29 August 2020

I did Asr today as a few drops of rain began to fall. My intention was rahma, which an old friend had told us to be careful about. Rahim (directed mercy) is gentle, but rahman is majestic. I felt I didn’t really have a choice though - it was literally raining rahma in the dry Lowveld winter and, though I felt a kind of fear, it was entirely right. I put my head down for the final sajda and the rain, which had been on and off serendipitously through the whole prayer, returned. I cried and cried and cried and cried. This mercy is beyond even music. It is.

Afterwards, I went up to “play” with Alethia and Paul. We had a long and relaxed conversation in her living room. Nothing special, and therefore entirely extraordinary. It is, again, such a joy to spend time with these two wonderful people.

We then went for a walk just as the sun was setting. It had been overcast most of the day, but - as we walked out - the red orb of the sun made a perfect appearance before the last line of clouds above the horizon veiled it again as we rose into the night. Paul went to give Mary some dishes back - our food supplies are overflowing - and Alethia, David and I headed to SFH’s balcony. I asked her what the name of that Ayurvedic plant is, but she wasn’t sure, though we tasted it together. It is familiar, yet I am also sure I’ve not had it before.

As we were doing this, SFH came out and told me again - what patience! - that it is called gotu kola. Considered a weed by many, you will not find an ashram without it growing somewhere. When asked if he would like to take a walk with us, SFH said he would prefer tea on his balcony. David and I went to sit on SFH’s balcony and Alethia went to make tea. SFH joined us and Alethia returned with the most delicious herbal, honey-infused tea. I have no idea what was in there, but whatever it was is heavenly.

SFH complimented Alethia, saying she is the person he knows who has worked most with the Qur’an. This is high praise indeed from him. He mentioned to her a small project he wants her to do about 15-20 ayat only to give the essential heart of the Book of Reality. They mentioned a few from Sacred Alchemy, Alethia said one in Arabic and SFH mentioned “You cannot give God a true measure” and then another in Arabic. Hearing these words spoken by people so intimately familiar with so many layers of their meaning is another experience beyond the reach of English.

SFH used the ayat about measurement to talk about how “None of this (indicating the farm, and our current situation, and just everything) could have been engineered. It is just the flow of baraka. No-one is in control.” He leaned back and raised his hands in surrender and said a sentence I will never forget: “Hands empty; heart overflowing.” Subhanallah.

Paul and Aaron joined us after a brief walk around the property and we began a very companionable and laid-back sharing of various stories. Aaron told a story about driving a ahaykh in Pakistan as a young man and asking him something specific about Ibn Arabi. The shaykh had looked at him and said, “What does this mean to you!? You’re too young to be asking this question, and if you could read it properly, you wouldn’t need to ask me anyway!” He said his ears still turn pick at the remembrance of this harsh (and loving) slap. Memory is such a funny thing.

Alethia shared a vision she had had of this same shaykh, or more specifically his crooked finger, pointing at her and commanding her to “do the books”. I think she has done admirably in this regard. She also seems to think that that crooked finger is no longer pointing, or at least not in an accusatory or prescriptive way, anymore.

The dogs had joined us with Paul and Aaron. SFH told Alethia to put her fingers on Zita’s eyes and “send a beat of love into her heart”. I was also touching Zita at this point and - again - words fail to capture what this felt like, what it is to let go completely and let a field like love flow through you, into you, out of you. No you!

This reminded SFH of a story about a Asian sufi called Ibrahim ibn Adam, who had been asked about adab (courtesy) especially around giving. Others had been saying that they give a lot when they have a lot, and less when they themselves are struggling. When it came to be his turn, he said that this kind of generosity was what their dogs practised. For him and his people, “When we have nothing, we give it all. When we have an abundance, we abstain, for we know it is God’s test upon us.”

Today is Ashura - the day of Imam Husayn’s martyrdom in Karbala. Last night, I attended Aaron’s Sufi music circle, which had to do with many of the songs, laments and poems around this particular event. The 10th day of Muharram is supposedly a day when many such momentous situations have come to pass: the arc of the covenant, Noah’s flood etc. SFH mentioned that, really, both Husayn and Yazid are in every human heart, and you must choose which to resonate with. Paul had shared some Husayn quotes with me earlier in the day, all of which are deeply powerful.

The conversation meandered on a bit after all of these amazing gems, until SFH dismissed us as it was time for salaat. Aaron and I went to do ours in the prayer room here. What an incredible man to pray with. What an incredible place to put your head down and die. Every place is sacred, but the miracle of differentiation somehow still bestows a special honour on places and times like this one. I do not understand this.

Paul joined us, and we did Isha together as well. The room smells amazing as it is, but some neroli (orange blossoms) from the Seville orange trees here had been laid out on a mat behind us. They have a unique and intoxicating aroma. Aaron then invited us over for some coffee, Paul went to fetch something, and Aaron showed me the pictures of many of the Shazzali shaykhs in the room adjoining the prayer room. You can still see the light pouring out their eyes.

Aaron also taught me another jalal (refrain) from one the dhikrs in “Path to Light”, which he said the Wali of Balil had always sung. Luna appeared (who happens to know a lot about this particular man, having met him in Morocco as a small girl, in the town where he lived outside Fez). We sang the dhikr as we walked towards their home, where we ended up having an amazing dinner instead of just coffee.

Luna cooked whitebait, and curried potatoes, and an experiment with trout miso, and she even had a lamb korma for me (because I had mentioned that I cook a fairly decent butternut korma), inspired by Aaron’s mother. It was beyond amazing. I still have so much to learn.

Mama Zee joined us for dinner too, and shared many of her own stories and photographs of both her as a young child, her and SFH as twenty-something students (so amazing to see them both at that age!), and various members of the family. The conversation moved around SFH’s father, mother, and uncle (who was a sufi) and various stories from all their lives together.

Strikingly, Mama Zee told a story about Sufi Barkat Ali calling her his “spiritual mother” and Swami Chinmayanada asking her to stay on with him and teach the children. Later, Luna and her revealed that it was actually her influence and interests which led SFH back to Sufism and Islam. It’s always the women: this is as profound to remember as the rest of this amazing day.

Luna and Aaron talked about some of the places they’ve travelled (the list is extensive) and the different foods from all the different regions, as well as the fusion between them all. Though I couldn’t contribute much to all this, it is simply a great honour to be present with these beings. I helped Luna with the washing up after dinner and heard about her thesis, which is about Transmission between teacher and students, using SFH as a living case study. It sounds fascinating, and she seems like the perfect person for such a vast project.

We retired to the living room and carried on talking in the same relaxed atmosphere. It was a somewhat meandering conversation, which I found immensely pleasurable. In particular, Paul said that he thought Aaron’s spirit animal was a bear, which Luna latched onto, saying that she thinks he is really a Himalayan honey bear (which is entirely hilarious), that she is a lioness, and Mama Zee is a polar bear. What an incredible family this is.

Eventually, we parted ways, and Paul and I returned to Andalus. We shared some tea, and sang a soft dhikr on the upstairs balcony. It was a moment far beyond beauty.

Hands empty; heart overflowing.