Hippie

They’d chosen a spot where they could drink, and they’d both already finished their first glass of wine.

Paulo suggested that, before he respond, they order food. Karla agreed. Now that she’d finally become a real woman, capable of loving with all her strength without the aid of some sort of drug, the wine was merely a celebration.

She knew what awaited her. She knew what kind of conversation they would have. She had known ever since they’d made amazing love the night before; at the time, she’d felt like crying, but she accepted her fate as though it were already written. The only thing she’d ever wanted in life was a heart on fire, and the man who’d given her this was at that moment inside her. And that night, when she finally confessed her love, his eyes hadn’t lit up as she’d imagined they would.

She wasn’t naïve, but she’d always gotten what she wanted in life—she wasn’t lost in the desert but running like the waters of the Bosphorus toward a gigantic ocean where all rivers meet, and she would never forget Istanbul, the skinny Brazilian and his conversation, though she couldn’t always follow it. He had performed a miracle, but he didn’t need to know this—otherwise guilt might change his mind.

They ordered another bottle of wine. It was only then he began to speak.

“The man without a name was at the cultural center when I arrived. I greeted him, but he didn’t return my greeting; his eyes were fixed on something, like in a sort of trance. I kneeled on the floor, tried to clear my mind and meditate, to reach out to the souls there who danced about, singing and celebrating life. I knew that at some point he would leave his state, and I waited—actually, I didn’t ‘wait’ in the literal sense of the term, I delivered myself to the present moment, without waiting for absolutely anything.

“The loudspeakers called the city to prayer, the man returned from his trance state and performed one of that day’s five rituals. It was only then he noticed I was there. He asked why I’d returned.

“I explained that I’d spent the night thinking about our previous encounter and that I’d like to deliver myself, body and soul, to Sufism. I was dying to tell him how, for the first time in my life, I’d made love—because when we were in bed, and I was inside you, it was as though I really was leaving my own body. I’d never experienced that before. But I deemed the subject inappropriate and said nothing.

“?‘Read the poets,’ came the response from the man without a name. ‘That’s all you’ll ever need.’

“That wasn’t all I needed. I needed discipline, rigor, a place to serve God so that I could be closer to the rest of the world. Before going there for the first time, I had been fascinated by the dervishes who danced and entered into a sort of trance. Now I needed my soul to dance with me.

“I ought to wait a thousand and one days so this could happen? Perfect, I’d wait. By that time, I’d done plenty of living—perhaps twice as much as my high school classmates. I could dedicate the next three years of my life and, eventually, try to enter into that perfect trance of the dancing dervishes.

“?‘My friend, a Sufi is a person who lives in the present moment. Tomorrow isn’t a part of our vocabulary.’

“Yes, that I knew. My real question was whether I needed to convert to Islam to continue my learning.

“?‘No. You need make only one promise: deliver yourself to the path of God. See His face each time you drink a cup of water. Listen to His voice each time you pass a beggar on the street. That’s what every religion teaches and it’s the only promise we ought to make—the only one.’

“?‘I still lack the discipline for that, but with your help I’ll arrive at the place where heaven meets earth—in man’s heart.’

“The man without a name said that he could help me if I left my e

ntire life behind and did everything he told me. Learn to beg when I had no money, to fast when the moment arrived, to serve lepers, to wash the wounds of the sick. To spend my days doing absolutely nothing, merely staring at a fixed point and repeating the same mantra, the same phrase, the same word.

“?‘Sell your wisdom and buy space in your soul to be filled with the Absolute. Because the wisdom of men and women is madness before God.’

“At that moment, I began to doubt I was capable of this—perhaps he was testing me with this demand for absolute obedience. But I detected no hesitation in his voice, I knew he was serious. I also knew that my body had entered that green room that was falling apart, with its broken stained glass and on that day particularly free of filtering light, as a storm was approaching.

“I knew that my body had entered that place, but my soul had remained outside, waiting to see what would come of it all. Waiting for the day when, by a simple coincidence, I would walk in there and see others spinning around one another. Everything would be a well-orchestrated ballet and nothing else. But that wasn’t what I was looking for.

“I knew that if I didn’t accept the conditions he was imposing at that moment, the next time I’d find the door closed to me—even if I could come and go as I pleased, as I’d done the first time.

“The man was reading my soul, observing my contradictions and doubts, and at no moment did he show any flexibility—it was all or nothing. He said he needed to return to his special meditation, and I asked him to answer at least three more questions.

“?‘Do you accept me as your disciple?’

“?‘I accept your heart as a disciple, because I cannot refuse—otherwise, my life would have no use. I have two ways of showing my love of God: the first is to praise Him day and night, in the solitude of this room, but that wouldn’t be the least use to me or Him. The second is to sing, dance, and show His face to all through my joy.’

“?‘Do you accept me as your disciple?’ I asked a second time.

“?‘A bird cannot fly with a single wing. A Sufi teacher is nothing if he cannot share his experience with someone else.’

“?‘Do you accept me as your disciple?’ I asked for the third and final time.

“?‘If tomorrow you come in through that door as you’ve done the last two days, I accept you as my disciple. But I’m almost certain you’ll regret it.’?”

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