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