URS date: July 8, 2014
As you know, my beloved husband, Phillip Musawwir Gowins, left this
earth on July 8th. A devoted servant to the Message, he was always a
loving and compassionate man to everyone he encountered — always
thoughtful, patient and kind. I would appreciate if you can take a few
moments to send him your blessings and good wishes for his further
journey on another plane. We know there is really no death, so take a
moment to celebrate, in any way that you can, his amazing life.
A memorial service will announced soon in Scranton. All are welcome.
Yours in truth,
Majida Gowins
Musawwir with Granddaughters
My most vivid memory of Musawwir is from the year he was the camp director at Pema Osel Ling (?) and he christened me Dorothy the Dutiful, and I addressed him as Musawwir the Magnificent. We had many chuckles over that and it was a wonderful collaboration. I haven’t seen him since but have often thought of him that way.
Although it has been many years since I have seen Musawwir and Majida, what really stands out in my memory is the infectious humor and no-nonesense approach to Sufism that only he could transmit in his unique way… Touching people’s hearts directly, not abstract in the gift he had for teaching what he really lived…his generosity and tireless way of being a true servant of the divine in everyone and all situations.
Once, when I was going to the Abode for some meeting, he came to pick me up from JFK and brought me to his and Majida’s apartment in NYC, where I was treated as a royal guest before bringing me the next day to the train onward to Albany. I was so touched by this gesture of kindness and the hours of delight, laughter and joy we shared.
I also remember the loving solace and support he shared with me during Pir Vilayat’s memorial service in Suresnes where all of our hearts were so very raw from the pain of letting go of this great being. I wish for Majida and their family much support during this time of great transition, and that our community may stand by them in solidarity and comfort.
So, on the inner plane I am meeting Musawwir in freedom and joy now, and for 40 days I light a candle for him, Majida and their loved ones, and offer Murshid’s prayer:
O Thou, the Cause and Effect of the whole Universe,
the Source from whence we have come
and the Goal toward which all are bound:
receive this soul who is coming to Thee into Thy parental arms.
May Thy forgiving Glance heal his heart.
Lift him from the denseness of the earth,
surround him with the light of Thine own Spirit.
Raise him up to Heaven, which is his true dwelling place.
We pray Thee grant him the blessing of Thy most exalted Presen ce.
May his life upon earth become as a dream to his waking soul
and let his thirsting eyes behold
the glorious vision of Thy sunshine.
Amen
Beloved Friend Musawwir,
I celebrate your great sobriety and ecstasy, your strong and yet gentle, surrendering way your thoughtfulness, humor and honesty, your constancy in friendship, your large and powerful hands, and the beauty that you fashioned in matter and written word.
Thank you for sharing, with so many beings throughout the world, your ever fresh way of truth, your liberating perspectives on Sufism, and your deep love and devotion to the Message.
I remember Musawwir with deep affection. He was kind, real, here for others, and so dedicated to the Sufi message. May his soul be blessed with the vision of and union with the Beloved and may his loved ones left here without him be blessed with gratitude for sharing this life together.
Ever onward in love, taj Inayat
With sadness and loving remembrance may I share some recollections of my friend Musawwir Gowins.
I first met Muswwir and Majida (then Khalisa) at one of the Abode camps in the late ‘70s. I was trying unsuccessfully to pitch a tent in a rainstorm in the dark when Musawwir came along with a flashlight and real tools – to the rescue! Afterwards we were drenched and cold and he took me to the Camp kitchen and made me some tea to warm up. One of many memories I hold of Musawwir’s willingness to be the “helpful friend.”
Sometime in the early ‘80s Musawwir and Majida moved to Cleveland for a year when Majida, a talented actress, was hired at the Cleveland Playhouse, a regional repertory company. They lived two blocks from me and were both neighbors and a part of the Center I was leading at the time. We did a lot of visiting, talking, socializing and I realized then that I had substantially underestimated Musawwir’s intellectual breadth. It was not unusual to find him on the front porch with a paperback by Hesse or Huxley or Shakespeare. A master craftsman, during this period Musawwir worked for a company that designed custom kitchens. One day he had a terrible accident with a power saw and seriously injured one of his skilled, capable hands. It was a devastating injury, financially and physically, but Musawwir demonstrated then, as later, his trust in the divine purpose and the planning of the One who is the true Fashioner of our lives.
After they moved to Yonkers my work took me frequently to New York, and I would sometimes board the Greystone train up the Hudson where Musawwir would pick me up at the station for dinner with him and Majida. Sometimes, if there was a class that night, I would attend. It was always a joyful expression of hospitality and reunion and an evening of the most heartfelt conversation and friendship.
We kept in touch over the years through emails, photos, blogs, and the rare visit. When we last saw one another he was in Cleveland to give a talk on his book, Practical Sufism. We were discussing the nature of Truth over brunch and he said at one point, in that Midwestern flat tone that never left his speech, “Well, that’s the way it is.” I was talking to him the other night, after his passing when I couldn’t sleep, and heard that voice again: “Well, that’s the way it is.” Truth confirmed, short and sweet. Practical wisdom gained from the vision of the ultimate Maker, Molder, and Builder.
