How do you solve a problem like Aisha? Our Marriage Flounders.

"How Do You Solve a Problem like Maria" from The Sound of Music

Like the film's protagonist, Aisha was conflicted between wanting a family and wanting to be a solitary religious. 

She sometimes expressed frustration with fashion and wanted nothing more than to wear a nun's habit, which slowly she did!

It is not a traditional Catholic nun's habit; it is more of an Islamic Lady Saint's bulky, non-complimentary, layered affair.

We got off to a reasonably good start after our marriage in 1979 in Winnipeg.  I found us a cute Eichler home in Walnut Creek.  (I had always wanted to live in the Eichler).

It was also the home city of another Sufi group, Sufism Reoriented.  This group was built around the teachings of Mehar Baba, who is more of an Advaita Vedanta Guru than an Islamic Sufi.  In any case, he presented a multi-religious teaching.  I even followed him and hung out with fellow 'Baba Lovers' while attending UCSB.

Meanwhile, Teresa attended the White Pony School, which the order ran.  Initially, it seemed an incredible gift to be among fellow Sufis.  However, as has become the case throughout our marriage, Aisha couldn't help but try to convert people to her own way of thinking. 

Her way of sharing her deep sense of peace and intimacy with the Divine perhaps motivated her ceaseless trolling for newcomers.  

As Ram Dass has suggested, Proselytizing might be a gesture of INSUFFICIENT PERSONAL FAITH that motivates someone to always seek out New fellow believers and watch hope return to their eyes.

Avatar Meher Baba!

I also noticed how frequently she initiated IN-FIGHTING with other established members of Sidi's fuqara.

I don't even remember the causes, but I can recall at least TWO episodes of this.  In one, we were visiting a couple in Freiburg, Germany.  It was at Christmastime, and the medieval university town was beautifully decorated and full of brightly lit nighttime markets.

It was all going well until she and our female hostess 'got into it' over a relatively tiny disagreement about an abstract Sufi principle.  Aisha was so incensed that she clammed up and refused to say "Goodbye" to our lovely Anglo-German hostess.

I tried to resolve the situation, but the spectacle mightily embarrassed me.  As I recall, the grudge held for a long time.

The second incident occurred with one of Sidi's eldest and most loyal devotees, Maryam Tyrell, who had overstayed her visa and lived in the Jerusalem zawiya for many years.  She was the other woman mentioned in my story about my meeting with Sidi.

Maryam had been an undocumented schoolteacher in Jerusalem.  She spoke French and a little Arabic and was beloved by all.  Thus, she was the logical candidate for the Secretary-General of the Fuqara position.

She accompanied Sidi on his second visit to America.  She might have stayed either in my 'new bachelor' apartment or the apartment below where Teresa and her husband lived.

"NO!  It's 'Beloved,' with a CAPITAL 'B,' my BELOVED!!!"

In any case, Aisha again fought with Maryam over a trivial matter. However, I interpreted this as a power struggle over who would be Sidi's books' designated editor and publisher.

The argument was rather fierce, even though, as I recall, Sidi was present.  Aisha walked out and did not speak with Maryam again—ever.  Or so I remember.

 Later, I drove Maryam to the airport and was embarrassed by my wife's behavior.  It seemed so antithetical to the 'Deep Secret Love' we were all supposed to be striving for.

Aisha did get what she wanted.  Whether with Sidi's agreement or not, the books started being printed in 1995 and have been published almost yearly.  The total number is over 40.  It's an impressive body of work.  She's smart and never lazy.  And, IMHO, she's hiding from life with it.  Long after, there is anyone left to read her well-edited versions of Sidi's Teachings.

Anyway, back to Walnut Creek- The 'Guide' of the Sufism Reoriented apparently became annoyed at Aisha's ' poaching' amongst his flock--who was, or so it seemed, polite to her but not especially interested anyway.  We were ostracized, and their disciples were discouraged from socializing with us.  Strike One!

I had friends in the area, my best one being a former roommate, Gail, whom I loved like a sister but had no romantic inclinations toward.  However, it was apparent that this woman threatened Aisha, who complained to me after our first meeting.  Strike Two!

Finally, we were shocked when Teresa's mother, Aisha, read her diary.  It included some rather unpleasant details about our little girl's anger at her mother and her unlikely infatuation with another 5th grader in the public school she was then in.

I remember being angry at this, although I never expected Aisha's proposed solution.

Though already several months pregnant, she quickly dropped the 'H-bomb' that she no longer wanted to live at this place, maybe not in California again, EVER!!  And that she wanted to go to Jerusalem to deliver our coupleship's first boy.  Strike Three!

