“It’s my fault, all my fault; I should’ve tried harder,” he said. A quintessential characteristic of his – always pinning the blame on no one other than himself.

They were closing us down; there was no more hope.

He had returned hopeful after the bidding: his paperwork had been in order, and he’d been at it for weeks, day and night. In fact, he hadn’t slept much since the great wave had hit them on the 16th of July. I recall seeing his worried sleepless face on the morning of the 17^th; he hadn’t slept a wink. He’d been up all night making “namaz” (prayers) for his country. He’d been confused by the events. The slowly emerging, dizzying “facts” confounded him.

The wave had been the talk of the staffroom in the days to follow. Some said that their country had just been making good progress and now everything, who knows maybe 10 or 15 years of building, had been lost, all in a single night. Teachers, first by the hundreds and then by the thousands, had been sacked, and their licenses revoked. I was shown a picture of a teacher with an angelic appearance who had been put to death because he had allegedly been involved in terrorism. The morale dropped with each passing day and the friendly smiles and warm greetings turned into frowns and drooping shoulders. I woke up each morning with a sense of angst and prayed for peace, justice, and truth to prevail in my colleagues’ country. The realization started setting in that they wouldn’t be able to return home that year. Their children would not be able to see their grandparents the next holiday. And with the school being shut down, they had no idea where to go. They told me that it’s become too dangerous to contact their families; people are being detained by the thousands. Some told me that their parents believed the news and not their own accounts of what had happened; a certain blindness had descended upon their countryfolk.

My colleagues are deeply patriotic. There were Turkish flags and laminated Turkish words labeling things and framed pictures of the Hagia Sophia and Istanbul on the walls of the school.

Talk about the failed coup eventually ceased in the staffroom and my colleagues refused to be dispirited further by it. Weeks went by and everyone kicked into survival mode. CV’s were being updated, job applications were being sent out in a frenzy, reference letters were being written, and my friends had nowhere to go. They were stranded or worse, they’d become alleged “terrorists.” My friends: terrorists? Ludicrous!

I’ve known them for over five years and the only allegation I could make against them is that they work too hard! Most work seven days a week. Our staffroom was open 24 hours and I’d often see them working in there as late as 11 at night. They had once compelled me to redo a video promo I’d made about the school just to insert a clip of the Prime Minister at the time, Erdoğan, and his wife who had attended a Turkish Olympiad (Türkçe Olimpiyatları) where Ghanaians had performed a traditional Turkish dance. Both Erdoğan and his wife were deeply touched. I’m not sure if I had gotten my facts straight… so he, Erdoğan, was blaming my colleagues of plotting against him? The reasoning behind this had confounded myself and my colleagues alike.

They’ve travelled land and sea to make other nations pro-Turkish and pro-Turkey. Never had I picked up on an ounce of resentment against Turkey from my devoted colleagues.

And when my colleague had exerted his final efforts and realized that the fight to keep the school open had been lost, he sighed and said: “It’s my fault, all my fault; I should’ve tried harder.” My heart broke upon hearing these words uttered by a man who teaches his students on weekends and until eleven o’clock at night to help prepare them for their exam the next day. My heart was shattered when I heard those words from the man who had learned to push on with his teaching responsibilities despite an onslaught of dengue fever, his shirt completely soaked and his eyes deeply sunken.  “You should rest Abi,” I said to him. “I will rest in the hereafter,” he stoically replied.

My heart was crushed when he still blamed himself when powers beyond his control had worked against him, the man who had once removed the tie from his neck and wrapped it up neatly and made it a gift to me following my comment about its beauty. How can my heart go on if the man – who took me to his unfurnished house, save for a mattress on the floor, to give me his own mattress when mine was infested with bed bugs – is labelled a “terrorist”? Tell me, how should I respond? What should I do to convince people that none of this is his fault, that he’s a man of peace, a teacher by trade and nothing more, that he’s nothing less than a saint? Tell me, what should I do?

You know education is always a hot topic. Everybody has a share and interest in education: Parents, educators, government officials, elected public representatives, nonprofit organizations, religious groups, and so on. Besides, there are many aspects of education, such as finance, law, administration, etc. However, do you also think that teachers have long been overlooked regarding their authority in their own classes? Haven’t they been overlooked regarding their professional development, even though they are the backbone of the education system and they need some assistance in their efforts more than ever? It is good if you also think like me. It is even better if you don’t. Thus, you can share your recommendations with me once you see this school where things are done differently than many other contemporary schools. These teachers at this school see themselves as a learning society. They criticized the status quo they were in some time ago, and renewed themselves collectively. I want you to see the product. Let’s start our journey, shall we?

Room 114

We enter through the big doors of the school. Physically, it is not the best school you would ever see, but it can definitely be said that vitality and cleanliness of the halls stand out. The atmosphere is very welcoming; something is different, but it is hard to tell what it is. I point to the very first door on the right hand side. With pride, I ask if you would like to see this classroom. The sound coming from room 114 is not different from the sound that bees make when they work. As we approach the door, I understand that this is Ms. Williams and her eighth-grade students studying math. She welcomes us and tells us, “please come on in; there are some empty chairs over there,” pointing to two empty chairs, and we make our way towards to the back of the class and have our seats. This is a math class, but I don’t see any numbers on the board or equations being discussed. Soon, we understand that they finished the chapter on expressing roots of cubic equations last week, and today they are discussing a person named Omar Khayyam (1044 – 1123 C.E.). Ms. Williams knew that Omar Khayyam was a philosopher, mathematician, astronomer, and poet. She had formed her students into four groups, and assigned each of his professions to a group, so that they could do some research and present their findings to the whole class. I understand what you mean from the way you look at me: you’re sure this is a math class? you seem to be saying. You’re right to ask. Don’t they need to finish a chapter and pass to the next one immediately, and stay focused on the possible topics that are asked at the end-of-year tests?

Let’s hold on to that question; we can ask this after the class is dismissed. The first three groups already talked about his contributions to philosophy, astronomy, and poetry. We feel very fortunate not to miss at least the last group, who talk about him as a mathematician. I can see brightness in students’ eyes, and their excitement to share everything they have learned with their classmates. The first student, Omar who coincidentally happens to share a name with Omar Khayyam, begins. Omar Khayyam was a scholar among many others of his time. He is best known today for his poetry, but his contribution to mathematics was great. He showed how to express roots of cubic equations by line segments obtained by intersecting conic sections… Another student, Margaret continues: his work on algebra was known throughout Europe in the Middle Ages, and he also contributed to calendar reform. The algebra (from Arabic al-jabr) of Khayyam is geometrical, solving linear and quadratic equations by methods appearing in Euclid’s Elements… April inserts that Khayyam also gave important results on ratios giving a new definition and extending Euclid’s work to include the multiplication of ratios.

They continue their discussion, asking how these scholars tried to seek knowledge and an answer to who they were; and the great contributions they made towards peace and understanding among people of different origins. However, I am currently very much impressed and I lose myself in the beauty of these students’ discussion that I have found myself holding my breath and forgot about your presence next to me. It was no different than waking up from a dream when the bell was ringing. Sure, I will introduce you to Ms. Williams. I understand that you want to learn more about the uncommon method she adopted for this class: Ms. Williams, do you have a minute, please?

Of course, she says: “I have some time. It’s break time now.” You ask her about the topic and the way she formed her teaching method: Why would you choose a person from old history to discuss? Why do you want your students to talk about poetry or astronomy or philosophy in a math class? Do you think they know enough math to solve the questions on the end-of-year test? Why did you choose a Muslim scholar? Is this an Islamic or a secular school? Would you… and you realize you have bombarded her with your questions. You halt and smile.

She smiles back and says: “Yes, this is a secular state school. We try to practice secularism in a true sense that we can talk about religion, and bring religious materials to school to study, but we never try to impose these ideas into our students’ minds. They actually study very different kinds of perspectives, and they enjoy it very much. We take each student as a whole. Since our topic was roots of cubic equations, and Omer Khayyam was the father of the idea, you happened to see this example.”

“But why would you touch on different areas of study in a math class?” You say without taking a second breath.

Ms. Williams smiles again. “This is very common in our school. I am sure Mr. Wraga next door will also get into some math in his literature class since he knows my course syllabus. We try to keep our teachings interdisciplinary as much as possible. I receive feedback that kids enjoy it greatly. I understand your concern about the tests. However, testing is the very last thing we think of. Most of our students do well at those tests anyway, and those who cannot do so well are seen to be still successful mostly as artists or musicians…”

There is a long pause and silence now, but hurricanes are happening in our minds. How is it possible? What kind of philosophy is this school following? Is it the principal who leads these teachers like a conductor leading an orchestra? As Ms. Williams answered our questions, more questions kept popping up in our minds. The bell rings again, and the break is over. We thank her for letting us sit in the class. We make our way back to the hall again, and I am already elated with the intelligence of these students. You look at my eyes without saying a word, and smile: Room 115?

Every human is precious with a special quality, and there are quite many of them at specialist schools. It is just a matter of being able to see that potential within every person, and be appreciative of

When I was requested to complete one of my practical teaching experiences at a specialist school,¹ I was worried. At the time, I was enrolled at a university to become a teacher, expecting to teach only at mainstream schools. The fear of unintentionally hurting the feelings of handicapped people in general was a big concern for me.

I prepared myself for the difficult task ahead. I was certain that this experience was going to be quite different to what I had previously encountered in regular schools, but what I experienced from the first day was beyond my imagination. I was surrounded with little children who could not see, hear, talk or walk. Normally, lunch time would mean kids running around and jumping with joy. It wasn’t like that here. Instead, there were a lot of students on wheelchairs, some walking slowly from one part of the room to another, some just sitting quietly, and some crawling on the floor. As I was watching them, I noticed a little boy approach. He crawled next to me and then patted the floor. I interpreted this as him asking me to sit next to him, so I kneeled down and said “Hello.” He reached over and gave the toy he was playing with to me and then crawled away slowly. For a brief moment I held the toy in my hands looking around confused. I did not know what to do.

