Whirling in Beirut…

I spent this afternoon whirling with Sufis in Beirut. As I began to whirl with my arms crossed over my heart, I found myself thinking about the pain and joy of my young Syrian refugee friends–and wishing I could do more to help them…

When the ecstatic are worshipping Wine
Listening to the music, they become drunk
They begin to whirl just like the water wheel
And weep down on themselves like the water wheel
In Submission they sink into themselves
And when they can no longer bear it
They tear their garment into shreds.
Do not ill-speak of the drunken dervish
He is drowning, hence he jumps and kicks…

— Sa’di