Category Archives: Blog

In my piece “Sharing the Sufis of Syria,” I mention seeing statues of semazens (whirling dervishes)–along with shadow puppets in Azm Palace in Damascus. The building above is one of many on the palace grounds–and it offers a window into the beauty of Islamic architecture in Syria. When I was wandering through the upper halls of the palace, they were largely deserted–though there were many families enjoying the spacious courtyard of the palace below. More than a decade ago, from my earliest days of studying Arabic at Brown, I longed to go and see this palace in Damascus for myself–as my Arabic teacher once lived in Syria and always spoke about it with sweet nostalgia. Walking through the empty halls of this breathtaking palace, I realized what a long road had led me there–and how all of my years of studying Arabic had been totally worth it…

He said, ‘What brings you the most fulfillment?’
I said, ‘The company of the Emperor.’
He said, ‘What do you find there?’
I said, ‘A hundred miracles.’
He said, ‘Why is the palace deserted?’
I said, ‘They all fear the thief.’
He said, ‘Who is the thief?’
I said, ‘The one who keeps me from you.’
— Rumi

Empty Garlic

You miss the garden, because you want a small fig from a random tree.
You don’t meet the beautiful woman.
You’re joking with an old croon.
It makes me want to cry how she detains you–
stinking mouthed, with a hundred talons,
putting her head over the roof edge to call down,
tasteless fig, fold over fold, empty as dry-rotten garlic…

No more advice.
Let yourself be silently drawn
by the stronger pull of what you really love.

— Rumi

Here are some photographs I snapped on my way to the supermarket this week in Beirut to stock up on food. I tend to go to the large supermarket downtown because of a delicious garlic sauce and particular goat cheese there which I can’t seem to find anywhere else. Since I eat large quantities of this spectacular goat cheese every day (in salads, omelets, you name it)–I knew I had to replenish my diminishing stock from the week before.

As you can see, there aren’t any sand dunes–or camels–downtown, contrary to widespread belief–and the supermarket has all of the organic food and macrobiotic choices a healthy shopper could ask for…

After picking up my beloved goat cheese in my cart, I wheeled my cart around to go fetch my weekly stash of Lebanese garlic sauce–which I eat almost every night with chicken. Only when I got to the shelf where it’s displayed–there was hardly any left.

Each week there are always large tubs of plain garlic sauce (toum) stacked one on top of the other–but this week, all that remained were tiny cups of mint and hot pepper garlic sauce. Thankfully, when the man behind the meat counter saw my look of surprise when surveying the shelf–emptied of garlic–he slipped me a cup of fresh garlic sauce from behind the counter. Garlic crisis averted–for now.

To try this delectable sauce yourself, check out one of the toum recipes available online.

But the question still remains–who took all the toum?

Perhaps I need to start hoarding some myself…

When you dance the whole universe dances.
Every realm whirls around you in constant celebration.
Your soul loses its hold.
Your body releases its fatigue.
Listening to my hands clapping and my drum beating,
You begin to spin.

— Rumi

This is the beautiful tomb of Saladin (Salah ad-Din Yusuf ibn Ayyub) in Damascus–the mighty general and sultan who fended off the Crusaders and seized Jerusalem. As the PBS documentary Empire of Faith (at the link provided above) explains, “In contrast to the Crusaders’ bloodbath when they had taken Jerusalem, Saladin acted with great magnanimity to the Christian and Jewish residents.”

Having studied and taught the history of the Crusades, I had a hard time believing I was actually in the tomb of this military legend when I stepped inside. Because Saladin’s life, valor and feats were admired and romanticized by Christian and Muslims writers alike in medieval times, in my mind he occupied an almost mythic status. Spending time in his tomb, however, reminded me of how very mortal and real he had been. Of course, the dynamic decoration of alternating colors of stone (ablaq style) paired with beautiful blue mosaic tiles in the interior of this tomb gave my eyes a colorful banquet to feast on too…

Yesterday, clashes at the entrance of one of the refugee camps where I’ve helped teach yoga and received acupuncture killed 1 person and injured several others. The clashes were quickly “contained”, and both sides involved are claiming that it was an isolated incident.

Unfortunately, isolated or not, with the U.S. having ordered its non-essential personnel to leave Beirut, now is probably not the time for me to return to the refugee camp for any kind of work or treatment. The night of the last bombings (in Tripoli), when my friend and I took a midnight motorcycle ride around Beirut, the streets of the refugee camps were deserted and quiet–and my friend who works there told me they continue to be. With so many tensions bubbling to the surface in Beirut, one has to wonder for how long it can all be “contained.” Lebanon deserves much more credit for keeping it contained this long…

A gold mine is inviting us into its shrine.
But instead we keep bending over
to pick up pebbles from the road.

