? Opportunites in the days ahead

On August 1st there was a solar eclipse.
On August 16, yesterday, there was lunar eclipse.
Reportedly an auspicious time.

Here is what one of my favorite fortune tellers has to say:


"Eclipses always come in pairs. Though both have now come and gone, their aftermath has only just begun to reveal itself. Watch this week and you'll see history rewrite itself and the present redefine itself. No matter who you are or what you're going through, you're not in quite the position you thought you were. There's a new possibility now and, if you look, you'll see reason to feel hopeful, where before all you could see was reason to worry. Some situations may get worse before they get better, but all dramas now, must start a fresh, more encouraging chapter."
-Jonathan Crainer


Surely there is no harm done in being open to the possibility of receiving some galactic support from the planetary gods. Just maybe we have plenty of reason to expect some delightfully refreshing experiences in the days to come.

Cheers!


.

into the realm of Galtung

As I took off for Norway, after spending a week with the NVC community in Warsaw exploring connection, I was primed for something intimate and personal, feeling quite open and vulnerable at the same time.

Making the decision to study further with Johan Galtung involved a financial commitment I was not prepared for, creating a real dilemma for me. I waited to the last hour to make my plane reservation, seeking some clarity as to the appropriateness of making such an investment of time, energy and financial resources.

Needless to say, I did purchase a roundtrip ticket to Bergen Norway, and at 4 AM I set out for the Warsaw airport. My first stop was in Oslo Norway, where I had a two hour layover. As I entered the airport, energetically, I felt a familiarity with this place. In addition to the fair skinned, blue eyed Anglo population, more people spoke English than I had experienced in a couple of months, (in public places that is) in the midst of a very open, expansive, light filled public space. There was a sense of having come home. And in a strange way, more so than I imagine feeling in the USA.


Over the past couple of years, I have been able to do a good bit of travel. For the most part it has been to Mexico and Central America. Those regions inhabited with darker skinned indigenous people. I have a great deal of respect for them and their ancestry and for the most part I return home feeling nurtured from having spent time amungst them. Clearly, none of the generations that go before me, are from that part of the world, however on a deeper level, I feel an affinity with these people, in their less complicated, simple, well grounded way of being in the world. I find it easy to connect with them and their sacred land and the deep deep culture that resides there. It is my soul that is nurtured while in their presence.

Interestingly, Norway, as Johan puts it, has “little soul”. Which perhaps explains why I have not felt particularly drawn to this part of the world, being inclined towards the spiritual, as I am. Before Christianity arrived around 1050, Norway was the center of the Viking civilization and with it came the Norse mythology, including the stories of good and bad forces. According to Johan, a big part of the local mythology has to do with the battle between Balder and Loki. Loki, the god of death, was believed to have won out, and the “stones wept”. In 1650 the country converted from Catholicism to Protestantism. Today, there is a rapid decline in Christian practices while Nordic spirituality seems to be focused on the land and the sea. The sea not necessarily experienced as a nurturing, loving presence. In fact there seems to be a certain amount of fear of its powerful force, taking many lives every year. Nevertheless, I feel an affinity here. I suppose it is in my bones that I feel it. My grandparents’ family sailed across the ocean, from this Scandinavian part of the world in the late 1800’s, so that I do indeed have roots here.

In exploring the possibility of making the trip to Norway to study further with Professor Galtung, it was thru the NVC network that I was put in contact with Bjarte Bjorsvik. He has been practicing NVC for a number of years and has been very involved with peace works, thru different NGO’s. He lives in Bergen, the closest city to Jondal, where the training was to take place. He too planned to attend the training. We had had a couple of email exchanges and he was quite helpful. When I arrived in Bergen, I was invited to stay at his home for the night and then together we would travel to Jondal, a three hour bus ride and 15 minute ferry trip away.

