Monday, February 28, 2011

Updated scheudule




March -- try to start up a Journalism club and a Theatre club

April - Spring camp -- in place of Al Hoceima, now I'm coordinating.... Sefrou spring camp! My first love, here in Morocco, I'll get the chance to spend a week there, hiking, feasting on pomegranates, the fruit salad guy across from the jazz cafe.



May 5-fly to Milan again .... / 6 Sade concert ... / 7-11 Cinque Terre ... / 11th, TURANDOT at La Scala / 12 Fly home to Agadir (it's half the cost of flying to Marrakesh I found)


May 28 -- Shakira at the OLM Festival in Rabat



June -- Paris trip. Maybe Lille for the Fete de la musique, and then on over to the Van Gogh museum?



March arrives! songs UPDATED



As perfect as the studio versions of his songs are, I get a thrill from the live versions because they are more free, and he stretches out with his fluid musicality. And you see amazing things like the bass player effortlessly move all the way to the top of the neck at 2:20. I don't pity that he originally recorded those songs with a very high tenor voice, and he's gotten older- but only when he speaks and shouts does it sound lower than it was back in 1965.



And this one is fantastic, because you just get Stevie stripped down to his musical force, without all the other layers on top of things.






Inshallah as a 3 minute jazz impression, inspired by the Brazilian movie Orfeu Negro

Original tracks from the film, from the unbeatable Montreux Jazz fest, one of my top Brazilian songs ever



And the same guy again:






VINCEROOOOOOOOOOOooooooooOOO!




Metallica does Charlie Brown. Sad but true (no, i dont think so, i love both-- but they flub pretty badly doing this)


''I like to think of those 200 million children around the world who don't have any access to primary or secondary school, as 200 million minds that can reach their full potential and become the scientists and the inventors of tomorrow, the teachers, the artists, the environmentalists of tomorrow, the doctors who can cure our illnesses, the wonder makers of tomorrow. I’d like to imagine the world in a few years from now as a big think tank of revolutionary and vital ideas generated by the children that today live in remote and vulnerable places in the world.

Que viva Colombia! (Que viva!)

I believe in humanity, and it's enormous potential, and I believe we are only at the threshold of what we can all achieve. The best is yet to come.''



The full text of Shaki's Harvard speech.

On Saturday, Shakira was named Harvard's Artist of the Year, at a ceremony at the university. On accepting the award, Shakira gave the following speech:

President Faust, Dean Smith, Dean Fitzsimmons, Professor Pfister
Dr. Counter, my dear friend Howard Buffet and, above all, the students of Harvard university.

Thank you so much for the honor you have paid me today.
I’m thrilled to be here, thank you so for such a warm welcome, I've had a lovely day here in Harvard and I feel extremely humbled

I graduated school when I was 15, and except for taking a history course at UCLA in the summer of 2008, I promise you I haven’t been in a classroom. So… as I entered the premises today I had to call my mother and tell her: hey mom guess what ! I got into Harvard! Of course she knew it was only for a day!

Now, normally when I get on stage, and for the audience’s sake and sanity I'm allowed to sing and dance ONLY.

It’s why you’ll have to forgive me for making the most of this occasion abusing the podium and sharing some of my thoughts.
Not every day I'm presented with the opportunity to talk to a group of people that soon will plant relevant ideas in the heads and hearts of generations to come.

So don’t blame me if I'd like to share with you some of the thoughts that crossed my mind on the plane ride coming here or things I've learned from people I've known through my trips while advocating for universal education in the developing world.

Now I don’t have to tell this audience about the power of education.

This is the place where the brightest and the best have come to study, to learn and to teach for well over 300 years.

Your predecessors, the graduates of this university – and a few of her drop-outs – have gone onto shape this country and our world for the better.

So you have – just like I do today in receiving this award – big shoes to fill.

But that’s a challenge you will relish. For you are not at Harvard by accident or luck. It’s your intelligence and hard work that got you here.

And there is nowhere better to help you shape your human potential than this great place of learning.

Not everyone can study at this university, of course.

But everyone, wherever they live, whatever their background, deserves the chance to make the most of his and her potential.

Now, as you will know I am certainly no Mother Teresa. And there are many worthy people who dedicate their lives to changing those of children around the world.

It is they who should be on this stage before you talking about education. But not all of them have this chance, today I do.

What I am is a little woman with a big mouth.

A woman who has been blessed with a big platform to lend her voice for those who don’t have one.

As a child of the developing world, it is my duty to use this voice in every way I can to promote the message about the power of education to change lives.

The scandal is that many millions are condemned forever to a life of poverty and segregation even before they become adults.

I saw this all around me when I was growing up in Colombia, and in Latin America, which is the most unequal region in the world. I learnt that in Latin America, as is the case right across the developing world, that if you are born poor, you will die poor.

I remember vividly growing up in my hometown of Barranquilla, I saw children near my house who were smart and vivacious with enormous talents, children who probably sang and danced much better than me, however they were living in the streets with nothing. No hope, no future.

As a child seeing all this made me sad but, more importantly, it made me angry. Later life gave me the chance to channel all that inconformity when I realized that there were solutions to these issues (and thank God because so much anger cannot live in such small body). So I soon understood that the more we talk about those things that bother us and seem impossible to be fixed the more we can fix them. No child has to die poor and unfulfilled just because he or she were born poor. I know for a fact that with a bit of effort and a ton of conviction; fate can be changed

We know that implementing universal education is hard, especially to create the political will and reform the cultures. But it can be done.

Let¹s be bold. We have the ideas, the intelligence, the human resources, governments have the money and young people have the influence. The ball is in our court.

If we all want the eradication of poverty, promoting education for all, will be the fastest vehicle to take us there.

200 million children currently live without access to primary and secondary education this can only be a synonym of hunger, resentment, violence, discrimination, war.

Education is the way to guarantee this doesn’t happen, and to ensure global security and economic development. It’s the best strategy for peace. After all isn't that what rich and poor countries both want? Investing in education for all is good business. So why wait?

I like to think of those 200 million children around the world who don't have any access to primary or secondary school, as 200 million minds that can reach their full potential and become the scientists and the inventors of tomorrow, the teachers, the artists, the environmentalists of tomorrow, the doctors who can cure our illnesses, the wonder makers of tomorrow. I’d like to imagine the world in a few years from now as a big think tank of revolutionary and vital ideas generated by the children that today live in remote and vulnerable places in the world.

I believe in humanity, and it's enormous potential, and I believe we are only at the threshold of what we can all achieve. The best is yet to come.

