“Wherever you are, and whatever you do, be in Love”
There are 305 dead Sufi’s in Egypt.
To kill a Sufi mystic is the murder of poetry. It’s the destruction of Love. Sufi’s belong to the mystical branch of Islam. They dance, sing and drink to find the Beloved. They interpret their religion in less than literal ways, and try to find God through the heart of Love. And they are repaid for this in blood and discrimination. They are beaten, bombed, and killed because they dare to dance with the angels. They brave injustice everyday because their religion is Love.
I am not a whirling deverish. But I spent enough of my life being comforted by their beautiful poetry. Whether it was Rumi or Hafiz or Kabir, I attempt to live my life in Love with being alive. I’m grateful for their contribution to our existence. Poetry enlivens the soul, and makes us more than the husks of meat, which we frequently prove ourselves to be.
It is unpalatable and sickening to me that Canada will repatriate ISIS members rather than place a priority on helping persecuted religious minorities. Better 1000 Sufi’s than one ISIS fighter returns home to Canadian soil. Better 1000 Yazadi refugees make their home next to our houses, than one ISIS terrorist is allowed back.
Our government was smug about not entertaining the notion of extra judicial killing of these terrorists. In Raqqa they supported and contributed to a murderous regime that maimed women, killed children and crucified men. Fine. Let’s pat ourselves on the back that we’re above them. But does this mean that they should return here? Have they not cast aside the very tenets of being a Canadian? Is there anything less Canadian than being an ISIS terrorist? Is this not the antithesis to the very beautiful, multicultural and peaceful country we have made?
Why must the children of Rumi and Hafiz, why must the Lovers of Life, who committed no crime, be allowed to be treated so mercilessly? Why do we have endless mercy for butchers but none for those who are slaughtered? Misplaced pity is not virtue. It’s an affront to Life and Love.
I have no power to make our government see reason. I am despondent over our stunning lack of judgement. What will I do? As usual, I’ll take solace in a Sufi.
“Come let’s get drunk, even if it is our ruin. For sometimes under ruins one finds treasure”
Seems like a good a plan as any.
In honour of those who passed be full of Love and wine. Dance.
What is best and brightest in us cannot be silenced by death.