After arriving in Bergen and before heading over to Bjarte’s, I had a chance to do a bit of exploring. Bergen is a quaint town settled in amongst a range of 7 mountains, situated on a peninsula. It is on the northwestern coast of Norway and is the 2nd largest city in the country, with a population of approx. 250 thousand. I arrived on Saturday and the plaza was bustling with activity, including open air chess games and martial arts dance and play. It has a booming oil industry along with a very vital sea operations. It is the largest port in Norway and one of the largest in Europe. Norway has a very strong economy with an average annual income of $80,000. For this reason they have yet to join the EU. I am imagining that the financial well being of the community has something to do with the ease with which the people seem to be about their life.


There appears to be a casual, easy going confidence here. The kind that financial security can help to provide. Getting to Bjartes involved a couple of bus rides. I was thrilled with the experience of getting onto a bus that was packed with great big burly Norwegian men who had gathered together to attend a football (soccer) game. As they belted out their traditional team songs, the bus rocked. I have not experienced that much male energy in a very long time. I absolutely loved it. I had the good fortune to hear that quality of male voice again, the night before leaving Bergen. There had been a Festival that day, and the plaza was filled to the brim with musicians. One of the groups was an older generation of sailors, singing out with great gusto, in their rich bass voices, their beloved ballads of the sea. Again, I loved it. (I decided then, that in future travels, I would not only bring a more reliable camera, but also a tape recorder. The sounds of the different regions of the globe can be as endearing and memorable as the sites.)

At first meeting Bjarte, I felt a quick and pleasant connection. I felt welcomed into his community. After catching a quick nap and freshening up, we decided to go into town for a bite to eat, settling on an open air restaurant. Helga, a friend of his, joined us. After a somewhat intense week in Poland, the carefree and casual conversation was most enjoyable. I felt like I was catching up with old friends, sharing a great meal of seafood, salad and wine, while listening to folk singers in the background, singing a combination of local tunes, Bob Dylan and Simon and Garfunkel. As it got late, Bjarte and I started back to his place, making our way to the bus stop, strolling along the harbor, thru the vibrant Saturday night crowd of Bergen. Quite a romantic colonial city it is. During the late night bus ride home we engaged in intimate conversation. The kind you don’t have in broad daylight, meeting needs for a different kind of connection. Feeling quite satisfied on so many levels, I was soon ready to settle in for a good nights sleep. Waking up the next morning well rested, we were able to carry on with our intimate sharing, giving each other our full attention. Oh my, how sweet this is. As we dropped in and out of conversation, while preparing for the week ahead, there is something emerging within me. Privately I am formulating a request. A request that we find the courage to maintain our connection. That we stay current with one another, no matter what arises. That we not flee. And that if we must, we say so, before departing. The request does not get spoken.

Onto Jondal we go, filled with excitement for the week ahead. Not only am I going to be with Johan who I greatly respect but also with this precious new connection with Bjarte. And on top of that, in the midst of the most incredible landscape, filled with mountains and streams, fjords and waterfalls, a glacier and bright blue skies. All of it quite breathtaking.



And then, something happened. He was gone. Almost as quickly as he appeared, he disappeared. Oh, dear Abbey. Surely, with all of our honesty, we can retrieve what seems to be lost. Figure out where we made a wrong turn and retrace our steps. Was it something I said, or did or did not do? Where did he go? After requesting some time, in hopes of meeting needs for clarity and understanding and perhaps connection, we do meet. We talk, we empathize, and I grieve the lose of something dear. Even though in NVC I am trying to stay more connected to the metness of needs, and not get attached to strategies as to how they are met, I am in pain. For a long time now, I have kept my needs for intimacy and companionship neatly tucked away. And now, here they are, just a short time ago in great celebration and now crying out in pain. It seems as though Bjarte’s need for safety and autonomy and self connection are making requests of their own, and his strategy seems to involve disconnecting from other, in order to meet them. So while theoretically I understand, my heart aches. Fortunately, I am still riding on a wave of resourcefulness, along with my great interest in what Johan has to offer. I am able to maintain my balance, but there were times when it is quite a challenge. Slowly I began to cultivate nice connections with others. Also, Helga decided to attend the training. We roomed together and she was great support. I felt like a had a real sister in her, for which I am grateful. I hope we can stay in touch. I also had nice connection with Cesar, a man from the Philippines, Moses from Sudan, Federico from Germany and a number of others, including Randi and Lars, who were both singers. They were as curious and interested in me, as I was in them. Their evening music helped to soothe my tender heart.