Mike² was one of the four students in my class. He was visionally impaired. He could not walk either hence had to use a wheelchair. What was so lovely about Mike was his responsiveness; he would respond to everything, even to a question directed at someone else or to a conversation other people were having. Mike was one of the triplets; according to my mentor “he was the unlucky (!) one.”

Sam was another student also with limited vision. Some days he would surprise us by recognizing the person who walked in through the door; however, most of the time, he could not see objects that stood right in front of him, often tripping over them. Walking was also a difficult task for him; his teachers were teaching him how to use a cane. He was a popular boy at school. He would talk to everyone and most importantly, he would never forget them. His parents were considering enrolling him into a different specialist school due to his exceptional memory and fast learning skills.

Shane was the third student who could not speak. He was also using a wheelchair. Teachers were working vigorously to teach him how to use a machine that would assist him with his speech and also how to operate an automatic wheelchair.

Lana was the last student of the class who had difficulties with walking. In order to walk she needed support or had to use a walking stool. She displayed signs of timidity next to strangers, yet her friendliness towards the three boys in her class was remarkable. She would constantly talk to them and attempted to walk towards them. She was very responsive to some of our questions, but not to everything. If you insisted on a response, she would place her head on the table and start to ignore you.

Eating was an issue for both Sam and Shane; they had to be given some kind of a special formula instead of regular food. The formula was made up of a milky substance and it satisfied their hunger. It provided them with all the necessary minerals and vitamins that they could not receive from regular diet. Although teacher-aids would come at certain times to give the students food, it was not to satisfy their hunger; rather, it was to give them the opportunity to experience different tastes.

Everything in this school was new to me, so I was extremely cautious with everything I had to learn. Teachers and staff seemed to be very nice and talkative to the children. Initially I could hardly even talk to the students. If they had a question, I would reply with a smile. With each passing day, I grew confident. Before long, I was like their regular teachers who constantly talked and laughed with them. I began to assist my mentor by moving students around with wheelchairs.

The friendship and the relationship students had with one another were genuine, pure and innocent. They were just like other children; thinking about toys, playing games, and more importantly, cherished the love they received from family and friends. They had wants, needs, fears, likes and dislikes just like you and me. The importance of being able to “see the person, not the disability” meant a lot to me.

At this school each student had a machine called the “Big Mac.” The teacher (my mentor) would record information about students’ day at school and parents were also expected to record issues relevant to home. Every day, these Big Macs would travel to and from home with the children. The teacher and parents would listen to them. Shane had to use a more advanced machine called “FL4SH” to help him with his speech. He had to press a button with his head to indicate what he wanted to say. Every day Shane’s mother recorded news and jokes on this machine. During my entire time there, she recorded a message almost every day. My mentor would describe Shane’s mother as the best parent she had ever seen. It was at this school, I realized the sacrifices both parents were required to give and how much they should all be applauded for it.

Normally, it took students a long time to learn my name. I believe it is due to the difficulty of its pronunciation. However, at this school, the time it took for the students to learn my name was quite shorter than any other schools I went for placements. Mike was the first to pronounce my name… He would repeat my name so many times that it would be impossible for those nearby not to memorize it. I tried desperately to reply to all of his calls, but it was an impossible task.

Sam was a Sesame Street fan like any other child; his favorite toys were a vacuum and a car that had the pictures of Elmo and the Cookie Monster on them. He carried these toys wherever he went. He would hug, kiss and talk to them. One day, he began to say things like, “Rukiye the vacuum is sad” or “the car is crying!” I asked him, “Why Sam?” He replied, “Because, they can’t talk.” I smiled and suggested, “Why don’t you teach them how to talk, Sam?” I encouraged him to continue talking and to tell them “don’t be sad, don’t cry, be happy.” He never forgot this conversation. He began to repeat the words “don’t cry, be happy” to his toys, whenever he was next to me. I just loved the way he taught the vacuum how to talk. He would say “don’t cry vacuum, you can talk now” then he would press the “on”’ button, to which the vacuum would respond by saying words like “Hello.”

Sam’s birthday was another memory I would never forget. It was his ninth birthday. The following day, my mentor asked Sam to talk about his birthday to his classmates. He told everyone that he and his brother were sharing the same party due to having birthdates that were not too far apart. He continued talking about blowing candles and everyone clapping. He concluded by saying “Then I went into my room.” When my mentor asked follow-up questions like, “did you stay in your room after that?” and “didn’t you enjoy the party Sam?” rather than answering the question, Sam continued to describe the cake, candles and the singing of the “happy birthday” song. I was saddened by the story of Sam’s birthday party. I tried to contemplate how it must feel to not be allowed to attend your own birthday celebration. My mentor assumed that it was to prevent Sam from screaming loudly as he always did when he became over excited.

One day, I witnessed Sam’s unique emotional state with my own eyes. He was crying, constantly stomping from one place to another as he violently smashed and threw toys around. Even his favorite toys were amongst the victims. His sickness triggered this lovely boy to go through such a drastic emotional transformation.

On another occasion as we were waiting for the other students to arrive, Lana asked me to bring her a book. She imitated her teacher and pretended to read the book to Sam and me. She repeated the words “you can walk, he said; I can walk, she said” on every page. I wondered why she concentrated on these particular words. Was it because of the difficulty she experienced while walking? Perhaps, in her own way, she was expressing her desire to walk.

Observing these lovely children helped me realize how little we are thankful for what we have. We have so much, yet often we fail to display our gratitude. We often compare ourselves to those who are more fortunate, rather than thinking about those who have much less. If we are disappointed about not having the latest shoes, shouldn’t we remember Shane, Mike or Lana, who could not walk? If we complain about not having the best eye color, shouldn’t Sam or Mike be remembered, who could not see? If we cannot be bothered to talk with our family at dinner, shouldn’t we remember Shane? Because no matter how much he wanted to say a simple sentence like “I love you,” he was not able to.

It was my last day at this specialist school; a place I initially had doubts about attending. I bought each student a toy, and showed them how it lit up when shaken. That day, moments before I left the class, my four students chanted, “Rukiye…Rukiye… Rukiye!” They had made up a song with my name. As I pushed Mike’s wheelchair towards his bus, he was still shaking the toy madly as he shouted with joy, “Rukiye, Rukiye look, I’m lighting it, I’m lighting it!” I wondered if he really saw the lights. I was extremely sad to leave them, but I had completed the requirements of my placement. I can never forget these lovely students. Their smiling faces, especially Mike’s shy giggles and Lana’s loud laughter are still echoing in my ears.

About a month had passed when I went back to the school for a short visit. I was curious as to whether the students would still remember me. It was heart-breaking not seeing Lana and Shane there because they were away that day. Sam and Mike were having their snacks; the usual, cheese balls for Sam and sandwiches for Mike. Mike did not say my name which he repeated so many times before. Instead, he smiled and giggled as I spoke to him. This was enough to cheer me up; it seemed as though he recognized my voice. My mentor asked, “Sam who is this?” To which he responded “Rukiye” with a huge smile. I spoke with Sam for a while and then said a last “goodbye” to both, as their teacher-aid took them outside for recess. During our short conversation, Sam did not forget to update me on the mood of his car: “Rukiye, car is crying… don’t cry car, be happy!” Eventually, the students may forget me. But one thing is for certain, I will never forget them…

Notes

1. In the Australian school system, institutions that provide education to disabled students are known as “Specialist Schools.”
2. Names of students have deliberately been changed for privacy reasons.

There are lots of interesting examples of how plants communicate with insects. For instance, in self-defense against insects eating its leaves, a plant emits a volatile chemical that signals other insects, who are predators of those insects eating the plant. A byproduct of such insect communication may allow plants to signal danger to other extremely close, downwind plants. Professor of Entomology, Richard Karban and other researchers from the University of California showed that a cut sagebrush “told” nearby, downwind wild tobacco plants about its injury, and the tobacco plants apparently responded to protect themselves from damage. Over three seasons, researchers clipped leaves of sagebrush plants to mimic insects eating their leaves. The cut sagebrush released volatile chemicals (methyl jasmonate), which the wind carried to nearby downwind plants. The tobacco plants apparently sensed the chemicals-at least the tobacco plants increased production of a defensive agent-that caused their leaves to taste bad to insects. These downwind tobacco plants experienced less than half the leaf damage from grasshoppers and cutworms than control plants (Anon.). In one case study an acacia tree responded to browsing, or being beaten with a stick, by increasing the levels of tannin in its leaves within minutes. Amazingly, the tannin levels then rise in neighboring trees, and, due to its bitter taste, repel the browsers before they can do any further damage (Jacob 2001; Anon.).

What’s more is that plants can also talk to mammals. A study done by Professor Steven Johnson and his research team from the University of KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa, demonstrated how ground-dwelling mammal pollinators are attracted by a rare parasitic plant’s unique “perfume.” This specific floral aroma is comprised of over 30 compounds, especially ketones, fatty-acid derivatives, mono- and sesquiterpenoids. The three most abundant scent chemicals were 1-hexen-3-one, 3-hexanone, and ethyl butyrate. When the impact of these chemicals was tested on mice, it turned out that mice, like humans, find 3-hexanone to have a pleasant smell. The molecule is routinely used in artificial flavoring to produce a sweet fruity grape-like flavor. In addition, 3-hexanone has also been found in some bat-pollinated flowers, so it may be a general mammal attractant. Remarkably, scent cues are particularly important to plants pollinated by small ground-dwelling mammals because these animals are usually around at night when visual cues are less effective (Johnson et al. 2011; Anon.).