It is precisely in times of economic crisis like these, when we should focus on harnessing educated minds. Because it’s been historically proven that educated minds will become the foundation of wealthy societies.

But we all know that it cannot be left in the hands of governments alone, we don't have time for bureaucracy while infinite human potential goes to waste every day, and millions of children are losing the opportunity to develop their talents remaining excluded and ostracized from society.

That’s why citizen activism is so vital.

Now you might be wondering how I became so interested in the value of education. Well, I’m only a student on these issues but I am fascinated with the way investing small efforts in education can guarantee big results over a short period of time. For over 14 years we¹ve been working in Colombia hand in hand with Maria Emma Mejia through Barefoot, the foundation I established in my country when I was 18 years old, and since then we’ve been building schools in areas of extreme poverty and conflict, working with internally displaced families. We have built six state of the art schools offering support to 30,000 families and quality education as well as nutritional meals everyday to our 6,000 students, creating a comprehensive model of education in which the school becomes the center and heart of the community.

The most rewarding thing about working on this project is to see how with only two dollars a day per child. Children who could have been recruited by the militia or paramilitary groups are now on their way to college. We are happy to share that some of our students have achieved the highest national scores in State testing this year. And that is very encouraging. A few years ago we would have thought this impossible. But today we know that all these changes occur in a matter of just a few years if the investment in education is comprehensive.

We hear all the time how education transforms lives. Well, I'm telling you, I have seen it happen. Not once or twice but time and time again.

Sure, we also work in partnership with governments but if there is something I have learned these years, is that once the private sector get it's hands on a school project then the government cannot refuse to participate.

So as citizens we can only push and push our leaders to get involved with issues that are not always at the top of their political agendas.

Also I find that if wee work to inspire the younger generations they will become more and more impatient, more and more active

Speaking of youth activism, at my last performance in Madison Square Garden I remeber there were some kids that I met after the show. They handed me the usual letters which I assumed were fan letters. Instead, inside were donations to sponsor children in my country.

And like them I have met countless students that have told me how they have spent their vacations volunteering in Haiti or Colombia or el Salvador.

It is through volunteering in countries across the world how young people are making a difference.

Every day more of us understand that the world is a small neighborhood and that if there is a kid with an empty stomach in Bangladesh or Latino kid, the son or a daughter of an immigrant who can’t go to school in the United States, that kid should be a concern and a responsibility to all of us.

Also through this journey I’ve had the chance to meet with experts that have taught me amazing facts that have completely broadened my vision on the impact of education. For instance how just one year of primary education means a 10 to 20 per cent increase in wages in an adult life. And every dollar invested in early childhood development programs will give back to the state another 17 dollars..

We can’t afford to miss out on this investment. Universal education is the fuel to the engine of change, and we need to start it now.

So I promise to use my big mouth to make as loud a noise as I can and believe me i can be loud when I need to be.

But in the end, you are the people that are going to have the power to make universal education a reality and shape our world in whatever shape you want. When you leave here, you will be the policy makers, the business leaders and the educators and become extremely influential to determine the order of the world

We are already seeing your generation give a lead in pressing for democracy in the Middle East.

We need to see the same courage and commitment in ensuring every child can benefit from the transformational power of education.

You are the architects of change who can – no will - make your mark on the world just like your predecessors did.

I've been told: that the students of Harvard don't look for jobs, they create them.

So I wonder can you help the rest of us create a more just society?

I say, “yes” through your future practices.

By promoting education for all, and by giving every child the chance to make the most of their potential, you will take a huge step, as the Harvard Foundation urges, “to enhance the quality of our common life”.

Thank you so much for listening to me and my vehemence. Thank you for this honor.

And remember the ball is on your court!

See? This is why I love her... and it's not (completely) because of her body! Anyone that knows me knows I've got a thing for brunettes, not blondes so much.

Now, GET MOVIN' :


You can sponsor a child with her BF Foundation:
(''Make the BFF your BFF'' is the motto I just created for it in my head)


And/Or/ALSO :

I have two of my best friends here in Morocco that are seeking funding for their worthy projects.

''Today, in the midst of beautiful olive groves and rocky slopes we worked on the basics of wilderness first-aid with our CLIMB team. We have raised over 2/3 of our funds for our project, but we still have a ways to go. See how you can help this group of Moroccan youth climb the tallest mountain in North Africa:


https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=378-146

Thanks to everyone who has already donated! Every little bit helps!''

Anna H. near Taroudant

&
DO YOU ENJOY PLAYING SPORTS? Can you imagine a childhood without sports? DONATE TO MY PROJECT!!! You will be able to help over 250 children in a small town in Morocco. Every lil bit helps!

A Court for Kids | Donate to Volunteer Projects | Peace Corps
Mari Y. down in Tata (one of my favorite areas here in Morocco, and often the last to get assistance from Rabat)

Friday, February 25, 2011

A good addition to read for those who enjoyed the Rumi post







In case you enjoy the Persian/Afghan/Urdu goodness of last time--then keep looking below and discover one of the classics!



WAKE! For the Sun, who scatter'd into flight
The Stars before him from the Field of Night,
Drives Night along with them from Heav'n, and strikes
The Sultan's Turret with a Shaft of Light.




Start here:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rubaiyat_of_Omar_Khayyam




Then go here:
http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/246


To get the Fitzgerald version of the work!


And if you don't have time to appreciate the book, at least take a minute looking at this statue and appreciate the man's beard. 't's a good 'un. Dude could easily be the statue of a Greek god in the Parthenon.



This is a particularly beautiful edition in PDF, but just a sample from a nice book (expensive) edition.

http://www.irandokht.com/images/Khayyam_English.pdf



A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread—and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness—
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!



And just for fun (from nataliedee.com):

A not-too-very-much-sequitor-ish post for today



Spring time is here!



My spring reading is two or three big books: THE RECOGNITIONS, A SUITABLE BOY and... Gone with the Wind (total, 4,000 pages, thereabouts). And all three are not necessarily positive so much as reaffirming, taking the good with the bad and trying to make a place for yourself in this world. Even when sad things happen in them, and they give you, Proust-like, the chance to live a whole life through these characters, the joys and the heartbreaks.











''want to get on with getting on with things.. i can't do any of that here, can I?''






Well, I could have guessed this ahead of time, but reading that last book makes me homesick -- too many people in the first 10 pages are sitting on the porch by the dogwoods, nursing a glass of iced tea. But nostalgia never killed anyone, and as my birthday gets closer, it's nice to revisit my home, if only through the 1930's prose. And, its so big and I'm reading it so leisurely that I might finish it just as I board the plane to go back!