So, as I am engaged in my own intrarpersonal conflict, attempting
to make peace with seemingly different bodies of needs appearing
to at odds with one another, Johan begins to speak of the cultivation of peace on a global level between Nations, tribes and political leaders. And my body begins to reverberate. He is telling my story, made global. It is one and the same. As above, so below begins to takes on new meaning. I and the world are One and like never before, it becomes clear to me that the starting point begins with me! Familiar concept, new realization. And for Johan, what message does he have to offer in this creative, dynamic process?

His body of work is named Transcend. The path is one of exploring new understanding, new language, new projects. Transcending beyond where we have been and into new ways of relating to one another. The journey is one of mediation, conciliation, connection with the specific goal being Peace. His focus is clear and his heart is open, as he welcomes others to join him in this important work. Yes, I am ready to join him, doing my best to embrace and integrate the teachings he so graciously shares. I am grateful for his courage in forging the way for the past 50 years.
Yes, Johan Galtung, I love you and I appreciate the fullness of your life as it is made manifest. You are a harbinger of light and an inspiration to many. Namaste

With both the personal and transpersonal connections with Bjarte and Johan this week, my time in Norway was extremely rich and meaningful. I look forward to the fruit that it will bear as the ground of my being has been overturned, with many seeds having been planted. For now, I will do my best to remain fertile, ready and receptive to new life, as it emerges. And as it does, I welcome the opportunity to join with others in co-creating a more loving and peaceful world.





As I flew back to Warsaw to catch my train to Budapest, I am grateful that navigating from the airport to the train station was easy. The trip home was as comfortable going as it was coming. Interestingly enough, there was a four hour delay. While in no hurry to get any where soon, I was fine with the additional travel time. And with the “travel gods” looking over me, it provided time to get acquainted with the two men who stayed in the cabins on either side of mine. They were from China. Interested in engaging in conversation, they invited me into their cabin for some chat. Having traveled through out the world with Johan for the past week, I had some information on the current situation in their country. Curious to hear of their perspective, wasting no time I asked “WHAT about Tibet?” That was enough to open up a conversation that lasted for the next two hours. Basically, they expressed a lot of frustration and disappointment in that they do not feel as their country is understood. For these two men, the situation in Tibet, is about maintaining a united nation, which translates into a strong and well protected country, serving to provide safety for the well being of China and therefore its people. I do not pretend to really understand it all. What I do know is that once again, I had the opportunity to open my mind to different perspectives, different points of view, while recognizing that as misguided as we may sometimes seem to be, we are all seeking a safe and life fulfilling existence.

I pray that we become more skillful in creating this reality in more compasionate and mutually life serving ways.

Heading North......

Briefly though, before heading off to the train station for my overnight ride to Warszawa, I decided to get a much needed hair cut. I scheduled an appointment with a member of the B’hai community, a friend of Andrews. While the haircut served its purpose, I was most pleased with my connection with the young male hairdresser, who is a Roma. Roma’s are those individuals referred to as Gypsies in all travel guides. “They are the ones to be aware of and avoided at all cost, the thieves.” They are the same ones that Hitler attempted to exterminate along with the Jews and Homosexuals. They are the ones that today, are heavily discriminated against as second class citizens, perceived to be a burden upon the welfare system. Human rights groups are beginning to speak out on their behalf. After sharing an hour and a half with Artur I found myself easily letting loose of any prejudices I had become familiar with during my time here in Hungary. As is often the case while traveling, I am delighted with the way in which seemingly serendipitous connections are made, serving to expand my awareness of other realities. I am grateful to have had a personal connection with a member of the Roma family.