In addition to pests, plants have to deal with numerous microbial pathogens such as bacteria, fungi and oomycetes, and viruses in the natural environment. A proper response to pathogens can lead to resistance mechanisms that enable plants to survive. Plants can recognize potential pathogens by detecting pathogen-associated molecular patterns (PAMPs). This recognition activates a defense mechanism. A well-organized communication between the pathogen-invaded plant tissues and non-invaded ones is essential for the timely manifestation of defense mechanisms that limit the systemic spread of pathogens (Shah 2009). Salicylic acid, an important mobile signal, is transported from infected tissue to the rest of the plant body. It activates the systemic acquired resistance, which is a “whole-plant” resistance response that occurs following an earlier localized exposure to a pathogen. Plants not only communicate within themselves about a microbial invasion, they also talk to one another. For example, Tobacco plants warn each other against tobacco mosaic virus attack by releasing methyl salicylate, which is then converted to the protective salicylic acid in uninfected plants (Jacob 2001).

In contrast to harmful pathogenic interactions, there are also symbiotic, advantageous interactions between some microorganisms and plants. Establishment of such a beneficial symbiosis (which literally means “living together” in Greek) is complex. For successful infections, a molecular dialogue between partners is essential (Vadassery and Oelmüller 2009). Among these kinds of interactions, legume-Rhizobium symbiosis is of particular importance in agriculture, because by forming the symbiosis, atmospheric nitrogen can be used to sustain the growth of legume crops, such as soybean, pea, and bean, which occupy 12% to 15% of the land that can be used for growing crops throughout the world (Sugiyama, Shitan, and Yazaki 2007). Rhizobia are soil bacteria that fix nitrogen (diazotrophs) after becoming established inside root nodules of legumes such as alfalfa, clover, peas, beans, lentils, lupins, mesquite, carob, soy, and peanut.

Rhizobia require a plant host, since they cannot independently fix nitrogen (Anon.). Plant roots secrete signaling molecules (e.g. flavonoids) to attract Rhizobia. When Rhizobia sense these chemicals, they colonize around root tissues of the host legume plant. So, the rhizobial infection in legumes is an invasion by invitation (Murray 2011). The attached rhizobia secrete Nod factors, which are perceived by the plant. This initiates a series of events that leads to the formation of nodule, where Rhizobia fix nitrogen. Thus, Rhizobia make legume independent of soil nitrogen and the legume supplies nutrients to the bacteria. In addition, the legume plant supplies one critical component of nitrogenase, which is the key enzyme for fixing nitrogen. It all happens because the plant can talk to the bacteria.

The plant has many interests in being colonized by mycorrhizal fungi. Apart from providing nutrients such as phosphorus and nitrogen, the fungi protect plants from diseases, parasites, and other stresses. Plants even grow as much as 40% more when colonized. In laboratory experiments, carrots that were colonized grew 20 times more than the carrots that were not! In fact, they are such close “friends” that the fungus cannot live without a plant, and between 80-90% of all plants on earth are somehow associated with mycorrhizal fungi. The origin of this incredible friendship is communication (Montréal 2012).

As a result, plants can talk to microorganisms, pests, and mammals, but do they communicate with people? Are they intelligent creatures who can communicate with us? In 1848, Dr. Gustav Theodor Fechner, a German professor, suggested that plants are capable of emotions and that one could promote healthy growth with talk, attention, and affection. An Indian scientist, Sir Jagdish Chandra Bose, conducted experiments on plants in 1900. Bose found that plants grew more quickly amidst pleasant music and more slowly amidst loud noise or harsh sounds (Sir Patrick Geddes and Geddes 1920).

Moreover, according to Royal Horticultural Society, talking to plants helps them grow, especially if the one talking to the plant is a woman. Even though there are lots of divisive experiments done with plants to understand if they can talk to human beings, there is no serious finding about this subject yet. Even if, plant biologists do not currently know how to talk to plants, they strive to comprehend how plants communicate with other organisms in order to use this new and exciting language for improving the resistance of plants against pests or pathogens. Instead of using chemical pesticides, genetically engineered plant defense and communication pathways in crops are a preferred avenue.

Communication of plants with other organisms is such a complex problem. Plants can have a network with so many different creatures. They pass on information to each other or to other organisms that speak other languages. How did they obtain these amazing communication skills? Even the most advanced creatures, human beings, experience problems in communication, how can plants have robust communication systems in a heterogeneous environment?

The next time you hear a strange rustling among your garden plants, maintain distance. They might be having an argument. Plants also talk and they respond to attacks like we do. So, be careful and do not hurt plants as they might even curse or scream to you (Anon.).

Safiye Arslan is a research fellow in the area of molecular biology in Nevada.

References

• Adler, Frederick R. 2011. Plant signalling: the opportunities and dangers of chemical communication. Biology Letters. http://www.pubmedcentral.nih.gov/articlerender.fcgi?artid=3061173tool=pmcentrez&rendertype=abstract.
• Anon. Do plants talk? What are the chances it’s a boy? – USATODAY.com. http://www.usatoday.com/tech/columnist/aprilholladay/2006-07-24-plant-talk-baby-boys_x.htm.
• Anon. jacobson’s organ and the remarkable nature of smell. http://books.google.com/books/about/Jacobson_s_Organ_and_the_Remarkable_Natu.html?id=liKKQgAACAAJ.
• Anon. BBC – Earth News – “Perfumed” parasitic plant lures in pollinating mammals. http://news.bbc.co.uk/earth/hi/earth_news/newsid_9376000/9376474.stm.
• Anon. What is Rhizobia. http://www.bionewsonline.com/y/what_is_rhizobia.htm.
• Anon. Biotechnology: Plantlinguistic: – “Plants Communicate With Each Other.” http://bioinformations4all.blogspot.com/2009/08/plantlinguistic-plants-communicate-with.html.
• Jacob, Tim. 2001. “The science and myths of smell.” EMBO Reports 2 (10): 880. http://www.nature.com/embor/journal/v2/n10/full/embor301.html.
• Johnson, Steven D, Priscilla M Burgoyne, Lawrence D Harder, Stefan Dötterl, and Proc R Soc. 2011. “Mammal pollinators lured by the scent of a parasitic plant Subject collections Mammal pollinators lured by the scent of a parasitic plant.” Society 278 (January): 2303-10. doi:10.1098/rspb.2010.2175. http://www.pubmedcentral.nih.gov/articlerender.fcgi?artid=3119003&tool=pmcentrez&rendertype=abstract.
• Montréal, Jardin botanique de. 2012. “Chatting with a plant’s best friend – Science +” (June 3). http://www.aucoeurdelarbre.ca/en/thematics-texts/thematics-texts-details.php?id=8.
• Murray, Jeremy D. 2011. “Invasion by invitation: rhizobial infection in legumes.” Molecular plantmicrobe interactions MPMI 24 (6): 631-639. http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/21542766.
• Shah, Jyoti. 2009. “Plants under attack: systemic signals in defence.” Current Opinion in Plant Biology 12 (4): 459-464. http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/19608451.
• Sir Patrick Geddes, and Sir Patrick Geddes. 1920. The life and work of Sir Jagadis C. Bose. Longmans, Green. http://books.google.com/books?id=EPtCAAAAIAAJ&pg=PA97&q=”continuous”#v=twopage.
• Sugiyama, Akifumi, Nobukazu Shitan, and Kazufumi Yazaki. 2007. “Involvement of a soybean ATP-binding cassette-type transporter in the secretion of genistein, a signal flavonoid in legume-Rhizobium symbiosis.” Plant physiology 144 (4) (August): 2000-8. doi:10.1104/pp.107.096727. http://www.pubmedcentral.nih.gov/articlerender.fcgi?artid=1949875&tool=pmcentrez&rendertype=abstract.
• Vadassery, Jyothilakshmi, and Ralf Oelmüller. 2009. “Calcium signaling in pathogenic and beneficial plant microbe interactions: what can we learn from the interaction between Piriformospora indica and Arabidopsis thaliana.” Plant signaling & behavior 4 (11) (November): 1024-7. http://www.pubmedcentral.nih.gov/articlerender.fcgi?artid=2819509&tool=pmcentrez&rendertype=abstract.

She has conducted research on the psychology of meditation for over 25 years, including investigations on the effects of meditation on heart rate control, general well-being, spirituality, psoriasis and anxiety disorders. Her other (but related) line of research is investigating the role of spirituality in adjustment to serious medical illness. A recently published randomized intervention study documented benefits of a very brief physician-delivered spirituality intervention offered to cancer patients on quality of life, emotional well-being, and satisfaction with care. Current work is investigating how religious and spiritual resources, from the patient’s perspective, may help in adjusting to cancer. Matter&Beyond spoke with her on her research.

Matter&Beyond: Dr. Kristeller, you are doing research on the spirituality of cancer patients. You also developed an intervention technique called OASIS that could benefit the patients who are going through spiritual struggles. What was your starting point for this project?

The OASIS Project stands for Oncology Assisted Spirituality and Intervention Study. In this project, we were exploring how individuals draw on their spiritual and religious resources to deal with having a cancer diagnosis. The other question was how physicians perceived that aspect of their patients’ resources and whether they felt it was appropriate to bring it up in the medical environment. First we went out and actually asked physicians what they thought about the role of patients’ spirituality in dealing with cancer. We actually got back a very positive response. Substantial proportion of the physicians actually felt that it was helpful to their patients; it was something that was valuable to engage within the medical environment.

M&B: Were they able to address the spiritual dimensions of the patients?

What we found out was that they didn’t know how to do that. They were afraid if they brought it up, their patients might get upset with them and they’d be triggering off a reaction perhaps that would require so much time and effort on their part to explore with their patients that it just wasn’t practical. So when we found that out from the physicians we decided that we would systematically look at that from that patient’s side.