Leisurely... though, already heard of tornado-ish damage in the old home town. I thought of that yesterday when I saw 3 or 4 dust devils pass through the football match I went to. Of course, it didn't help that I also started a book about Katrina, Dave Egger's Zeitoun. And, sure enough, my sister told me this morning that a storm took down part of the roof of the shed at my aunt's/sister's house (And yeah, those are two different people, I needn't mention).

But I'm not too homesick. I've been walking around in this strange, weird mood of contentment that seems unrelated to anything in particular. Hope it lasts!

As Adriana wrote,
Blew out a candle in a Berber village cafe
made big wishes that will come true one day.
In these changing times I'm blessed to be here
with YOU all
the ones I hold NEAR and DEAR.
Since she came to my town and spent two days, I've had an interesting change in me. I wrote this in a letter to my friend Sam, as I thought about it while writing to him from this same cafe in the picture. It's a bit like, in your mind you have these half-submerged assumptions, not all of them nice, that you carry around with you about yourself and the people around you. You feel the gaze, and you add your own negative frame of mind, superimposing your doubts. And as a PCV in a tough-work site, those are plenty indeed.


Showing a guest your life here, though, so different than where they are, you're forced to reevaluate the things here as you introduce them and describe them. This makes you unearth those noxious half-submerged assumptions and decide again if that gaze, is it really malicious or is it more benign? I did this, and found, 'taint so, things here are possibly quite fine, and since then I've been in the public a great deal more-- sat out watching a football game, sat at the cafe, walked up to people, shook their hands, asked about their family and when they're going to come stop by for tea, seemingly all free now of those earlier burdens, that self-doubt and the quick & eroneous conclusion that they're judging me harshly. I can even spend 4 hours in the cyber and not feel too guilty about it!

Sure, one time way back when they judged me, but they did that a long time ago and now without this fake conflict, one emmanating more from inside myself than from them, I've felt my emotional connection to my town double and triple in the past few days. Sometimes, you have to learn to let your guard down-- and I hadn't hardly realized it was up! I suppose, it's like waking up, seeing noone's out to get you, and... letting go and relaxing, letting the moment envelop you such that you can't help but be excited, eager to rush out the door. This next song, by the same lady, is EXACTLY that feeling. I've not felt eager leaving my house in quite a long time. Though, I was happy and anxious and nervous when I showed up to take Z down to my town, for several reasons, and my heart melted when seeing N'Kob come into view and having the people there know my name.




Another video by the same lady-- I feel like they are two good bookends for this half-nostalgic, half-happyy-to-be-where-I-am (is there an adjective for that?). As the great writer said:

"What day is it?"
It's today," squeaked Piglet.
My favorite day," said Pooh."
A.A. Milne



I feel like one of those players in the NFL that are on a streak, so they do everything exactly as they did before the last game, wearing the same socks, eating at the same time, the same thing at the same place, calling the same people, all hoping to not break the magic spell I seem to be under, one I'd say acting on me even despite myself. Tonite I was able to get exactly the kind of student I wanted: more than average English ability (only with an exceptional student do I enjoy teaching the beginner-level), young and outside of the school system (he can't get English any other way), totally informal, at the kitchen of the gas station cafe, no particular time that he's expecting me, and he knows French even better than Arabic! So tonite, the hour lesson just came alive in a way that has only happened with my host family, and that buoyed me even further.

Well, there's a great deal to say. Expect a ''everything's backwards'' blog post sometime soon. It came about last night, feeling inspired and I held up my glass of tea, piping hot, saying ''Woah Saida, would you believe that in the US, we make our tea, just like you do, but after it's boiling we put it in the fridge for the whole day before we drink it? See, we do everything backwards. ''

All those things like that. You should have seen her eyes get big when I pointed to the fridge Doesn't mean it's the wrong way, but it's our way and this is your day, and you might think it's crazy, but that's fine.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Still OK

''...no one was calling for outright revolution. Revolution, after all, would mean overturning the country's supreme ruler. And no one, at least publicly, wants to depose King Mohammed VI.... But it's not only the specter of Hassan II that makes Mohammed VI look good to many Moroccans. In the 12 years since he assumed power, the King has instituted a number of reforms, including adapting the Family Law to improve women's rights, appointing a commission to investigate the state's crimes during the years of lead, and allowing limited forms of political protest — as long as no one criticizes the monarch or his family.''


From the article, PROTESTS IN MOROCCO: Just Don't Call it Revolution

Read more: http://www.time.com/time/world/article/0,8599,2052901,00.html#ixzz1Ema2CN1V

My personal experience is, on Facebook several of my Moroccan friends have changed their profile picture to that of the King wearing his military uniform. To me that says, people trying to keep things as they are, afraid that the wave from the neighboring countries would disrupt their own peace and stability.

Monday, February 21, 2011

Being: The Ecstatic Faith of Rumi




''Let the beauty of what you love be what you do.''

''What is the body? That shadow of a shadow of your love,
that somehow contains the entire universe.''




In case these sayings are all new to you, you're in for a treat today. This is a great link for you , courtesy of Wes, from American Public Media and the winner of a Peabody Award in '08:

Being: The Ecstatic Faith of Rumi


Mevlana Celaleddin-i Rumi

The Musicality of Rumi from On Being on Vimeo.



A video of Rumi's poems set to Persian music

In case you don't know Rumi, first listen to this podcast and then go buy one of the books (the Essential is a good start). This is a side of Islam that deserves to be spread as widely as possible. Here is one of my favorites, and then below is the transcript of the audio above, though I recommend strongly to listen to the audio, since

Like This
translation from Rumi's Divan by Fatemeh Keshavarz


Listen to the Poem
If anyone asks you about the huris, show your face, say: like this!
If anyone asks you about the moon, climb up on the roof, say: like this!
If anyone seeks a fairy, let them see your countenance,
If anyone talks about the aroma of musk, untie your hair [and] say: like this!
If anyone asks: "How do the clouds uncover the moon?" untie the front of
Your robe, knot by knot, say: like this!

If anyone asks: "How did Jesus raise the dead?" kiss me on the lips, say:
like this!

If anyone asks: What are those killed by love like?" direct him to me, say:
like this!

If anyone kindly asks you how tall I am, show him your arched eyebrows,
say: like this!



