Listen to the Reed!

Today marks 746 winters since the wedding of our master Jalal ad-Din Rumi and the return of his shell to the dust. We recall his immense contribution to the great spirit that moves through those who choose to fill their lungs with it and exhale its essence in the proper direction.

Rumi, who received a grounded, orthodox Islamic education, underwent a spiritual upheaval upon meeting the mystic Shams-i Tabrizi. Their famous bond led Rumi to a mystical transcendence that left us with monumental works—cornerstones of Islamic mystical culture and a source of inspiration that transcends language and geography.

Beyond his ability to fill the empty spaces on hipster cafe menus, our master Rumi is remembered for the central role he granted the musical experience in the seeker's spiritual path—for the thundering peaks it awakens and for the fragments of silence between notes where the soul sinks to the depths it must reach before ascending to hidden realms.

Our master said:

"Music is the rustling of the gates of Paradise."

Should one of the fools in the crowd blurt out, "I do not like the sound of the gates of Paradise!"

The master would reply: "You hear the gates of Paradise as they close, whereas I hear them opening!"

One of the most central instruments in the Turkish Mevlevi practice is the Ney, the reed flute. Listening to its deep, piercing, yet delicate sound reveals its power to lead the listener to the realms of the spirit and the unseen. Its sound constantly echoes the rhythm of human breath; it is said that the Ney has nine openings, and the tenth opening is man himself, through whom the breath of the entire universe flows.

In the gardens of Rumi’s soul, there were warm corners for the Ney and the reed (Arundo donax) from which it was uprooted. These were granted a place of honor at the opening of Rumi’s monumental work, the Masnavi, in the form of the spiritually saturated ‘Ney-Nameh’:

“Listen to the reed! Drenched in complaints!

It laments its separation.

I want a heart, a heart torn by parting,

That I may express the pain of love...

...

...It is the fire of love that inspires the reed,

Not just the wind; it is the bubbling of emotion that gives wine its perfection.

...

Who has ever seen poison and antidote like the reed?

Who has ever seen a consort and a yearning lover like the flute?

...

The Beloved is everything, the lover a veil,

The Beloved is living, the lover a drifting corpse.

...

Do you know why the mirror reflects nothing?

Because rust and refuse cover its face.

...

Listen to the voice of the reed!

It is, indeed, the story of our lives.”

....

Hover in peace, Rumi, above the cafes and the canal banks.

Let the reed convey your essence.

You are already everything.