Scheherezade continues her story

The Sultan's Prayer Room, Topkapi Palace (original photo by Corina Fratila)

Dear Community,

It's a new week and a new month! I am determined to put to work all that new energy and get started on some projects I've been procrastinating on for months. I am also ready to re-start going to the gym, which I haven't been doing since June, since world travels have gotten in the way.

I am going to start from where I left it off last week, when I started playing Scheherezade. I was still in Istanbul, getting a ritual cleansing and a baptism from a formidable Turkish woman.

The next thing that comes to mind about my Istanbul visit is the Topkapi palace. And the part that was the most interesting to me was the harem. At all times, there were between 300-500 concubines in the harem, and of course the eunuchs, who were the castrates brought in with the slave trade from Ethiopia (Abyssinia at the time). There was a whole hierarchy to the concubines, and the mother of the reigning sultan  had the  power and influence to choose the most desirable possible concubines.  I used to imagine the harem as a constant beauty contest in which women fought for the sultan's attention. In reality, it was for sure that but also a sophisticated household, educational institution, slave system, and political network.

And since I'm still looking at everything through my patriarchy-shaped glasses, I can't help wondering about the imprint this history has left on the collective psyche of women. Generations of women, enslaved, used to produce the next sultan, and forced into a system of competition, rivalry, and rigid hierarchy. (So much for sisterhood!) How could centuries of such conditioning just disappear from our collective memory? How much of it might we still be carrying, unconsciously, in the ways we relate to one another, compete, seek approval, and negotiate power?

Dark chapters in the history of humanity, whose echoes may be much closer than we think.

The sultan's prayer room and his personal hammam were absolutely gorgeous (see the picture of the prayer room, on top). I found the Ottoman emphasis on cleanliness particularly fascinating especially when contrasted with what was happening in Europe, at the same exact time in history. Hammams were an established part of Ottoman life, serving as places for regular bathing, cleansing, and socializing (In early 16th-century Istanbul, Sultan Selim I even issued orders requiring bathhouse inspectors to ensure proper maintenance and cleaning of hammams), while much of French aristocratic society was operating under a very different understanding of hygiene! At the court of Louis XIV ((1643–1715),  on the magnificent grounds of the Versailles Palace, for instance, frequent bathing was actually discouraged. Water was thought to open the pores and expose the body to disease, so cleanliness often meant rubbing the skin with dry linen and covering unpleasant smells with generous amounts of perfume. (I don't mean to suggest that every French person was unclean or indifferent to hygiene, these are just facts.)

What makes this so fascinating to me  is that all these civilizations were developing their own ideas about cleanliness, health, morality, and the body simultaneously. They weren't necessarily aware of one another's practices, and even when they were, they interpreted them through their own cultural lenses.

So how do we know when we are looking at genuine knowledge and when we are simply looking at cultural conditioning? How many things that we consider unquestionably true today will future generations look back on and recognize as nothing more than the cultural blind spots of our time? 

As always, would love to hear your thoughts on the above topic. 

I also made an attempt to visit Hagia Sophia, that architectural masterpiece which has served, over the centuries, as a Eastern Orthodox cathedral, a Roman Catholic cathedral, an Eastern Orthodox cathedral again, a mosque, a museum, and once again a mosque. What a remarkable symbol of Istanbul's layered history! Two different kinds of Christianity and Islam meeting beneath one magnificent dome.

I say I made an attempt because the building has separate entrances for Muslim worshippers and visitors. (Will go back to this in just a sec.)

And where did I fit into all this? I don't identify as Christian, although I've been getting increasingly curious about my Christian roots. I've been slowly exploring the story of Mary Magdalene, and I've found myself unexpectedly drawn to the rosary, which came into my life through a series of synchronicities and coincidences. My connection to Islam, meanwhile, is mostly through some very dear friends.

