HeartBeat Summer 2009 - Sufi Ruhaniat International

The Holiest Shrine in Iran Is in Mashadby Mansur JohnsonIt’s really in God’s hands whether I get in.And Murshid’s too.I brought the robe.My intention is pure.We will see.Personal journal, September 22, 2000.What can I write during the 20 km ride to Ferdowsi’sShrine in Tus about the foreigner,me, who entered the Holy Shrine on Friday?From the air at night Mashad looks like whatit is, a city with a shrine at its center. The hub oflights is the Shrine complex, and the four mainstreets radiate like spokes from the center.When we got back from Nishapur, I requestedthat Hassan stop at my hotel. He was pumpedto ramrod my visit without a break, but I had todress properly.In my luggage for the last month was Murshid’srobe, bestowed on me in the late 60s. (I amassuming knowledge by the reader of this Murshid,my Sufi teacher, a member of the Qadiri,Naqshabandi, Sowarwardi, and Chisti Orders ofSufis, a man who associated with Sufis in Egyptand Pakistan, and introduced “Sufi Dancing” tothe United States. I spoke about him in an earlierchapter, “Romans and Sufis in Paris and Morocco.”)The robe was fabricated by one of Murshid’sfemale disciples to his specifications; it had to begreen, which Murshid said was Mohammed’scolor. It was a light green, similar to Abbas’ wife’spea soup colored coat.At the time I received this robe, part ofme, full of Zen stories about the bestowal of theteacher’s sacred objects on the most able student,thought it had monumental significance, whileanother part saw the bestowal of the robe merelyas recognition that I had been his secretary andchauffeur. Whichever or neither, I valued this robeover the years and was guided to bring it to Iran.Hassan was somewhat amused when Iemerged from the hotel wearing Murshid’s robe,because it didn’t fit. I’m not sure how tall Murshidwas, but the sleeves of his robe were several inchesabove my watch band. Lengthwise, the robe thatbrushed the top of Murshid’s shoes, ended aboutmid-calf on me. My light-weight purple sweatpants,which I wore under his robe, were snuggeddown to my faded white sneakers. On top I woreunder the robe a black t-shirt, since black in Iranis the color of the turbans worn by clerics who aredescended from Mohammed. My Film in Arizonahat, emblazoned with the Arizona seal (a goldstar with red and yellow striped emanations ona blue background), I wore backwards on myhead. I had one homemade olive wood tashbih(set of 99 prayer beads) around my neck, and Icarried another, which I used whenever I wasn’tperforming necessary functions, like checking mycameras before we could go in.Hassan explained that this camera practicehad been instituted after 1994, when an explosivedevice had been detonated inside the Holy Shrine,which, perhaps, had been hidden in a camera.Since then, No Cameras Allowed. I had Hassantake my picture in front of one of the entrancesto the Holy Shrine, the Haram-e Motahhar-e ImamReza, a name which encompasses everythinglocated within the holy circle. The guidebookinformed me, “this large circular walled islandin the centre of Mashhad contains two mosques,three museums, 12 lofty eivans or halls (two ofthem coated entirely with gold), six theologicalcolleges, two main and two lesser courtyards,several libraries, a small post office, a book shop,»Sufi Ruhaniat International 21