If I were this Earth...
I'd pray like a whirling dervish (aka a developing respect for spiritual practice aka things I was wrong about aka long lists...)
One of my favorite poets Mary Oliver wrote a poem called If I were. The last line in the poem goes:
If I were a Sufi for sure I would be
one of the spinning kind.
That got me spinning in many ways — intellectual, sensual and spiritual — and then arose a few radically different veins to form this poem and essay...
If I were this Earth…
So would I, dear Mary!I’d pray like a whirling dervish
I would be the kind that spun
and spun with lit lamps around,
the sun, the moon, the stars
in my long white gown of clouds
that floated and flared,
keeping pace within my gravity.
With elevated audience in mosquito-
ridden halls or in open fields
under a humid starlight.
Hidden from disapproving keepers of faith
my open, untaxed, untamed road divine
I’d spin in dance, in delight until I was one,
with only a singular chant in my head.
This life’s connection to centuries past
to the billions who have gone before
to those who’ll arrive after,
with only a thread of connection
of the earth to the sky, and
to the sun to the galaxy and
the starlit darkness beyond.
Filled with the wonder of our smallness,
with our capacity for this vastness
ceaselessly exalting a whirring sphere.
A woman whirling dervish in sync
with the music of the universe
The wonder of soil carrying a grace,
keeping calm within storms,
minding balance below shifting sands and tides,
holding steady amidst faults and
cracks that threaten to quake and break
Containing it all in the midst of ferocious whirls.
If I were a whirling Sufi I would be…
earth itself.
###
-reena
This is a poem I offer as homage to our Earth, our home and place in the vast unknown expanse in this short life; and a wonder at how she spins like a dervish in prayer, finding communion with all that’s connected by gravity, a cause larger than herself.
Do you see it?
I’ve been thinking about religion lately. A lot.
I’ve not had much use for religion since after high school, and I’ve come to realize my dismissal was misplaced. In fact I’ve come to appreciate religion’s utility, and the importance of spiritual practice in recent years. This will surprise many who’ve known me a while.
In our post-enlightenment era, religion has long come under fire — for good reason. I’ve been among those firing at it. I grew up in India where religion has a stronger hold than it does in the developed world. Even so, as far as I could see, true believers in most faiths often practiced some degree of blind obedience, superstition, regressive practices related to women (ironically the keepers of faith at home) and adherence to meaningless ritualism, not to mention the willingness to resort to prejudice, even violence, against those of other faiths; all of which confirmed that there was nothing there for me. Besides, life’s randomness was sufficient evidence that there was no god in charge. So I declared my atheism and moved on.
However, over the years, I began to notice some data that didn’t neatly fit my worldview: First the mounting evidence that the more religious i.e., conservatives, are happier. Most of the reasons apparently relate to having meaning and purpose in life associated with faith and community.
Secondly, one only had to examine the terrible substitutes post-enlightenment culture found to replace religion. The most ambitious of these experiments — communism — now serves as exhibit #1 in the hall of horrors against humanity; achieving this distinction by torturing and murdering more humans than any religion. While communism 1.0 may be passè, similarly shaded ideologies ready to take its place, appear to offer a similar intolerance of dissent, unquestioning dogmatism and penchant for violence that could outcompete most fundamentalist strains of religion. Note also how our modern replacements are accompanied by a general malaise of discontent and a meaning crisis in our culture. All of this has made me wonder if we need religion so fundamentally that we’re bound to replace it with worse, untested horrors when we throw out traditional options.
Finally, a deep spiritual need within me which has always existed, has surfaced more emphatically in the past decade. Seeking my place in nature’s expanse, finding and ritualizing moments of meaning in my most treasured human connections - however fleeting - including wanting to concretize the sacredness of love, and a transcendental sense for life’s tenuous journey have always been part of my inner life. Yet being able to express this “spirituality” in an embodied form, i.e., meaningful rituals, has been missing.
I’ve always been a cultural Hindu, joyously celebrating many inclusive traditions and festivals. Hindu death rituals that I encountered with the passing of my parents — their cremation, collection of their ashes by hand and immersion in holy waters — brought some calm to my despairing grief and made surprising sense to me. (This, after making clear to the Hindu priests they didn’t need a son (!!!) to perform the rituals).
A parallel observation has been the rediscovery of religion-associated practices by modern medicine such as meditation, yoga, humming/chanting, rhythmic dancing to music etc., which are now prescribed for body-soul ailments in our modern times. It makes sense to me that nearly all religions have a tradition of chanting/ singing, closing eyes and even swaying or dancing, as the above-mentioned whirling Sufis do, in devotion.
My grandmother, who was one of the most evolved and spiritually awake women I knew, prayed every day and performed kirtan with her community of women friends and within that found strength to face unimaginable trauma. She’d advise us kids to dhyaan lagao when we were agitated or afraid, teaching us short prayers as instruments of relief. Those words simply translate to “focus your attention” or said another way, meditate.
An essayist I read recently captured so very well the power of prayer. When I read it, the first person I thought of was my grandmother. This is what I said in my reflection on this essay:
An illuminating essay about the power of prayer and its disruptive mechanism in calming the mind. I know what you may be thinking: isn’t she an atheist? I am, and remain unable to believe in concepts like god, but what’s on offer here is different. … No matter your inclination or philosophical framework, this essay will make you think about why prayer works. While radical atheists may reject this outright - and I was no different in my youth (long story for another time) - there’s incontrovertible evidence that people find peace and a cure for their existential anxieties in all forms of spiritual practice: meditation, yogic breathing/ humming, chanting, religious singing, prayer, etc. There are deep psychological roots for the positive effects observed. And the essay offers a unique way of understanding why and how it works… Make of it what you must. Meanwhile, stay open, stay truthful, stay calm.
So am I suddenly a believer now? Not exactly. To be clear, by religion I do not mean god i.e., a supreme being governing our lives (please note I say that with respect for those who do believe in God). I believe our lives are what they are — mostly a function of dumb luck, some of it a function of our toils and talents, but more often at the mercy of uncontrollable and random causes. Within this I do have a respect for the role of religion, the spiritual spaces it offers, including a place for ritual, when properly and meaningfully followed.
And now you’re wondering about who I pray to? No supreme being, but there are other foci outside of one’s woes, wholly worthy of our attentions: spending time in remembering those who’ve passed on (made me appreciate the power of ancestor worship), spending time and reflecting on the glories of nature (made me appreciate why pantheism had power), or simply meditating. If you think that’s weird, well, that’s all I got. Or consult a practicing Buddhist about how soundly that works even in an established religion.
Meanwhile, I recognize the need for spiritual spaces and practices that connect us to our bodies, to nature and our place in the universe along with integrating our imminent mortality and its acceptance, while celebrating the smallest of moments with our loved ones. Religion over the centuries tried and corrected and then institutionalized such practices to offer established pathways for integrating our need for the spiritual and the transcendental into our lives.
Yes, each of us could create a set of practices that work for us - rituals, inner reflection and contemplation, at oneness with our mortal natures, etc - and you’d have reinvented what’s already on offer. And that’s OK too. I do not by any means offer this as a prescription for organized religion — there’s plenty wrong within it that needs serious reform — just a set of observations for what has become obvious to me. While I respect all religions for what they provide, I don’t endorse any of them. I also steer clear of god men/women and the regressive aspects that are still commonly and unthinkingly practiced by many believers.
It’s just that now I’m more discerning in looking for the clean baby in the bath water.
I’d love your thoughts!
Beautifully written and reflected on.
This captures so much of the internal change the last few years have brought me. I resonated especially with the role personal rituals can have and how they can help navigate grief. Enjoyed this!