Every thing has a shine like gold,
but we should be turning towards the source–
since the origin is what we really are…

— Rumi

Whoever the plague touches, let it strike me instead and spare everyone in Damascus.— Sheikh Khalid al Baghdadi

For the past ten years, I’ve been wandering from Afghanistan to Mali–and many places in between–to visit as many living and dead Sufi masters–and students–as I possibly can. In my piece “Sharing the Sufis of Syria”, I mention only a fraction of the shrines I visited while I was wandering around Syria…

One of the first shrines that I visited in Damascus was the tomb of an Iraqi Kurdish Sufi teacher named Sheikh Khalid al Baghdadi (d. 1827). Sheikh al Baghdadi was called “He of the Two Wings” for his mastery of both exoteric and esoteric knowledge. Before he died, he reportedly said: “I will take all the plague from the people of Damascus, and I alone will die on Friday.” He instructed his dervishes not to write anything on his grave except: “This is the grave of the stranger Khalid.” Today, dervishes in Damascus still believe that the day after Sheikh al-Baghdadi died–the plague that was decimating Damascus died too, being buried with him in his sacred shrine below…

From warriors learn courage,
And wisdom from the sage.
If you truly seek God’s grace,
Ride with the heavenly carriage.

— Hafiz

There is a tall tower that Love builds.
Live there in Silence.

— Rumi

Once more,
Love is pouring down my ceiling
and my walls.
Once more,
it’s the night of the full moon–
it’s the moment for madness.
All my vast knowledge
cannot rescue me now.

Once more,
Insomnia stole my patience.
Rain washed away my intellect.
The Lover made me lose my profession.
What good is my work anyway?

Once more, rise, rise, rise…

— Rumi

Tonight, I see the realm of joy and pleasure.
I’ve lost myself in it,
and it has lost itself in me:
No religion,
No dogma,
No conformity,
No guilt,
No shame,
No fear,
No conviction,
No uncertainty remain.
In the middle of my heart,
a star appears,
and the seven heavens
are lost in its brilliance.
— Rumi

You will never find that life for which you are looking. When the gods created man they allotted to him death, but life they retained in their own keeping. As for you, Gilgamesh, fill your belly with good things; day and night, night and day, dance and be merry, feast and rejoice. Let your clothes be fresh, bathe yourself in water, cherish the little child that holds your hand, and make your wife happy in your embrace; for this too is the lot of man.

— The Epic of Gilgamesh

This week, my students and I have been reading “The Epic of Gilgamesh”–and contemplating our mortality. With choppers buzzing overhead and a war next door, our discussions about death are definitely not in the abstract. How, you may wonder, are people here in Beirut dealing with the stress of car bombs, Israeli planes dropping bombs south of Beirut, and the (likely) upcoming foreign bombing of Syria? Well, first and foremost–by partying like mad inside of a fabulous bubble of denial–which, for many of us, is a familiar and welcome way to cope. Like the Epic of Gilgamesh, the ongoing partying in Beirut is making me contemplate the celebration of life in the face of death. Though I’m teaching the text of Gilgamesh in Beirut, Beirut is teaching me its message…

While many people in America go to therapy to work through their denial–in Lebanon, you may need to go to therapy if you’re *not* in denial. The legendary joie de vivre of Lebanon doesn’t disappear in times of crisis–on the contrary, it just gets more heightened and intense. Instead of hiding in our homes, a lot of us in Beirut seem to be following the wise advice found in the Epic of Gilgamesh: fill your belly with good things; day and night, night and day, dance and be merry, feast and rejoice.

How have I been filling my belly with good things? Well, by going to places like Dar Cafe to enjoy my favorite dishes in Beirut–such as this scrumptious avocado and beetroot salad (above) topped with goat cheese and candied walnuts (and finished with a light pomegranate dressing). To transcend all the tension, my friends and I these days are savoring food–and fun–more than ever. Here are some random phrases I’ve overheard in the past 48 hours at parties and on the streets of Beirut:

“Welcome to Armageddon, my friend–now it’s really time to party.”

“When there isn’t political tension like this, I think Beirut is boring.”

“This is what it’s like to feel fully alive–living on the tip of death!”

“Some people like to have a clear mind in times like this, but I think I’m going to be getting way more drunk–not less.”

“Don’t you see? This is how life always is–living on the brink of death–but we don’t let ourselves realize it. How do you think we can we keep this feeling alive even after the dust has settled?”

Sometimes denial (or is it acceptance of life’s impermanence?) needs to be embraced as a sanity-saving measure. The best medicine, I’ve found, to deal with our current anxieties–is to sit down with a good friend to savor some killer pain perdu (a creamy French toast dessert topped with ice cream and drizzled with caramel sauce)–just like the ancients might recommend. Oh no, that photo below looks so delicious that I might just have to go get some myself right now…