Updated: Apr 6
Each morning awakening long before the sun I rise. reaching out in the darkness for inner light, for calm, for peace, for the poetry that comes from the dark well of the pre-dawn sky. I seek the dance of words upon the page, the ballet of form that comes in the flesh, the dervish whirling round and round which I, somehow both performer and audience, participate in awe….
Where does this come from, this furiously whirling, which takes me deep into my center? I am not dizzy and I do feel as though I could go on forever. I remember watching my hand as it gracefully dances before my eyes, remembering that one time with the dervish. My mind floats effortlessly back to that cherished moment. “How amazing, your dance”, I remarked breathlessly to the accomplished dervish. “Ah,” he replied….”I am not moving but watching Beloved, hidden within me. Beloved is keeping me balanced while my body dances away. Thus I remain in the quiet stillness watching my body dance!” He winked as he continued to whirl about, completely in the still. I re member. And thus pre-dawn my spirit whirls, round and round, until I think I must stop. I do, slowly folding like a flower, gracefully sliding to the floor, balanced save the rapidly beating heart. How amazing. I bow my head and for a moment I give thanks for the memory of that unnamed dervish I met so very long ago.
This is the reward to chasing sleep, deserting the warmth of the bed. This is the prize of awakening and answering the call to spend time with the Hidden One before the sun rises and banishes the magic of darkness. For the Beloved, Unseen, Without Name, Without Form, is best met in silence and in solitude, in the darkness that banishes all distraction. When we embrace darkness we see within it to what it contains, scenting its richness, the unseen fertility. Such is the dark before dawn, the dark which opens to the inner light of being, and its amazing unexpected gifts, to the dance of the Divine.
Today it birthed the memory of that day long ago with the magical meeting of the dervish. What shall the darkness yield tomorrow?
As the sun casts its rosy blush upon the horizon, I rise to ready for the new day, knowing that tomorrow shall bring another memory, another meeting, in the space between night and day, in the pre-dawn of awakening.
I sit to write in my journal, recording my dreams and early morning visions. This world inside holds such meaning to me, as important, if not more, than my waking reality. For in this hidden space I am entering into a relationship with the depths of who I am. I am beyond the limitations imposed by the physical. I am like my unnamed dervish friend, watching Beloved, glimpsing the hidden within me, participating in the amazing dance beyond time.