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| Ishaq, brother-in-law Chris, and father Jerry, at Christmas 2005 in Pennsylvania |
Beloveds,
This past two weeks has been such an intense time. I had returned from an absolutely wonderful time at Mendocino
camp, gathering new impressions, making new friends, re-connecting with old friends. It had been a long time between Mendo
camps. Don't ask me how long. I'm feeling my age a bit anyway.
Kabira passed along an e-mail about Sky in the Road, a Sufi folk rock group, appearing in a house concert very
near my home. I had already made arrangements to go and partake of and represent our tariqa in the Unity Zikr in Vancouver
BC on Friday night, but I would be back on Saturday in time for the concert. I called and made a reservation, and went off
to BC.
Saturday I returned, with a little time to spare and went to look for the e-mail with directions to the concert.
A little bird must have told me to open the e-mail titled Ishaq. I read it, and read it again. I shook my head. Wait.
Ishaq?
Oh. My. God.
I went and met my wife Julia and we talked about other things on the way to the concert. Was I in denial? In
ten minutes we were there. We got there just in time.
In between one song and the next I leaned over to my friend Baqia and said, "We need to get the Sufi folks
together at intermission. Ishaq has passed away." She looked at me as if she didn't register it then her eyes filled
with tears too.
Some minutes later 9 of us were in a small room, arms around each other, expressing our grief and sharing some
tears. Several of us shared a memory or two of him. Then we did a little bit of zikr, and Farishta suggested that we
say Nayaz. Practices and prayers. A fitting impromptu memorial.
After that there was a short debate, whether we should tell Rahmana or not (one of the singing leads of the group).
She had known him for a long time. Someone decided to tell her. The rest of the concert had some kind of melancholy
magic that is difficult to find words for. It was as if we were holding each other and Ishaq through the medium that perhaps
he loved most, music.
The ripple effects continue.
Ishaq and Maryam were the first Sufi teachers I really knew as human beings. I was finishing up being a college
student at the U of O in the mid 70's. I recall going to play guitars with my friend Julian (Daneshmand) one day and he said,
"Why don't you come with me Sufi Dancing?"
I still recall the first impression of that night. A small group of us were gathered in Ishaq and Maryam's back
yard. There was a candle. There was a statue of Quan Yin to the side. I was transported. I had been looking for this
for a long time. The dances wore on until night came.
Yup Julian, that was great! Oh yeah I'll be coming back. Again, and again, and again. I was home. Finally.
The rest is a collage of my experiences with Ishaq over the years. Always my friend, always with a joke or an
encouraging word. Always ready to pick up a guitar on a moment's notice and play. I remember going with him on walks,
doing the practices I still love. I remember when he started getting the inner permission to lead zikr as it came to him,
and not just repeat what he'd heard. A door was open, and it was like a flood. He gave others the attunement and confidence
to do the same when our turn came.
After I moved to Seattle, we saw less of each other. Times at camps, chance meetings in between. Jamiat Khas
meetings after I joined the "club". Ishaq was so remarkably consistent. That great laugh. The jokes we shared.
The point of view that changed subtly but never wavered much.
He was into basics. Spiritual practice was not complicated to do. It was really about doing it. Having a
rhythm, being with it, not going off on side trips.
If you weren't paying close attention, you might think this was some happy go lucky hippy guy without a care in
the world. And to think that would be to miss the whole point of his life and message. Simple? Yea ok. But so difficult
to realize, to live up to, to live out. To look at Ishaq keenly was to know that he tried sincerely to live up to the high
ideals we share every day.
And he did that with grace, and humor, and humility. As he got older, he mellowed some but he never lost that
spark that made him a special guy, a special friend.
Thanks my brother, for the "old days", for being a friend and for your dedication and service and example.
I love you babe. Hope your current journey's really cool.
Antarajnani (formerly Azim of Eugene)
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Beloved Ones of God,
Greetings of Peace and joy within the mystery of light and shadow.
