The First Dervish Prayer

Or: Spine Alignment

or: Working with a Scared Little One

The First Dervish Prayer

May the Warriors find Peace within
And the wars of the selves come to an end.

May the Warriors find Peace within
Let the healing of the Earth begin

Yah Rahman, Yah Rahim
With Compassion and Mercy

Melt away the anger — let me live again.
Melt away the fear — let me love again.
Melt away the sorrow — let me smile again.

The True Warrior understands that enemies in the outer world are all manifestations of inner personality traits and prisoners that had not been given the proper right of speech. A true martial artist is actually working on peace of mind, body and emotions, rather then war.

In order for one to heal, in the body, in the mind and in the emotions, one must embrace a sense of compassion and mercy for oneself. First, for oneself. Then, for all his little inner selves. And only at last, can she be compassionate towards the other. Real Compassion to the other must hold compassion for oneself first.

In order for one to heal she must embrace a sense of compassion and mercy for all her little inner selves

In order for a hurt one to smile, to laugh in Joy, she must crawl from down the wells of sorrow and shame. In order for one to heal, she must recognise the prisoners in the basement of the belly, deep inside the gut. Experience the anger in the stomach. Find the fear in the chest. Experience the terror of old forgotten traumas.

I breath-in and breath-out. I close my fist to a 1-2-3 flat punch. I bend and stretch the muscles in the back of my legs. I go by the 1-inch 1-inch count. I get corrections from the practitioners. I get the scary-most alignments from the bone master, and approach him as a lamb to the slaughter, full of fear. My muscles tensed, and alignment can not commence cause I’m only too tensed.

I see my frightened panicked little one, she takes over me, my body, my muscles. I am her and she is me. In my chest that is caged under my ribs, in my pounding rushing heart.

my chest is contracted and I find that immense fear and panic is sitting there

I breath in and breath out. I close my eyes. I tell her- you are frightened and you are scared. I feel you. I see you. I respect you. But I am not you.

Next week’s alignment. During the stretch, whenever I remember her, I tell her- “I am not you”. Yes, she is scared. But she is she, and I am me. I am the working self, the healing self, the one who is aligned with speech and actions, with feelings and speech. I am the working self, working to stretch, in-breath out-breath, there is a scared little one in me, but she’s just one out of many, many voices. And she’s not me.

I’m called to the master. I am stepping down the stairs slowly. Breathing. Scared one- I am not you, you are not me. yes, you have a right to exist. Yes, you are here with me. But we are two different entities. I enter the room, and he does his art. Twisting me here, bending me there. Knacks from the vertebras here, sound for the spine there. Lay down. Sit up. On your stomach. On your back.  Heart pounding but I am breathing breathing breathing. Knacks and noises from the spine. Finish? Finish. Thank you Ringo Ji.

I leave the room, and go back up to stretch class. Miranda  sees me and sends me home. I walk up the Himalayan steep muddy-of-a-“street”. I turn left before the Trimurti. Pass by the mama-cow and kid-cow. My chest is open and alive. My upper body holds my weight from the earth but the palms of my feet are tingling from the energy of the ground. One force pulls me down to earth, The other holds up erect to the sky.

Dew Drop are shining on the corn leafs like golden diamonds

The low clouds are sitting like a blanket in between the conifer tops. I Cross the corn field. Dew Drop are shining on the corn leafs like golden diamonds. I reach home and meet Eden. I find myself unable to speak. Lost for words to contain all this worldly beauty. I go home and fall asleep for three restful hours.


Rest of the Warrior
The war is actually a war between all the little selves…

Photo: opsa, CC0 1.0
Photo: Pexels, CC0 1.0

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