Cedar wood

In a small town called Şirince, near Turkey's Aegean coast, I met an old woodcarver sitting in a pile of cedar shavings. Here, on a slightly ridiculous map, is our location....

I say ridiculous because this city, writ large and bold on the map, has a population of perhaps a few thousand, steep hills of paths and small houses, and goats running around the wine shop. And on one street was an old man in a two-sided woodshed. He introduced himself "Ziyah," saying he has lived in this town his whole life.

On a low table in front of him were large spoons, forks and bowls, cigarette holders, and the traditional short, rounded spoons for creating rhythm. "All my life I've carved," he said. "I learned from my grandfather." Ziyah put in my hands a pile of shavings, telling me to lift them to my nose and smell. Cedar scent, strong and immediately recognizable, came to me and I smiled. Ziyah continued, "Truth is, after so many years smelling wood (and after so many cigarettes) most kinds I can't smell anymore. Now only cedar and olive." Other varieties he identifies by sight and the feel in his hands as he carves.

He pulled out a small cloth bag and said "here, my most important art." They were four spoons with images clear in the bowl of the spoon, images revealed while carving through layers of alternating light and dark layers of wood.
One--A dark castle with either sea or rolling lan below
Two--A baby held in a woman's arms (this according to Ziyah Bey; I tried, but my eyes saw only dark swirls)
Three--Two distinct dark, curved horns rising from a pyramid shape. Identified as Satan.
Fourth and most beautiful--The profile and swirling scarf of the Virgin Mary (Hazreti Meryemana)... and on the other side a tall and dark figure, her son Jesus (İsa).
"These I will never sell. This last one I gave to my wife when we married long ago... now she's gone, so I carry it again."

Ziyah offered me tobacco from Adıyaman in Turkey's southeast, rolled in unbleached cigarette papers. "And here are the tea leaves, make us some tea," he added, pointing me to the small kerosene stove. "Yaban çay, (wild tea) is the best. Simply."

(these are my spoons, not the visionary miracle ones)

I left after perhaps an hour, talking with me a few large and wonderfully sanded spoons for serving and cooking. Also a set of rhythm spoons for a dancing friend, and a large pile of wood shavings just for the smell (these I've since scattered in my own room and others'). Ziyah added a final gift, this only an ornamental piece; a tiny teaspoon, glazed and engraved with the following words: "Ya olduğun gibi görün, ya göründüğün gibi ol." This is a quote of the Sufi poet and philosopher Rumi. Rumi was born in Persian and died in Konya in central Anatolia... his writings are read across Central Asia and the Middle East and he is claimed by many Turks as their spiritual ancestor.

I find it fascinating that this small Turkish town has such diversity in beliefs--every Turk I've met (here and across the country) has an official government identity card with "Muslim" written bold, no questions asked. At the same time, small churches appear often and Christianity has a role in the everyday lives of many people. Ziyah Bey handled his special spoons with respect as if his hands were worshipping a miracle. And just as important are the words of the mystic Sufi Rumi, preaching love, music, art, and dance in the name of God.

Here is the quote in English: "Either appear as you are, or be as you appear."
I think it can transcend perhaps anything.

~~~alice