Spiritual energy

It wasn't that I did not believe Ibrahim when he said that while the spiritual energy in Istanbul, with its huge national mosques filled with beautiful icons and mosaics, was strong, the energy in Konya was "much more intense, much more intense."

It was just that I didn't understand.

I didn't know that I when I entered the tomb of Shams, a stone building approximately 40 feet by 40 feet, I would be immediately overcome with a quiet sobbing that is both sorrow and extreme joy. I did not know that while I stood in front of the draped coffin of Rumi that I would peacefully start to sway in an easy circle without initiating the movement.

With each encounter, I feel a deepening connection to the love that I know underlies our existence.

The air is filled with coal smoke from home heating fires and many of us suffer with headaches. There is a barometric phenomenon happening, an inversion, which is keeping the coal smoke close to the ground. The air is filled with this fog and the airport has been closed for the last few days.

People who wish to come here to be a part of the 10-day international festival which culminates on December 17, the day of Rumi's death, are stranded in airports waiting for the fog to lift.

From this place where spiritual energy is intense, I can't help but wonder if we are all, figuratively stranded in an airport waiting for the fog to lift. Standing firmly in a place where there is huge potential to soar, to love and connect deeply but that something prevents us from doing so.

And in that exact moment, there is nothing to do but hope that the news that a wind will come is true and will move the pollution out. And while we will be relieved, it will become someone else's headache.

We are all connected in our deteriorating environment and in the human condition.

Sorrow and extreme joy.


The air in Konya is grey as coal fire heat the homes and a barometric phenomenom keeps it close to the earth's surface.