscience? Yeah, yeah, the voice was coming from the rear-end of the engine. It was the nozzle that was talking to me.

The moment I realized who was talking to me, I found myself in the circular, hollow structure of the nozzle. I was too nervous and surprised at first, but after a moment of looking around admiringly, I spoke with the words: “I know the inferno fire that you are exhausting. Isn’t it beautiful? You are so powerful. You are the one that is powering this beauty in the sky.”

The nozzle was not happy to hear my words of flattery. “Hey little boy, you know something, but you don’t know everything. Yes, it is true that I am exhausting that violent river of gas. You are right that this stormy exhaust is in the heart of this beauty in the sky. But you have got to learn more. I am only a solid duct that is accelerating what comes into me. I have no power to compress that humongous amount of air into a volume as small as a bird’s nest. I am completely unable to heat up the air to inferno level. And, the beauty in the sky is not taken up there by me either.”

I was totally disappointed and frustrated by the nozzle. I had thought for an instant that it was my hero; but now, my dreams were destroyed. I felt all alone in a desert. The nozzle must have realized my situation, so it picked up again: “Come on. I am going to introduce you to the unseen heroes behind our mysterious beauty. I am going to show you the inside.”

I was truly perplexed. What else could be more mysterious than a speaking nozzle? The voice of the nozzle slowly diffused into the deep and dark hallway into the engine, and I followed it. Soon, I came by long towers that had a nicely curved shape. As soon as I stepped near them, the floor that the towers were built on started moving. In the midst of this earthquake and a blinding darkness, I could faintly see another row of towers that were stagnant. I threw myself towards them. As I was dealing with my horrified and troubled soul, I heard a thunderous voice that reverberated everywhere:

“How nice to see you here, Adam!” I was doubly shocked. Not only was this unseen thing talking to me, but it also knew my name. “Do you know me?” I replied. “How could I miss your glittering eyes fixed at us whenever we pass over you? I am the turbine, one of the unseen heroes. I am the one that powers the compressors that squeeze the air. I am the one that faces the hot air before it goes into the nozzle.”

Wow, this was the man; this was the legendary hero behind the beauty in the sky. I looked at its towers that displayed nobility and their curved surfaces that embodied beauty. As I was losing myself in admiration, I heard the voice again:

“These are the eyes that I have been seeing every time we passed over you. But I have to tell you something. What you are looking for is not me either, because I cannot create the hot air that energizes everything, including me. Despite the beauties and power embodied in me, I am not the essence that bears the real beauty you are looking for.”

What was that supposed to mean? First the nozzle, now the turbine; every time, I am being attracted, and then I am left alone with a sense of deception. Are these heroes making fun of my admiration of their beauty? If so, they don’t deserve my admiration anymore; if not, then why am I having this feeling of deception? Is it wrong to attribute hero status to something?

Lost in feelings and thoughts like these, I left the turbine, and proceeded further into the darkness. Not only didn’t I know where I was, but also I had no means to determine my whereabouts. In total silence and darkness, I sat at a place that felt like a smooth and large room. Suddenly, a wind started blowing with growing speed, and a constant noise occupied everywhere. I was alarmed and sought somewhere to cling to. With the help of lightning that seemed to come out of nowhere, I saw a cavity that looked safe. After a challenging crawl, I was there. Then, a second lightning came and everywhere burst into fires. As if winds from the hell were gushing out. My jaw dropped down, I stared at this miraculous display of fire.

“Welcome, finally you are here,” told a voice that was distinctly heard despite the violent storm. I felt like I am being driven through a scenario so that where ever I enter, I experience things that I was meant to. “Am I the hero of this scenario?”, I asked myself inside, and laughed at the idea. Upon seeing so many extraordinary things, my awe of the strange things was veiled with habituation. So, I couldn’t pay the respect that was due the voice I heard. Maybe because of this, I received a kick from behind, and I had to struggle against the winds of fire to get back to my seat where I was safe and comfortable.

“Hello, are you still there?” I asked. “Can you tell me where I am?” That distinct voice appeared again in my ears: “Indeed, I am here, but you weren’t!” I bowed my head with shame. Having hurt the only one that could help me in this situation was as foolish as it could be. “And I was with you all along from the start.” What was this? I didn’t know whether to feel ashamed because of my selfish and pragmatic sense of respect, or to burst into a thousand pieces for not having recognized the one who has been with me all along?

