niños y adioses

The end of year show rehearsal today and while looking around, trying to give last minute instructions and trying to figure out who needs to go to the toilet, I can't help it but my eyes start watering....
Some people think because I continuously say good bye I've gotten used to it and that somehow it has become easier. I have gotten used to it but it isn't any easier. Maybe a bit easier as I try to think of "so long"s  and not a "good bye"s but this year is different. I've come to a fence where that making that distinction is no longer valid: saying good bye to my children, my dear fasulye.

In this first year that I've worked entirely with children I've learnt more than just a career or a path to be followed. I've learnt, a bit, how beautiful it is to be a child. How pure they can be, how much true love they can give, how clean their world is. And I say a bit since I've learnt to love them. They loved me from the first day. That is beautiful. They love you just because; there isn't a reason why not to do it: you are a person, you are in front of them, they love you....

but I dwell....

The smiles shared every morning, the yells of happiness heard every time they felt like it, the tight hugs they gave us whenever they had a problem, the awe whenever we showed them something new, the satisfaction they showed when they know they've learnt something, their getting comfortable on your lap as someone read them a story, their pride because they can pee standing up now or because they can put on their shoes on, Elif Naz' never ending stories, Demir's animal sounds, Leyla's giggles, Dora's wondering eye, Zeynep's songs, Ulas Ali's hair bouncing as he runs, Lorin's theatrical acts, Selim's cuteness, and on and on and on.. they are all soon to be gone, gone as I wonder: how much do we remember from when we were three?  

is everything forgotten? ... will I be forgotten too?
maybe, but what I've gotten from them is for me and you to share... for a long while to come......

I take so much from them, but what I really want, is that zeal to live this minute, this one now not the next one coming right up,  to the fullest: to run as fast I can, to laugh like a maniac for the smallest of things and cry a river the next instant, to be amazed at a bug, to rejoice at every sound my body can make...

A Hakuna Matata kindergarten style :)

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