What we heard from patients was that they also wished to bring it up in the medical environment but they felt that the physicians wouldn’t want to and that they would bring it up if the physicians asked about it first, and the physicians were saying they’d talk about it if the patients brought it up first. So nobody was bringing it up.

So we moved this onto the next step. What if we taught the physicians a particular approach to bringing up this issue with their patients because we couldn’t sit down and teach the patients how to do it. We decided to take a risk and teach physicians how to bring this up to their patients in a very simple way. And we found a few very brave oncologists who were willing to work with us around this and we designed literally a 5-minute patient centered way of introducing this concept.

M&B: How did you design this approach and what were its characteristics?

In a way, we’re guided by previous research on how physicians can talk to their patients about difficult topics. This is actually research that I had done previously in relation to other difficult topics like smoking and alcohol use. And what we did in those cases was we taught the physician a very neutral, gentle supportive way to introduce those issues with their patients and then we took a look at how we could use that with introducing the questions about spiritual resources. So a physician may say something like “Many patients draw on their spiritual or religious resources to deal with something like finding out they have cancer. As your physician I would like to hear more about whether that is true for you, it may or may not be, how do you feel about that?” And that very gentle open way of introducing it feels very comfortable to the physicians and it feels very comfortable to patients. And what we find again is most of the patients respond very positively to that.

M&B: What if the answer is no and they are not interested in talking about spirituality?

We also taught physicians that if the response they get back from a patient is something like “oh no, I’m not religious or I don’t want to talk about that,” how they should respond to that. They should say something like “really what I’m concerned about is how you’re dealing with this and I’d like to hear more about that. Is that ok?” And that shifts it just a little bit. But for about 90% of the patients, they really open up and they are responsive and they start to talk about it and if they are a little hesitant we then teach the physicians how to draw them out a little bit more. Very simply saying, “Tell me more about that. I’d like to hear more about that. Are there any problems you’re having around that? Who else can you talk to about this?” It’s very important. So being encouraging and thanking them for having the courage to share their feelings with the physician. Asking them a little bit more about how they draw on a sense of inner meaning and peace, because we’ve identified that in research as one of the key elements for moving to a different level of coping with cancer.

To our surprise this actually worked very, very well. What we found was that patients have appreciated it. Over 50% of them actually told us after the fact that they had found that conversation helpful to them in dealing better. And about a month after this very brief exploration, they actually said that they were feeling less depressed and they were coping better in comparison to patients from the very same physicians who didn’t get this, who just go their usual appointment. So we’ve been continuing to work on this line of research to deepen it and to expand it at this point.

M&B: You also discuss that a small number of patients are coping in a negative way with spirituality. How does it happen?

Our research and research from some other groups, for example Harold Koenig’s work at Duke, is systematically coming up with a pattern that shows that individuals who feel angry at God, who feel that they’re being punished by having cancer are not doing very well.

Most people feel that at some point. But what I’m talking about is a sort of enduring ongoing struggle around this. And what we find is individuals who are really caught in that struggle in fact are doing very poorly. They are more depressed, and their relationships are not going as well. We don’t have any evidence at this point to show that it actually affects the course of their disease. That would be a challenging kind of study to take on and we haven’t been able to do that. But certainly it’s affecting their inner struggle and their inner well-being. What we encourage physicians to do if they realize that one of their patients is struggling at that level is to encourage the individual to find somebody else to talk to, maybe a Chaplain for example from the medical environment. We really encourage them to look to that and to try to provide those resources and not take that on themselves.

M&B: Maybe it is difficult to estimate how the constant spiritual struggles affect recovery time, but maybe it is easier to estimate how it affects the quality of life.

The individuals caught up in that struggle have a poorer quality of life in general and the research again is pretty consistent in that. And of course it would be naïve to say that you just turn that off. If somebody is struggling in these deep personal issues, they deserve to be recognized and I think we have to assist the individual to find some way to talk to people in their own personal circle of friends, family, religious community about how to deal with them.

M&B: Regarding spiritual intervention, what is the general opinion of the medical community? Is there a growing interest?

I think we are just shedding some light on this. Given how positively the patients respond to even just 5 minutes, I think that there is a growing awareness that there can be a role for this. Within the care of the whole patient, when you shift into the perspective that the spiritual and religious resources people bring to a medical crisis are actually tremendously valuable, and the more they can bring those to the crisis the better they’re going to be doing then. I feel that that defines within the medical environment in a different way.

One of the issues that often physicians would bring up with us is “I don’t know if I have the same beliefs as my patient does” and “if I don’t have the same beliefs maybe it’s not appropriate to bring this up.” And one of the things we do in our training is to work with them around that. Saying you know it isn’t about the beliefs that you have and whether they match your patients. It’s about listening to your patient; it’s about hearing the underlying feelings and meaning that the patient has.

M&B: In terms of spiritual response to cancer, do you see people going through a spiritual transformation?

Let me give you a little bit of frame on that. We’re funded on the Spiritual Transformation Project. When you think of spiritual transformation you’re actually thinking about a real shift in people’s beliefs and people’s sense of themselves as a religious or spiritual person, their relationship to God, or their sense of relationship to God. We’ve compared our data to data that’s been collected on AIDS patients in Miami. Something like half of the AIDS patients communicated that spiritual transformation happened to them. We had 2 out of 100 cancer patients relate that level of change occurred.

M&B: Fifty percent compared to two percent. That is a huge difference. What is your explanation for that?

A couple of reasons I think, one is that even though cancer is a very frightening disease, it’s nowhere near as frightening as AIDS. The prognosis is much better in truth. The other is that the AIDS patients were really people who were struggling with their lives in general. Most of our cancer patients have really quite well-functioning lives. They’re already members of religious community. They don’t need a transformation. They just need to deepen or engage that religious support more fully or the spiritual side of themselves. So, one of the issues is that transformation isn’t necessary, it isn’t needed for this. Engagement though is what we’re talking about.

M&B: What are the fundamental difficulties in doing research on spirituality?

One of the things that is so challenging about this area is trying to measure, trying to capture very elusive concepts and do it in a way where we can systematically identify them, where we can frankly put some numbers to them. So we can compare individuals, so we can look at the effect, for example, of a stressful life event on something like spirituality. So, one of the other lines of work we’ve been doing here is to develop the framework for measuring what we call religious and spiritual engagement, and it’s very challenging to do that. Within Psychology, there’s a long tradition of trying to capture these psychological processes, something like depression or fear. And we have lots of different measuring tools.

M&B: Is there a widely accepted measure of spirituality and religious participation among the healthcare and medical research community?

When we started working in this area, what we discovered were a couple of hundred different scales to measure what people called religious and spiritual involvement. But most of them had been developed in very small groups of individuals, they hadn’t been put into a larger theoretical model and we knew there were probably not hundreds of different dimensions but we didn’t know whether there were 2 or 4 or 5 or 10 and one of the projects we’ve done here is to identify using a group of these measures that seem to capture different aspects of spiritual and religious involvement like belief, compassion, like sense of growing within oneself. As in mystical experiences, we’ve had several of these projects where we’ve given this set of measures actually over almost a couple of thousand people at this point.

Another dimension is interestingly their willingness to tolerate questions about their beliefs and their spiritual well being. Tolerating those questions seems to be a separate and important element that is linked into doing better, to growing more. Mystical experience is a separate dimension so someone who has a mystical experience may or may not be strong in their belief system. Having that may shift that strength but it’s somewhat separate.

We focused on several dimensions. One of the 5 or 6 dimensions is what we call spiritual struggle and that is a separate dimension and again people might be high or low on their strength of their beliefs. If that dimension is strong or high, you do see a lot of distress not only in that part of the person’s life but often in other areas of their life.

M&B: People often think that hope, love, and compassion are the indicators of spirituality. But you are giving other dimensions as toleration to questions or having a mystical experience etc. Do you choose them because they are easier to analyze?

That’s a very good question. It’s very important to include as a part of someone’s total spiritual well being their ability to feel compassion towards others; their ability to feel hope. One of the challenges now in this area is to understand those dimensions in and of themselves and I see them more as overlapping with spirituality rather than defining it. And I say that partly because there are many people who feel that they are not religious or spiritual perhaps, but they certainly have the ability to feel hope and they have the ability to be compassionate toward other people in their lives. From the perspective of Psychology, we don’t have the answers to this yet but we’re applying tools out of Psychology that we’ve used in other areas of understanding human emotions, personality, and patterns to try to apply them within this arena of understanding something as complex as religion and spirituality.

M&B: You are using tools from both religion and psychology. Are psychologists generally interested in spiritual experiences?

Well. William James who is considered one of the founders of Contemporary Psychology in the 1800s wrote the Varieties of Religious Experience. And he wrote that from a very sophisticated perspective where he said we really do need to look at some of the universal aspects of religious or spiritual experience. At the time he didn’t really have the tools to do that but he introduced the discourse around the value of doing that, the value of understanding those very human experiences from a psychological perspective. And it began with a respect for those experiences rather than discounting them. And I think that that is a very important distinction.

In contrast, when some of the thinking that came out of the Psychoanalytic Schools and particularly Freudian theory tended to pathologize those experiences considering them as an anomaly or like a sickness. In fact one of the differences between Freudian thinking and Jungian thinking was the discounting of those experiences as regressive and pathological. It is an aspect of human experience that could tremendously contribute to the best in human nature. And if understood and cultivated in appropriate ways, this could tremendously increase people’s ability to engage with their fellow human beings to act ethically.

Autism is a childhood cognitive disorder impacting brain development. Both children and adults with autism typically show difficulties with verbal and non-verbal communication, social interactions, and leisure. Numerous physical symptoms and disorders are common as well, including impaired motor skills such as walking, repetitive behaviors, and chronic gastrointestinal problems. The causes of autism are not known, but increasing scientific evidence pinpoints the genes involved in brain development. Many genes affect information processing in the brain. More than one gene is usually involved in this disease, so autism is a spectrum disorder, and it affects each individual differently and at varying degrees. The incidence rate of autism is approximately 1 per 150 children, and it is scientifically not clear, but boys are four times more likely to be diagnosed with autism than girls [1, 2].