“This is as far as you can go in this story. You are in the place where the energy that empowers everything is revealed. It is the heart of the beauty that you have been admiring.” After a second of silence, “Did you find what you were looking for?” asked the voice. I had seen strange things, but none of them had satisfied my heart nor quenched my curiosity. A sad face was my response to the question, but I didn’t know if the voice could see my face. Apparently it did, so that it directed me to another place. “You see this violent fire going on, would you like to fly away with it?” Was this guy crazy? How in the world could I survive in fire? “Well then, there are two ways to get out of here. Either you go along the fire back to where you came from. Or, if you are not able to do so, you go forward.”

With that directive, I started crawling towards the front, into the strong wind. I came across a thing similar to the turbine, and then another hallway similar to the nozzle. At first I was puzzled, because I had seen the same things that I had seen on my way previously. Had I made a mistake and proceeded backwards? That mustn’t be the case, since I had moved away from the fire.

After this stupefying similarity, I was at the mouth of the cave where everything starts. I was able to see the wings too. But now, the aircraft was moving. All of the storm that was going on inside was for accelerating. The force of the acceleration was so strong that I slipped from where I was clinging, and found myself stuck at the beautiful front curve of the wing. Strange enough, the same voice welcomed me again: “Finally you are here.” I didn’t know whether to reply to it or to lose myself while watching the beauty of the aircraft as it soared into the air with an ever increasing speed. It definitely felt like the divers who hear that beautiful voice when they go deeper than they should. I could not resist melting my body in the excitement of the maneuvers. After a while, we were hundreds of meters above where we had started. Now, the aircraft was cruising, and despite the rareness of the experience, it felt like sitting in the living room. With the steadiness of my state, I found myself emerging from the depths of excitement.

“Have you found the beauty you are looking for?” asked the voice again, to which I said yes. “Where do you think that beauty is coming from? From the engines or from the wings?” That question was most unexpected. The engine itself was not able to fly, it was only able to create a strong push. The wings were only beautiful. They did not actively do anything. They only stood there in the wind, and then, lift was there. Without the air, the wings would not create anything. As for the air, we are completely sunken in it, let alone flying. “I don’t know where the beauty is coming from. There seems to be something missing in the ingredients that created the beauty of flight. None of the ingredients seems to originate it. It looks like you put the engine, the wings and the air in the pot, and suddenly something that you did not put comes into being.”

“But you did not realize this point until you made this journey, despite that you have been witnessing the same beauty all along. “

Why was that the case? Why did I have to make this incredible journey in order to become aware of this uncertainty in the source of beauty?

“When you are not actually in a journey like this, you take all the mysteries for granted, because you consider them natural, ordinary. But once you are in the journey, you realize something different that exists neither in you nor in the things you come across. It is as if somebody is tracking what is going on, and whenever the necessary ingredients are there, he secretly adds the missing spice into it at the right amount. And, then? Behold the beauty!”

Galib’s master work Hüsn ü Ask (“Beauty and Love”) is viewed as one of the most distinguished works of Turkish Literature. It is known for its perfect presentations of symbols and characters with which he tells the story of a dervish who strives to attain a state of perfection after passing difficult tests and obstacles.

Sheikh Galib, who was also known as Galib Dede, is considered to be the last of the great classical Ottoman poets. Born in Istanbul in 1757, when the Ottoman Empire was at its height, he is one of the most important figures in the Sufi tradition. His father was a government official with some connection to the Mevlevi Sufi order, the order of “whirling dervishes” founded by Rumi. He compiled his first divan (book of poetry) at twenty-four years of age, and at twenty-six he finished his master work Hüsn ü Ask (“Beauty and Love”) in less than six months. Hüsn ü Ask is a divan of his poetry and a poetic allegory which is seen as one of the best books of classical Ottoman poetry. Galib went to Rumi’s town of Konya to finish his period of seclusion (çile)¹ so that he would become a sheikh of the Mevlevi order, but he returned to Istanbul at his father’s insistence. Seclusion is an important stage in the Sufi path (tasawwuf), during which a dervish purifies his body from human desires and matures his soul spiritually. Galib completed his seclusion and spiritual education in the Galata house of the Mevlevis in Istanbul in three years, and became a Dede (Master) of the house. He was appointed as Sheikh of the Galata house of the Mevlevis during the time of Sultan Selim III and became a very close friend of the Sultan.