It's fair to say that before this bombshell announcement, we had been doing well as a couple and had begun to love each other on our own terms—without help from Sidi. 

 
On my way home from work, I would bring flowers to Aisha from a favorite flower stand.  I would then make up silly little love to amuse her.

I was so taken aback by her determination to leave that I didn't know how to say no.  I also didn't know how to earn money to feed and house our family; my only real job was as a traveling salesman.

Aisha proposed we take off for Jerusalem again and be with Sidi and his crew until the baby was born.  After that, who knows what would happen?

She was not to be deterred.  I was torn between practicality and (cultic) spirituality.  I kind of WANTED to believe Aisha's confidence that Allah would show us how to uproot and move halfway around the world with no income, no schools, no healthcare, and no legal status.

This was the first of many such 'breaking camps'  in one location and starting over in another.  

This happened so many times I have to assume that it became part of her psychology to endure as long as she could in a specific spot until she collapsed and sought refuge in a new place.

Surprisingly, I never concluded that she was fundamentally unhappy with me or had some fundamental problem with being both a rather extreme religious zealot and a homemaker in Northern California.

If Aisha had not been pregnant at that moment, I think it might have been the last straw for me.  It was too much--this vagabonding all over the world to chase the illusion of some kind of paradisical spirituality. 

In my heart, I had begun to think of Aisha not as my partner but as an adversary.

The fact that she was pregnant with my son was huge, however.  So I just numbly followed her along.  Both of our sets of parents and ALL of our friends, I am sure, thought us insane.

We shared a tendency toward inclusiveness.  However, as time passed, I realized that isolation was ironically a 'luxurious' way of life-—not available to anyone who wasn't already wealthy or exceptionally renounced., like a Buddhist monk. 

It presupposed economic security, which I did not feel we had.  Although I was responsible for all the financial aspects of the marriage, Aisha was determining where we would live. 

I also pursued the ideal spiritual community early on.  After a life of spiritual experimentation and hedonistic escapism in my youth, I really found sustained peace in a Buddhist monastery in Ukiah.

That's me on the left with the mustache!  My Teacher, DM Hsuan Hua, is seated in white.

As a layperson who spent many weekends living in the monks' quarters, I found a lot of peace there, although it was pretty spartan.  The Master, with whom I had taken refuge, was the real deal.  He was the most scrupulously virtuous person you'd ever want to meet.

His life was dedicated to spreading the Dharma from an Orthodox Mahayana Ch'an (Zen) perspective.  Yet he also taught popular 'Pure Land' Dharma to those unable to undertake the rigors of prolonged meditative sessions.

He made some expeditious 'changes,' as suggested by the Buddha himself.  This is one of the reasons people are attracted to Buddhism--it is constantly changing form and tries to mesh with local cultures while holding onto the essential instructions.

At its core, it's about facing the truth of old age, suffering, disease, and death and turning those things into encouragement to practice while there is still the opportunity.  The practice is to practice good deeds while still keeping the mind.  So much can happen when a person learns to tame 'the mad mind.'

Yet I was restless in a certain way, too.  And even though I had, in one sense, the perfect spiritual home already, I nevertheless was drawn back into the world because... I should have a career and a life in the world.'

I never anticipated ACTUALLY BECOMING a monk.  It was too bitterly ascetic for me.

But if I had stayed there, I would have learned excellent Mandarin and knowledge of Chinese Buddhism and culture   This would have led me in an interesting direction and, hopefully, given me an improved moral basis for the rest of my life.

Ironically, I became the financier for ANOTHER person's attempted retreat from the 'real world' and into Sidi's highly unorthodox, if not hopelessly corrupted, version of Islamic Sufism as it grew on American soil.

At all events, we left our sweet first home in the Walnut Creek house, packed up all and stored our belongings, and headed for Jerusalem again.

This mainly happened during my summer off-season, enabling me to continue until our son was born in September 1983.  However, August was the usual beginning of my sales season, and my loyalties were torn.

 I waited to return to America until after Ibrahim was born in a charitable hospital on the Mount of Olives.  That, in itself, was a night to remember.

Aisha was very jaundiced, very ill, and had been diagnosed (inaccurately, as it happened) with not just ONE but TWO significant diseases.  One of which was Tyfoid Fever.  I forget the other.

Secondly, our OBGN, whom we had met beforehand, admired both Sidi and Ayatolla Khomeini.  He taught his children verses about killing Israelis with guns from the Iranian Leader.  Sweet!

Next, when Aisha's contractions started,d it seemed like they were far enough apart that we headed to the hospital rather leisurely,

Suddenly, the time between the contractions shortened dramatically, starting and necessitating a frantic rush up the hill to the Doctor's house, who panicked as he discovered how far along she was.

