One of the groups of people that suffer heavily from trauma are immigrants. In this issue, Dr. Tekin starts his article on trauma with the example of a couple from Iraq, tortured and abused by terrorists who killed their kids. Now, safe and away from the dangers of their home country, the couple cannot overcome their fears and pains, despite now living under a roof and having plentiful food and work. “Mass Trauma, PTSD, and Treatment Options” raises awareness of this epidemic, which is lived at both personal and public levels. Its effects will not only shape our populations, but will also leave indelible marks in our souls. 

Can one way of dealing with trauma and disasters be relevant to “the way we view the world and our place in relation to it”? Robert Howe suggests it is. “Fundamentally, the problem of environmental decline is a malady of tension – between the self, society, and nature,” writes Howe, for whom “the environment’s decline is a sign that modernity is suffering from a crisis of spirituality.” In his “Regenerating Life with Soulcentric Education”, Howe pinpoints the problem as education systems which value academic intelligences because they serve the economic values the system upholds. For him, the contemporary education is “the story of separation” in which humans are divorced from nature and the world by “othering” and “commodifying” them. One solution, for Howe, could be “regenerative education,” which educates healthy, soul-centered adults who understand why they are on Earth, why they were born, and who live with a sense of belonging to the natural and human communities. It is certainly an interesting piece to read and offers a renewed perspective on our lives.

“Turning the Unknown and the Different into the Familiar and the Friendly” by Ellen Michelson offers a second way of dealing with the troubles plaguing our world: interfaith dialogue. Ellen is the editor of The Menorah newsletter of the Congregation B’nai Israel, in New Jersey. She has been an active member of the interfaith community, and, together with the other members of her congregation, she reaches out to other faith groups to promote dialogue and understanding. Her piece offers a humble reading of what can be done today to overcome prejudice and to build a society that respects differences.

“I am a lowly creature” you say O man Only if you knew…” M. Akif

The human is unique. We are self-conscious and can exercise self-control. Ironically, too many neglect this unique ability.

How many individuals can we count who develop a habit of frequent self-criticism? How many do we know who examine themselves yet again each and every day: weaknesses and strengths, internal chasms and power centers, losses and gains? How many do we know who take the time to reflect on the state of their soul in a down-to-earth manner? The unique capacity of humanity is this self-examination, which is akin to the way a conscientious, qualified, and sensible physician would treat a patient. How many do we know who engage regularly in this self-examination, not because of a temporary admiration or idle curiosity, and not in the sense of degrading oneself by poking into one’s vices, but for the sake of exploring one’s self and increasing discernment?

“Know thyself.” This lofty saying of Socrates is well-known at centers of learning throughout the world, including many Sufi schools where it was reinterpreted with a mystical dimension: the one who has perceived the secrets of his or her own self has also known God. How many can we count who appreciatively interpreted and lived up to this saying? I do not think we can count many. Yet those who are insufficiently self-aware or who have narrow horizons also cannot know about other people or things, perhaps with the exception of some surface and inconsistent knowledge. Covering the entire earth from one end to the other with an eye of reflection-the awesome rise of the mountains, rivers cascading for infinity, lights and depths of the sky more magical than the most enchanting harmony that offer a new parade every night, eternal colors glittering from behind all these lace curtains-these can find their true meanings and values only if they can be processed through the prism of the knowledge of the divine inherently found in the human. Otherwise, all existence, each component of which is a combination of materialized speech and meaningful words interwoven in the Hidden Tablet, would not only become meaningless, but turn into chaos.

Since the first day humans appeared on earth, we have studied ourselves: sometimes superficially and at other times profoundly, sometimes crudely and at other times subtly, sometimes from a bird’s eye view and at other times microscopically. The human is incomparable: material and soulful, physical and spiritual, emotional and rational. Yet what a bundle of contradictory and often opposing attributes! as sweet as honey, yet disgusting as slime; vast and open to eternity, yet constrained and narrowed with stupidity; welcoming with humility, yet rejecting with pride and arrogance; transparent and secure, yet mischievous and treacherous; altruistic, selfless, and supportive, yet selfish and ego-centered; peaceful, fair, and merciful, yet wild, aggressive, and cruel; sincere, direct, and speaking from the heart, yet fake, hypocritical, and flattering; prudent, ingenious, and with a solid perspective, yet short-sighted, foolish, and clownish. Whatever attributes we may feature, they are all human! These differences and contrarieties do not reflect our true essence, nor do they relate to so-called inner instincts, instinctual protection, or some natural inclination to reproduction-as some used to suppose. It also is by no means right to relate these to the existentialist approach of being whatever one wants to be, as if humanity were infinitely malleable.