At first, Galib attempted to combine a government career with the interior life of a Sufi, but he eventually turned his focus wholeheartedly to the spiritual life. By this time, he was already famous for his poetry, which was admired even by Sultan Selim III, who was a patron of poets and the sultan at that time. Sheikh Galib deeply affected the sultan spiritually, trained many students and passed away at the age of forty-three in 1799. His tomb is in a place called Hamusan (“Place of silence”) in the Galata house of the Mevlevis in Istanbul.²

The spiritual adventure of a soul: Hüsn ü Ask

Classical Turkish poetry is full of images and symbols which scholars discuss in terms of their function in symbolic meaning, whereas they agree on their lexical meaning. The range of symbols, which are often repeated, has been widened and enriched for centuries. They enrich the content of the poetry by making the words denser and wider in terms of meaning, and they are also seen as an indicator of superiority, originality and privilege while evaluating the poets’ literary skills. The poet aims to say much in few words, a simple but powerful approach that makes the poetry mysterious and something in which readers find their own images and thoughts.³

Galib’s poetry was at a peak in terms of richness of imagination and this has made him a role model for many later poets who emulate his poetic style. His master work Hüsn ü Ask (“Beauty and Love”) is viewed as one of the most distinguished works of Turkish literature. It is known for its perfect presentations of symbols and characters with which he tells the story of a dervish who strives to attain a state of perfection after passing difficult tests and obstacles. Hüsn ü Ask is a quest by a man for his interior life. The man is searching for himself in this quest, and while reflecting his interior life, it also shows the soul of the man. Sheikh Galib says that he took the idea from Rumi’s Mesnevi, claiming that Mesnevi is something that belongs to all humanity, not just Rumi. Hüsn (Beauty) and Ask (Love), who are the main characters of the story, are two people born on the same day in a tribe in the desert. According to the story, Hüsn is very beautiful, she shines like the moon, and she represents all beauty. Ask is very brave, honest, and handsome, and he represents all the love and effort that is directed toward beauty. It is as if Hüsn and Ask are tailored for each other, but Ask has many tests and obstacles to pass in order to prove his capacity to deserve Hüsn.⁴

The obstacles and tests represent the suffering (çile) of the dervish, or our deeds in life that will lead us to the afterlife. Hüsn represents God, all that is most beautiful and most gracious and which represents all beauty in life and the hereafter. Ask stands for the man who desires beauty, who above all seeks it in his soul and in his consciousness. This is true because God created humans for Himself, so that humans always seek eternity and eternal love, whether knowingly or unknowingly. According to Sufism (tasawwuf), a person cannot be satisfied in his or her soul until he or she finds the reason behind his or her creation; thus people always seek this ultimate reason. The Qur’an also expresses this as

Be aware that it is in the remembrance of God, and whole-hearted devotion to God, that hearts find rest and contentment. (Rad 13:28)⁵

During the journey, Hüsn has to face many different tests and is required to pass all of them fully in the given time. Galib describes this: “It is not easy to get Hüsn, you have to pay a great deal. You have to find the required chemical first. This chemical is only found in the realm of the heart and, it is something that transforms anything into gold. You will find dragons with a thousand heads in this realm of the heart. If you pass the dragons, your way will lead you to the sea of fire. On the shore of the sea of fire, you will see a ship made of wax. You have to pass over the sea of fire with that ship made of wax. If you pass over the sea, a witch of many evils will be waiting for you on the other side. Your way will lead you to a desert in which lions, giants and many wild animals are waiting for you. Creatures that sound like thunderstorms will jump on you. There will always be fire in this desert. If you pass through the desert, you can arrive in the homeland of the heart. Find the chemical over there and come back by the same way. What you call life is too short, like the blink of an eye. If you want to get Hüsn, you have to be very quick.”⁶

The obstacles mostly represent the devil and the carnal self (nafs) that are the two main enemies of humans, according to the Islamic faith. If one fails one of the tests, one cannot reach or will be delayed in reaching Hüsn. Hüsn has a teacher named Gayret (Endeavor), and he will be with Hüsn during this adventure. Sheikh Galib says he came to the world to write Hüsn ü Ask and ends his story by giving some advice. Humans, he says, cannot reach anything beautiful without binding it with love and passion. Sometimes, you will face huge problems, and you will feel like you are walking in a desert of fire, and sometimes you will fall into wells of sorrow, but you will be rescued from these wells by grabbing the rope that represents the Qur’an and faith in God (Al Imran 3:103). We should always have endeavor and hope. We might have obstacles, traps and tests in front of us and sometimes we might fail. But we should never give up and we should continue our journey with passion and hope. The chemical that converts anything to gold is affection; once you find it you will see everything differently.