Godspeed, my friend, on your journey home.
Breathing in naturally. Breathing out long. Preparing internally for outward expression of remembrances from the last millennium. Met the beloved Mussawir in the late 70’s when he lived at the khangah on East 14th street. In 1980 he was the camp director for the East Coast Meditation Camp and I was hired to run the kitchen. It was my first visit to the Abode of the Message, though I had been a mureed since 1975. Mussawir was a coffee drinker and a smoker. Coffee was NOT officially served at the camp (back in the day). At that camp and the subsequent leaders’ camp gathering in August, it became clear to me that this was not a good policy. All sorts of people would come in to ask it they could make some coffee. Mussawir ran interference for me at the first camp. At the one in August I brought with me a Blue speckled coffee pot. And he would walk up the front steps of the kitchen and if the pot was on the stove he would quietly enter, greet me, get his coffee and leave. If the pot was NOT on the stove, half way up the stairs he would quickly turn around and walk away without a word. That summer the kitchen staff had a chant of wazifas (This may have actually occurred the following summer — in my dotage I don’t always keep track of time – that great illusion perpetuated by the manufacturers of space),
YA CAFFIENNE
YA NICOTINE
YA HALVAH — someone had gifted me with a huge 10# block of halvah.
A couple of years down the road, Mussawir and Majida were at a khangah in Brooklyn and he rode trains, subways, whatever to the Airport and escorted me back home from the West Coast camp which that year was in Colorado at the now Shambala Center! I was very touched for the support and guidance. I’m really such a country girl.
In subsequent years I would see this loving couple — Majida and Mussawir at the different meditation camps on either cost, at the Urs of Pir Vilayat and sometimes just a surprise visit to sit with a mureed he was guiding. Often experienced as a gruff exterior there was an abundance of soft sweet deep love. His picture sits on the table by my computer and as I do the Bardo practice suggested by Pir Shabda for the transition time of Reb Zalman I include Mussawir. Doing this particular practice has led me to deepen in my understanding of healing, a little bit more of what unfolds when one focuses. The other morning in the midst of the practice – Ya Mansur- looking at the image of my friend, I so felt his presence, his glance coming deep into my soul – a darshan moment. Blessed be. Shalom. Shanti. Salaam. Sweet Peace,
My first memory of Phillip dates back to the year of 2011. After scrolling some past Facebook chats I learned it was 30th May, indeed his birthday when I, conveyed how much his book has meant to me after reading it. From his book only did I learn about Mureed’s approach to a Murshid and somewhere down my heart has wished to be accepted by a Murshid, which Phillip caught it well and before I could have voiced my heart out, he asked me if he can be my secret Sufi guide.
He sent me a CD later sometime which had Sufi literature in it. We used to meet on Skype monthly and chat mostly on Facebook, as he was pretty active on it. Never did I ever got my puzzles unsolved by him. He answered all of them in the most apt way possible. We get such kind of answers only when someone understands us well in a way we do when we are in the path of light. He indeed was my light, never failed to eradicate the darkness which shrouded me often to see him (my light, my beloved guide).
Today, whenever I feel like being ebbed away from the light, I instantly get to know I have to check my breathe, which Phillip used to say often. It’s going to be a long way like this, without his humour and advice. But I know he is always there for me, like he used to say.
Much of love
Musawwir was my friend and teacher. I first met him at the age of about 5. Knowing him for 41 years at his passing, it feels like a huge shift has taken place in my sense of the world. A presence so a part of things, so giving that his permanence speaks across planes, across time. His enlivened sense of the message is still with us all and still giving today. I think of him daily with gratitude.
His focus on the divine truth in all was a precious gift.
I send much love radiating out to him and to his family,
Iman Martel
Musawwir and Majida were brought into my life by Telema Hess, at their apartment in Yonkers where we stayed when we traveled to NYC to see Pir Vilayat. The three of them were a delight to be around, as they reminisced about their time at the khanka, and their many adventures since. A treasured a photo of the three of them cuddled on the couch reveals their impishly rebellious sides, “The Three Musketeers.” His generosity inspired me, his intellect challenged me, the depth of his well of spirit drew me in to the family of Inayati Sufis. He was my guide and my friend, and often, as when upon leaving the Abode I was so ‘high’ that I forgot to fill the tank, and he had to drive out to meet me on the side of the road with a can of gasoline, my savior.
I read this poem at his memorial:
Long before there was Sarala,
long before there was even a dream,
(well, maybe a glimpse)
of whatever may or may not be,
I saw you.
Long before there was the question
which challenged belief,
and invited the horizon to stretch,
I heard you.
Long before we took the risk
looked and listened,
and finally
touched;
long before the vibration of
your words
your voice
your glance;
the waves of energy between us
despite history
despite future
despite distance
despite disbelief;
long before (and ever more)
I knew you.