There are no coincidences. At this point in my life, I've had enough solid proof to say that this is so. Three things happened to me yesterday that could be considered coincidence, but in my mind were actually smaller events directing me towards a lesson I was meant to receive. First of all, I decided to wear my Ravenwood jewelry to work ~ only two pieces, a small silver hamsa hand and my Ravenwood seal. I don't know why I made this decision. Normally I reserve these pieces for ritual wear or church gatherings. But it just seemed like the right thing to do at the time, even though it's not something I do very often. Later, I e-mailed a friend to see if she would be available to meet for lunch, because I really couldn't see eating another rather bland and unsatisfying lunch in the college cafeteria. She couldn't meet me, had a lunch meeting. So I headed to the cafeteria slightly later than usual, and found something marginally appetizing to eat. I made to sit down with my regular lunch crew when I noticed that the table was already full. And then it happened. I ran into one of the professors here, the head of the Religious Studies department. She noticed I was about to sit down at an empty table and said, "Hey, would you like to have lunch with a Sufi master?"

Would I like to have lunch with a Sufi master? It's not the kind of question you get asked every day. As a matter of fact, it's the kind of question you'd never think of. I mean, who just randomly asks that kind of question? It's kind of like asking would I like to have a million dollars. Well. Yes! I was charged up. It is one of those random chances that happen once in a great while. Sufi Sheykhs have spent years and years in study and meditation, striving to reach the universal One through balance, inward reflection, purification. The opportunity to speak with and learn from such a spiritual teacher doesn't come around every day.

So what exactly is a Sufi? Within most religions, there are two paths. Most people follow the main path, the basic, low-maintenance, easy to understand path. A much smaller minority follow another path, a slightly hidden path, a path that's a little harder to follow ~ the path of the mystic. It is this difference that separates the Gnostics from your garden variety of Christians. It's what separates Kabbalists from the majority of practicing Jews. And it is what separates the larger majority of Sunni Muslims from the Sufi. The Dervishes, for example, follow the Sufi path, believing that spinning puts them in an ecstatic state through which they suppress the self in order to converse with the angels and even Allah. The Sufi also trace their spiritual lineage to the prophet Fatima as well as Mohammed. In addition to being an ancient Arabian moon goddess, she is also both Mother and Daughter of the Prophet in one. For years, the Sufi have been something of an outcast group amongst their fellow Moslems. Their path of Islam is seen as a false path by many Sunni who simply do not understand their concentrated focus on meditation study of the connections between this world, the spirit world and Allah, the being that created it all. Furthermore, the Sufi are much more inclusive and far less restrictive of women than are the Sunni. All women are welcome to pray in a Sufi mosque and are encouraged to follow the example of the prophet Fatima, as men model their lives on that of Mohammed.

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And what does this have to do with me, an initiated Wiccan priestess? It has taken me years to reach this conclusion, but I have come to realize that regardless of what body of religious thought I subscribe to, I am first and foremost a spiritual student. The further I go on my chosen path, the more I learn about those paths I did not choose; and in so learning, I am able to approach these other paths with greater clarity, appreciation and respect. In fact, the Tenet of Tolerance encourages the Wicca to build respect and acceptance of those who hold differing beliefs. I have tried to read as much as I can about the mystic paths of other faiths. Even a basic and cursory exploration of Gnosticism has helped soothe much of my early anger and hostility towards Christianity. What little information I've gathered on the Kabbalah, has both enriched my understandings of my own path in addition to strengthening my bonds with my Jewish friends. And then there are the Sufi. I strongly believe that in one of my previous journeys upon this planet, I was very connected to the Arabic culture. Things like names and music, artistic and architectural patterns resonate so strongly with me that I can't help but believe that I was somehow immersed in them once upon a time. I came to Wicca on the scenic route through many different philosophies. At first, I was turned off by the seemingly harsh and sometimes misogynistic face of modern Islam; but then I stumbled upon Sufiism, quite by accident. There was much within their philosophy that made sense, that touched some deeper part of the soul, that gave drink to a thirsty seeker. And yet there was something missing, even from this seeming satisfaction, and I knew that the Sufi path was not the right one for me. So I moved on, but never lost that connection. In my search for a craft name, all my hours and days of searching and meditating and trying were broken by the simplest of random acts ~ a book falling open to a page, revealing the name I was meant to take: Fatima, maiden defender of knowledge, bright blooming mother of heaven, shadowy keeper of the all-seeing-eye. I remember presenting my choice to my High Priestess, Lady Sintana. She said the name and looked at me, as if she were a tailor judging the fit of a suit. Then an excitement seemed to kindle in her eyes, a pleasant realization, and she said, "That's it! Yes. That's it!"