Transcript of Audio Program

Billboard:

Krista Tippett, host: I'm Krista Tippett. Today, "The Ecstatic Faith of Rumi." The 13th-century mystic Rumi left behind lyric poetry that has long shaped Muslims around the world and has now become popular in the West. This hour, we'll delve into Rumi's world and its echoes in our own. He created a new language of love within the Islamic spiritual tradition of Sufism. Rumi also inspired the whirling dervishes. He sought a way to stay centered while moving.
Ms. Fatemeh Keshavarz: If you don’t plow the earth, it’s going to get so hard nothing grows in it. You just plow the earth of yourself. You just get moving. And even don’t ask exactly what’s going to happen. You allow yourself to move around, and then you will see the benefit.
Ms. Tippett: This is Speaking of Faith. Stay with us.

[Announcements]




Ms. Tippett: I'm Krista Tippett. This hour, we enter the exuberant world of Rumi, the 13th-century Persian mystic and poet. Rumi’s poems are best sellers in the West, and he’s been celebrated globally by the United Nations this past year. Rumi has long influenced Islamic thought and spirituality, though his Muslim identity is often lost in translation. With an Iranian-American poet and scholar, we'll explore why that matters in our time. And we'll hear the lyrical words Rumi put to the common human search for meaning. He understood searching and restlessness as a kind of arrival. He saw every form of human love as a mirror of the divine.
Mr. Soleyman Vaseghi: (Lines of Rumi poetry recited in Persian)

Ms. Keshavarz: (translating) Wherever you are, whatever you do, be in love.
Ms. Tippett: From American Public Media, this is Speaking of Faith, public radio's conversation about religion, meaning, ethics, and ideas. Today, "The Ecstatic Faith of Rumi."

In his lifetime, the poet known in the West as Rumi was called Muhammad Jalal al-Din al-Balkhi al-Rumi. He was born in 1207 near the city of Balkh in what is now Afghanistan. When he was a child, his family fled Mongol invaders and settled in Konya in present-day Turkey. Rumi wrote in Persian, the literary and spiritual lingua franca of a civilization that stretched from the Mediterranean Sea to India. To most of the people who read him today from Tajikistan to Iran, he is known as Mevlana or Mawlana, our master.

Rumi left behind a vast body of lyric poetry, metaphysical writings, lectures, and letters, which have influenced Persian, Urdu, and Turkish literature across the centuries. Rumi also inspired the whirling dervishes, ascetics who base their practices on Rumi, including the dancing meditation that was part of his spiritual life. And in the late 20th century, Rumi's thought and poetry swept the United States in English translation. Lines from Rumi became widely quoted in diverse settings, lines such as "out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I will meet you there." Those who enjoyed such words often knew little about the man behind them or his Islamic mystical tradition of Sufism.

My guest today, Fatemeh Keshavarz, calls Rumi a world-class thinker, relevant to our painfully compartmentalized world.
Ms. Keshavarz: One of the reasons why he addresses the issues that are of concern to us so much today is because he belongs to a tradition, the Sufi tradition or the mystical tradition within Islam, which has always been concerned with the way human beings view themselves and each other and are able to relate to each other.
Ms. Tippett: Fatemeh Keshavarz will be our guide as we explore some of the large themes of Rumi's spirituality that may be only partially understood even as they echo in modern culture. She is chair of the Department of Asian and Near Eastern Languages and Literatures at Washington University in St. Louis. She is also a poet and often sets Rumi's words to music. She grew up speaking the Persian in which Rumi wrote, in the Iranian city of Shiraz.
Ms. Keshavarz: I grew up in a family in which people played chess, read poetry, or argued about poetry. That was basically — only after I left Iran I realized that that’s probably not what everyone else does all the time.

Ms. Tippett: So in this landscape where poetry of all kinds, including poetry woven into religious sensibility, I mean, what did Rumi mean in that landscape? How was he part of the spiritual sensibility of that world you grew up in?

Ms. Keshavarz: Well, he was a voice that echoed something that was, on one level, very familiar because a lot of other people had talked about it, but on another level, it was completely new because of the way he played with it, the way he made it his own game. And I mean "game" because playing is very serious for him. Laughing and playing are the most serious things in his poetry. So for me, he came into the picture as someone who said, 'OK, you've read the text. You know the words. You've looked at the history. Now transcend all that. Put it aside and live it. Encounter it.' If you ask me to think of a few words that, for me, describe his poetry, one of them is it's an encounter. You come face to face with something.

I never forget, I was once reading a ghazal that described a beautiful bird. You know, he said…

Ms. Tippett: The ghazals are odes, what we would translate as something a little bit different than a poem, right?

Ms. Keshavarz: Yes. Ghazal is about eight to 10, 12 lines normally, although his could be much shorter or much longer, and the main theme is love and these are like flashes of ideas as that come.

Ms. Tippett: OK.

Ms. Keshavarz: So I was reading one of those and he was describing these beautiful birds. You know, some can sing, some are colorful, and so forth. And I was, you know, enjoying this, walking the aviary, and he suddenly said, 'Well, what kind of a bird are you?' All of a sudden I realize I can't stay on the margins. You have to join in. And I think, in a way, the whirling is exactly a reflection of that. So he kind of comes into the tradition with all the intellectual legacy, but he says that's not enough, you have to do something else with it. Face it, play with it, dance it, bring it into your everyday life.

Ms. Tippett: You know, something that strikes me, there are a lot of themes in his writing, in his poetry, that you might call ascetic. You know, he's very aware of the limits of the physical and of the importance of the spiritual in that equation. And yet there's something incredibly sensual at the same time when you mention the whirling, the weeping of the whirling dervishes. There's dance and music.

Ms. Keshavarz: Yes. I would say that it’s all on the same continuum of human experience. We are not divided into body and soul in a way, although he does talk about body and soul and there’s no question about the fact that the soul is exalted. Ultimately the goal is to purify the soul and so on and so forth. But we don’t have to think about the rest of ourselves as base or as not--in fact, it’s a tool. It’s a part of us that’s very important. He does say--in one verse, he says, ‘Love, whether of this kind or that kind’--and obviously it’s either, you know, the kind of divine, spiritual, or the human-to-human love — ‘ultimately leads you to the same king.’ So in a way one is a practice for the other.

Ms. Tippett: Including physical love.

