Participants'
Comments III
I had seen him some days earlier in
a working session in the “Regard du Cygne” leading a circle of men and women of
miscellaneous ages and levels and of different nationalities but in unity of inner
thought as according to what this silent and intense work implies. No
explication of teaching whatsoever. His only directions: observing the
movement, learning it visually and beginning with it individually only after
the effort of research and personal comprehension. Coming to him is not
submitting oneself by way of fantasy or curiosity to some new technique of
gestures. It is initiating oneself to the practice of a sacred dance the base
thereof is in the bottom of the heart, there, where the being is in communion
with his God. No analysis nor intellectual synthesis that would lead to copying
in an impersonal fashion. It requires feeling and catching the movement
corporeally, searching it alone and finding it by way of impregnating, by
oneself and from oneself, what the master calls the “dynamic meditation”.
Difficult
for the fervent spectator not virtually to take part, not to let himself be
invested into the ternary rhythm of these musics of another world, excessively
sharp, contrasted by instable low-pitched tones, very often discordant to the
occidental ear and, succeeding each other, spreading in hammering and tonic
vibrations touching the depth of the being to the core.
At
the end of the session, without even knowing whether I had held a pen in my
life, Javad came with a smile to ask me to write an article on what I just saw
and then to send it to your “newspaper”. How to serve in complete ignorance the
incomprehensible science of an unknown teacher who only passes? But how to
refuse the honor of this service as amiably asked in good faith by a servant
just as purely devoted to his God?
Impregnated
of all the vibrations of the atmosphere, empowered just as if I had worked in
the group I promised to attend some days later his “spectacle”. The word was
shocking after the transcendence of the course that I had just attended as the
question was not to go to attend an exotic theatrical evening but to
participate in presence in the ceremonial of a sacred feast.
In
the Centre Mandapa, occupying the great dark and deep stage, only the master
was waiting. A delicate white statue of an immobility of marble he was in the
lotus position in a dark space: black floor, ceiling, curtains – for decoration
and illumination at the front-stage a simple line of seven short white candles
– sacred protection – separated by small fine bouquets made of red roses mixed
by threes in their crystal glass with just as many sprays of flowering jasmine.
Vision of art that merited composure and silence but that the noisy arrival of
the spectators disturbed.
From
the depth of the dark some tones emerged, meanwhile, imperceptible and sweet.
The profane noise appeased when the “living sphinx” insensibly awakened and by
one arm after the other delineated very slow, very simple movements. Their
repetition was underlining the deferential beginning of speech of the humble
creature venerating God the Creator. The music became manifest and the fragile
"statue" regaining life altogether became animated and opened, palms
offered, in an elegant and sober play of hands and arm. With feline
suppleness the erected man was now expressing himself with his whole body. A
soft oscillation was taking possession of the legs recharging it on the ground.
Not a fiber, not a cell that did not vibrate in this moment, lasting one hour,
in these global gymnastics commanded by the spirit, preparing the rise of the
soul to the summit of the prayer.
Then
it was for the recommencement of breathing before the second phase. In a long
pause the relaxed Javad generated the plenitude of energy through the double
respiration, the inner design thereof is in the shape of “eight”, symbolic of
infinity and of eternity. Then, still hearing, with the same slowness and
constant in his rhythm he recommenced the more varied, more complex of
dissociated asymmetric gestures, exercise, in “divided attention”.
The
music stopped, Javad sat down. It was the repose before the sacred moment. Near
him, on the earth, the priest garments were spread out, that he was going to
dress in conscientiously, bringing each piece, before putting it on, to his
lips and to his fore-head. The long and very large skirt first, that, still
sitting, he girded up tightly with a sash of green silk. Then the single bolero
with long sleeves and finally the head-covering in the shape of a tiara trimmed
with green ribbon.
Dressed,
he got up. He appeared out of him in illuminating whiteness. But on the earth
still was remaining one piece he took up and kissed with respect: the large
black cloak, that, crossing it underneath the arms, he entirely wrapped up
himself in, bowing the head and not letting any more be seen of his body but
his bare feet. Now began a very slow walk around the stage, each step marking a
standstill, maybe for a silent verse, maybe for a poem, maybe for a prayer ...
Time did not exist any more ... The audience held its breath ...
The
ritual complete, the cloak fell: he reappeared in his immaculate clothes ...
Turning towards the North he immensely opened his arms in a cosmic motion,
hands opened towards the horizontal, the left towards the earth, the right
towards the sky. Carried by the voices of the choir his rotation gently set in:
one round slightly hesitating, then two, then a third ... The skirt rose,
outlining its revolving waves. Their volume in thousand shades modulated
following the intensity of the inner force the man was splendidly mastering,
surrendered however to the accelerated whirling, melted like an atom in
millions of atoms in the highest height of the ether ...
How
long lasted this ascension towards the Light? After this great moment of
exalted fervor the darkness deepened, intensely silent. His body veiled, what
remained visible for a long moment in the dark for an ultimate meditation was
only the dim spot of his face softly illuminated by the last “ray of the day” –
this last projector that very slowly took away the light and tranquilly
installed it in the night ...-
In
his book Javad will tell you what means “Sama’a”:
“... hearing; a soundless and joyful voice from invisible celestial world, reminding memory of melodious sound heard at beginless and endless day of creation; sound of Creator saying “exist!” ...”
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