Whirling Dervishes of Rumi
The secrets are hidden in between the lines
If I say it any more clearly, it would disrupt the order of the world
– Rumi, 13th Century Sufi mystic poet
The Whirling Dervishes of Rumi went to great lengths to convey the love of humanity that the Sufi poet Mevlana Jalaluddin Rumi wished to spread throughout the world. That earnest desire to teach the mystic’s message was both the strength and the biggest drawback of the presentation by the visiting company on Saturday, February 7 at the Adrienne Arsht Center for the Performing Arts of Miami-Dade County. For, as Rumi teaches us, too much explanation is the enemy of beauty and mystery.
Before the show, the lobby buzzed with excitement as men in traditional Islamic dress and women in stylish, silk hijab (or head scarves) mingled with curiosity seekers in jeans and guayaberas and theatergoers in slacks and dress shirts. This audience represented the very essence of Rumi’s teachings, plurality, tolerance and love.
Inside the auditorium, the excitement dimmed. In an effort to explain the meaning of Rumi’s words, the evening’s program was chopped up into too many curtain introductions, a 30-minute musical concert, an intermission, and a 20-minute film on the connection between Rumi’s teachings and the ritual of dervish dance. Then, finally, the dervishes whirled.
Staging a spiritual experience presents a number of challenges. No matter how many modern accoutrements might be added to the production, the contemplative, inward nature of the music and dance conflicts with any Western understanding of a theatrical experience. Start with the music itself: the Western ear is not trained to catch the bending and stretching of notes on the Eastern scale used by Persian, Arabic and Turkish peoples. The scale is microtonal and the microtones merge and emerge fluidly over time. Each series of tones is designed to evoke a different emotion in the listener and prepare the heart for worship and love. Not exactly toe-tapping.
The audience may well feel left out as the whirling dervishes embark on what is essentially a spiritual journey. The constant spiraling brings the dancer towards the truth and removes layers of ego in a slow, repetitive ritual. The death of the ego is represented by the dancer’s white dress, black cloak, and a tall beige hat that symbolizes the tombstone. Left behind with their egos in tact on Saturday night, many observers shifted in their seats and checked their cellphones soon after the dervishes took the stage.
However, as the poet suggests, those audience members who had the patience to read between the lines – or the swirls – discovered great beauty in the dervishes’ attempts to align their bodies with the divine. No two dervishes looked the same, as each curved his arms and torso and angled his face to the sky in his own way. My favorite was the tallest and most corpulent dancer who, despite his bulk, extended his chin so high toward the heavens that he cradled his head in his arms in a gesture of stunning humility. Another more sprightly dancer raised straight arms to the sky and lifted his foot high off the ground as he turned, almost like a trained Western dancer, yet his face shared the same peaceful expression of transcendent beauty as his peers.
Watching the Whirling Dervishes of Rumi, like reading the poet who inspires them, rewards patience and a willingness to surrender to the unknown. Though the show’s format lacked the continuity and fluidity of the spiraling dancers, the poet’s message was still there for those with the eyes to see.
If I say it any more clearly, it would disrupt the order of the world
– Rumi, 13th Century Sufi mystic poet
The Whirling Dervishes of Rumi went to great lengths to convey the love of humanity that the Sufi poet Mevlana Jalaluddin Rumi wished to spread throughout the world. That earnest desire to teach the mystic’s message was both the strength and the biggest drawback of the presentation by the visiting company on Saturday, February 7 at the Adrienne Arsht Center for the Performing Arts of Miami-Dade County. For, as Rumi teaches us, too much explanation is the enemy of beauty and mystery.
Before the show, the lobby buzzed with excitement as men in traditional Islamic dress and women in stylish, silk hijab (or head scarves) mingled with curiosity seekers in jeans and guayaberas and theatergoers in slacks and dress shirts. This audience represented the very essence of Rumi’s teachings, plurality, tolerance and love.
Inside the auditorium, the excitement dimmed. In an effort to explain the meaning of Rumi’s words, the evening’s program was chopped up into too many curtain introductions, a 30-minute musical concert, an intermission, and a 20-minute film on the connection between Rumi’s teachings and the ritual of dervish dance. Then, finally, the dervishes whirled.
Staging a spiritual experience presents a number of challenges. No matter how many modern accoutrements might be added to the production, the contemplative, inward nature of the music and dance conflicts with any Western understanding of a theatrical experience. Start with the music itself: the Western ear is not trained to catch the bending and stretching of notes on the Eastern scale used by Persian, Arabic and Turkish peoples. The scale is microtonal and the microtones merge and emerge fluidly over time. Each series of tones is designed to evoke a different emotion in the listener and prepare the heart for worship and love. Not exactly toe-tapping.
The audience may well feel left out as the whirling dervishes embark on what is essentially a spiritual journey. The constant spiraling brings the dancer towards the truth and removes layers of ego in a slow, repetitive ritual. The death of the ego is represented by the dancer’s white dress, black cloak, and a tall beige hat that symbolizes the tombstone. Left behind with their egos in tact on Saturday night, many observers shifted in their seats and checked their cellphones soon after the dervishes took the stage.
However, as the poet suggests, those audience members who had the patience to read between the lines – or the swirls – discovered great beauty in the dervishes’ attempts to align their bodies with the divine. No two dervishes looked the same, as each curved his arms and torso and angled his face to the sky in his own way. My favorite was the tallest and most corpulent dancer who, despite his bulk, extended his chin so high toward the heavens that he cradled his head in his arms in a gesture of stunning humility. Another more sprightly dancer raised straight arms to the sky and lifted his foot high off the ground as he turned, almost like a trained Western dancer, yet his face shared the same peaceful expression of transcendent beauty as his peers.
Watching the Whirling Dervishes of Rumi, like reading the poet who inspires them, rewards patience and a willingness to surrender to the unknown. Though the show’s format lacked the continuity and fluidity of the spiraling dancers, the poet’s message was still there for those with the eyes to see.