As you can see in the photos, the Sufis first poured a few drops into the bottom of each cup–and then added sugar for those who wanted it (like me). After that, they added a little bit of coffee at a time before filling the cups to their rims and passing them around.
Sipping my sweet sludge on the veranda, I couldn’t help but think of the mystic origins of coffee, and marvel that in 1672, there were already 40 coffeehouses in Beirut–though the city’s population at the time was quite small. As the Sufi teacher began giving a talk on mystic knowledge and the Sufi path, I felt grateful that they’d served me a cup so I could keep up–since I’d raced off earlier this morning to whirl without having boiled my own morning brew.
Sharing a cup of coffee was the perfect way to end a full day of ecstatic whirling–in a peaceful little corner of Beirut…

