Twirling, whirling dervishes' dream.

Byline: Jeff Wright The Register-Guard

Turn, turn, turn.

And then, if you're a whirling dervish, turn some more.

Five area women who engage in the ancient meditative practice are about to turn a page in history - invited to be among the first women to whirl, or "turn," in public in Turkey, homeland of the 13th-century poet and mystic Rumi.

The sema, as the whirling dervishes' dance is called, is derived from Rumi's habit of occasionally whirling in ecstatic joy in public streets. After his death in 1273, the Mevlevi Order of followers spread across the region - and seven centuries later to the shores of the United States.

The dance is perhaps the most familiar aspect of Sufism, the mystical branch of Islam.

But how do practitioners do all that whirling without getting dizzy? Dianne Brause of Dexter has a one-word answer: "Practice."

The goal behind all that practice is to reach a trance state that allows a dervish - generally a member of a Muslim religious group who often takes vows of poverty and chastity - to feel released from her body and thus able to conquer dizziness. It's no easy feat, as each dervish twirls in circles while simultaneously twirling in a circular path with the other dancers.

At a practice session this week, Brause and two other dervishes walked into a room dressed in black robes and tall wool felt hats. The robes symbolize death shrouds and the hats represent tombstones.

But after several minutes of solemn bows and steps, the women remove their black robes with a flourish to reveal white robes, symbolizing the soul that lives within and beyond this life. Suddenly, they begin to whirl, their skirts billow, their arms rise and the room is a blur of controlled frenzy.

Like long-robed ballerinas, they turn and turn again. For 15 minutes, without stop, the only sounds are traditional Turkish melodies on a cassette recorder and the swoosh of the dancers' white leather boots on the wood floor.

Just as suddenly, they stop, put their black robes back on, kneel and pray. "In the name of the Lord of all realms," says Gulistan Machacek, "guide us onto the path of overwhelming tenderness, love and compassion."

Machacek, 54, has been whirling most of her adult life. The practice, she says, takes her beyond "the drunkenness of ecstasy" to "a place of expansion and sobriety and acute awareness" - to someplace close to God.

"In the path of the mystic, there's no go-between you and God," says Machacek, of Cottage Grove. "We are all equals before our creator, and each relationship between a person and the creator is precious and unique. No one else has that relationship - it's like our fingerprints."

The practice of whirling is something of a paradox: The dervish must lose herself in prayer but at the same time be aware of her presence in relation to the other dancers. The dervishes' billowing skirts - typically weighted with lead fishing wire or other material in the hem - are never to touch one another.

"You've heard the expression, `Head in the clouds, feet on the ground.' That's what turning is all about," says Basheera Zorn, 50, a business consultant and teacher in Eugene. "It's very hard work, and so you feel very blessed when it comes together."

Dervishes, says Zorn, learn to work through the dizziness much like a sailor learns to accommodate seasickness - after a while, you hardly notice it. In its place, if you're lucky, are transitory moments of pure joy.

For about the first 300 years after Rumi's death, women and men alike whirled. But for most of the last four centuries, most Muslim societies forbade women from whirling - especially in public.

That's why the invitation for male and female dervishes from the United States to turn together in Istanbul - in public, no less - is so significant, Zorn says.

Turkey, she explains, is a secular Muslim country standing at the brink of two worlds - leaning toward Western modernism but also in the shadow of religious fundamentalism and conservative cultural attitudes. The invitation to whirl in public means that Turkey's Sufi community is willing to challenge some of its most deeply held beliefs.

The local women - which includes Karima Halderman, 46, and Stephanie Anderson, 22 - hope to depart for 10 days in December.

They will join about 50 other dervishes, men and women, from across the country who are members of the Mevlevi Order of America.

The culminating event happens in Konya, Turkey, on Dec. 17, the anniversary of Rumi's death. Hundreds of dervishes will whirl at a museum adjacent to Rumi's sacred tomb.

Between now and December, the local women are sponsoring several fundraisers, including a garage sale today, to raise the $7,500 they still need to allow all five of them to make the trip.

Only one of the five women, Machacek, identifies as Muslim. But that's not so surprising: Whirling dervishes always have been ecumenical in outlook, welcoming non-Muslims to the sema in the belief that all people are equal in the sight of God.

The trip to Turkey "is about friendship between non-Islamic and Islamic groups, which is pretty huge these days," Zorn says. "I'd like to think that if Turkey can do this, maybe other Muslim countries can as well, and possibly our turning can contribute to worldwide changes."

HOW TO HELP

Local whirling dervishes seek funds for historic trip to Turkey

Garage sale: today, beginning at 9 a.m., parking lot, Tsunami Books, 2585 Willamette St.

Donations: Mail donations to Mevlevi Order of America, Eugene chapter, P.O. Box 1397, Eugene, OR 97440

Blessed Bead Project: Area women invited to choose or contribute a bead, to be sent along with a personal message to women of Turkey, along with a donation for travel costs. Beads will be carried to Rumi's sacred tomb for blessing, then returned to area women.

More information: Send e-mail inquiries to [e-mail]. Or visit www.hayatidede.org

Local group: Whirling dervishes practice on first, third and fifth Fridays of month at 7:30 p.m. at Eugene Friends Meeting, 2274 Onyx St.

RUMI POETRY

The following is a passage of the mystic poet's invitation to the sema - the meditative dance of whirling dervishes

Whoever you may be, come

Even though you may be

An infidel, a pagan, or a fire-worshiper, come

Our brotherhood is not one of despair

Though you have broken

Your vows of repentance a thousand times, come

CAPTION(S):

Whirling dervish Basheera Zorn practices the Turkish custom of turning, a religious dance tied to Islam that was created by the 13th century poet Rumi. The dance begins with an outer black cloak, a death shroud, which then gives way to the white robe representing light, the soul. Whirling dervishes Dianne Brause (left) and Gulistan Machacek complete their turning ceremony. Kevin Clark / The Register-Guard Stephanie Anderson is still in training as a whirling dervish, so she practices on a turning board for balance. Salt is placed on the board to help her foot move more freely.