Sheikh Ishaq was a friend of mine. I thank all of you who have sent love, remembrances and photos to our children Shems,
Amira, Daniel and myself. We give great thanks to Ishaq's partner Anna, for the constancy of inspiration and presence at this
time. And thank you NurJemila for being the one to wash and prepare Ishaq's body for dissolution with such honor, respect
and love.
Ishaq good job. Great exit friend. So happy to hear of your joyous departure in the river, smiling into the embrace of
your next journey. At the intimate family celebration of your life the day after Shems wedding, I told the story of our arrest
for nudity on the mother McKenzie river when Shems was 6 months old. Well, maybe Shems was asleep and we were up to something
more.
We're still tender and sharing the shock of your swift departure with all your loving friends and family here on this
earth. You would have been 56 August 15. Wow! Meeting you when I was 19 we were given an abundance of growing together, sharing
many initiations. One of these I remember vividly is from our political days. I see your bloody face
as the billy club comes down on your head again and again. The beating occurring after we jumped the turn-style at the
subway with hundreds of other students at one of the many anti-war protests during our time at Columbia University. Your glasses
are broken and I watch from what I hoped was a safe distance, considering what to do, how to free you, and how not to get
hurt or trapped myself. And then like a worm, somehow you wiggle out of your jacket and we run off for our lives with the
angry guys in blue cursing. Our long gypsy journeys, back and forth across the United States and Canada, these years of ascetic
life as we slept on the ground in sun and snow. Our exploration and investigation into Sufism leading us toward the One.
I spoke for both of us at Shems' wedding, confirming your great joy in our first son and his bride.
After our separation and divorce we stayed in close contact because of the children and just because. One of these moments
I remember well is when Dave and Will are four months old. Like all the children, they were very active babies and between
the nursing twins and the praying and playing, sleep is the most rare luxury. There is a brief one or two hours that both
boys are asleep and the 12 and 16 year olds are out of the house. I am in the bathtub relaxing, a miracle of soothing indulgence.
Ishaq calls. He tells me they are cutting his foot off tomorrow. I say no. He says oh yes, the doctor has come and he is scheduled
for surgery at 7 am. I say no, that doctor must be a fool and what are the opinions of the other doctors.
We talked this way for nearly an hour, yes no yes no yes no yes no, until he said okay. and I said okay. And we hung up
and this friend had given me a memorable job of how to save a foot. The bath was over, the relaxation was over, and I was
angry and there was no way any doctor was going to cut off his foot. Of course these are all longer and more complex stories.
Aquarius and Leo, we often came to
these yes and no places of divergence, sometimes Ishaq saving my heart and I saving his foot. Ishaq divine laughter and
unconditional love.
All the houses we shared....the blessing and joy at the births of our children and the loss and blessing of non-births...Our
wretched divorce and our Murshid Moineddin sending me to court to solve the dilemma. Ishaq, unconditional love and divine
laughter. This is what and who I remember. This is your legacy.
Die before death, You knew this path of the masters, saints and prophets. Unconditional love and divine laughter....I
miss you dear friend. In your profound humility I found Issa and Muhammad. Our children Amira, Dan and Shems are overflowing
with tears, laughter, and stories. I hear the music. I see your smile. Ishaq, unconditional love and divine laughter. You
embraced young Dave and Will and their
memories are of ecstatic river experiences on the McKenzie with you and their older brothers and sister. I hear the music.
I see your smile. Ishaq, unconditional love, divine laughter.
Enough of these threads and particles of memory. The morning is arising. Ishaq, beloved friend, May Allah protect your
secret. Here is a poem of Pir Mevlana Jelaluddin Rumi that speaks to me of you:
Though you be rock or marble, you will be a jewel when
you reach the man of heart.
Plant the love of the Beloved in your spirit, do not give yourheart to anyone save those whose hearts are full of Love.
Don't go into the place of despair: there is hope.
Don't go in the direction of darkness: there is light.
the heart leads you to the heart.
Allow the heart to be fed with love,
And the spirit to be filled with enlightenment.
Mathnawi, I, 722-726
--
Mariam
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