So, returning to the topic at hand, here was an opportunity handed to me, seemingly by chance. It was wonderful enough to have received the invitation! Then I sat down at the table across from the man. There are people who proclaim themselves to be highly spiritual and then there are highly spiritual people. The Sheykh exuded spiritual energy. The air around him vibrated with it. To simply sit near him and breathe was uplifting in a way I cannot do justice with words. He spoke Arabic and Hebrew ~ very little English, maybe a smattering of common words ~ so I had to rely on my friend Wafa (a practicing Sufi) to translate. And yet, as the strange language failed to register upon my conscious mind, I felt I could understand him on a deeper, simpler level, one that completely transcended words. The first thing he noticed upon shaking my hand was the Ravenwood seal, and he asked me what it was. I explained that it was symbolic of many things: the opposition and balance of water and fire, male and female, and also the principle of reflection ~ as above, so below. As I waited for Wafa to give her translation, I watched his face for the reaction. He gave me that look ~ the same one Lady Sintana had given me while considering my name ~ and then he smiled. He seemed to approve. He pointed to my hamsa hand. Wafa said, "You wear the hand of Fatima." I explained that I had taken Fatima as my spiritual name. Again, he seemed pleased.

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We discussed many things. The nature of power, for example. I made the suggestion that many people believe that material things make them great, that the manipulation and control of others gives them power. But in actuality, power comes from within, from a deep and abiding connection with the One. People with this true power have no need to manipulate or tyrannize others. Furthermore, some so-called holy men have lost sight of this truth and chose to use the potentially uplifting power of faith to oppress and control the adherents of that faith. The Sheykh agreed wholeheartedly and told us that he was saddened by his fellow holy men, within both Islamic and Judaic traditions, who often worked so hard against peace in favor of advancing their own personal or political agendas. He lamented the lack of understanding between the religions, and the leaders' unwillingness to listen to each other in some cases. Something prompted me to speak, but I hesitated for a moment. Nobody else at the table seemed to have anything to say, so I figured, what the heck? Might as well say what's on my mind. I said, "They cannot see beyond their respective religious paths to understand that they travel together. The path is not important. It's the fact that we journey that matters. We are all moving towards the same city of dreams, and in that we have a common bond. If more people could recognize the commonality instead of the difference, we might have a better chance at achieving peace amongst all people."

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little intimidated. Okay, I was massively intimidated. I was telling a holy man of Islam, a man who regularly addresses the United Nations, a man who converses daily with the world's top religious leaders, that religion doesn't matter, only Spirit does. As if he didn't know this. Or might be offended by this. Who the hell am I, anyway?