"Ya Allah!  She's already FULLY DIALATED," he exclaimed!

We sped to the hospital, and within MINUTES, I had my first son in my arms.

After the relatively quick birth process, Aisha was so ill that she needed to stay in that hospital for an extra couple of days.  During this period, she never had the opportunity to bathe off the blood and fetal fluid from the birth.  She was desperately unhappy about this, but the nurses weren't much good for anything other than socializing amongst themselve  . They didn't seem to want to get their hands dirty.

When the baby was finally brought home, Ayisha still was not able to give milk, and the baby formula they sent home with us was for older babies, not newborns. 

So what was to do?  Sidi's wife had no cow's milk,  so I pounded on a neighbor's door with a goat.  He obligingly milked her for us; that was our son's first meal!.

I began my first in a series of sad trips back to the Mid-Peninsula, where my parents lived.  They offered me a place to stay to continue my old work.

Unfortunately, it also enabled me to re-commence my habit of drinking in the evening and often to excess. 

And my tendency was amplified by  Aisha's refusal to grasp the apparent necessity of our being in America.

Truth be told, I was angry with her as well.  Although we casually tried to find a school for Teresa in Jerusalem, Sidi realized we couldn't live there.

At that point, Aisha had a fallback plan.  We would go to the UK, where several fuqara couples already lived, and attempt to live there.  We hoped it would be a more pleasant and spiritual alternative to California. 

At that point, the UK had 14% unemployment, and I had no visa allowing me to work.  A few months later, I could secure an Irish passport based on my grandparents', but that still didn't solve my lack of skills to trade in the economically depressed UK.

So back and forth I went, my alcoholism and my frustration growing all the way after six months.  After six months in the UK,  where we mostly presumed the hospitality of the English fuqara, Aisha finally threw in the towel and returned with me to the US. 

It was a wasted six months, although it did give us the experience of living in a foreign country.

We were lucky to find an outstanding, almost perfect girls' school run by Catholic nuns in Marin.  Teresa loved it and was an excellent student.  We invited two of her schoolmates to live with us, which satisfied Aisha for a while.  But as Teresa approached college age, Aisha again developed Tumbleweed Fever.

Movin' On

Now, her ideal was that New England was more stable and 'moral' than California.  Teresa and I initially visited potential colleges in Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine.   Later, Aisha and Ibrahim went on a similar trip, mainly through Vermont, which they both loved.  

Well, who doesn't like a summer vacation in New England?

Fortunately, however, I was able to put my foot down.  My business's territories were highly competitive, and it was not possible for me to simply arrive in New England and do business.  I already had to fight off competitors tooth and nail in my territory.

Teresa was also not accepted into the best schools, and Aisha couldn't make a good argument for moving somewhere else—AGAIN.

And once again, I was the party pooper.  The killjoy.  She and Ibrahim had had such FUN in Vermont!

However, we sold our first-ever self-owned house because of the increasing road noise and moved into a rental home.  Teresa went to the local junior college.  We were all pretty unhappy until a house on a hilltop in BEAUTIFUL West Marin became available.

It was a gorgeous wooden glass architect-designed home, which was energy-saving and had solar improvements throughout   

Though my parents had to help us with the down payment, this was the most beautiful house I'd ever lived in--much less owned. 

Living in such a beautiful place, on a mountaintop, at least for a while, allowed us to smooth over our differences.  Soon, Teresa's husband from the Middle East also moved in with us and occupied an improved in-law space.  They were a pleasant diversion until Aissha got mad at Zorba, the husband, and they decided to leave us.  That was a new low.

We also overcame our differences by leading separate lives.  I was often on the road while Aisha took care of the children and, in her spare time, sought to be a proselytizer for Sidi's community.

Oddly enough, our intimate encounters were excellent in terms of the ones I'd had earlier.  We didn't talk about it much. 

We didn't talk about ANYTHING PERSONAL very much.  But this was one of the pillars of the relationship.  Sadly, I was the first to abandon it one night before the divorce was even a topic.

I don't know what I expected to happen.  I expected Aisha to read my mind about my anger with her that day.  

I don't even remember why I was angry.  I should have been pleased she had the temerity to want it and indicate so.

But I don't think we were ever intimate again after that pointless 'uncommunication.'

Some parts of Aisha were shut down entirely long ago.  One night, I remember her crying by herself and, out of nowhere, saying, 'Honey, I'm so awful.'

I asked her to tell me what was wrong, but she couldn't or wouldn't.  

