Konya: City of Mevlana... Rumi

Trip Start Aug 15, 2007
Trip End Jun 01, 2012

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Flag of Turkey  , Konya,
Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Konya is the holy city of Mevlana, known in the West as Rumi... a muslim mystic whom founded the whirling dervish order... teaching love, acceptance and promoting a oneness with god... His poems and works are considered masterful by many, regardless of their cultural connections, religions and political bendings... 

We met up with our good friends in Konya... exploring the various mausoleums, tombs, ablutions fountains and grounds surrounding Mevlana's tomb... watching the pilgrims pay homage to the shrine of Mevlana.  
Our other wanderings brought us throughout a very old city that once was the capital of the Seljuk Turkish empire, before the Ottoman Turks took it over.  The Seljuk Architecture clustered within the old part of the city,varies somewhat from the Ottoman, being more intricate, yet more simple in design and function... 

One evening Ray and I, separate from Linda and Deb entered into one of these old structures... an aged hamam, to have a Turkish bath... with hours of maneuvering throughout marble domed rooms... ritualistically soaking, steaming, scrubbing, massaging and dousing with waters of variant temperatures, we emerged feeling pliably renewed and a little more enlightened...  

For a few days we wandered throughout the city... 

Many of the locals I talked with still hold a sense of pride in their unique heritage...  Today they are considered to be the most religiously conservative throughout Turkey... the Koran Belt of the country.  Within this pious city lies an island of green tiled domes where the body of Mevlana lies... enshrined for his followers and admirers to continue to pay their respect, 800 years later... 

I am including some of Rumi's poems... a few are old friends that go back to my college days... others newfound ones that I hope to learn from as I continue to try and understand the mysteries of life...  

"Every tree and plant in the meadow seemed to be dancing, those with average eyes would see as fixed and still"

Let the beauty of what you love, be what you do.

 Do not sit long with a sad friend. When you go to a garden do you look at the weeds? Spend more time with the roses and jasmines.


There is a way between voice and presence

where information flows.

In disciplined silence it opens.

With wandering talk it closes.

Let the lover be disgraceful, crazy, absent-minded. Someone sober will worry about events going badly. Let the lover be.

“He is like a man using a candle to look for the sun”

When the rose is gone and the garden faded
you will no longer hear the nightingale's song.
The Beloved is all; the lover just a veil. 
The Beloved is living; the lover a dead thing.
If love withholds its strengthening care,
the lover is left like a bird without care,
the lover is left like a bird without wings.
How will I be awake and aware
if the light of the Beloved is absent?
Love wills that this Word be brought forth


I'm drenched
in the flood 
which has yet to come 

I’m tied up 
in the prison
which has yet to exist

Not having played
the game of chess
I’m already the checkmate

Not having tasted
a single cup of your wine
I’m already drunk

Not having entered
the battlefield

I’m already wounded and slain

I no longer
know the difference
between image and reality

Like the shadow
I am


I am not


“We can’t help being thirsty, moving toward the voice of water.”


O incomparable Giver of life, cut reason loose at last!Let it wander grey-eyed from vanity to vanity.

Shatter open my skull, pour in it the wine of madness!

Let me be mad, as You; mad with You, with us.

Beyond the sanity of fools is a burning desert

Where Your sun is whirling in every atom:

Beloved, drag me there, let me roast in Perfection! 

 “Why do you stay in prison
when the door is so wide open?

Move outside the tangle of fear-thinking.
Live in silence.”

The beauty of the heart is the lasting beauty:

its lips give to drink

of the water of life.
Truly it is the water,

that which pours,

and the one who drinks.

All three become one when 

your talisman is shattered.

That oneness you can't know

by reasoning.


You were born with wings.  Why prefer to crawl through life?

“Observe the wonders as they occur around you. Don't claim them. Feel the artistry moving through and be silent.”

Christian, Jew, Muslim, shaman, Zoroastrian, stone, ground, mountain, river, each has a secret way of being with the mystery, unique and not to be judged.






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