compartiendo la ventanilla

sentado en un micro, mirando por la ventanilla mi mente divaga:
eso q veo por la ventana ahora, eso, y solo eso es mi mundo. Por los siguientes 20 minutos ó 5 años alcanzaré a ver poco más que este cuadrado aquí delante mío.
¿Y si lo compartiese con alguien chévere? me pregunto ¿y si con ese alguien chévere, nuestros mundos se unen si fuese aunque por 20 minutos ó hasta 5 años? y si así se hiciese un solo paisaje, no dos, pero solo uno. Diferentes ideas sobre un mismo mundo, pero el mismo al fin y al cabo.
Y lo conversaríamos, lo discutiríamos, de él nos reiríamos y también lo disfrutaríamos.

Mas si luego ese alguien chévere se bajase del micro? aunque si me quede solo una vez más, ese metro y medio de ventanilla sería más grande por lo ya vivido y experimentado.
Y sin en otro viaje 20 años ó 5 minutos después, nuevamente absorto en la ventanilla, ese mismo alguien chévere sube una vez más y compartir de nuevo nos toca. Que felicidad sería el poder compartir de nuevo, una vez más con vos, una vez más con vos ver este mundo.
El cielo, siempre lindo, se vuelve más ondeado con amigos al lado....
A todo los que por este micro pasaron y me dejaron entrar en sus mundos, una vez más, ¡gracias!

girando

The beauty of stories without a defined beginning, we can choose the one we like best....
Upon hearing of the disappearance of his good friend, great sadness came upon Rumi. He grabbed a hold of a column and started going around it. As he rotated and started going into a trance, thoughts started pouring out of him: why search for one that is myself, "...I've been looking for myself ..." and so the idea was born, no matter where you turn, you turn to him, or later on, Him, it (the universe), us (society), it (love).....

Since I chose to choose the origins of this ceremony, I think I will choose the meaning as well....
" ...still inside the dressing room but I can already hear sounds of people, sounds of people talking, laughing, getting ready. I'm still inside the dressing room but I can already feel their looks staring at every part of my body, examining my every move. I´m still in the dressing room but I can already feel the sounds of the ney, I can already start becoming one with the universe..."
In a mix of dance and penance, the dervishes wear their death (white), grave (black) and tombstone (brown)  attire and whirl around to lose themselves into these attires and out of the constellations they have danced to signify....
One turn after the next, to the melodies of the ney, their arms start rising up to grab the energy that is ..everywhere, that is me and you...".
"
"... I raise my arms and my spirit follows. Once.. twice... around the sun. I now confide in him. entirely. He will keep me from colliding with the other planets... 
... the ney cries, cries my name which is also hers. While whirling, Rumi found his friend within himself. I long to lose myself in the whirling. The music helps, the ney is also lonesome: Listen to the story told by the reed, of being separated: 

"Since I was cut from the reedbed, 

I have made this crying sound.

Anyone apart from someone he loves understands what I say.

Anyone pulled from a source longs to go back... " 

and in losing myself, let me forget hypocrisies, masks, and charades, let me be one, a true one, one with the rest of the universe. Turn, turn, as all that turns, turns toward love....

.... the tombstone of my head is nothing more than decoration now...."

Mesut. 1st on the right, 3rd photo

Two parting thoughts:
The Turkish government has, ever since 1925, banned all demonstrations of Sufism. Despite it being a monastery the place where the ritual took place, and that more than half the attendants were praying as the dervishes were whirling, these rituals are tolerated today only as a tourist attraction. This was made clear when a group of 20 tourist came into the hall10 minutes into the ceremony and left 30 minutes after having come in and taken all the photos they needed.

The second thought goes to the music. A sublime sound that takes control of you to drown you first and save you from your sorrows and pains two minutes later. The reed-ney was Rumi's preferred instrument as the sounds it makes talk of lonesomeness, wandering, strength, light and guidance.
Following, a bit of retake on it....
Ab-i-Hayat

Istanbul Nights

Caminando de noche se ven tantas cosas lindas.......