She would occasionally find a new 'brother or sister' who got to live in our house and eventually get introduced to Sidi over the phone as a new prospect.  He dutifully would give them a new Arabic name.  It kept her busy in our isolated, 'movie star' house-oin-a-hill.  But I did not share her enthusiasm.

Part of the reason was that Sidi's sons kept showing up, and I would get an insider's view of his activities.  His sons were less convinced of his infallibility than my wife. 

There's no one like a family member to burst your bubble.  In fact, one of them even told me that his disciples said, "He tells them what they want to hear."

I enjoyed all of them and their honesty.  Still, it was hard to keep the fantasy of Sidis having extraordinary intimacy with the Divine as they shared his frequent missteps and foibles as only one's family can. 

And because he thought he was doing a 'good thing' by converting North Americans and Europeans to Islam, he might have thought the fiction of "Twin Flames Marriages" was justified.

He also got a second, much younger American wife.  Reportedly, he was not above the Adam and Eve show, with himself playing Eve this time.

Although he didn't invite me to come and watch, as he had done to me.

He also paid himself by endorsing whatever proposal his followers might bring before him.  Including an utterly deceptive, transparent Ponzi Scheme that lost almost everybody's money.  Except for the people at the top, of course.  One of whom was presumably the 'follower' who brought it to Sidi.

I began to see this so-called Holy Man performing more like an old-school swindler.  At some point, they sold miracle cures, including special holy oil, for $50 a bottle.

In my case, 'worldliness'/and substance addictions were a constant and merciless companion.  While with Aisha, I sought oblivion in the vices rather than the Spirit.  

Instead of pursuing my earlier interests in Mystical Christianity and Traditional Chinese/Zen Buddhism, I somehow allowed myself all the indulgences I could cram into my 'business trip bacchanals.'

The one element of non-Sufi spirituality I retained was my precious Ram Dass Tapes, which I took EVERYWHERE I went.  His light kept me going through some miserable episodes on the road.

Of course, I was largely unaware of this "choice," I am sure that if I had asked Aisha which behavior she preferred, she would have probably chosen the Buddhist option.  But would she want to stay married after that?  In retrospect, I should have taken that risk.

What is also true is that part of me still enjoyed our frequent trips to Jerusalem and our participation in Dhikrs with other Sufis in our own tariqas and those in the US and Europe.

Aisha's parents were kind, ordinary, working-class people.  I enjoyed regular visits with them, though I wanted to be gentle with them, mindful of how bizarre much of the history I'd had with their daughter would seem to them.  

In sympathy with Aisha's own example, I only used Aisha's birth name and her daughter's birth name to avoid offending them.  The major fly in the ointment was that I had not told my parents of this momentous occasion.  Finally, a few days later, it was a shock that they initially refused to believe.

In Aisha's case, I confess I am largely ignorant of what was going on with her--especially during what must have been the brutal final years where my basest impulses were given free rein. 

There was a perpetual internal conflict between her desire to 'leave the world' and remain perpetually with Sidi and/or in Jerusalem and her desire to raise a family and marry.  She resolved the conflict by hoping I would, with her help, become her Sufi Knight, her Divine Consort.

Sidi seemed to believe in this fairytale-like rendition of what a marriage between Sufi 'Beloveds' should be.  Aisha seemed to want to believe it.

But I didn't see why he put me with her or her with me other than that we were simultaneously in the same place at the same time.  

This was highly unorthodox.  If he had done it with an Arab woman, her father would be instantly licensed, if not expected, to KILL the perpetrator.

While she understood and, I believe, tried to be patient with my issues with Sidi and the Sufi Path, she was unable to make peace with what I saw as the legitimate demands of living in the world, which more-or-less required us to live in California---NOT in Jerusalem, as she preferred, NOR in the UK, nor in Vermont or any other place she later imagined would be 'ideal' for us.

As a result, we could never fully resolve our married life.  Although we managed to forestall the ending for 14 years, the seeds of its destruction came early.

"Westward, (or anywhere else) HO!!"

This was the beginning of the End, just 18 months after our marriage.  It was the first of many "breaking-of-camps" in one location and starting over in another that became a constant for us, usually at Aisha's instigation but at least once mine.

This happened so many times that I have to assume that it became part of her psychology to endure as long as she could in a specific spot, but only so long before something snapped.

Maybe she was born a tumbleweed or a nun, or perhaps she never found the right guy. But I hope she finds some peace in her mid-70s; I really do.  She should be able to handle anything if she finds true inner stillness.

This includes an ex-husband who is still curious and waiting to hear her story.  I also want to enjoy all her photographs but never get copies anymore.  (Sniff).

Ah, well, on with our story.  Don't forget to hit 'older posts.'