No. It is true that the human is specially created to become almost anything across a wide-ranging spectrum. Human nature changes from darkness to light, with infinite colors in between; it is a unique potential of humanity to rise infinitely to the highest of all and to fall to the horrendous lowest of the low. The uniqueness of humanity is that we are implanted with seeds of spirituality and carnality. How we express ourselves-what color we reflect-depends on whether we are directed to an eternal prophetic goal, or not; whether we mine and appreciate the human ore in our soul, or not; whether we claim our potential power, or not; whether we dive deeply into the heart to disclose its spiritual depths, or not; whether we decide correctly when to exercise our human willpower, or not; whether we discern the secrets behind the conscious, or not; whether we turn our emotions to the beyond, or not; and whether we become aware of how the mechanism of conscience operates, or not.

Seekers of a life in the vast ocean of their souls and in the depths of their hearts, who always remain centered on their conscience, will rise to a level “higher than angels.” Of course they may stumble at times. Of course they can be hampered by the thorns found in one corner of their nature. Conversely, captives who live in the shackles of their body, corporeality, and social conventions are submerged deeper as if in a whirlpool and dragged down to a level “lower than a beast.” For them, the human is a “thinking animal” which is a victim of this life that is programmed according to a digestion-circulation-excretion system. Humanity is in this view no different than a reservoir of libido that is never satisfied and yet grows sickened in its own excess.

Of course, the body, corporeality, and society do have significant roles to play in our lives, but humanity also is equipped with a potential much superior to any of these. Indeed, that potential has the capacity to overcome anything in this world. Humans possess an inner dynamism to overcome both themselves and all the worlds. If we can turn our inherent powers and possibilities to the true source of all powers and possibilities, then we can surpass transient qualities; we can enrich all the decaying and crumbling pieces of existence with priceless meaning and nature, and make them qualified for eternity.

Today we can harness thunderbolts and put them in humanity’s service. We can observe the minutest particles in the atomic world and the planets millions of years away. We can cover unfathomable distances with our feelings, thoughts, imagination, discoveries, and inventions. Nevertheless, we fail to realize our true uniqueness when we fall into savagery, selfishness, lawlessness, ambition, indifference, self-indulgence, and lethargy. Despite our transcendent capacity, we are facing this curse because of a false interpretation of ourselves.

In this issue the article on “The Adaptation in the Senses” points to the fact that the human body is blessed with an ability to adapt to the surrounding conditions by way of which our senses get used to changing climate, light, and even pain. This feature of our body is a mercy, considering that if we could not adapt to circumstances, life would be torture. Could this be the reason bombings and civilian sufferings in Iraq do not irritate me-because I have been watching or reading about it for more than five years now and my senses are adapted to being exposed to the same play on the Iraqi stage?

While voicing a strong longing for the lofty and colorful life of centuries ago, the lead article is a consolation for the victims of all times as it reminds the reader of how joyous enthusiasm was once achieved: “We believed as long as we could employ our willpower up to its potential all problems could be overcome as a result of divine help. We always managed to discover contentment in our soul and proceeded on our course.” In such a state of psychology no misfortune can shake any individual or community.

In this issue you will meet Ottoman Women: Myth and Reality, a book which won the Benjamin Franklin best book in history award in May 2008. Its description of the legal rights and social status of Muslim women in the nineteenth century will shatter life-long prejudices about harem life. Another writer, Dr Salik, takes us on a space journey to discover planets orbiting other stars where scientists hope to test theories developed on planet creation. Thomas C. Smedley offers an interesting pattern of engaging with foreign cultures as a result of his personal experiences with the Turkish community in the USA. Smedley says that by practicing role reversal, a person of good will can overcome the barriers of language, religion, and nationality.

