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Dervishes
run a soccer team. The whole person behind each face was utterly given over to
the Spirit for the duration of this dance. They prayed in their beloved
community as they danced together across the bare wooden floor.
Of course I tried it later. It was difficult to spin and stop, then spin the
other way, but I discovered that as I spun, I found a still place inside. That still
place isnt dizzy. I dont know how it works. It is the same still place I can get to
through yoga or meditation, in prayer or sitting by a creek. Its that place where
I have a glimpse of what it feels like to be held in the arms of love, to be
grounded in the Great Compassion, to be washed in light and encompassed by
sacred dark.
As I recall those mystics spinning between earth and heaven, through
the shaft of sunlight and back into the dimness of the room, the memory feeds
me. Their crimson hats, their raptured faces live in my soul. I am eternally
grateful to have been present at their prayers. They are always present at mine.
Taken from Did I Say That Out Loud? Musings from a Questioning Soul
Written by Meg Barnhouse