Ms. Keshavarz: Absolutely. The limits of it are recognized. But I wouldn’t see it as — the body is not an obstacle on the way of the soul. It’s a tool to be used for that journey.
Ms. Tippett: Rumi scholar and poet Fatemeh Keshavarz. After Rumi's death, some of his followers founded the Mevlevi Order, commonly known as the community of the whirling dervishes. Dervish is a Persian word, which described wandering Muslim ascetics of the medieval Persian Empire. Dervishes were and are Sufis, part of the Islamic mystical tradition that emerged as a spiritual renewal movement after the death of the Prophet Muhammad.

Rumi imprinted that movement with a vividly sensual and poetic practice of spirituality that has been provocative and controversial across the ages. He crafted some of his most religious ideas in the form of erotically toned love poetry, which seems at once addressed to Allah or God and to an earthly beloved. Rumi inspired the practice of the whirling dervishes by spinning around a column as he recited his poems.
Ms. Tippett: Something you wrote about whirling that was so gripping to me said, for Rumi, the whirling is one way to stay centered while moving.

Ms. Keshavarz: Yes. And, you know, I do some speculation in my work: Does this have something to do with the fact that he traveled so young when he went all the way westward from the province of Khorasan to where is the city of Konya today, present-day Turkey, and the journey lasted about two years. He must have encountered so many different people and cultures and incidents, so it may have something to do with that. But he's certainly very appreciative of the ability to change your vantage point. At some point in his discourses he said, 'If you don't plow the earth, it's going to get so hard nothing grows in it. You just plow the earth of yourself. You just get moving. And even don't ask exactly what's going to happen. You allow yourself to move around, and then you will see the benefit.'

Ms. Tippett: Is there also something in the whirling that strikes you as very compatible with Islamic theology in general, or with Sufi theology, that might not be apparent to an outsider?

Ms. Keshavarz: Well, I think you could say that everything in the universe is whirling, is quickened with the force of love. That fits with the Sufi theology. We are like planets. We have to appreciate that, and in order to appreciate that, you have to join the dance. But there are also — there are interpretations. We can now look at whirling and say things like — for example, one hand is pointed towards the sky and the other one to the earth, so that's usually interpreted as bringing the heaven and the earth together, like staying connected with the two. Or the dervishes wear a black robe and a white robe underneath, and then they disrobe the black robe and they dance in the white. That's interpreted as the shedding of the ego.

But then the master standing in the center doesn't have to do it because he supposedly has tamed his ego. But all of these things have been interpretations later, done of the activity of whirling. Beyond that, you know, to me, it comes across as something much broader and more universal than Islam or any other religion. It's a kind of getting in tune with the moving earth.

Ms. Tippett: You've spoken a lot about love and love as the core of this spirituality. I think that also in the Persian culture in which you grew up, and Rumi as well, there is a connection between love poetry and imagery of the beloved and lovers, with religious ideas, which again you kind of have to introduce a Westerner into.

Ms. Keshavarz: The imagery is very often almost identical with profane, you know, mundane love poetry. By this, I don't mean to give any negative connotation to it, but love that is purely sensual and emotional, human love. To me, I think it's a statement by poets like Rumi and others like him, that there isn't really a boundary between the two. It's the same thing. It's the same human experience.

And there is another medieval Sufi, actually a bit later than Rumi, who says that you can't look at the sun directly, but you can look at its reflection in the water. Our humanly experience of love is that reflection in the water of our senses, and it's God's way of teaching us and guiding us from this to the actual looking at the sun when you have gained the ability. I was just thinking of a particular ghazal as I was saying that and, you know…

Ms. Tippett: Yes, I wanted to ask you if you had anything you would read or recite, yes.

Ms. Keshavarz: Yeah, I think that that actually could help see how one would lead to the other and actually the ambiguity between the two. It's a source of great poetic force.

Ms. Tippett: And you mean one — and the other would be human love and divine love.

Ms. Keshavarz: Human love and divine love, exactly.

Mr. Soleyman Vaseghi: (Lines of Rumi poetry recited in Persian)

Ms. Keshavarz: (translating) If anyone asks you about the houris, show your face, say: like this. If anyone asks you about the moon, climb up on the roof, say: "Like this." If anyone seeks a fairy, let them see your countenance. If anyone talks about the aroma of musk, untie your hair and say: "Like this." If anyone asks: "How do the clouds uncover the moon?" untie the front of your robe, knot by knot, say: "Like this." If anyone asks: "How did Jesus raise the dead?' kiss me on the lips, say: "Like this." If anyone asks: "What are those killed by love like?" direct him to me, say: "Like this." If anyone kindly asks you how tall I am, show him your arched eyebrows, say: "Like this."
Ms. Keshavarz: So the whole ghazal is a description of the physical beauty of the lover, but at the same time, it's a fairly long poem. At the end, it leads us to blind with envy the one who says, "How can a human being reach God?" Give each of us a candle of purity, say: "Like this." In the end, human beings can get to that candle of purity and reach God, and all human beings can do that.

Ms. Tippett: It is also an act of pointing at what is now — right? — what is physical and human, as you say, as the only way we have of imagining.

Ms. Keshavarz: Exactly. Exactly. There's a famous Sufi tale that this young disciple approached the master to enter the order day after day. And finally the master said, 'Have you ever fallen in love with a woman?' He said, 'No, not yet. I'm only 18.' He said, 'Well, go try that first.'
Ms. Tippett: Rumi scholar Fatemeh Keshavarz. We’ve selected more of Rumi’s poems for you to hear and read on our Web site, speakingoffaith.org, along with images and explanations of the whirling dervishes. I’m Krista Tippett, and this is Speaking of Faith from American Public Media. Today, we’re dipping into the ideas and spiritual background of Rumi, a 13th-century Muslim mystic whose poetry is celebrated by an array of modern readers.

In the "Song of the Reed," Rumi reflects on the human spirit through the metaphor of the ancient reed flute or ney that is popular in Middle Eastern music. This poem opened the Masnavi, Rumi's compendium of rhyming couplets that explored issues of Sufi theology and the spiritual journey.
Ms. Keshavarz: (reciting) Listen to the story told by the reed of being separated. Since I was cut from the reed bed, 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. At any gathering, I'm there, lingering and laughing and grieving, a friend to each, but few will hear the secrets hidden within the notes. No ears for that. Body flowing out of spirit, spirit out from body, no concealing that mixing. But it's not given us to see, so the reed flute is fire, not wind. Leave that empty.

Ms. Tippett: There's a theme that is part of that, that runs all the way through, about separation and longing as part of — well, not just the spiritual life, but being human, and also a kind of sense that the separation and the longing themselves are a kind of arrival.