Ramadan mubarak! We wish this holy month of Islam may be a means of peace and joy for all peoples of the world.

Mothers are beings that are oriented on the Hereafter in this world. The reward they obtain through their role and employment in creation, the imbalance between the pains and trouble they go through, and how they are responded to in return make up the clearest evidence of this fact. There is no need for complicated research to comprehend this; a casual glance at what they sow and what they harvest through-out their entire lifetime, what they go through, and what they find in return suffices.

Their faces are as otherworldly as the houris in Paradise, their looks are as profound as those of the angels, and their feelings are as pure as that of any spiritual being. Like the roses of a blessed land whose water, soil, and air have been brought from realms beyond this one, they are so enviable, so lovely, and so fascinating that, if you look carefully, you will conclude that there is a magic within them that surpasses their material being, the world, and what it contains, that even surpasses the mothers themselves.

By probing souls which are sensitive and thoughtful, one is able to find reflections of the sweetest dreams fed by heavenly thoughts within the world of the mother, a world which is always sensitive, caring, and overflowing with affection, and thus reach a melody of pleasure that transcends human imagination. In their atmosphere we are able to be almost constantly aware of breezes that waft tranquility; this is different at night and different yet again in the day. We can feel the mercy, affection, and poetry of the heavens pour into our hearts . . . and in this way, we feel as if our horizons have been completely encompassed by angels and spiritual beings. Who knows how many times we can see in the heart of the night a spirit and meaning that comprises the essence of creation reflected in their radiant, charming faces; it descends to the world, transcends all times and locations, and we are able to sense an immense mercy that is rooted in infinity; this gleams out at us through their smiles and their sorrows. We long to jump into their arms; there is some obscure, vague, yet appealing, motivation to do this. Who knows how many times we have been heartbroken and disappointed, feeling sad and lonely, and then we are able to allow ourselves to rest on their almost magical bosom, which inspires in us hope and a feeling of security. This is a place that is warmer, livelier, and cozier than a nest that has taken wing from a state of rapture to another; we stretch ourselves, made warm by their mysterious whispers.

Each time they press us to their bosoms they become a hero of faith that does not expect anything in return; they fall into an almost magical state. Then we are able to straighten up, looking around us in security and confidence, feeling that we can overcome anything. We even feel as if we are able to challenge everybody when we hold them tight.

A mother is as profound as the skies, and she is a mysterious world of emotions where thoughts and feelings number as many as the stars in the sky, boiling and overflowing like rivers of lava or underground springs flowing every which way. She conforms to her fate-be it bitter or sweet-at peace with both joys and sorrow, without any expectations in return, and she feels no resentment toward her baby. She is such a paragon of affection and faith, someone whose nature has been crystallized by divine morals, that neither the troubles that she experiences, which rise up in her throat like the flood of sweat on Judgment Day, nor the faithlessness of her children, which covers her soul like the north wind blowing, giving her the bitterest pain of separation, can make her submit, or make her give up.

There is the story of a mother: “her blood-thirsty son stabs her with several piercing blows and when the knife lightly cuts his own finger he unintentionally shouts out ‘Mother!’ and she holds on to his arm in return, screaming ‘My baby!’” Ever since my childhood, whenever I remember this story, I cannot help but shiver and I try to feel the immensity of a mother’s affection through this small drop. Those mothers who believe in eternity and the afterlife possess a spiritual and otherworldly aspect, in addition to their physical and material aspects. Within the established world of material and spiritual realms, in the world of the body and soul, their hearts have such an incomprehensibly strong bond with their children that even relationships that are considered to be very strong and fundamental by worldly people amount to nothing more than a pale shadow in comparison. However, it would not be that easy to explain this to those who have felt neither any faith nor the delight of eternity within faith.

Yes, it would be very difficult indeed to relate how their sincerity remains so deep, how their devotion continues without pause, how their hearts are enthusiastic with love, how their looks pour into us, promising care and trust, and how they overflow with such eternal and otherworldly feelings, even though they grow up in a land of mortality and transience.

