Sonic Sufism: The Art of Losing Oneself in Sound

Introduction: The Search for the Infinite Through Sound

“To lose yourself in sound is to hear the echo of the divine.”

Sound is more than vibration, more than a sequence of frequencies—it is a doorway into the unseen. In the world of Sufism, where the self dissolves into the divine, sound is not merely an artistic tool but a spiritual medium. Just as the whirling dervish spins into ecstasy, losing themselves in motion, I lose myself in sound. My experimental music is not just an arrangement of tones and textures; it is an attempt to capture something beyond myself, to translate the ineffable into sonic form.

But can sound truly be a path to transcendence? Can music dissolve the ego? And if we listen deeply enough, what truths might we uncover? These are the questions that shape my creative journey—a journey that is as much about silence as it is about sound, as much about surrender as it is about control.

The Nature of Sound: A Spiritual and Philosophical Inquiry

In the Islamic tradition, the universe itself began with a command, a vibration: “Kun” (Be), and it is” (Quran 36:82). Sound, then, is not just an expression—it is creation itself. If we accept this, then every note, every frequency, every resonance is part of a greater unfolding, a pattern beyond our comprehension. My music exists within this framework: it does not seek to impose meaning but to reveal what is already there.

Sufism teaches that reality is layered, that there are veils upon veils hiding the ultimate truth. I see my soundscapes as part of this unveiling process. Layers of drones, shifting frequencies, and organic textures become a way of peeling back the surface of perception. Sometimes, the music feels like a meditation; other times, it feels like an unraveling, as if each note is dissolving the self into something vast and infinite.

But if sound can guide us beyond ourselves, does that mean silence is its highest form? Is the ultimate music the one that is never played? The Sufis speak of divine silence, the space where words fail. My compositions, then, exist in tension with this idea—stretching toward silence, vibrating on the edge of nothingness.

Sonic Sufism: Music as a Path of Surrender

In Sufism, the concept of fana—the annihilation of the self—is central. It is the idea that one must dissolve completely into the divine, becoming nothing in order to become everything. This mirrors the way I approach sound: it is not about control but surrender, about allowing the music to emerge organically rather than imposing structure upon it.

Much of my work incorporates long, evolving drones, subtle shifts in tone, and deep, immersive textures. These are not random choices; they reflect a deeper intention. In repetition, the listener is drawn into a trance-like state. In stillness, the mind begins to quiet. In dissolution, something greater can emerge.

There is a reason why Sufis use music and movement as part of their spiritual practice. The whirling dervishes do not dance for entertainment; they spin to lose themselves, to blur the line between the body and the soul. In the same way, my experimental compositions are not about melody or rhythm in the traditional sense. They are about the experience of sound, about being immersed so deeply in a sonic world that the self begins to fade.

Big Questions: What Happens When We Truly Listen?

We live in a world filled with noise—literal noise, digital noise, the endless distractions of modern life. But how often do we truly listen? Not just to music, but to the spaces between sounds, to the silence within ourselves?

If one listens deeply enough, does sound begin to reveal something beyond itself? Does it point toward a hidden order, a cosmic rhythm we are usually too distracted to notice? And if we listen long enough, could we hear something beyond sound—something like the divine?

In Sufi thought, there is the idea of Sama—a form of deep listening that is not just about hearing music but about hearing truth. It is said that in the state of Sama, one can be transported beyond the physical, beyond the limitations of the body and mind. My work as a sound artist is an attempt to create spaces where this kind of deep listening can occur.

But I also ask myself: is music just a tool for reaching silence? Is the ultimate act of listening not to create sound but to remove it, to find divinity in stillness? Is the purest form of music the one that vanishes as soon as it is heard?

Reflections: The Future of Sonic Sufism

As I continue on this path, I find myself drawn more and more toward minimalism, toward simplicity. The fewer sounds I use, the more profound they seem to become. The more space I leave, the more the silence speaks. Perhaps my work will continue to strip away layers, moving toward a kind of musical asceticism.

But maybe there is no final destination. Maybe, like the dervish who spins endlessly, the path of Sonic Sufism is not about reaching a conclusion but about remaining in motion, about continuously dissolving and reforming through sound.

What I do know is this: my music is not separate from my spiritual journey. It is my way of seeking, of questioning, of surrendering. And perhaps, if I listen deeply enough, if I create with the right intention, I will hear something that is not just mine—but something eternal, something vast, something beyond sound itself.

Conclusion: The Art of Vanishing Into Sound

In the end, Sonic Sufism is not about music as entertainment. It is not about performance or applause. It is about losing oneself, about dissolving into the vibrations of existence itself. It is about listening not just with the ears, but with the soul.

Perhaps the greatest music is the one that leads us to silence. Perhaps the truest sound is the one that disappears, leaving behind only presence.

And perhaps, in that silence, we finally hear what we have been seeking all along.

“Silence is not the absence of sound; it is the presence of something greater.”