Off to the train station I go. A couple of metro stops later and I am at the Keleti terminal. It is 18:00 and time to board the train. As I enter into my cozy cabin I am delighted to be here. Well provided for, with a most comfortable bed to snuggle up in, plenty of bottled water, a Gyro sandwich to-go, a large window providing great views of the passing landscape, my ipod with all of my favorite music, and an engaging book I am just finishing up, all in the care of a most attentive conductor. Now, to just settle into the rhythmic motion of the train as I travel thru northern Hungary into Poland. . I am grateful to be where I am. Life is good.

Akasha meets me at the train station. I am grateful to see her, and even more so as she navigates us thru Warsaw as we head towards the boarding school where our group is meeting for the week. After a number of bus changes and a long walk, we arrive. All the while she enthusiastically shares with me, her love of her city, its history and her hope for its future. As we make our way, I am struck with how tattered the city looks, unkempt and in disrepair. The architectural wonders I have been surrounded by for the past months, are no where to be seen. As the story unfolds, many of the large tall concrete buildings are constructions of the Russian regime, that occupied Warszawa for forty some years. Before that, the city was ravished by the German army. At one point it was questionable as to whether the city should be rebuilt elsewhere, as there was so little that remained after all of the bombings. Poland resisted the German’s occupation and as a result paid a very heavy price.

After arriving to the school, some 20 miles outside of town, I had a bite to eat, unpacked and was ready to return to the city, for more site seeing. I am so glad that I did, as it was my last time to experience Warsaw, other than my taxi ride to the airport, at 4:00, heading out to Norway. So, with all of her enthusiasm, Akasha led me on quite a rigorous tour thru her city. Wanting to show me as much as possible in the 4 short hours we had, before needing to be back for our groups first meal together. The pace and intensity was at times a bit overwhelming. We spent most of our time in the old part of the town. Most of which has been completely restored, so that in fact what we actually saw was, to a large extent, the reconstruction of a demolished city. And while I would not have known that, the Polish people do and are committed to reclaiming their buildings, their structures, their historic treasures, filling the plazas and walking streets with their presence. Regrettably I did not have my camera with me. So I have no picture to share. I really thought there would be more opportunities to photo shoot.
On our bus ride back to the school Akasha shares with me that she is a trained opera singer. She loves to sing. 12 years ago she quit singing, while in a very difficult relationship. Some 10 years later, she realized that she had lost her voice. Out of a deep commitment to reclaiming it, she sought out professional help, in repairing any damage done to her vocal cords. With much therapy, a lot of practice and patience, she is able to once again express thru song. I was deeply touched by her story, as I reflected on her commitment to reclaiming her full expression. Her story is Warszawa’s story. I will carry it with me as I remember Poland.

Ah, where to go from here. Well, it was not long before it became clear to me, that my time here in this part of the world was somehow a reflection of an aspect of my own life, as I have traveled thru my own demolished past, reconstructing my life as I go. I too have resisted occupation, in my own rebellious ways, and I too have paid a heavy price. Sounds a bit melodramatic, I know, but there is something about it that rings true, and I am appreciating the correlation. It helps me to get some perspective, it gives me hope, it connects me to the greater whole.

As I entered into the week with 12 other practitioners of NVC I was looking forward to an experience of deep connection, empathic listening with mutual support and understanding. Loosing site of the fact that all of us, committed to a life of non violent connection, carry with us our humanity. And with that humanity comes…….you name it! Deep structure, deep culture, wounded, unhealed realities seeking meaningful resolution. Much to my own dismay, family of origin dynamics were recreated, providing rich opportunity to rewrite the script. Fortunately, after having had two months of self connecting solitude, I was well resourced and able to move thru my own storylines with little trouble. It was actually quite an affirming experience for me.

In a fairly unstructured environment we all experimented with speaking our truth, receiving varying degrees of support as we ventured into authentic communication.
We explored making requests, along with negotiating our way thru different needs as they arose within the group. Truly a rich opportunity to harvest some potentially transformative insights. Not always pleasant, nor fun, but seemingly necessary in the process of healing into wholeness.


The group represented citizenship from different parts of the world, including Poland, Hungary, India, Iran, Israel, United States. In retrospect, I mourn that there was not more mutual interest in providing empathy for our cultural wounds.