Hıdrellez

Festivals, celebrations, legends, myths..whenever they come together anywhere in the world, if they are true, they pour over onto the streets....
Hıdrellez is no different. The reasons behind it? a few... two prophets that met to mark their adveniment to Earth, to deambulate and help us solve our problems and carry our guilt; the begining of the warm part of the year before someone decided to put a few seasons in between; the creation of something truly turk; the passing of some gypsis through town; I could go on for a while but I won't as the reason doesn't really matter... the spirit does...
Upon my return to Istanbul I was told of this festival: "a night in which everyone comes out onto the streets behind Sultanahmet to chat, to partake, and, later on, to dance and drink as streets musicians make their appearance and try to make their way through these streets to the seaside..." a feeling of spontaneity running onmipresent in the open, a true street festival, a people festival, that's what I expected and fantasized about...
But in these times, men have become greedy. Some big wallet bought the rights of the festival (yes, that IS possible) and translocated it to a nice/safe/easy-to-control-the-entrance location where he would provide great amusement from great bands and even easier access to food and drinks. All for the convenient price of only 20TL.. a true philanthropist....

The first posters advertising the "new and revamped" festival marked the begining of a heavy mood. The though of someone "buying" the festival was unbearable.

So unbearable, people had to show different. Everyone I talked to told me they were going to the original site, to a non-existing event. But it did exist. The streets of Ahırkapı were packed by the time we got there, and as I saw, people never stopped pouring in. And yes, there were drinks and food and music but mainly camaraderie. To the beat of a clarinet and a drum,a darbuka or a djembe we danced. It is so beautiful to say "we" meaning everyone in the place. The collective beat. The up and down of a crowd. The wave of a unique feeling. It does fill the spirit....

Spontaneous... that will be my description.
A two man show appearing at a corner, playing for a half an hour, lifting people from the ground with their beats, and then dissapearing for 10 minutes to reappear again 50 metres down the road. And again, play, lift, dance, dissappear to only appear again. Of course, if you want them to stick around a little longer, a drink or a cigarrete will take you a long way ;)
Joy of the beat that crawls up the spine and into the head and down into the feet at 80 kph....

Eleven marks the time to start making way for the bay front. Musicians leading, the masses move in waves across an old wall arcade. The street is no obstacle, cars will just have to wait as the procession of dancers cross the road. Some even join by stepping out of their cars and shimmy for a bit.
As I told you: spontaneous.

The time to jump the fire has come and the time to rest the feet along the Marmara, that big body of water that saw me arrive in Istanbul more than a year ago now :) .......

punto aparte:
la luna, que pedazo de regalo. Ella siempre coqueta como solo ella lo sabe ser, pero hoy con los ojos abiertos al gigantesco, mirándonos a todos y cada uno de nosotros, viendo como al saltar a ella nos acercamos... pues es seguro que sabemos que bien adentro, es eso lo que queremos, alcanzar un pedazo de luna seria bello....

Wishes

Be it high in the Andes, low in the lowlands, deep in the jungle or next to the sea; in places as cold as Murmansk in the North Circle or as hot as the Equator; the idea of a wish seems to be omnipresent, but maybe more so the idea or hope that a certain wish could be granted if we somehow find the correct formula/prayer/petition/ritual. Of these rituals, many mesmerize me, be it for its intricacy or for its simplicity.

Delightful every one of them.
I got to try some more today as I strolled along these gipsy-for-a-day streets:  jumping over a freshly started fire, scribbling some unconnected words on a piece of paper and later paste it onto a wall were my ways of tempting fortune today.

The becoming true or not is probably the least of the worries, too trivial, the biggest wish was to be present this evening. Wish granted. Second wish, for it to be a big party. Yet another wish granted. Third and last wish, to be surrounded by good people. Granted granted granted.
There is nothing much more to ask for, so I don't bother going into the more traditional way of getting a wish: buy a balloon and ask your love one to grant it ;) 

Maybe next year....