When we visited them, I realized that my friend’s son, who was 2.5 year old then, would not look at or talk to his parents or to us. Instead, he sat by himself in a far corner of the house and made bizarre vocalizations. He screamed when we tried to talk with him. Most of the time, he was sitting inches away from the TV screen when it was turned on and playing with the cable when it was off. He had low muscle tone and problems with fine motor skills, so he could not actively play like our son. Instead, he was repetitively flapping his hands or rocking his body. Sometimes he engaged in self-injurious actions like head-banging or hand pinching. His parents, especially his mother were depressed due to all his tantrums, crying, and behavioral problems.

Finding an appropriate setting for an autistic child can be difficult. His parents decided to send him to a day-care for half-days so that the mother could refresh her mind from all the problems, and the boy could learn to socialize and begin to talk. Just two days later, she called me, crying, and telling of his bad experience in the day-care. “The teacher couldn’t figure out what to do with our son, and she put him in a room by himself. I think he is frustrated; he is more aggressive now.” She blamed herself thinking she had not made a good decision, causing her son to suffer more. I realized that she needed psychological and spiritual support to overcome this difficult period. It was certainly difficult to have a child that did not socialize, communicate, or even look at you. But as a believer, how does faith inspire us in this situation? What counsel is given to all sufferers by the Holy Books?

The Qur’an says we are “tested” in this life with different levels of challenges, and only the rightly guided believers will deserve Paradise:

“We will certainly test you with something of fear and hunger, and loss of wealth and lives and fruits (earnings); but give glad tidings to the persevering and patient: Those who, when a disaster befalls them, say, ‘Surely we belong to God (as His creatures and servants) and surely to Him we are bound to return.” (And they act accordingly.) Such are those upon whom are blessings from their Lord and mercy; and they are the rightly guided ones” (1:155-157) [3].

According to Islam, children with mental illnesses are considered as pure and innocent as angels. Parents who take care of sick children with affection and mercy are promised heaven. The merits accruing from such illnesses wash away all sins of the parents, and particularly those of the compassionate mother [4]. Also, the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, encourages us to find treatments and cures for any disease. He declared:

“God did not send down an illness for which He did not send a cure.” [5]

The Bible many times describes children as a gift from God and reminds us that unhealthy children and adults are not sinners. Instead, God reveals His works on the human body with sickness and healing:

“Now as Jesus passed by, He saw a man who was blind from birth. And His disciples asked Him, saying, ‘Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?’ Jesus answered, ‘Neither this man nor his parents sinned, but that the works of God should be revealed in him.” (John 9:1-3)

After a long discussion of the above verses and others in Holy Scriptures, my friend and her husband refreshed their minds with positive thoughts and decided to search for a special autism center to lessen their son’s symptoms and to increase his functional independence. They found a center only ten miles away. The center practices “Applied Behavior Analysis” (ABA) for the treatment of cognitive disorders. In this program, correct behaviors are rewarded with positive reinforcement, such as a snack, riding a bike, or going outside, and negative behaviors are ignored. By rewarding the positive, students lessen their aggressive or self-injurious behaviors, begin to communicate with their parents, and develop an internal awareness. When they become confident in their communication skills, they can learn anything with an ABA program. Within six months, my friend noticed a change in her son’s behavior. “He, for the first time ever, looked at us and hugged us. My husband and I were both moved to tears,” she said.

She observes that her son, now six, swims and plays with other children. He sounds out some words and practices more appropriate behaviors that they never thought they’d see.

Children with autism can come out of their shells by early diagnosis and intervention. If parents accept their child’s behavioral problems and collaborate with professional centers at an early age, children can adapt themselves well to family and social life. With patience, family members and their autistic child can experience success. What is needed is a solid determination combined with true respect and compassion and a deep trust in the goodness and mercy of God.

Esen Bakhautdin is a Postdoctoral Fellow at Cell Biology, Lerner Research Institute, Cleveland Clinic.

References

1. National Autism Association: http://www.nationalautismassociation.org/index.php
2. Autism Society of America: http://www.autism-society.org/site/PageServer?pagename=homepage
3. Unal, Ali. 2007. The Qur’an with Annotated Interpretation in Modern English, NJ: Tughra Books.
4. Nursi, Bediuzzaman Said. 2010. 25 Remedies for the Sick, NJ: The Light, Inc.
5. Al-Bukhari (1980), Jami al Sahih.

A conversation I had with my mother last November still haunts my dreams. My mom had been sick for several weeks with an unbearable headache, double vision, and facial numbness. Unsure of what could cause such symptoms, I turned to the 24 hour a day, 7 day a week on-call electronic doctor, “google.com,” typed in as key words “headache double vision” and started scanning the search results. My heart grew heavy and my lips trembled as I stared into the computer screen.

“So, what does it say?” my mom asked, a bit worried. I was unsure of whether I should tell her the truth. I didn’t want to scare her, but then again my mom was one of those strong types who wouldn’t go to a doctor unless it was absolutely necessary-by necessary I mean life or death.

I decided to tell her. “Well, almost every website says brain tumor. You should go to a neurologist.” But my mom was still hesitant, reluctant about enduring extensive medical testing. I thought I’d use bluntness to jolt her into action and I said,

“Dude, you’ve got to go to the doctor. This could be life threatening. What are you going to do, just roll over and die?!”

My nonchalant nature was merely a thin veil covering the deep horror which overtook me. “Death” is not something we easily associate with a loved one as dear as our mother. I could hear a disapproving voice whisper inside me, “How dare you?” chastised my ghost. “You can’t think your mom might die!” I shuddered, shaking my head to make the disturbing thought go away.

My amnesia was only temporary.

My mom did go to a neurologist, but aside from some minor hormone imbalances, the doctor could find nothing significantly wrong in her brain. So, my mom decided to go back to her usual residence in California, home to some of the best medical research hospitals in the nation, for a second opinion.

I will never forget our parting in the Atlanta airport. She was clearly in pain, slowly limping, hunched forward, head tilted downwards, and breathing heavily as even walking took great effort. “There is physically no way I can stand waiting in this line,” she muttered, referring to the security check line. She asked one of the officials if they could take her up front since she was sick, but the man just shook his head and pointed to the end of the line at the far end of the corridor.

I guess there was nothing in the rule books that taught people about mercy, so my mom took matters into her own hands, and just cut to the front, passing the first official without presenting her boarding pass and ID. The official called after her, “Ma’am, ID please?” My mom presented the required documents and then scuttled towards the baggage control, again cutting towards the front. In just a few minutes she was out of sight.

I watched helplessly. It took so much concentration to just think about how to get through security that she not only failed to initially notice the ID checker, but even failed to hug me or even look back and wave good bye. In thirty years we had not once parted without a good embrace. As I saw her place her bags on the conveyor belt and walk through the metal detector, tears began to trickle down my cheeks, blossoming into a full-blown cry.

What if this was the last time I would ever see her?! What if I had just missed my last chance to hold her close, feel her warmth, and breathe in her sweet aroma?

Again, I tried to suppress the unbearable and could hear my ghost talking. “The doctor said the MRI was basically normal. It’s probably something minor, easily fixable. She’d go see a doctor in California, they’d prescribe her a few pills, and all would be well again. She’d come back to Atlanta, take her year-old grandson to the park and push him in the swings while he laughed with delight.” I smiled as I imagined my son pop a large grape into my mom’s mouth.

That evening, my mom called me to apologize for having forgotten to hug me before she left. Her loving voice wiped out any lingering doubts I might have had. “Yep,” I told myself, “Life will be great again.”

It wasn’t.

My mom and I were extremely close; we were soul mates. We’d talk on the phone with each other at least once a day-until that fateful day when she didn’t call or return my messages. I knew something was wrong. I called the police, and after several hours of fruitless searching, they finally decided to enter her home. They found her passed out on her bed, alive, but unable to talk. She was immediately taken to Stanford Hospital’s Emergency Room.

A doctor called with the bad news, “She’s had a brain seizure, her right side is paralyzed, and she can’t talk or follow commands. Do you authorize us to intervene to save her life if her condition changes?”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I couldn’t image my mom crippled or on death’s door. I couldn’t imagine a world without her. I begged the doctor to keep her alive until I could get there.

Over the next few days the doctors performed numerous tests before finally coming to a conclusive diagnosis that she had a rare type of cancerous brain tumor. With an operation and chemotherapy her life could be extended for up to a year. But even in the best case, she’d probably remain at least partially paralyzed, and unable to talk or comprehend language.

I knew then that my mom was going to die. This time there were no more ghosts trying to convince me otherwise. “How could I have missed the seriousness of her situation?” I asked myself, ashamed. “She even told to you over the phone, in her soft, feeble voice, ‘I am dying,’ yet you kept closing your eyes to all the signs!” went my mental chiding.

How many Signs in the heavens and the earth do they pass by? Yet they turn (their faces) away from them!

My mother lay silent as the ventilator continued to periodically beep in harmony with each steady, rhythmic breath. She had been taken off all drugs for two days now, but still had not woken up. Many of the nurses thought it unlikely at this point that she’d ever open her eyes again.

Meanwhile, the doctors needed a decision. “It’s up to you, you know her better than anyone. Would she have wanted the operation?” asked the head of the intensive care unit. “She can’t speak for herself, so you must speak on her behalf,” he prodded.

I knew what my mom wanted. She had already told me in answer to my question, “What will you do, just roll over and die?”