I regret that when Sahara from Iran shared her computer
with me, so I could make my plane reservation to Norway, she
showed me a series of pictures of US soldiers dining on gourmet
meals in Iraq, and that I did not request some time for mutual empathy, as we each observed the photos. But instead I merely expressed my own disgust.

I regret that when Yoham from Israel boldly expressed his disrespect for Christians, that Christinn, a Catholic priest from Shri Lanka was not able to empathize with him around the pain, connected to the mutual suffering of their own cultural past.

I mourn that as Ike, the charming white male from the US spoke, the East European women seem to have lost connection with all else, including themselves, as they were so impressed by what I interpreted as the dominate whilte male culture. I mourn that we did not choose to empathize with Anna who recently lost her husband to bone cancer and Eva whose husband is currently dealing with kidney failure.

So, while it appears as though there were some missed opportunities for some healing work, I do trust that we all did the best we could and that each of us left with exactly what we came for.

And for that, there is reason for celebration. Additionally, for the connections that were made and for those that will be maintained.

Upon my return from Norway much to my delight, I received an email from
Chris. I look forward to staying in touch with him, along with a couple of the others.

Yes, it was a good, full week in Poland and I am ready to head even further north into the Nordic region of the world, where my own cultural roots lie deep.

In honor of Hungary

I am feeling a bit rattled this morning. I did not sleep well. Magdi and I got together for dinner last night. It was good to see her. It has been a while. We met at a quaint little outdoor cafe, sweetly tucked away under a canopy of trees, in the midst of some pretty incredible architectural wonders. So very very romantic, for one that comes from a more austere region of the world. For the locals, this environment is just part of their lives, as they have always known it. A tasty salad, salmon crepes with a glass of wine, and then a cup of hot chocolate. Oh my, the very rich creamy chocolate drink was unlike any I have ever had. Quite wonderful. Surely I will have another, some day soon, now that I know of this delicacy. (a pondering; I’m intrigued with the notion that something as wonderful as this has been present all along, but not until I become aware of it, could I partake. How many treasures are just waiting to be discovered, enjoyed and fully welcomed into the life? And not even hidden, but rather treasures just waiting to be discovered and and enjoyed , because that’s what they were created for. That is their purpose, to provide pleasure. Some are even publicized, right there on the menu, ready to be ordered up. Ready to give and to be received. I will keep my eyes open, and in the meantime be grateful when someone helps by pointing them out to me and when appropriate,I will do the same.. . Thank you Magdi! )

So, here I am with Magdi, born and raised in Hungary, with deep ancestral roots in this land. And as you can imagine, I am eager to hear of her life story, as a native Hungarian. How has it been for her, living in the midst of such an important period in the life of Hungarian history ? (She lived in the USA for a number of years and teaches English, so we are able to have a thorough conversation.)

As we finished our meal and are sharing life stories, the topic of alcoholism comes up. I know it well, from my own family of origin, and I had heard it was a problem here in Hungary. Hungary ranks high on the list of European countries plagued with the illness along with depression and suicide. There is unhappiness in Hungary. What does she attribute it to? Hungary is finally a liberated country, free to create Her own future, so it seems, now that the Russians are gone. What is the burden? After having visited the Holocaust museum on Sunday, it is not difficult to imagine. Additionally, after having dipped into Hungarian history for the past two months, it is clear that the challenges Hungarians have had to deal with for a very long time, run deep. SHE has had a hard life, with many hundreds of years of having to defend her right for freedom and independence and respect. Unfortunately too many times, partnering up with the “wrong guy”. The guy who did not have her best interest in mind, but rather His own, self serving power seeking, domination driven interests. I am speaking of Austria, Germany and Russia. And yes, Turkey before that, although She did not choose Him. They all recognized something precious and valuable here and unfortunately She was all too willing to receive their “support” Undoubtedly with many regrets, having paid some very heavy prices for that “support”. (I recognize this story, feeling as though I have heard it before).

