The Uninvited

“Stand up! Protect yourself!” I stood up shakily, but had to duck quickly as another spiral arm of dark, greasy force whipped over my head.

The fanged and goggle-eyed jinn roared, but my Shaykh already had the upper hand. Pronouncing one of God’s powerful Names he swept the air with his arms, shouted the Name, and the screaming jinn evaporated with a sizzle, and gelatinous grey goo rained down.

“Gack! This stuff stinks!” said Shaykh Daud disgustedly, “Clean me off and then I’ll clean you off.”

I passed my hands over his body about an inch away, and flicked the grimy energy off into the bushes. The rugged bush shrivelled and turned brown. He did the same for me,

“Man, I could really use a shower now: a long, hot shower. Let’s head back home to the Dergah (Sufi place of prayer).”

We got into the car and headed down the road.

“What did you learn, Yusuf?” he asked as soon as we got in. No matter what happens, my Shaykh immediately asks me this question. It’s part of Sufi training – to be aware of the lessons no matter where or when. The philosophy behind this is that life is a ‘school’ and that our education continues until we leave this body.

“To know which Name is appropriate, and stay low when you do that thing with your hands?” I said.

I am Shaykh Daud’s murid, his dervish student. My Shaykh, as you’ve probably gathered by now besides being my teacher is also a jinn hunter. I’m still not sure how I ended up being with him or what my purpose is, that’s why I am writing this journal – to keep track of what’s happening, because it all seems so impossible. Even when I read this back to try and understand it’s hard to believe myself.

This path is hard, but I do sometimes feel a sense of peace, especially when we’ve completed one of these cleansings.

We were both exhausted when we got back. After Shaykh took his shower I took mine and went in my room to lie down. Within minutes I had this dream…

An elder vizier reveals to the emperor of the Jinn that The Shamir still exists. It would bestow not only power to the empire but finally bring the slow and meaty humans to their knees. It is a powerful artifact and it belongs to the Jinn, not the humans. It is not a legend.

I woke up, wrote it down diligently as I had been instructed to do with all dreams, and waited until Shaykh was awake.

He read it and asked me, “Do you know what the Shamir is?”

“I heard something about it. Was it to cut the stones of Solomon’s Temple?’

“Yes – he was forbidden by God to use stone implements. So the Jinn helped him out by loaning him the Shamir. It’s described as a worm in some ancient writings. It may have been a laser that used crystals and sunlight. But I am concerned that the subject comes up now. Have you noticed anything unusual?”

“Well, five Jinn came through this week.”

Shaykh looked into his heart for a moment and said, “Something’s wrong. It feels like a rift or hole between the worlds is opening up. I wonder if it has to do with the beginning of a search for the Shamir. Please do some research on the Prophet Solomon and see if you can find anything else.”

I looked him in the eyes and realized the importance of what he meant, “You mean, where it might be found?”

He made that look that said, “Obviously.”

A little bit about our situation: As you can tell Shaykh’s specialty is hunting and disposing of Jinn– those beings who come into this dimension to joyride within human bodies, who cause havoc and disturbances both physical and emotional.

Those medical cases where nothing seems to work, after all the tests and treatments, when the patients still feel distressed, well, they come to him as a last resort. Of course Sufi healing is centuries old, but in most western countries it is still unknown, except for the Catholic version of exorcism.

Jinn are not demons (though in some cultures that is how they are understood). They are people like us in a rather faster dimension that intersects ours. There are normal families, communities and neighborhoods. They eat and sleep and work. And like us there are some criminals or gap-year enthusiasts who enter our world for fun, and sometimes they inadvertently get stuck– usually in human bodies. Those that are lost or confused are easily removed and sent back home. Those that are possessive or with criminal intent must be dealt with more seriously. Here’s a hint: If you look in the mirror and your face seems a bit fuzzy, or you hear a persistent voice, or someone is hard to look in the eyes it might be a Jinn possession. My Shaykh was taught how to deal with various situations and to help as needed.

In my little bit of experience experiencing this kind of life, it seems to depend on connection and listening to your heart in a very profound way. Sometimes it seems kind of like surfing – following the energy flow.

“Shaykh, they seem to be getting worse, don’t they?”