Ms. Keshavarz: On one level, you have to get on the road. You have to get started, you know, just like the earth that, you know, have to plow the earth, you have to get moving. On another level, time and again he reminds us that the destination is the journey itself. So there isn't a point where you say, 'OK, I'm here, I've reached, I'm done, I'm perfect. I don't need to do anything anymore.' In the incompleteness of that, the need to move forward is inherent in that incompleteness, in the process of going forward that you make yourself better and better and you, in a way, never reach. So the separation is the powerful force that keeps you going. If you ever felt that I have arrived I've reached, this is it, then you wouldn't go any further.

Ms. Tippett: You know, and I think it is counterintuitive in our culture — not that we necessarily think this through very often, but we think of desires and longings as something that we need to find something to meet, right?

Ms. Keshavarz: Yes, yes. And we want to meet it really fast.

Ms. Tippett: Yes.

Ms. Keshavarz: Exactly.

Ms. Tippett: Because somehow the feeling of longing and separation from whatever it is, especially if we don't know what it is we want, that that is unsatisfying and there's something wrong with that. And yet what Rumi is saying is that, you know, the longing itself is redemptive and is progress, kind of.

Ms. Keshavarz: Yes. And the longing itself — and also not to understand exactly what that longing is, in itself, is very productive. I think one idea or major concept that the Sufi tradition and Rumi in particular have to contribute to our current culture is value in perplexity, the fact that not knowing is a source of learning, something that propels us forward into finding out. Longing, perplexity, these are all very valuable things. We want to unravel things and get answers and be done, but as far as he's concerned, it's a continual process. We can't be done. And that's good.

Ms. Tippett: I also have a feeling that Rumi is saying we also, though, at the same time need to be intentional about what we choose to be perplexed by. Does that make sense? I mean there's this poem: "Stay bewildered in God and only that. Those of you who are scattered, simplify your worrying lives. There is one righteousness. Water the fruit trees and don't water the thorns. Be generous to what nurtures the spirit and God's luminous reason-light. Don't honor what causes dysentery and knotted-up tumors. Don't feed both sides of yourself equally. The spirit and the body carry different loads and require different attentions."

Ms. Keshavarz: Yes. Yes. I think the energy can't go in all directions completely in control and you have to choose because you have one life. You have to spend it wisely. So absolutely, he would say choose, be selective, recognize your own value. At another point he says, 'You are an astrolabe to God, you know, don't use yourself for things that are not worthwhile.'

But I want to linger a little bit on that idea of being scattered because that's a key concept in Sufi thought. And actually it's something that the Buddhists also talk about a lot. And that is our mind just jumps from one thing to the other and, you know, the Sufis call it the onrush of ideas into our minds. And in some ways, if we allow it, it takes us over, you know. You know, what am I going to do about that credit card? You know, how am I going to — what do I do about this student paper, you know, whatever else is that you're concerned with, my family, my kids, my future. So it all invades your life and so in a way you're pulled in all directions. You're scattered. So one of the purposes of his poetry and one of the concepts the Sufis talk about is to collect that scatteredness.
Ms. Tippett: Rumi scholar Fatemeh Keshavarz. Here is one of Rumi's ghazals, which she translated and recites with the Lian Ensemble, a group that often sets Rumi's words to Persian music.
Mr. Houman Pourmehdi: (Lines of Rumi poetry recited in Persian)

Ms. Keshavarz: (translating) When pain arrives side by side with your love, I promise not to flee. When you ask me for my life, I promise not to fight. I'm holding a cup in my hand but, God, if you do not come till the end of time, I promise not to pour out the wine nor to drink a sip. Your bright face is my day. Your dark curls bring the night. If you do not let me near you, I promise not to go to sleep nor rise. Your magnificence has made me a wonder. Your charm has taught me the way of love. I am the progeny of Abraham. I'll find my way through fire.

Ms. Tippett: What do you hear in that? What do you reflect on in that?

Ms. Keshavarz: It's about steadfastness, about staying centered and keeping your eye on the goal. But at the same time, very much being in love and allowing the ecstasy of love take over. You see, he is very aware of the fact that, as human beings, we are limited. We have our limits. We just are not able to do everything that we desire to do. Our rationality is there, is very helpful. It does its job in questioning things and showing the way, but that has its limits, too. What opens the way beyond that is love. What enables us to feel the pain and still go forth in the face of all of that, is experiencing that love. And if you look at our lives, you know, people who produce great works of art, who are creative, who do something that goes beyond day-to-day activity, have that kind of steadfastness, that kind of devotion that lets them go through. What I see in that poem is that I promise to have that, but that comes from you. It's your magnificence, your love that gives me that energy, that power to stay, and I promise to hold onto it.

Ms. Tippett: And "you" is — the beloved is God, is Allah.

Ms. Keshavarz: Yes, and that's where the ambiguity comes in, of course, because you should be able to relate to it as a human being in love with another human being. That would be your entry into the poem.

Ms. Tippett: It's also probably important to note that Rumi had a great turning point with a friendship, with Shams, a Sufi master. I think it is actually helpful that the love relationship out of which Rumi drew so many of his analogies, you know, is not a romantic love relationship. And what you're saying to me is that love is the core, but to think about the many forms that love takes in our lives. I mean, there's also the passionate love that we have for our children.

Ms. Keshavarz: Yes, and so they are a blessing and they all have their own place. And in the end, we don't replace them with the divine. It's like warming up, in a way, like getting you ready for a major exercise, a physical activity. You warm up gradually. You get yourself to a state where you can do it, test your abilities, see your problems and issues, ask your questions, quarrel with yourself, and get ready for it. And I think all these forms of experience of attachment with other human beings are various ways of experiencing that.
Ms. Tippett: Rumi scholar Fatemeh Keshavarz. This is Speaking of Faith. After a short break, how Rumi might speak to the spirit of Islam, past and present.

In many ways, our radio program is just the beginning. Our Web site, speakingoffaith.org, reveals the world of Rumi from many directions. You can see a video performance of our guest, Fatemeh Keshavarz, and the Lian Ensemble, with Rumi's poetry set to the ney, santur, and other classic Persian instruments, or download my entire unedited conversation with Fatemeh Keshavarz through our Web site, our podcast and our weekly e-mail newsletter. All this and more at speakingoffaith.org. I'm Krista Tippett. Stay with us. Speaking of Faith comes to you from American Public Media.