Sadness wells up, as I write this. As it did for Magdi as she tells a story of her family making their trip to Germany to visit family. They were allowed to travel outside of Hungary, once every 3 years. Her aunt invited them to come live with her. To move out of Hungary, and be free from the oppressive Communist government. . Her father declines the offer. And the sadness, I ask as I try to connect with Magi in her grief. .She shares how touched she was that her fathers love for his country, his homeland was so great that he would not abandon Her. This is where he and his family belonged. And there is sadness. Because with that deep seated commitment comes hardship, difficult and challenging times for himself and his family. And that hardship lives on today. Her father is an engineer, an educated man. He is in his mid 60's and is loosing his memory. Magdi is not sure whether it is a physiological condition or whether he no longer chooses to remember. She fears he has "given up, lost interest". The burden has gotten too heavy, and he needs to set it down. He has carried it long enough.

As we talked about the depression and the alcoholism, I asked about how people are getting help in dealing with their haunted past, in order to heal. Were there public programs available to help the masses process such unhealed wounds that lie not- so-dormant, within the psyche of the Hungarian people. She felt as though it was an inside job, one person at a time, while also hopeful that with each generation, the consciousness of the times, would serve as a healing agent. For now, she will do her own inner work and when waking up with nightmares, she will continue to let them go, affirming “they do not belong to her”. She is part of the generation that does have an opportunity to participate in the creation of a new life, here in Hungary. And today, the people struggle as they attempt to do so, with little clarity as to how to make such a major shift from one political system to another. It is as if they are still recovering from years of trauma, not quite ready to make necessary changes required in order to move into full potential. For those with vision, patience seems to run a bit thin, while the commitment and love for this place remains steady.



With the Holocaust experience fresh in my mind, having just visited the Museum I asked what her understanding was regarding Hungary's' role in the genocide. Since my journey thru that dreadful time in human history, I have had many questions. How could the Hungarians have participated in the demise of so many hundreds of thousands of innocent individuals, Jewish Romas-Gypsy and homosexual? One third of the millions of the victims were either Hungarian citizens or deported from Hungary. Many of these crimes were committed by Hungarians themselves, who were part of the political and intellectual elite, social and professional organizations. I found myself taking a second look at the people of Hungary. There were so many stories told of the involvement of the Hungarian Arrow Cross regime, and their participation in the utter atrocities committed against their own people, people who they had lived and worked and played with for many generations. And the churches, who turned their back on these people, all children of God. And the “innocent by standers” who allowed their neighbors, friends, colleagues to be deported off to concentration camps to be tortured, brutally used for so called medical experimentation, forced into slave labor camps and eventually murdered in masses? How could they possibly have supported a government, committing such horrific acts as that of Hitler and his followers, Hungarian, Austrian and German?? How could it happen ?

(Unable to fully comprehend it all, unfortunately, as is often the case when in such a predicament, I leaned towards drawing a conclusion. A conclusion which fell within the realm of good and bad, right and wrong. In do so, there is no question which camp Hitler belonged to. But, what about the Hungarian people. The people of this country I have enjoyed living in the midst of for the past two months. Where do they fit, in my simplistic, naive, self-protecting storyline. Yes, I am rattled.

Since being here, I have had the real pleasure of developing relationships with both Andrew, whose Jewish grandfather left Hungary to live in the USA, and Magdi a native Hungarian. Obviously, each having very different history's here. Both carrying wounds of their ancestry, as they are products of their past, as we all are. I care for them both. I feel a deep connection with them. And, as I bear witness to the realities they are part of, I am confronted with my attempts to ease the pain as I try o reconcile the two.


As Magdi and I continued our conversation, she talked about the guilt that the Hungarian people carry regarding their contribution to the Holocaust and the incredible amount of fear they felt as they lived with the brutal, life threatening intimidation f the Nazi's.
The Jewish themselves felt some of the same, as the question would arise, did they resist, at the risk of creating greater harm or did they comply. The Zionists resisted, often generating criticism from their own. Comply, as I use the word, I feel a heavy dread sweep over me.

My paradigm does not serve me and I am willing to set it down and open my heart to embracing the fullness of the Story.