A witch and a priestess, for one. I'm also quite confident in myself and in my belief that there is one story and one story only. The principal characters may have different names, but the story itself never changes. Wafa translated, and as she finished, absolute delight stole across the Sheykh's face. It's the kind of look that teachers have when they realize the seeds of truth within their lessons have taken root and begun to grow. He reached across the table, grabbed my hand and held it, and said directly to me, in English: "My spiritual student!" If I thought he was full of Spirit just sitting across the table from him, it was nothing compared to flying feeling I got just clasping his hand. It was a sudden rush of pure singing light. When he let go of my hand, he began to chatter excitedly in Arabic.Wafa, who was also excited at this point, explained that the idea of transcending the differences in religious paths in favor of a common understanding of spirituality is the Sheykh's main message, it is why he travels across the world to universities and mosques and temples. I'd had no idea. Religion, he'd said, does not matter, because it is what is within you, what is in your heart that connects you to God. He was so happy to hear that I, a stranger to his teaching and message, independently shared and understood this vision. It was then that he asked both Wafa and I to listen carefully. He was going to give us another lesson.

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Long ago, God sent prophets, beings of both spirit and flesh, to teach truth to the people of earth. By way of those prophets came the promise that one day, a "messiah" would come to bring humanity back into God's glory and end the world of strife. The Sheykh believes that right now, at this point in time, we are students without teachers. The original lessons remain and have been handed down to us, but we lack the benefit of having the prophets, the ones who wrote those lessons, here to teach them to us. Those teachers have gone back to God from whence they came. So in the meantime, we interpret, as best we can. Some people believe that God will send his teachers back to us again. But the Sheykh believes that WE must initiate our own journey, to seek out our teachers ourselves where they now reside. They may have returned to the One and they may be out of our physical world, but they are still able to teach us. Their lessons can be heard, if we seek them out, if we learn how to be still and listen. Through meditation, self-scrutiny, and purification of our imbalances, we open up the channels through which they might speak. Of course, not everyone is able to hear the lessons of the prophets. Just as there are course limits and rosters at earthly universities, there are also "class lists" for these spiritual lessons. Our prophets will know us, their seeking students, by what is in our hearts, by our willingness to learn and to listen. The spiritual student will hear the truth and be rewarded with enlightened heart and mind.

Furthermore, he holds the belief that the promised messiah will not be God clothed in flesh, but will instead be an event ~ the culmination of all humanity listening to and learning from God and the prophets. When all men allow Spirit to speak to and through them ~ the world of strife, war and suffering as we know it will indeed end. We will have truly rejoined ourselves with the One and a new world of peace, love and light will come into being. God will return to earth because we, humanity as a whole, will have opened the doors. I was awestruck and exhilarated. It didn't matter by what name he called the One. It didn't matter that he spoke of angels and prophets and messiahs. His lesson held truth. The same truth as so many of the lessons given by my own Wiccan teachers. I wanted to cry for joy. I wanted to dance. I wanted to run around and shout about how wonderful this was. Even after I had thanked the Sheykh and said farewell, even back at my desk surrounded by the mundane tools of work, I felt uplifted, renewed, confirmed. And I could see with clarity the series of quiet whispers and gentle nudges that had led me to the place where truth chose to be revealed.

I have had a little while to think about the Sheykh's lesson, and in thinking about it, lightning struck. I have come to a sudden deep understanding of one of the very first lessons I learned when I began my study of the ways of the Wicca.We use the phrase, "As above, so below," to reflect symmetry between the spiritual and the physical in our rituals and to remind us that the actions we take here in the waking world have repercussions in the world of spirit and dream. But in addition to that, I now see it as a goal, not simply for humanity as a whole, but more importantly for the individual. Through learning and seeking, meditation and balancing we strive to make all of our selves (physical, spiritual and astral) as much like the Universal One as possible. As we gain knowledge, candidly identify those qualities within ourselves that are out of balance, and work towards righting those imbalances, we cast light on those shadowed parts of ourselves. We not only cast our circles outside of ourselves; we cast circles within, making our inner temple a fit and sacred place for the elder gods.

I want to say that I'm amazed that so simple a lesson can have such newness and depth of meaning after seven years, but then again I am ever more aware that knowledge is a river. It may be in the same place we remember it to be, but each time we drink from it, it has a different taste. And to be given a box full of tools, does not imply that one has achieved mastery of their use. When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.

Fatima