“Yes,” she had said. “Death is not a bad thing; it’s nothing to be feared. Everyone dies some day. Death means finally being in peace, free from the evil of this world. If I had my choice I’d pass away in my sleep. And I wouldn’t want to live as a vegetable, either. That would be torture. I wouldn’t want to be a burden to myself or my family.”

Still, I desperately wanted her to wake up just one last time. I had to make sure she knew I was there by her side, that she wasn’t alone. I tried everything in my power to wake her up, including singing her favorite songs-something I’d never done before.

It was of no use. Finally, we decided to tell the doctors to move her into comfort care the next morning since we’d decided against an operation. That evening during dinner, however, my husband was suddenly overcome with this inexplicable “feeling” that we should wait one more day. It didn’t make sense, but maybe its providence, I thought. So we waited one more day.

The next morning, I was shocked to walk into her room to find her eyes open and her left hand grabbing at her blanket. Her eyes followed me as I rushed towards her bedside, kissing her hand with joy. “She woke up! She woke up! Can I bring my son in to see her? I want to make sure she sees her grandson one last time,” I asked the nurse.

When my husband and son arrived about twenty minutes later we held him up so that my mom could see him. Just then, my mom began to cough loudly, gasping, and squishing her face together as though in pain. The ventilator began to beep in response to the quick breaths.

“Look, it’s like she’s crying,” said my husband.

“Oh no,” smiled the nurse. “This is normal, sometimes the discomfort of the tube in the mouth can cause some coughing. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that things were happening for a reason. I had often chalked up happy occurrences to good fortune, never once questioning whether it was truly accidental. But this string of missed opportunities and unexplainable feelings surely couldn’t be pure happenstance. Events were unfolding in such a way as to ease the pain of my mom’s passing. I began to wonder if anything in life was coincidental.

On the earth there are signs for those whose faith is sure; and in your own souls too. Will you not then see?

No, the coughing could mean only one thing; my mom had recognized her grandson!

The next day, she was moved into comfort care so that we could be with her all the time. Slowly, she began to show signs that the end was near. First, her right eye stopped responding, next her oxygen levels dropped, later her right cheek became hot and red. I got this feeling that she might not make it through the night, so we left our son with some family friends and spent the night in the hospital. Despite our best efforts to stay awake, eventually both of us succumbed to sleep.

Interestingly, towards the morning, my husband saw a dream in which someone was about to die, causing him to suddenly awaken. The room was quiet; my mom’s snoring had ceased. Afraid that she may have passed already, he rushed to her, relieved that she was still breathing lightly. He then ran to get me and a nurse.

I watched her chest softly rise and fall. My husband began praying, while I held her hand, not knowing what else to do, nor when that fateful instant would come. I was in shock that my mother was dying right in front of me. But, I knew I had to let go.

The gaps between each breath grew longer and longer, until finally her chest fell and rose no more. I glanced at the clock on the wall, 4:55 am. She passed away just five minutes after I came by her side. If it weren’t for my husband’s dream, we would have missed her.

I am thankful that I was there at her side in her last moments with us. Not everyone is blessed with the ability to be there right until the last moment. My mom had been with me every step of the way, since the very first breath I took; and I was there with her until the very last of hers.

Still, her passing turned my whole world topsy turvy. I felt like a stranger lost in a foreign land with no way of getting back home. The irreversibility of it all really hit me during the burial. At the end, we all end up under a pile of dirt, shrouded in five feet of white cloth. As the grave digger shoveled dirt over her body, my teeth began to clatter uncontrollably, and I shivered as though I’d been locked in a meat freezer. My husband held me tight, trying to stop my shaking. But it was of no avail; I was inconsolable.

Just then I saw the cemetery staff plant three rose bushes on top of the freshly closed grave. My aunt pointed to the bushes, “Years ago we had planted a rose bush on the grave. As they dug it up, however, it split into three roses!” Three roses for the three women buried below: my grandmother, my eldest aunt, and my mother.

I stopped trembling and smiled through my tears. I think I’m getting better at reading the signs now.

Sevgi Zubeyde Gurbuz completed her PhD in Electrical Engineering from the Georgia Institute of Technology in December 2009 and currently works and resides in Ankara, Turkey.

Notes

1. Quran 15:75

2. Quran 12:105 3. Quran 51:20-21 

“You know, I wasn’t always like this,” began the butterfly. “I used to creep on the ground instead of flying in the air. I used to have gloomy colors and obnoxiously long hair instead of these lovely colors and elegant wings.”

It was really hard for me to believe that the butterfly had ever been in the situation she was describing. I am sure the other fellows in our group were also surprised to hear this, but none of us wanted to interrupt the flow of her beautiful words.

“My situation back then troubled me, indeed. Why was I doomed to get smashed under the feet of others? Why was beauty innate to other creatures while ugliness was my fate? Dissatisfied with my situation, I wanted to change, dreamed to wake up into a new day, desired to breathe a fresh life. My creeping ugly body did not match my spirit within.”

At this point, I couldn’t hold my breath anymore, and asked: “So, what did you do about it? Was it then that you turned into this beautiful state?” The butterfly reacted most unexpectedly to my question. She neither smiled nor gave a humble answer. Without even changing the expression on her face, as if she hadn’t heard me, she continued: “I couldn’t do anything about it.” Then she stopped. You know how long intermissions like this can feel. After a few seconds the butterfly took the word again seriously, as if she had a duty to tell her story, rather than an urge to praise herself.

“In that desperation, I decided to bring all this to an end. I slowly climbed a high tree. From that height, the scene looked very different. I was able to observe things just like the birds. I had found a security that I could never find on the ground. A perfect day to initiate my change. If I wanted to be revived anew, I needed to die first.”

We weren’t expecting to hear such sentences from this unique guest in our forest. Why was she telling us all this anyway? We were all young trees looking forward to our bright futures. The gloom in her words veiled her beauty, and eclipsed our interest in listening to her. But observing the change in our facial expressions, the butterfly continued:

“And slowly, I started tying the rope that I carefully made myself, and rendered myself to the hands of the wind. And just like I had predicted, things started changing very quickly as I descended towards the ground. I realized something that I had never thought before: I belonged to someone who did not want me to perish like this. It was as if time suddenly stopped, and I had a chance to communicate with my Owner. I was ashamed of what I had done, and asked for a second chance, which was given to me. Then I came to find myself hanging from the tree.”

I was thinking that the butterfly was going to conclude with “hanging from the tree in this vibrant beauty.” Astonishingly, there was more to the story of how she gained this beauty. My interest started to build up again, and I observed the same curiosity on my friends’ faces.

“In my anguish and shame, I started covering my body. I wove a small tent around myself. As such, I was alone in my darkness, away from the insults, from the harassments, and from myself. During my retreat, I tried to re-evaluate things and thought about positive ways to change. After a while, I decided to rid myself of my cocoon and do something. But there was one hurdle: I was hanging down in the middle of the air, covered with a genuinely woven house. I had to undo the excellent job I had done, but it wasn’t easy to tear my silken prison apart.

“As small pieces of the house were torn and as I was able to glimpse the daylight, I tried even harder to free myself. When the hole I made was large enough, I squeezed myself through. It was then that I saw my new self, reflected in the puddle below me and gave the most heartfelt praise to my Owner.”

Thus concluded the butterfly’s story of change. She even gave us admonitions about positive ways of making changes in our lives and in ourselves. She also talked about how potent our bodies are in facilitating the process of change.

All this was wholeheartedly embraced in our forest by the young trees, including me at the time. Why? Because we were in the same place where we were born; so we wanted to do something about it. We were all inspired by the butterfly’s story and decided to mobilize ourselves. Even the peaceful nights that used to be filled with the rhythmic voices of crickets were now filled with the whispers of our discussions on how to enact this fundamental change.

No wonder the old trees found this activity among the young outrageous and inappropriate. They thought that we were trying to achieve something against our nature. The time spent on these efforts was regarded as a waste. The old trees first tried to warn us against our “hallucinations,” but it turned out to be a fruitless effort. Then the old trees threatened to block our sunlight by covering us from above. This, too, became a wasted effort when the old trees realized they were engaging in sanctions that would kill their young ones instead of changing their minds. In the mean time, our ideas caught the attention of the newer generations. Upon hearing the whole story regarding the butterfly and our efforts to change, they too joined us in that desire to mobilize. So eventually the old trees decided to wait and see what would happen. After all, we were simply trying to imitate the butterfly.

Ever since that spring when the butterfly shared her story, we all covered ourselves with as many leaves as possible, similar to the cocoon of the butterfly. We were hoping that when the winter winds blew those leaves away, our mobilized selves would come out, just like the flight of the butterfly. We persistently covered ourselves this way year after year, but neither our roots became feet, nor did our branches transform to wings. Eventually, we realized that we were only getting older and that we were wasting our time. No one was out there anymore to advise us, either, because the butterfly had died that same spring, and the older trees shunned us because of our stubborn foolishness.

Once young trees, now experienced and mature, we decided to talk about the failed plan that was supposed to lead us to change. This time, instead of reciting the misleading story of the butterfly, we were going to talk about why this had happened to us and how we should advise our young. We started by analyzing the cautions of the old trees. Although we were not fully able to understand the wisdom behind the words of the elders, we could feel that they carried some implicit good in them.

As our voices undulated in the air, one of the migrating birds heard this talk and made a swift landing near our place of discussion. She quickly started to talk: “You know, we also had a problem among our young, but it was in the opposite direction. They wanted to quit traveling and stay in one place. We even lost some of them last winter when they decided not to migrate.” The unexpected interruption by the bird evoked other questions in our branchy minds. Why was this problem always occurring with the young? And why did they fancy a nature opposite to their own?