[Announcements]




Ms. Tippett: Welcome back to Speaking of Faith, public radio's conversation about religion, meaning, ethics, and ideas. I'm Krista Tippett. Today, "The Ecstatic Faith of Rumi," the 13th-century Persian poet and mystic.

In recent years, English translations of Rumi's poetry by the American poet Coleman Barks have sold more than half a million copies in the U.S. UNESCO has declared 2007 International Rumi Year to honor the 800th anniversary of his birth. Rumi has been the subject of creative work by contemporary artists from composer Philip Glass to pop icon Madonna.

But such popular renditions of Rumi often give little hint of his Islamic identity. He was the son of a Muslim teacher, born in the center of Persian Islamic civilization. He spent time as the head of a madrassa, religious schools which were centers of great learning, at the same time that Western Europe had fallen into the dark ages. Rumi's themes of separation and longing come straight from the heart of Islamic theology. There is no idea of original sin, but rather of a human tendency to forget and thus become separated from Allah or God. Islam imagines faith as zikr or remembrance of a knowledge that is embedded in human beings. My guest, Fatemeh Keshavarz, finds resonance in Rumi for the deepest challenges before the world and Islam today.
Ms. Tippett: I'd like to talk about Rumi's Islamic grounding and identity. That gets lost in 21st-century translations.

Ms. Keshavarz: Absolutely.

Ms. Tippett: Coleman Barks' translations are the ones that many people have read, that became popular, I assume. I was reading his introduction to The Essential Rumi. You know, he suggested that with a mystical writer like this, you know, he suggested that placing this person in historical and cultural context is simply not a central task. And he wrote, "My more grandiose project is to free his text into its essence."

Ms. Keshavarz: I think one thing that Coleman Barks has done, he has written Rumi's ideas in the American poetic idiom. He's made it accessible to the broad readership, and that should definitely be valued. And, you know, don't hear me saying anything else on that. But I don't think you can free people from the context in which they live, and I don't think even if you try to do that, that that serves a useful purpose. I don't see Rumi as detached from the Islamic context at all. In fact, I see his work as actually and completely immersed in the Islamic tradition. I tell you, it would be hard to read a single ghazal, not even the Masnavi, which is expressly a work with theological and mystical intentions, but even a ghazal, it would be hard to read a ghazal and not find quite a few illusions to Qur'anic verses, to sayings of the prophet, to practices in the Muslim world, so I don't think we need to separate him from his Islamic context. The way first I visualize this myself is that he goes through the religion, he lives it, absorbs it, and uses it in his way. So in the process, he self-births a lot of things. He changes a lot, reinterprets a lot of things, but he does not step outside of it. He lives in it. Let me give you an example.

Ms. Tippett: Good.

Ms. Keshavarz: You know that in his discourses — I try not to use the word "sermons" because "sermon" brings such a specific connotation that's probably not there. But the discourses are when Rumi is sitting in a local mosque, in the local gathering, talking to people. It's very interactive, it's very informal, and he kind of steps down the pulpit in a way and reaches out to the people and it's very poetic even though it's in prose and he didn't write it down. His students and, you know, people around him took it down. On one of these occasions, he quotes a Qur'anic verse, if I might quote the Arabic, is (recites Qur'anic verse in Arabic). We — this is the royal "we," God — we stand down the zikr and we will be its protector. Now, the word zikr in Arabic means "remembers" and traditionally the commentators have defined the word zikr as the Qur'an itself, and they have good reason to do so because elsewhere in the Qur'an, the Qur'an refers to itself as zikr and remembrance, in part because humanity is described as forgetful, so the Qur'an is a way of remembering.

Now, he says the commentators have said that this verse refers to the Qur'an itself, that God says we have given you the Qur'an and we are — that I am the protector of it. And he said (foreign language spoken). That's fine. (Foreign language spoken), but there is this interpretation, too, that God says (foreign language spoken). "We have put in you a desire and a quest, and I, God, am the protector of that desire." That's a very different interpretation. First of all, it opens it immediately to all humanity.

Ms. Tippett: I think that there is something in Rumi's writing which is so large, so generous. I don't like the word "universal" because I think in some ways it waters things down.

Ms. Keshavarz: I agree with you. "Generous" is a very good…

Ms. Tippett: Yeah. But it's easy to read this and also I think people from many different religious traditions can read this poetry or his discourses, or people who are not people of faith can read it and feel themselves addressed and feel their spiritual lives addressed.

Ms. Keshavarz: Yes. And I think sometimes people feel that if they take away or overlook the Islamic flavor of it, maybe that makes him more accessible, more theirs. I think generosity and openness is a very good way of putting it. If you're not rooted in the specific and in the small, in the local, you can never see the broader vision. You have to love a tradition and to be completely immersed in it before you can subvert it and transcend it. You have to…

Ms. Tippett: Before you can subvert it from the inside.

Ms. Keshavarz: Exactly. And you have to love it for you to think that I want to open it up, I want to make it better, and then go forward with it. And, you know, you can't break laws in an acceptable way unless you know them really well and practice them with tradition. That's the only time. And that's what I think he does. He's so well rooted in the Islamic tradition, so completely aware of the nuances, that he says, you know, 'Hey guys, we can open it up here. Look. Look at this. This is what you always thought, but now look one step beyond.' And he can do that precisely because he's rooted in the tradition.

Ms. Tippett: And I think it's true also that around the same time that Rumi was entering popular imaginations by way of poetry, there were images of Islam suddenly in the news in this post-9/11 world which were so very different from that. I mean — and, you know, you've written that Rumi is a true child of an adventurous and cosmopolitan Islam. And, you know, those are not two words that you would associate with headline Islam that we've had these past years.

Ms. Keshavarz: I'm actually, you know, really glad you bring this up because I think one thing that's desperately needed at this point, to show the adventureness, the surprise, the play, the aspects of his work that now are not normally associated with that part of the world. You kind of think that, you know, people just — it's all religion, and it's religion followed in a fairly institutionalized and stylized and, you know, planned form. Not at all. I mean, he's playing with it all the time. So I think another contribution he could do for us right now, exactly in this post-9/11 environment, is to bring out that side of the Muslim culture, that contribution to the world.
Ms. Tippett: Rumi scholar Fatemeh Keshavarz. I'm Krista Tippett, and this is Speaking of Faith from American Public Media. Today, “The Ecstatic Faith of Rumi.”