A life devoted to the faith

Since according to tasawwuf, true love is love for the sake of God, Who is the source of all beauty and to Whom is due all worship and love, Sheikh Galib’s works display rich examples and meanings that reflect his love of God. The phrases are usually not directed to the creator directly, but the true meaning is hidden in the symbols. For example, he writes,

Love is a lamp of God, I am its moth;
love is a shackle, my heart is its crazy captive.
…
The Beloved’s candle has such a wonderful light,
its light does not fit into the lamp glass of Heaven.

According to the poet, “having God’s everlasting pleasure for a person is an everlasting treasure that is more valuable than anything else.” It is this understanding which forms the basis for a dervish’s deeds, and it is what makes a dervish’s life understandable. The dervish only wants God’s pleasure and love, and he conducts himself in such a way as to earn it. It is not important for him to be rich, powerful, or handsome, or so on, because these are not the tools that take him to divine love.

Sheikh Galib’s poem in praise of the Prophet is accepted as one of the best ever written and shows his devotion and dedication to him. It was indeed a tradition for the poets of classical Ottoman literature to write poems called “naat” dedicated to the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him. In his poem, Galib begins by describing the Prophet’s features and by praising his personality, and at the end asks for his intercession for the afterlife.

O Master, you are the sultan of all prophets, king of all the honored.
O Master, you are the eternal cure for the desperate and helpless.
O Master, you are the most valuable person in the abode of God.
Master, you are the most praised and most beloved.
O Master , you are given as a mercy to us by God.⁷

In this noble eulogy of the Prophet, there are also some descriptions of the Prophet’s great friends, the places whose names the Prophet often mentioned and the Day of Judgment, on which everybody will seek help and mercy. The poet humbly asks for the Prophet’s help, not just for himself but everybody who has faith. This reflects the hope that as much as you remember, praise Prophet Muhammad and send greetings to him, the more likely he will pray for God’s mercy upon you on the Day of Judgment.

Conclusion

Tasawwuf and its effects constitute very important elements of Classical Ottoman Poetry. Drawing on the rich vocabulary and symbolism tasawwuf enables poets to convey a great many additional layers of meaning, as well as the visible lexical meanings in the lines they compose. Sheikh Galib claims that a human being is born with a given love that is from past eternity and that is divine love. Love is something that already exists in the soul and heart; it does not merely appear at a late phase. Therefore, love is not an ending but it is a beginning. Galib does not follow a path where the story goes from love of the human to divine love; in fact, he talks directly about divine love. If a person frees himself or herself from the shackles and chains of human love and finds divine love, he or she will be able to pass over the sea of fire in a ship made of wax, able to defeat giants, witches, demons and exceed all his or her limitations.

Ahmet D. Bahadir is a post-doctoral researcher with a special interest in Ottoman literature.

Notes

1. Denoting abandonment of all worldly pleasures and delights, çile is used to express an initiate’s spending at least forty days in strict austerity and self-discipline in the name of spiritual training. During this period initiates keep to the absolute bare minimum in meeting such bodily needs as eating, drinking, sleeping, and speaking, and spend most of their time in worshiping, mentioning God, thinking and self-supervision. They spend the period of çile either in a silent corner of a dervish lodge or in a quiet room in their homes.
2. Ayvazoglu, B., Kugunun Son Sarkisi, Kapi Press, Istanbul: 2006.
3. Capan, P., “On Seyh Galib’s Image of Fire,” University of Muðla, Faculty of Arts and Sciences, Department of Turkish Language and Literature, Muðla: 2005.
4. Holbrook, V. R., Beauty and Love (“Hüsn ü Ask”), Mla Texts and Translations, 2006.
5. Unal, Ali, The Qur’an: An Annotated Interpretation in Modern English, The Light, Inc, NJ: 2008, p. 505.
6. Holbrook, 2006.
7. Pala, I., Divan of Sheikh Galib, Kapi Press, Istanbul: 2005.