I wrote this after a Sufi Deeg Jush gathering, I like to share it in memory of Pir Dr. Nurbaksh at his first memorial last week.
love,
Nabarz
Deeg Jush (Seething Cauldron)
At Summer Solstice, the longest day,
The symbolic height of power of light (Nur).
Under the eye of Mithra (Mehr-kindness): the Sun,
In the Old Windmill, the Pir is turning the Millstone,
metamorphosing the soul-grain of the Sufis into
bread and cakes of light to nourish all mankind.
We little raindrops, rush forth,
like the Irish Bard Taliesin,
into the Deeg Jush –
the cauldron of transformation
to be boiled and changed.
In the ‘Jam Khaneh’ –the Gathering House,
ALL have gathered, seen and unseen,
from Earth to the Seven Heavens.
All religions and their gods across
time and space stand
shoulder to shoulder in the `Jam Khaneh’.
A Shiva statute next to a Golden Buddha,
Christ next to Allah,
next to the Horned Deer
of our cave dwelling ancestors.
People too have gathered from all corners
of this blue tear in space we call home.
Young and old, man and woman,
from different races and cultures and
continents: Asia, Africa, Europe,
the Americas, Australia,
all have gathered in
the `Jam Khaneh’.
Words of the Pir echoes: “5000 year old Aryan
(Indo-European) creed of Divine Unity,
Love and Chivalry spread across
the Old World by the Aryan
people”.
The outer label might have altered
through the millennia, Dervish, Sufi, Magi,
Duir, Druids, Brahmins, … but its heart
has changed little in those
in the ‘Land of the Aryans’:
Eire (Ireland) to Iran.
The lit torch is kept alive by many now,
and has gone beyond the land of
Aryans, bringing light into many dark places.
In the ‘Jam Khaneh’, we,
like little points of light,
form a galaxy, all circling the
Qutub (pole) during Zeker –
the remembrance.
Outside of this Temple of Love,
saplings planted by us in rich soil of Oxon
many moons ago, are now tall groves
towering above our heads.
In the Oak groves, the doorway tree
of Duir opens a gateway to Otherworld.
Silver Birch tree, shimmering Lady of the Woods,
dances and moves her slender white arms
to the sound of the Tonbak -drum.
The smell of roses is intoxicating all,
in this Golestan of Love.
In the fruitful Apple Orchards,
the meaning of Avalon: Isle of Apples (Britain)
becomes clear.
The trees, the flowers, even the farmer’s cows
and the bees are joining the song and dance of Unity.
Hu, Hu, Hu.
All is One and One is All.
Remember: Unity, Love, Chivalry
Haq, Haq, Haq.
‘Everything’ is turning, whirling
around the Qutub during ecstasy of Sama.
An eternity caught in a moment.
Hu, Hu, Hu.
-by Nabarz
