Sema

Listening that Precedes Whirling — The Sema

Turn, so that your heart falls onto its axis.
Turn, so that the veil is torn.
Turn, for silence is born only in the midst of the storm.
— Rumi

There exists a listening that goes deeper than ears can hear.
A listening that does not seek words, but origin.
It is the listening of the heart — that silent center
where every movement already existed before it was born.

When the heart truly becomes still,
a space opens where the soul remembers where it comes from.
In that space, prayer is no longer an act, but a state of being;
love no longer a longing, but a natural radiance.

Rumi calls this listening samāʿ — “hearing with the soul.”
Not listening to understand,
but listening to return to the Presence where words dissolve:

“There is a voice that does not use words.
Listen.” — Rumi

The Sema, therefore, does not begin with the turn,
but with that first gentle inner yes,
that whispering recognition of the longing for Home.

In that silent opening, the body becomes an instrument of worship,
and every movement a response to the call of Love.

The Circular Movement of the Heart

The Sema is not a dance.
It is a remembrance.
A return, a dissolution, a rebirth in the Light that carries us.

The body moves, but the heart is still.
The world turns, but the soul rests in its own sun.

Sema is the path of the person who lays down all that is not true,
and allows themselves to be absorbed into what is eternal.

The turn then becomes not a movement,
but a wordless prayer.

Shedding the Cloak

Every Sema begins with dying.
Not the dying of the body, but of the small self —
the ego, fear, the need for control.

The black cloak slides from the shoulders
like the night we leave behind.
And what emerges is white:
the tennure that recalls purity, rebirth, light.

Shedding the cloak is an inner surrender:

“Here I am. Make me transparent to Your love.”

And in the depth of every drumbeat vibrates a primal word:

Kun — Be.

Not spoken, but felt.
Not learned, but remembered.
The rhythm of creation that breathes through the skin.

The Silence Before the Circle — Arms as the Letter Alif

Before the first step arises,
the arms rest crossed over the heart.

The dervish becomes the letter alif,
the shape of unity,
a silent acknowledgment:

“I am nothing without the Light that moves me.”

In this posture, the person is still formless,
a seed in the dark,
waiting for the word that awakens them.

The Opening Gesture — Heaven and Earth in Balance

Then the heart opens,
and with it, the arms.

The right hand reaches toward the sky —
not to grasp, but to receive.

The left hand rests toward the earth —
not to give, but to pass through.

The human becomes a channel.
A bridge between worlds.
Not the center, but the passage.

“I am the flute on which the Breath of God blows.” — Rumi

In this surrender, the body begins to turn from the heart.

The Circle of Light — Turning Around the Heart

The turn is the most natural movement of the universe.

Every planet turns.
Every star breathes in spirals.
Even the bloodstream flows in circles.

When the dervish turns,
he remembers that primal movement.

He moves around the heart
as the world moves around the light.

The skirt opens like a flower,
like a star unfolding.

The body moves,
but the soul becomes quieter and quieter.

Here, the person becomes transparent.
Here, the self is lifted.
Here, only Love remains.

The Four States of the Sema — The Inner Journey

The Sema encompasses four circular paths — four inner fields:

1. The Field of Service
   The ego bows. The heart opens.
   The person recognizes: I am servant, student, beloved.
2. The Field of Majesty
   The soul sees the greatness of the One
   in everything that lives, moves, breathes.
3. The Field of Love
   Awe melts.
   Distance disappears.
   The person recognizes themselves in the Other.
4. The Field of Return
   The person returns to the world,
   but no longer the same.
   They become an instrument of gentleness,
   bearer of light.

Sema as Contemplation — Prayer that Has a Body

Where meditation seeks silence,
Sema seeks the rhythm of existence.

The ney cries its primal longing,
the drums breathe the rhythm of creation,
the voices lift the heart upward.

And in all of this, the person becomes both the question and the answer.
Both the seeking and the finding.
Both the embrace and that which is embraced.

For in the depth of the turn, something of the old self falls away.
And what remains is pure, clear, loving consciousness
that says:

“And yes, this is Me.”

Gulbenc / Song of the Rose

Vakt-i sherif hayrola
hayırlar feth ola
sherler def ola;
leyle-i arus-ı rabbani
vuslat-ı halvet seray-i sübhani
hakk-ı akdes-i Hudavendigaride
an –be an vesile-i itilay-ı
makam ve fuyazat-ı ruhaniyet-i aliyyeleri cümle
peyveranı hakkında shamil immola
Dem-i hazret-i Mevlana
Shems-i Tebrizi
Kerem-i İmam-ı Ali
Hu! Hu…

May the blessed hour be good.
May all good things be achieved.
May misfortunes be driven away.

The night of the divine bride,
the union in solitude in the heavenly palace,
may the holy Truth of the Almighty, moment by moment,
be present in all its manifestations and spiritual rays.

Through the person of Hazret-i Mevlana,
Through the secret of Şems-i Tabrizi,
Through the selfless Imam Ali.
Hu! Hu…

Come, come, whoever you are,
wandering dervish, seeker of love, bearer of fire.

Even if you have broken danced a thousand times,
return, turn again.

This is not a caravan of despair.
Even if you fall during the whirling,
the Light will catch you.

Turn, so that your heart falls onto its axis.
Turn, so that the veil is torn.
Turn, for silence is born only
in the midst of the storm.
— Rumi

Whirlingbee