Presentació

Baraka és una paraula d’origen àrab que significa alè vital, pura energia de vida, gràcia divina. Es diu que hi ha llocs amb una baraka especial. Entre ells, la música. La música és la bellesa l’allò més primordial que nia en nosaltres. En el batec del cor hi ha el ritme. En la respiració, la melodia. I en la relació amb tot allò que ens envolta, l’harmonia.

La música, com el perfum, és presència intangible. Entrar en ella és entrar en un espai preciós en què allò que és subtil pren cos, i on allò que és tangible esdevé subtil. Segons Mowlânâ Rûmî, la música, com el perfum, ens fa comprendre que vivim exiliats en aquest món, i alhora ens recorda allò que sabem i no obstant hem oblidat: el camí de retorn vers el nostre origen, vers casa nostra.

Habitar aquest espai preciós no pot fer-se només des de la raó. Aquest coneixement delicat i potent ha de ser degustat, encarnat, i per això Mowlânâ va ballar i va ballar, i va girar i girar i girar. D’aquest espai preciós de presència intangible és del què ens parlen els autors reunits en aquest blog. En un món com el que ens ha tocat viure, en què tantes velles estructures inservibles s’enfonsen, és responsabilitat de cadascú de nosaltres agafar-nos fort a aquells qui ens han indicat el camí, intentar comprendre´n els indicis, descobrir-ne les petjades ... i començar a girar.

Sigueu més que benvinguts a Baraka,

Lili Castella

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dimecres, 26 de juny de 2019

L'àdab del cal·lígraf (2)



L’àdab del cal·lígraf (2)

Pablo Khalid Casado


Imatge relacionada


The Water and the Ink

[…] Something similar happens with the water we use to mix the ink. During the Ottoman Empire, calligraphers would only use rain water to make their own inks. As they say, rain is “Rahmatullah”, which means “mercy from God”. This is why, the calligraphers considered it the purest water they could use.

Nowadays, as well as rain water, we use rose water or distilled water, in an effort to avoid using tap water. This is because we are not sure if the pipes this water is passing through are completely clean; we don’t want to write something which has a sacred meaning for us with something which might be dirty or not pure enough.

The ink we use is made by soot, Arabic gum and water. In the past, calligraphers used to collect the soot from the oil lamp that illuminate the mosques and use that to make their own inks. The famous ottoman architect Mimar Sinan, also known as Sinan the Architect, for example, ordered his disciples to build a small room atop the Suleymaniye Mosque in Istanbul during the construction phase. All the soot from the lamps were diverted to this room, where, once a year, calligraphers used to go and scratch the soot pasted at the walls and the roof; they would use tis soot in preparing their ink.

The calligraphers would use this ink to write the copies of Qur’an. They would later give these copies to the mosque as a charity. In other words, what originated in the mosque in a soot form, came back later to the same place in a beautiful handwritten Qur’an form and would stay there for a long time.

Pablo Khalid Casado, The art of Islamic Calligraphy: Rituals and Traditional Art. themaydan.com January 8, 2018.

Cal·ligrafia: Núria García Masip. https://nuriaart.com/. In this piece by Nuria García, we see a composition where this big letter "ha" stands out. This letter is used by Sufis during their sessions of meditation to reach the "hal", which is a sate of consciousness that is supposed to be in a higher level than the ordinary state and that brings you closer to your being, your essence, and therefore, your Lord.