Yet I have this rather strong impulse to visit places of worship whenever I travel. I love being in these spaces, observing the rituals, listening to the prayers, and, when possible, participating. In Cairo's Al-Azhar Mosque, I particularly loved listening to the prayers and joining in several times throughout the day. I find something deeply moving about the rhythm, the physicality, and the very involved nature of Islamic prayer. I hope this doesn't offend anyone who practices Islam or any other religion for that matter, but in my perhaps overly simple understanding, we are all children of the same energy, the same Creative Force that brought us into existence.

I experience places of worship as portals, spaces through which we can access the Divine within ourselves. And I am very aware of the fact that this is a total paradox:  I reject organized religion in almost every form, yet I absolutely love collective worship (especially when I don't understand the words of what is being said). I'm not entirely sure how to reconcile this contradiction within myself, other than creating my own, word-less way of worshipping through movement, song, art, creativity, and connecting to the energy of the Earth (concepts I actually deeply believe in).

In any case, the visitor entrance to Hagia Sophia was ridiculously crowded, with queues stretching for hours. The Muslim entrance, on the other hand, seemed to be moving along rather nicely. And since I'm not entirely stupid, and like I just mentioned, wouldn't pass up an opportunity to experience the energy of prayer and worship, I decided to try my luck there. I put a scarf over my head, but apparently failed to think through one rather important detail: my blue eyes! I was stopped by the guards and subjected to an impromptu examination of my knowledge of the Quran. Now, I don't speak Arabic, I don't know any prayers, and my credentials as a Muslim are, shall we say, nonexistent. I'm essentially an intruder with good intentions.

Unfortunately, the guards were not particularly interested in my spiritual intentions. I tried explaining myself, asked to speak to a supervisor, and explained myself again. Nothing worked. No amount of enthusiasm for collective worship could get me past security. I was, not so politely, and rather firmly, turned away.

Lucky me, the Blue Mosque is just steps away from Hagia Sophia, and the noon prayer was being broadcast over its loudspeaker system. I absolutely love hearing the call to prayer five times a day. To me, it feels like a gentle (and sometimes not-so-gentle!) reminder to turn inward, give thanks for the simple miracle of being alive, and ask for a little guidance in navigating this wonderfully nerve-racking business of being human.

This is all for today. 

Next week and in the weeks after, there will be stories from Johannesburg, Kromdraai (the Cradle of Humankind) and Timbavati Private Nature Reserve (bordering, with no fences, Kruger National Park) in South Africa. 

P.S. For those of you who are mystically inclined, I'd also like to recommend this particular webinar, created by filmmaker Nick Polizzi, whose work I've been following for some time. It feels especially fitting for this time of year, when many spiritual traditions around the world honor the connection between the living and the dead and speak of the veil between worlds becoming thinner. Think Samhain in the ancient Celtic and Gaelic traditions, Día de los Muertos, rooted in Indigenous Mesoamerican beliefs and later blended with Catholic traditions in Mexico, and the Catholic observances of All Saints' Day (November 1) and All Souls' Day (November 2). Different traditions, different rituals, but a shared fascination with the mystery of life and death, remembrance, and what might lie beyond. Here's the link: https://witch.thesacredscience.com/webinar-screening/. The webinar will still be up for another approximately 4 days.

With love, (a tiny sprinkle of) rage, and reverence, Your disorganized, recovering people-pleaser, community-dreamer, hope-filled activist in the making, deep-sleeper, clean compliment giver and receiver, not-a-true-exhibitionist, 21-day resetter, recovering prostitute, courageous by practice, trusting by skill, always with my head in the clouds, but loving my feet on the ground, soul worker (!), inner voice listener, pleasure list maker, Aquarium sleepover organizer, beginner-level meditator, wabi-sabi contemplator, self-fascinated observer, giving-up-machismo supporter, hot soup-slurper, enthusiastic and tired traveler, death by Yellowjackets antidote and higher consciousness dreamer, aspiring human rights warrior, zielschmerz-stricken, nap lover, mostly Romanian wine-drinker, Persephone-adjacent, always asking-for-permission, psychedelic explorer and guide, Hammam-obsessed, Scheherazade in-the-making, collective worshipping devotee,

Corina