Ironically, just as Rumi has been rediscovered in the U.S. and Western Europe, the Sufi brotherhood formed by his followers has been banned in periods of recent history in Turkey, where Rumi did most of his writing and where he's buried. The whirling of the whirling dervishes, which Rumi first innovated as a form of dancing meditation, has been reduced, some say, to mere entertainment. I asked Fatemeh Keshavarz about Rumi's legacy in Iran, where she grew up, the center of the Persian world of literature and culture to which Rumi also belonged.
Ms. Tippett: Rumi still as much alive in Iran now as when you were growing up? How does that look?

Ms. Keshavarz: Well, I tell you I can't keep up with the books that are published in Iran about him. Yes, absolutely. You know, there's this debate whether he was a Persian or a Turk or an Afghan. You know, it is completely really irrelevant again, but for Iranians he is just such a household name. You will have — in your house you will have the Qur'an, you will have the volume of poetry of Hafez, another great figure from the little bit later period, and the Masnavi of Rumi. And then depending, of course, like any other culture, you have people who more immersed in his work and more familiar. They know him at different levels obviously. But, yeah, I wouldn't say that the interest in him has changed or lessened at all.

Ms. Tippett: I mean, I hear in my conversations that Islam in Iran is — there's great intellectual discourse and study and, you know, that's just not a story that we hear. So I mean, I'm just curious, you know. This subversive, playful, cosmopolitan quality of — are those also part of the discourse in Iran?

Ms. Keshavarz: Absolutely. You know, I send out lists to my friends called "Windows on Iran," precisely for that. Just once a week I send out information about Iran that they don't get to see in the media. Like in the month of June, for example, there's a book fare in Iran. You know how many people visited this past book fare in June in one week? Two million people visited the book fare. You know, I send this out and then I get these messages: Wow, this is happening in Iran? Or I send pictures.

I just realized afterwards that our visual vocabulary has been affected. If we think of Iran, we only have certain visions of unfortunate moments in recent history that get repeated. And our language — Rumi is so aware of that. Language can take over our lives and make us not see things. He actually has a fabulous verse, he says (Persian spoken). "Speak a new language so that the world will be a new world." I mean this is the most sophisticated, philosophical approach to language. Now we talk of language as being constitutive of experience, but that's exactly what he said. You know, 'get yourself a new language and then you will be able to see a new world.' And that's definitely what we need to do in relation to that part of the world, certainly with Iran, to see the dynamics. A tremendous amount is going on that we don't get to hear about.
Ms. Keshavarz: (Lines of Rumi poetry recited in Persian)

(translating) To speak the same language is to share the same blood, to be related. To live with strangers is a life of captivity. Many are Hindus and Turks who share the same language. Many are Turks who may be alien to one another. The language of companionship is a unique one. To reach someone through the heart is other than reaching them through words. Besides words, illusions, and arguments, the heart knows a hundred thousand ways to speak.
Ms. Tippett: You know, I can't help but look at Rumi's life and be struck by how the poles of culture and place in terms of, you know, where he moved and where he lived and settled, are all such important poles in our world today. There's Afghanistan, there's Turkey, which is somehow becoming symbolic of the struggle to define what is Western, right, what is not. There's Persia, there's Iran. Do you ever think about that, about Rumi's legacy and where he came from and how that echoes in the world today?

Ms. Keshavarz: I consider myself tremendously lucky to be able to grow up with that language. But to tell you the truth, I think that all parts of the world have their own Rumi. I believe that we just need only to explore those traditions and look for them. So in a sense, I think he is just one other giant, you know, one other figure who is very important right now. I agree with you, it's very important to read him, to look at the vision that he has for humanity because it's so healing, it's so needed to correct some of our short-sightedness and, you know, some of the problems we have with not being able to see the larger picture. So in that sense, I agree with you. But I don't know if I want to think of that part of the world as having any kind of monopoly on this.

Ms. Tippett: OK.

Ms. Keshavarz: I think, if anything, his vision is that all humanity is pregnant with God. You know, we all in various parts of worlds and traditions. We have people like him. We just have to find them.

Ms. Tippett: You ask a question in something you've written: "How is one to nurture this God buried like a ruin in the treasure of one's being, and let it permeate all of life?" How does your encounter with Rumi — your ongoing encounter with Rumi, how does it help you live with that question, answer that question in your life?

Ms. Keshavarz: You know, the most important tool he has, which is hope, is what we need to nurture in ourselves. And hope, the energy to move, the energy to go, to never think that this is not worth it or I am done, I am tired, that's what he's given me. I can read them for hours, I can teach them for hours. I can come back to it and be surprised again. The gift is a kind of whirling that keeps your life to be a constant move on the road, and then according to your abilities, what you can see, what you can hear, what you can cherish, you get your own rewards. You put it together. Again, you give birth to your own God. Life kind of comes to life with his works.

Ms. Tippett: With Rumi's words.

Ms. Keshavarz: Yes. And, you know, depending on where I am and who I am at that point and I'm doing, I get something out of it. It actually has a fascinating verse. He says (Persian spoken), says, "I am fire. If you have doubts about that, bring your hands forth." That's the dramatic flare I was talking about, you know. 'Bring your hands forth, touch me, and I'll tell you what I'm about.'
Ms. Tippett: Fatemeh Keshavarz is professor of Persian and Comparative Literature and chair of the Department of Asian and Near Eastern Languages and Literatures at Washington University in St. Louis. She's the author, most recently, of Jasmine and Stars: Reading More Than Lolita in Tehran.

Visit us online at speakingoffaith.org. If you've encountered Rumi's writings, tell us how they've spoken to you. What in his spirituality surprises or draws you in? Look for “Share Your Story” on our Web site. While you're there, learn much more about Rumi's world and his writings, watch video of musical performances of Rumi's poetry, and listen to readings from his poetry in Persian and in English. Also, download my entire unedited conversation with Fatemeh Keshavarz.

And Speaking of Faith is now available on iTunes U, an enriching resource for teachers and lifelong learners. This free collection is organized by subject and features additional tools for learning. Let us know if you use Speaking of Faith in your courses. Your input will help shape our offering. Look for the iTunes U link at speakingoffaith.org.

Special thanks this week to Houman Pourmehdi, Soleyman Vaseghi, the Lian Ensemble, Omid Safi, and Stanford University's Continuing Studies Department.

The senior producer of Speaking of Faith is Mitch Hanley, with producers Colleen Scheck, Shiraz Janjua, and Rob McGinley Myers, with assistance from Anna Marsh. Our online editor is Trent Gilliss. Our consulting editor is Bill Buzenberg. Kate Moos is the managing producer of Speaking of Faith. And I'm Krista Tippett.
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