Confused after finding out about the multiple existence of different schools belonging to the great spiritual tradition of man – denominated at some point in time by the word Sufi – which were flourishing in my momentary hometown Istanbul, as well as the big Bektashi, Jerrahi, Mevlevi and Naqshbandi orders, I asked my beloved grandfather about this apparent contradiction. His words were:
“There is only one destination to which all the caravans that for centuries have been treading on the path of the great tradition are heading towards. Each one of them is composed of camels, dromedaries, or of horses or mules; some transport groceries, others treasures, others spices… yet all carry within the true nourishment of mankind.
“Their guides are, only in appearance, different; so are their methods to carry forward an enterprise which has existed since the dawn of time.
“The shapes, the garments, the customs and routines of each caravan are mere external accidents which say nothing of the essence… unique.
“The multiplicity of which you talk about is irrelevant to you, my beloved grandson; there is one and only one caravan whose guide has your name carved in his heart.
“Seek him, for there shall be the caravan… awaiting you.”