Think about it, what a long process of preparation they undergo for us, what insurmountable hardships they have come up against and what things they overcome. What challenges they struggle with, and what dreams and weariness they live with. What reveries and dreams their hearts are filled with, and emptied of, what hopelessness and disappointment they suffer. What hardships and burdens they stand firm against and how many ordeals they undergo. What pains they suffer and how they moan. How many times they cry, screaming out and how many times they console our crying. How many times they overflow with compassion and how many times they are in need of compassion. In short, what valuable things they spend for us and what efforts they make, expecting nothing in return.

If there is someone who hugs, cuddles, kisses, and caresses us, who relieves our feelings of sadness and dejection, who shares our worries, who prefers us to eat in her place, us to be dressed well instead of her, who feels her hunger or fullness when we are hungry or full, who bears unimaginable hardships with a superhuman effort for the sake of our happiness and joy, who shows us the way for our body to develop, our will to strengthen, for our intelligence to become sharp and perspicacious, for our horizons to be oriented on the Hereafter, a person who does all these with-out expecting-openly or secretly-anything in return, that person is none other than our mother.

We spend a significant part of our lives in their embrace and in their atmosphere, a place more beautiful than the feathers of peacocks, more charming than the magical world of flowers, warmer and livelier than beehives, more protective and secure than the best of nests. True, we see, recognize, and learn the joy and excitement of being protected and cared for; we learn its practice and responsibility, its system and method. And whenever our needs and weak-nesses overcome us, along with our feebleness, our shortcomings, and the other things that go wrong in life, we always take refuge in our mother, and try to overcome all the obstacles we have come across with their help. When we take refuge in them, they press us to their bosoms with all the warmth of their hearts, always breathing security and confidence into our hearts at times of distress. In such cases, I think that almost all of us have felt as if we were listening to a silent poem, a flood of emotions, a breeze of affection coming from their eyes, their smile, and their gestures.

In those emotional, dreamy nights and days that we spend with them we are almost continually in a dream of bliss. In the bright daytime, we hear the sweetest melodies of life from their bosoms, like a nightingale’s song, and say “this must be real happiness,” at least to the extent of our comprehension.

The mother is the most important element of the event of Creation, the most fertile pillar of the world of humanity, and she is the light of our eye. All of us are bent over double before her, feeling an unbearable sense of debt and the heaviest of responsibilities. We bend over double and we are immensely proud of our hunched back.

The fountains of Heaven, where angels flit like white doves, provide the water that forges the glowing steel of the mother. If this were not true, could the light of her soul ever dazzle our eyes like that? Not only her light, even her shadow burns the moths it attracts-in my own world, I still have not been able to recover from the shock of the deep emotions inspired by that sublime quality-and her light-now that I sense it better than ever-is a mysterious source of light, enlightening our hearts in the darkness.

A mother is a hero of love who keeps the delicacy and valor in her soul abreast when she is considered in terms of her affection, benignity, and grace; she is soft like a feather, fine and smooth as silk, yet at the same time she is tough and fierce as a lioness when it comes to protecting and caring for her children.

Whatever lies under the firmaments above us, her hand is above all these, and the way to Paradise runs under her feet. God has granted such a sublimity and royalty to her that earthly kingdoms are nothing more than mere crowns without status in comparison. Moreover, crowns that rest on heads which have never found a place beneath their mothers’ feet cannot be said to have any lasting value.

O sublime and precious being, who is as fine as the spirits, as innocent as the angels, and as profound as the skies; the realm beyond gives you a value above values, and sympathizes with your shyness. The melody of your fame is heard where angels abide, the song of your life rings out at the skirts of the heavens. You have always lived with the blade of emotions impaled through your heart, wearing the jewel of religion as a necklace. All of us are your slaves, and you are an uncrowned sultana who captures us with her net of affection, faith, and sincerity. If everything has a peculiar spirit, an essence of life in this world of existence, then you must be our essence of life.

May God enlighten you with His light on the morning of the resurrection! May your future be joyful like the (holy) Fridays of Paradise, and may your reunion be blessed!