Tuesday, April 21, 2015
A Spiritual Oasis
A Spiritual Oasis
It happened today. I was given a recommendation for a small deli and cafe nearby. My friend and I went to try it out––the moment we walked in, we encountered indescribably beautiful odors (usually, I smell very little, but these were special). On the wall, someone had written a poem by Rumi. Books by Rumi and other mystics were on the table next to us for patrons to read.
The owner came over and introduced himself. Soon he was reciting Rumi in Farsi (Rumi's own language). He had a beautiful voice, and I felt as though we were listening to Rumi himself.
Soon he gave us some Persian tea. I seemed to fall into trance state, as if I had had a bit too much wine. I understood why Sufi poetry loves to employ the metaphor of wine and drunkenness to express what happens with divine poetry. I had drunk holy nectar, and it was working real magic on me.
This, I thought, must be like the early tea houses on the old Silk Road. These were way stations on the path, places where travelers might relax and enjoy some poetry and music along the way.
I have never encountered such a transcendent atmosphere in a commercial establishment. I felt as though I had tasted a bit of paradise.
How the world needs this to refresh our souls, I thought.
The food (soup and sandwich) were delicious, by the way. Indeed, I'll be back for sure.
We left and re-entered the familiar world. Soon the sweet state of consciousness left. We had traveled to another world, a different era, where events conspired to carry us into a different world. For a moment, we had tasted true beauty.
It happened today. I was given a recommendation for a small deli and cafe nearby. My friend and I went to try it out––the moment we walked in, we encountered indescribably beautiful odors (usually, I smell very little, but these were special). On the wall, someone had written a poem by Rumi. Books by Rumi and other mystics were on the table next to us for patrons to read.
The owner came over and introduced himself. Soon he was reciting Rumi in Farsi (Rumi's own language). He had a beautiful voice, and I felt as though we were listening to Rumi himself.
Soon he gave us some Persian tea. I seemed to fall into trance state, as if I had had a bit too much wine. I understood why Sufi poetry loves to employ the metaphor of wine and drunkenness to express what happens with divine poetry. I had drunk holy nectar, and it was working real magic on me.
This, I thought, must be like the early tea houses on the old Silk Road. These were way stations on the path, places where travelers might relax and enjoy some poetry and music along the way.
I have never encountered such a transcendent atmosphere in a commercial establishment. I felt as though I had tasted a bit of paradise.
How the world needs this to refresh our souls, I thought.
The food (soup and sandwich) were delicious, by the way. Indeed, I'll be back for sure.
We left and re-entered the familiar world. Soon the sweet state of consciousness left. We had traveled to another world, a different era, where events conspired to carry us into a different world. For a moment, we had tasted true beauty.
