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Sufi Remembrance

Remembering those in the Sufi lineage of Hazrat Inayat Khan who have transitioned to the Unseen Realms.
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Anya Hakima Semenyakina

Birth date: 19th of August, 1967              URS date:  July, 2016Anya Hakima

 

Anya Hakima copy

Unterbirkholz, July 28, 2016

 

Dear Anya Hakima,

 

We just heard the news that you changed this life for a more eternal life.

We cannot really believe it, nor fathom the depth of this news.

As we know from our mutual teacher Inayat Khan, death is ‘just’ a passing, a letting go of this mortal coil, a rite of passage to another, better and more eternal life. This is one of his most difficult teachings, because it is impossible to experience or feel the reality behind these words. You can only accept them on authority of one who probed deeper, much deeper that we probably ever will be able to. You now know what it is like, this passage. Maybe one day or one night, you come to one of us to tell us what it is like. Until then, we have to live with our memories of you.

There are so many that they tumble over one another. We met some twenty years ago after the first Russian Solstice Festival and immediately became close. In these early days, your English was not so good, but somehow we always found ways to understand each other and have deep and meaningful conversations and sharing. Over the years, we followed what happened to you and your family; we lived with your sorrows over your son Simon and were impressed by your loyalty and faithfulness towards your family. You often seemed to care more for them than for yourself. Yes, you certainly got a big slice from the darker side of life.

Still, you managed to radiate in your typical Anya way, braking the clouds with a laugh, putting things in perspective without becoming superficial, even when your year’s savings of thousand dollars were stolen from you.

Later, we initiated you in the train from Moscow to Saratov. At the same time, you initiated us in Russian train-lore, just as you initiated us in the ways to deal with Russian authorities, whether it was a wallet, stolen at a Moscow market (already 13 years ago), or the way to obtain our tourist permit to stay in Moscow for a week. You showed us the Moscow not many tourist will ever get to see, but most of all you showed us how to cope with living in Russia and how to cope with life in general.

Thinking of you, at least two more qualities stand out. You were blessed with a unique way of looking at people with your all-revealing radar-eyes that could look right through a person. This gave you a keen psychological insight that lifted many a veil and granted us a glance at how people really are. Hence your Sufi name Haqima (the truthful one), a name that you carried with female grace, the grace that always has been one of your qualities, both inner and outer.

The second quality is your humor and bright side, combined with – by lack of a better word – ‘naughtiness’. One year, we groomed you for your trip to England. You learned not to mention the word ‘toilet’, but had to ask ‘where you can wash your hands’. In your inimitable wit, you immediately asked where dogs have to wash their hands.

How sharp is the contrast with more recent years, when these sunny qualities were overshadowed by a relationship that somehow was hard to end, even though many friends told you to do so. I guess your radar eyes helped other people more than they helped you yourself. You showed a fear, even a paranoia that we never before experienced with you.

When you were not accompanying us on our trips to Russia, Domodedeva Airport often was our meeting point where – mu mu – you shared with us some of your sorrows, worries and problems. The last time was this year April, a mere three months ago. We were transiting airplanes; you seemed to be transiting your life and we were happy for you.

As we now know, it was the last time in this earthly reality. We know from the Bible that love is stronger than death. Your death makes these words an experience and a reality, for death cannot end twenty years of love and friendship. You will always be our friends and we won’t stop loving you. Just as we know that, from the other world, you send us your love.

You set a seal upon our hearts and we are grateful for having been so close to you.

Your dear friends,

Wali & Ariënne

(translated into Russian below)

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2 Comments »

2 Memories for “Anya Hakima Semenyakina”

  1. on 02 Aug 2016 at 7:56 am1Aziz Dixon

    Hakima
    in memory of Anna Hakima Semenyakina

    O Ram, your blessing today
    is passing strange,
    it hurts, really, it hurts
    to die before I die,
    it hurts,
    it aches,
    I ache.

    The love of my life has been this way –
    the writing’s on the wall
    downstairs, each word she humbly stitched
    with poignant care:
    the dark threads are as needful
    in the skilful weaver’s hand
    as the threads of gold and silver
    in the pattern He has planned,
    but still
    it hurts.
    As now she and I, we weave together
    threads of light,
    of comfort, joy and peace such as
    never I could have guessed,
    yet still it hurts.

    You were not the first
    to die when young, a jagged death,
    beyond the reach of all your friends,
    yet still
    it hurts.

    I blinked, and on the screen I read
    just how it was you died, and maybe when.
    Some years since I let go
    what sacred once we shared,
    yet still
    it hurts.

    By day
    it takes my breath away,
    at night I wake in pain.
    One day it will not hurt so much.
    One day we all will cross the shore,
    where you have gone before,
    into the One ocean; I hope
    to find you there at peace, but
    this bleak dawn it echoes loud inside me
    – Why? – why did you die?
    and still
    it hurts.

  2. on 02 Aug 2016 at 6:43 pm2Z

    Anna, it took me a long moment to recognize you in the photograph when I heard about your death in Moscow. And yet, I remember YOU so clearly! Not so much your features, but your eyes, your radiance, your spirit.
    We did not talk much during that Year End retreat in Hazel Hill Wood in England, but we DID meet. I remember a radiant strength that surprised me in a young woman like you. You looked so petite, pretty, sweet, and yet, you were a strong ONE!
    I now see you in front of me, in your fashionable Moscow fur coat that must be so necessary in the Russian winter.
    I am glad that we both did not know what the future would hold. It is a blessing that we usually don’t know our future.
    I hope your son is safe and has support! I will include you and him in my prayers.
    Be well! It was a pleasure to meet you!

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