We couldn’t come to a conclusion. But one day, a short time after the discussion with the bird, we witnessed a mobile tree and a stationary bird. The tree was being carried behind a huge animal that was making a horrible, obnoxious noise. This was an animal we had never seen. To our surprise, the two Men who were riding the animal had captured a bird and somehow made her into a stationary bird that could constantly stand on the walls surrounding their home. Neither the mobile tree nor the stationary bird induced joy in the forest.

The mobilization of the trees and the stationing of the birds continued until one day when there were hardly any trees and birds left. Something was terribly wrong because none of this brought any good to our forest. The few remaining trees wanted to stay where they were born, and the few remaining birds wanted to fly.

On a once breezy and warm, but now unusually hot spring day, a butterfly appeared in the place where our forest used to be. She carried a poetry book she had composed. As the butterfly voiced her yearning for the glorious trees in the land and the soaring birds in the skies, tears of regret filled our eyes. And her verses of nostalgia ended with a prayer:

Oh the Unchanging One despite the transients,
Oh the Eternal One in the face of all mortals,
Oh the Creator of all animals that are now only in the tales,
Resurrect nature, we implore with our silence.

Seth Mette has a PhD in Aerospace Engineering and is currently working as a postdoctoral fellow at West Virginia University. He has a special interest in psychological fiction.

Reductionist, their next-door neighbor, was editor-in-chief of a highly recognized magazine. He was kind of older, and so had rather a fatherly attitude toward them. Not surprisingly, each of the three writers had one thing in mind-to catch the attention of their next-door neighbor, which was a really tough job. Having seen thousands of different articles in his life, and still editing several of them every day, Reductionist had become very good at categorizing ideas and pieces of writing. So, it was really difficult, if not impossible, to come up with something that he would call original. This state of Reductionist caused competition, and sometimes jealous actions, among the three writers.

Reductionist used to invite his neighbors to accompany him whenever he was invited to a program related to writing. Rational especially liked them because he learned new things from different people. Romantic loved staying alone, but doing this in different settings opened ways for new inspiration. Regular, on the other hand, was not very thrilled at the idea of traveling because it disturbed his daily schedule. But he thought it was OK being with friends as part of a bigger schedule that spans a larger time.

At the end of one of those trips, they were traveling back home on a dark and rainy night. As they covered each mile of the road, they talked about various topics. After some random ones, they started talking about a topic that really interested all of them: writing. They discussed different issues surrounding the main idea of writing, such as how to start writing, how to write well, how to make your words carry meanings that would satisfy the mind and the heart, and so on. When it came to the issue of inspiration and new ideas, Romantic told a short story:

“A farmer had two fields. He started cultivating both. After the first season, he saw that one of the lands was yielding produce but the other one didn’t. Several consecutive trials only confirmed the quality of the fertile one. The more trials the farmer made, the faster he received the produce and the more he reaped. Then the farmer decided not to use the barren field anymore.

“The inspirations are gifts from God. He plants seeds in our hearts in that way. People who value and pay due respect to inspiration are like the fertile field in the story. The farmer enjoys the produce and uses that field more. People who ignore inspiration or postpone dealing with it are the barren land. They don’t foster the seed, and the farmer ceases using them.”

After the apt parable, everybody was submerged in silent thought for a while. Then Romantic suggested, “Why don’t we pull over and talk about this all together with peace of mind? I’m really enjoying this.” But Rational did not share her perspective: “You know, I really would love to, but we have a long way to go. It is not wise to stop and forget about our trip. What are you going to do when we are all sleepy and not able to continue on the way? And what is wrong with talking while traveling, anyway?”

At the words of Rational, Romantic started crying: “You never listen to me; you always want me to forget my heart. I feel like I am among friends who are like dead statues.” Irritated by the words of Romantic, Regular took a turn, but talked in a way so as to manage the feelings of everybody: “Hey, umm… I think focusing on the discussion is a good idea, but it is not what we usually do. We are not near a lake or on top of a hill. It is neither sunset nor nighttime in a café. So, it may be better to wait until tomorrow.” Although these words were as neutral as they could be, Romantic still felt neglected: “I don’t think you are going to give yourselves to the matter if we keep going and talking at the same time. Instead, you are going to exploit and consume this lovely talk as a means to keep awake. This is a clear betrayal; it is hypocrisy toward your heart.”

“Wait a minute. I don’t think being wise is the same thing as hypocrisy. Do you have a really good reason to forget about everything else for the sake of this topic? I mean, what makes this topic so important that you want us all to sacrifice everything for it?” rebutted Rational.

Romantic could not answer this question, and turned her face outward into the darkness veiling the fresh green of the trees. She thought, “I am just like those trees and flowers that suffer from not being able to display their beauty because of the darkness.”

Reductionist, who was driving while listening to all the talk, said, “What is it that you are aiming to get from this talk, whether we do it now or later? I don’t want to be discouraging here, but isn’t this another hay-fire that is going to give a burst of heat and light, but will prove ordinary and transient in the end? This is just another emotion-provoking breeze about inspiration. I have experienced several of those, and yet here comes another. What difference is this going to make when we already have thousands of them out there? What is the point in discovering America over and over?”

Hearing all these arguments, Romantic, Rational and Regular all shut their mouths. Although the three roommates wanted to talk about the new perspective that Romantic had presented, their dispute about how to do it had weakened them in the face of Reductionist’s arguments. Nobody could say a word after Reductionist had spoken, and silence covered the quartet like the night.

Although she had been upset by the rest of the group, Romantic was still awake and happy in her mind. She decided to daydream about previous inspirations she had received. That way, she lived again the exhilaration and joy that came along with them. Triggered by that energy, Romantic gave a giggle that disrupted the increasing weight of the dark and silence. Rational, who was sorry to have upset Romantic, used this as an opportunity: “I have an idea. By going slower, we can sincerely concentrate on each other and on Romantic’s inspirations. That way, we can convert our trip into a journey toward the making of an article.” This suggestion triggered Regular to say: “Yeah, depressed nights, too, are part of our custom for in-depth talks.” Now everybody was waiting for Reductionist to approve the idea. Reductionist first slowed down. The reduction of the noise from the engine strengthened the silence. In the tense atmosphere, Reductionist laughed like a thunderclap, and said, “I am going to tell you guys a little story. A writer had three pens. He picked the first one and wrote an article with it. After finishing it, the pen said, ‘I wrote this article for you. Do you like it?’ The writer smiled back and said, ‘Yes, thank you.’ Then the writer put that pen in his office so that it could do things for him. Another day, the writer used the second pen to write a piece. After he finished it, the pen turned to him and said, ‘I wrote what you told me. Do you like it?’ The writer smiled back and said, ‘Yes, thank you.’ Then the writer put that pen in his bag so that it would write things as he wanted. And finally the writer used his third pen to write another article. After finishing it, the pen turned to him with a smile and said, ‘Thank you for using me.’ The writer smiled back at the third pen and put it in his pocket right next to his heart. He carried it everywhere he went, and whenever he had an original idea, he welcomed it with the help of his third pen.”

By that time, the rain outside had turned into a rain of smiles inside the car. Motivated by the unexpected story Reductionist had told, everybody engaged in an effort to welcome the inspiration that came through the one next to the heart. Romantic was not late taking her turn: “You know, for everything there is a season. You have to sow your seeds in the fall and wait until summer to reap. If you sow any time else, you not only waste your time but also lose your seeds. So, I guess the best time to work on an idea is when it first descends from the heavens to your heart.”

Both Regular and Rational looked at Romantic with wide open eyes. Regular said, “You have an important point there.”

“That is absolutely right,” concluded Rational.

Seth Mette has a PhD in Aerospace Engineering and is currently working as a postdoctoral fellow at West Virginia University. He has a special interest in psychological fiction.

The most precious of values inherited from our ancestors, speech does not consist only of clarity of meaning, the sound of words, or the expression of certain intentions. It also gives voice to our thoughts, expresses the music of our feelings, the excitement of our hearts; it is the translator of an addressee to God and it is the golden winged turtledove released by our hopes to the future.

The Divine Knowledge has designed the scheme of existence, whereas His Speech has drawn its architecture. After emerging as twins in the most intimate sanctuary of the unchanging essence (ayan al-thabitah), creation and Speech have taken on physical forms and come into existence. In creating mankind, the Most Merciful gave us the ability to speak of the human essence, our inner profundities, the entire cosmos, and the truth beyond material existence before sending us to the dimension of external existence. In this respect, one can argue that “speech” was the first drop of ink that flowed from the Divine Power’s pen to give life to nonexistence. The speech revealed and displayed the mysterious relation between the Creator and the created.

Mankind is nothing more than a mixture of dust, mud, and water of this earth; however, thanks to the repository of knowledge and the ability of speech, they have been elevated to the rank of vicegerent on the same earth. In a sense, mankind is in a position to speak not only on his behalf but for the jinn as well. Human beings have become the addressee of God through speech and it is thanks to speech that they can address Him. As humans started to talk, things that seem silent and reticent have also begun to talk, and all beings and events, which are lines and paragraphs coming from the highest rank (mala al-ala) have become the talking tongue, wisdom-laden speech and the eloquent language of the truth that is behind the scenes of everything, like potent orators. During times when, in our belief, speech did not exist, all beings were silent, all events were muted, and everything was stagnant. How does each being talk? How do they express themselves? These issues are not easy to understand. What is known in this respect is that with the capability of speech that has been endowed on human essence, humans have been created with an ability to express and interpret all things and act as they wish. Indeed, speech is our life in this world of relativity. Each of us is a language in its own way, and the raison d’étre of these languages is speech or expression. Speech acknowledges truth as the highest reality and speaks for all beings like a symphony, thereby removing the cloak of objects, enabling them to express themselves. Speech is the key that opens the locks on the doors of the treasury of thought. Speech is the key by which a wide-ranging central move stimulates the periphery. Speech is the throne of humankind that has been elevated to the position of ruling on the earth and improving it as a vicegerent. Speech is the pen and sword of humanity. Speech is the basis of the kingdom of humanity. Wherever the flag of speech waves, the most powerful armies will be defeated and scattered. In the arenas in which speech shouts out, the sounds of cannon balls will become like the buzzing of bees. Behind the battlements on which the banner of speech has been raised, the sound of its drums will be heard. In the precincts where its march reverberates, the kings shake in their boots. Many insurmountable walls, in the face of which Alexander the Great, Napoleon, or many other men were desperate or had to retreat, were smashed to pieces by the words wielded by the Master of Speech, and the pen of Speech which provides training in submission and docility was saluted.