“I think you’re right, Yusuf. I’ve been doing this now for seventeen years, and I would have thought it would get easier. It’s not. They are getting stronger and I don’t know why. I’m beginning to feel outnumbered.”

I continued to drive the little Toyota Echo over the Berkeley highlands, while he stared out the side window at the dry, brown hills. Summertime here means scorched vistas of dead things.

How do I describe Sufism? It’s a spiritual path and practice. For some reason I had been chosen to learn the techniques of jinn removal that had been handed down orally for the thousands of years.

Night gently settled in, and we did our evening prayers. I couldn’t sleep. I went back into the prayer room and sat on the floor. While doing my Zikr I sensed a light begin to wrap around me, and my consciousness reached a new altitude. Someone or something was touching me.

“Yusuf,” it said.

“Peace be with you if you are from God.”

“I am Archangel Jabril (Gabriel), and I have a message for your Shaykh. There is a breach opening between your world and the jinn. If it continues, your world will become completely infested by the evil jinn. You must find the ring of King Solomon. It will show you where to find The Shamir. With it you must close the portal as soon as possible.”

“Where shall we find the ring?”

“I will guide you.”

“How?”

Then the light was gone and I was back sitting on the floor. I couldn’t wait until morning. I woke Shaykh Daud up and told him what just happened.

“Well, that clinches it,” he said.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Shaykh said, “I had an inner confirmation from my heart about this, but you have brought me the outer confirmation, which means it is true.”

“Okay…but how do we find it? Where do we start?”

“Well, Yusuf, since Jabril is your contact, that means that you’re the navigator.”

“Me? I don’t know how to find King Solomon’s Ring. I’m not even sure what it is.”

“You will, Yusuf, you will. Now you can go to sleep.” He placed his hand over my eyes and I immediately felt all the tension and worry drain out of my body and mind. I stumbled into my room and fell instantly to sleep.

That’s when the dreams began. Vivid, intense dreams with strangely textured landscapes, exotic scents and rhythms. I knew that these were the places we had to pass through to obtain the legendary ring.

Next morning a as I opened my eyes, in the window was a dark reflection, a cold, weighted shadow.

It said, “Death will be your portion should you attempt this quest, oh man. Remain here and honors, riches and powers will you be given. Continue in this quest and your reward will be grief and pain.”

“You are so predictable, Anashwara,” said Shaykh Daud as he dashed into my room. With his quiet, angry voice he said, “Get the hell out of my home, you piece of shit. And get a better script writer while you’re at it!”

The rogue jinn floated away, but I was shaken. I’d never heard – or felt- such a threat before, nor communicated with such force. It left me nauseous.

“We’ve got to strengthen the protective seals on the house again,” said my Shaykh.

Later that day we began packing, to get ready for wherever we were going. We were waiting for the first clear sign.

While we were waiting, I began researching material on King Solomon’s Ring, and discovered more than I suspected. I began reading everything I could find the Torah, Talmud (rabbinic discussions), the Kabbalah the Koran, and the collection of rare and ancient books we had in the house, as well as the Internet.

At 11 A.M. I turned on the television to see what was happening in the news. There was a burst of static, the picture wobbled and an odd warbling voice said, “In today’s news we have an tragic story regarding two plucky Sufis who, while trying to retrieve the legendary ring of King Solomon, were killed in a fire in a hotel. Or perhaps their car careened out of control. We don’t know. We don’t care. This is Bob Ashmodai, for KJIN news.”

Immediately I stabbed the remote’s off button. It so annoying when jinn get in the electrical system. I went out into the backyard to do some weed pulling in the garden. As my eyes passed over the cornstalks, it looked like they spelled out the letters “LA”. I wondered if that was a sign. And if so, did it mean Louisiana, Los Angeles or Littlerock, Arkansas?

I had brought the portable radio with me and turned it on. “…And in the Santa Monica area we are getting numerous reports of animals behaving oddly.” My heart went “Ding!” and I knew that we had to go to Santa Monica, the coast of Los Angeles.

I told Shaykh about my inner and outer confirmation, and his answer was to grab the bags, pop the trunk, toss them in, and get in the car. I did the same, and off we went down Highway 5.

During those seven hours, I began to tell him what I knew of King Solomon’s Ring.