I recently heard that Mother Mary is the Patron Saint here. I certainly have felt Her presence, from the beginning of my visit, as I have explored the feminine in the many different aspects. Starting out with the video describing the ecological state of affairs on planet earth, to my curiosity with the women, and their high heeled shoes and exposed cleavages, to the multitude of young ones helping to repopulate this country, to the celebration of the Goddess at the Festival, to the luscious hot baths, the quiet dark places of a low burning flame, and the playful, all embracing rain; all so deliciously feminine. SHE has been most present and available to me, while here. So as I heard of the Mothers prominent role in the culture here, I was not at all surprised. And a real sense of peace came over me. Peace in knowing that in the midst of such a time of transition, the country is well cared for and loved. And just as Magdi''s father has a great love for his country, this country has a great love for Her people and with that love, the much needed healing of the past surely will take place and the Hungarians will flourish into their fullness and there will be reason to celebrate, not only for them but for the entire European community they are an honorable part of. I feel privileged to have had the opportunity to experience Her in this particular place and time.

a pilgrimage

A couple of nights before leaving for Budapest, Juli and I attended an evening event with Latif Bolat, a Sufi musician and storyteller.
Somehow it came up in conversation, that I was going to be spending the next three months in Budapest, at which point Latif enthusiastically encouraged me to be sure to stop by and meet Gul Baba, and while there "please give him his love". I have always felt a kinship with the Sufis, not really understanding why. Suspecting that it probably has something to do with a past life. Don't know? But I certainly welcomed the opportunity to meet this highly respected and much loved spiritual leader of the Bektashi derwish order, right here in his region of the world. Somehow it all felt very auspicious and certainly something I looked forward to. Finally, a truley authentic Sufi experience. Maybe I will even get to whirl!


As you know, I have already visited the Turkish Ruddas Bath a number of times now, and continue to enjoy them. Patiently though, I was reserving my visit to meet Gul Baba for just the right time. I knew it was going to be a significant visit and I wanted to make sure I did not rush into it prematurely. Meanwhile, as my weeks unfolded I began to get some perspective on this country, this place and its people. I started becoming familiar with its history. And sure enough, a history which included the rulership of the Ottoman Empire for 150 years, back –in the 1500’s. That was up until when they attempted to over take Vienna, and were defeated by the Hapsburgs. At which point the Austria Empire began to move in and take control of Hungary, forcing the Turks out of the country. As a Christian regime, there was a thorough cleansing of that which represented the Muslims including the destruction of all Mosques, many bridges and fountains. The Ruddas Baths survived the demolition, being the first of a very long and highly valued and much enjoyed tradition here in Budapest. The Turks contributed a great deal to the culture of Hungary, introducing many new trades, including tayloring, leather and tin smithing, and new techniques for tanning. And not to forget that most treasured spice, no Hungary kitchen would dare be without, paprika! (I am suspicious that there is a deeply esoteric connection between New Mexico and Hungary and even Turkey, and it is in that red hot spice that neither would we want to be without!).

So, onto the website I go, hoping to find my way to Gul Baba, “Father of the Rose”, representing the beauty and purity of his heart. As I googled, much to my chagrin, I discovered that the wise man was actually bigger than life, and that in order to meet with him,
I would need to visit his turbe (tome), where he has been laid to rest since 1541. With a quite lovely bronze statue made in his likeness and

the six sided mausoleum memorializing his life, visitors are welcomed to pay him homage and sit in his presence for as long as one likes. In fact, as the northernmost sacred site for Muslims, many people of the faith do so, every year. I made my pilgrimage there and am happy I did.
And so while I was not able to actually meet with him in person, flesh to flesh, in my time of meditation I imagined that I did, actually leaving feeling quite satisfied with the visit. I did indeed give him Latifs warm regards and he responded in kind. I later emailed Latif, sharing of the message, along with some pictures. He replied with a note of appreciation, expressing his own desire to make the trip some day.

Don't be a spectator on this trip,

There is no death worse than just waiting around.

Set your heart on the heros's gold

and go.

-Rumi