The Qur’an

The Holy Qur’an is a sample of Speech; it is such that it brings down the walls and echoes in even the most obstinate and bigoted of hearts. There is such a dazzling magic in the presentation of its themes that it is impossible not to be impressed upon hearing it.

The expressive style of the Qur’an is like no divine or worldly expression. The Qur’an has such an irresistible power penetrating the hearts that even those who do not speak in its language (i.e., Arabic) will be fascinated by the melody of its words.

While providing various solutions to various problems, the Qur’an presents them in such a manner that everybody, except those who are prejudiced against it, will be fascinated or at least influenced by it, and led into profound meditation, eventually the Qur’an will conquer their hearts.

The sentences, paragraphs and full-stops of this monument of Speech have a vast depth of meaning, an exquisite style, and a lively music and rhythm that penetrates the soul. With their musical grace, with words chosen to appeal to all the senses, the concepts and themes will take whoever listens to them to their magical horizon, surprising them at every turn.

If you attempt to replace the materials the Qur’an uses to discuss a subject, the attempt will be futile, the speech will be obscured, and the vivid style will lose its spirit.

The Qur’an has such a lofty power of speech that it exhibits different events like living images along with their time periods and backgrounds, and all this causes amazement, admiration, and excitement in the audience. By doing this, it makes no concessions; nothing is detracted from its ravishing beauty, its heart-penetrating profundity, or its phrasal harmony. Rather, it presents everything with clarity, leaving no room for obscurity.

The Qur’an does not address solely the minds, hearts, or souls. It treats human beings in the totality of their emotions, be they physical or spiritual. Its message is brief and concise, but addresses both the inner world and the outer world of the human at the same time. The Qur’an generates a unity of feelings, thoughts, and intelligence related to the entire universe, to all things and to all of humanity.

The Qur’an is more influential than the most magical of speeches, more exquisite than the most delicate of styles, and more elevated than the most exceptional of expressions. Up until now, neither those who opposed it with the desire to surpass it nor those kings of utterance who undertook the task with the enthusiasm of imitation have managed to produce anything that is equal to the Qur’an in speech.

Notable Arab poets, for example Farid al-Din Attar, about whom Shams al-Tabrizi said, “I might write poems that are sweeter than candy, but I can only ever be his pupil in terms of producing choice words,” or Rumi, who said, “I am a bonded servant of the Qur’an,” or Jami, whom Said Nursi described as “intoxicated by the cup of love” and their outstanding works, which still strike us as novel today despite many centuries, have never come close to the Qur’an as the Master of Speech.

We will deal with this issue in detail in future; but for now we will content ourselves with small hints at the narrative style of the Qur’an, and turn back to the reflections which have fallen on our limited comprehension of speech inspired from the Qur’an and the verse and prose that develop in the shade of the Qur’an:

We have all had our eyes opened to this world with speech, and have grown up on the lullabies of speech, and we have headed toward where we are with the magic of speech. Henceforth, we will breathe and live again with speech if we are to live, and we will die with a lack of speech and knowledge if we are to die. Speech is the resuscitating breath for living corpses and the water of life for those who want to live forever. Those who are capable of playing it like a flutemaster in the realm of the spiritually dead will promise successive resurrections to those who are living devoid of spirituality for thousands of years, and they will have the effect of Sur1 on those graves that have been inflicted with God’s wrath.

If there is a most beautiful thing which manages to keep its freshness and colors at all times in this guest house of day-dreams, which withers and grows obsolete in all aspects, a place where those that have arrived eventually leave and those who have settled down ultimately migrate, and “whose property, estates, and pleasures are transient,” it is speech. On the slopes on which speech echoes, thousands of doves delve in contemplation, living in the day-dreams of new rose gardens. As the plectrum of speech plucks at the strings of knowledge, objects start to whirl, and events moan with the whirling of a divine dance. Not one, but thousands of Majnuns wander in the deserts filled with echoes of speech. Nightingales fall quiet and retire to their nests in streams where the melody of speech is heard. In the wild forests where the cries of speech can be heard, the foxes take their leave of deception, and lions are terrified, seeking shelter in their dens.

Speech is the spirit, content, color, and pattern of the Book of the Universe and the Laws of Nature; it is the seal, sword, and pen of the truth of Islam as the divine path. In the same way that only goldsmiths can appreciate the true value of gold and only jewelers can appreciate the genuine value of jewels, only wordsmiths can know the actual value of speech. Gold objects or pearls are given relative values by the people of this world, and the relative values they have start and end in this world. On the other hand, speech is a king who issues coins at the different strata of the earth and heavens; he is a commander giving orders and a hero of legends. Up until today, nobody has managed to access the dizzying summits that speech has reached, and no combatant has possessed a weapon mightier than speech. Every prophet is a sultan of words, and every person of letters is a shadow of those sultans that falls on our heads. The former are the original models and the latter are their followers; the former are architects while the latter are laborers. All of them have acted in cooperation and are unified in developing prosperous cities from speech, weaving laces from the silk threads of words, and making exquisite necklaces from the jewels of words.

When the inspiration of those who wield speech is aroused, it pours into hearts and turns them into golden pastures which swell and become effervescent with the falling rains, while arid deserts become meadows with the gentle summer rain. And when speech matures and becomes a river, a waterfall, or an ocean which flows in waves, stretching out to the coasts, it attains such an irresistible power that all unseemly voices will cease in the face of its spiritual melody, and all nonsense that pretends to be real words will fall silent, and all talk without content will seek solitude. A person who is fortunate enough to attain their nourishment from such speech will listen to it; their ego will melt in complete submission to the extent that they open their heart to it, with the intention to intensify it, as if to allow their soul to fall down the waterfall of music.

Good speech influences almost everybody to the extent of their capability and potential. Sometimes, faced with a strong breeze of speech, people find themselves in the atmosphere where kites wander, taken up by balloons, and they will enjoy freedom and the ease of the bird taking wing toward the atmosphere. They will be captivated by the allurement of this attraction and start to revolve continuously around that “centripetal” force. If it were possible for them to turn back and listen to their soul, they would observe what stupendous romantic considerations they have been encased with and what alternative revelations of pleasure they enjoy; they would probably be enraptured. These fortunate people are revived each time they drink from the profuse rivers of such sounds and words, discovering themselves anew. As phrases and sentences echo in their ears and pour down upon their soul, they feel that they are evolving into a separate distinction and perceive the transcendence of the colors of life in the dimensions of speech, and are repeatedly startled.

And speech, inspired by the divine, emitting forth with such feelings and thoughts, captivates the audience with its charm, wafting its impact towards their souls and pouring its mark on their hearts. They find themselves in the warm bosom of speech, completely surrendering to it. Then, in this comforting atmosphere they can perceive the delicacies of their own world and lose themselves in the stunning beauty of their own achievement.

In the gentle murmurs of speech, people sometimes hear the melodies of belief and faith, like the rivers of Paradise, and the melodies of permanence and transience; with full comprehension that all things come from and ultimately return to eternity, they watch with pleasure the ever-changing colors of the horizon of hope and faith.

And sometimes we pass through certain exits and set sail to our past, trying to be aware of it in all its magnificence; and sometimes we listen to it, as if it were music, and then dance to it and take wing to it. Acquiring a state that is beyond time emotionally and spiritually, we find ourselves sitting at the convergence point of past realities and future day-dreams and observing three dimensions of time all at once. In this vision, the entire past, which has grown into a dream destroyed, acquires once again all of its previous magnificence through a magical restoration; the future we feel in our beliefs and hopes comes running to us like a joyful child entering our hearts to remember the good days and become ours once again. Thus, with these inner feelings, we release ourselves to the stream of diverse associations. Inside this waterfall, to which we have given an infinite power and a transcendent flow in our dreams, we pass from one state to another, from one thought to another, and just as in our dreams, we give shape to everything that is based on our intentions and our heart, casting them into whatever molds we wish and manipulating them as we desire; we can move as we want, taking wing, and landing on the ground to walk when we wish; we can watch the sunrise in the evening or the sunset in the morning; we can increase in number, taking a particle and making it everything.

Speech is based on the fundamentals of meaning, it nourishes our day-dreams, sings lullabies to them, takes them to the heavens, and even shows them the doors that open on the infinite, taking us to the upper reaches of the sky, causing our feelings to ascend and preparing thrones in the supraspatial realms. Responding to our desire for eternity, speech will enrich our feelings in an indescribable manner and give our souls a profundity that cannot be encased with dimensions of corporeality and it will open our ears to melodies from musical compositions that have no lyrics.

When refined speech with lofty ideals that comprise all of these goals erupts in its own accent, when it is profound like the skies, vivid like the earth, as smooth as silk, and as cozy as a mother’s embrace, the speech will have a magical impact that depicts the awakening of logic, the rampaging of spirits, the charm of words, and the history of talking that stretches to before time. Thus, speech tells us the beauty of our faith and values.

A good speech that originates directly from and voices what is in our hearts will always remind us of the breath of the spirit, the beating of the heart, and the color and manner of the ability to speak. To the extent of the sacredness of its color, wealth and goals, speech will echo in our hearts like celestial voices, providing us with specimens of its origin.

Notes

1. The Trumpet which the Archangel Israfil will blow to start the Apocalypse.