Chicago was wearing on me. The weather, crime, violence, and inequities… I was no longer thriving there, and I was getting extremely restless to move. But my business with Chicago wasn’t done yet, and the people there still had more to teach me.
It turned out that the man who invited Sri Mahayogi to Chicago was also the spiritual leader of a local Sufi group. He brought his teacher and guide, Shaykha Fariha al-Jerrahi, from New York to Chicago and invited all of us to meet her. I’d been reading Rumi and Hafiz by that point, and was curious about the Sufi tradition. So, why not go?
Well, it wasn’t what I expected. I loved Shaykha Fariha’s deeply peaceful presence and lightness of being. I felt in flow with her talk, the prayers, and the ritual. I felt nourished being with a female spiritual leader in a practice that felt so feminine. But I was surprised when she invited us to participate in a ritual to “take hand,” which means to become initiated into Sufism and become a dervish (student or disciple). Here’s a beautiful description of taking hand from her lineage website: “In this sacred moment, the dervish is united with the lineage of saints and receives a seed of light in the heart that subtly contains the entire spiritual path and the highest levels of realization.”
I resonated with Shayka Fariha’s teachings and presence as a different flavor of what I was learning with Sri Mahayogi. I was assured that it was not a conflict with Sri Mahayogi or his teachings, and in fact, many people in the Sufi group were also disciples of Sri Mahayogi. So, again, why not?
I don’t remember much about that ritual. I remember feeling like I was being inducted into something ancient and timeless. I remember Shayka Fariha’s surprise at how many of us wanted to take hand. She reflected that she wasn’t sure how we would each engage in the Sufi practices (she was rightly skeptical that we would all be devout practitioners), but that she knew it would serve each of us in a unique way. She gave each of us a new name; mine was Sharifa. Though it’s not a name I use, it’s one I cherish as a gift from Shayka Fariha, her lineage, and her profound relationship to Allah.
After that sacred ceremony, I attended a few dhikr circles in cozy, candle-lit living rooms, full of prayer and ilahis (Sufi sacred chants). We rocked back and forth in rhythm, allowing the rhythm, intention, and love to clear away our ego armor. I felt my fellow dervish’s hearts crack open. I experienced this passionate and ecstatic love for Allah as something precious that I was missing in the austere non-dual yogic path. I began to surrender to it and let it carry me into the heart of God. But the true gifts of the Sufi path would not be revealed to me until, ironically, the next Easter.
Easter in the Orthodox Church is the biggest holiday, and the nighttime service that starts on Holy Saturday is still my favorite religious service of any kind. The most magical moment happens at midnight when all the lights go out except one candle at the altar… and then that candle light gets spread to each of us holding our own candles. I realized that this represents the light and Consciousness of Christ spreading to each of us. Then we sing my favorite hymn in Ancient Greek, Christos Anesti (Christ is risen). And we sing it over and over again.
Once the service is over, we feast around 1 am. Some communities just eat a soup to break the Lenten fast and then feast the next day, but at the church where I grew up, we would feast and dance all night long. This particular year, I invited some friends over to attend church and feast with me. Once they left at 4 am, I was too wired to go to bed. I went into my meditation room to light candles, meditate, and pray.
I found myself singing Christos Anesti over and over again. And then I found myself alternating it with a Sufi chant about being devoted to God. With each round of chanting, I was in increasing ecstasy, having my very own Sufi-Christian dhikr circle by myself. My heart cracked open and I began to weep. I felt like I was being bathed in the Divine love of Christ, God, Goddess, and all of creation. Finally, I was able to feel how the love in my heart was not separate from the love of the Divine; it is all One. I rocked back and forth past sunrise, singing and crying in love, devotion, and surrender.
If you’ve ever had a profound spiritual experience like this, you understand that so much happens in such a relatively short amount of time, it’s almost impossible to describe. It was multi-dimensional. It opened me in every way. I can tell you that something wounded in me received a profound healing that night, while my Consciousness soared in unity of love.
Even though all these different paths – Christian, Wicca, Native American, Sufi, and Non-dual Vedanta – have such different teachings, expressions, and language, that was the night I knew that they all lived in one boundless heart in me, united with the Divine.
