24/1/2025
2014 was the first year since finishing school that I truly felt a sense of the unknown. There was no routine anymore—no set wake-up time, no structured lunch break, no guaranteed eight hours of sleep.While school had its challenges, it also provided a framework for life. Now, with all this newfound freedom, I felt lost. That feeling of disorientation began to spiral. When you experience a deep sense of uncertainty, that’s when you start seeking help. We rarely ask for guidance when things are going well; it’s only when we find ourselves struggling that we turn outward for support.
The Quran says:
Whenever someone is touched by hardship, they cry out to Us, whether lying on their side, sitting, or standing. But when We relieve their hardship, they return to their old ways as if they had never cried to Us to remove any hardship! Surah Yunus, verse 12
I certainly was touched by hardship. I tried everything to fill the void, but nothing seemed to be enough. Then one day, I remembered my Pakistani aunty mentioning that we were Sufis. I found it odd—I had always assumed we were simply Muslims. I didn’t realize we had a connection to Sufism. Curious, I picked up a book or two, and, like any 18-year-old, I turned to Google and Wikipedia to learn more. Sufism intrigued me, but I didn’t know any Sufis besides my aunty. I am convinced everyone has the one soulful Aunty who gives random spiritual advice from time to time. So, I searched online for Sufi meetups. I came across a few outdated-looking websites—you could tell they were built in the early 1990s. Now, I wouldn’t necessarily recommend doing what I did, though with dating apps like tinder and bumble meeting strangers has become normalised but you can’t always trust what’s on the internet especially to ‘meet up’ but I was a wonderer, a lost / curious soul. One term stood out on these website pages: Sufi dhikr circles. This concept was unfamiliar to me. I had grown up attending Friday prayers, going to the mosque during Ramadan, and participating in Sunday school. But I had never been to a dhikr (remembrance) circle before. One of the websites listed a contact number and email. I hesitated, but curiosity got the better of me. I sent an email and, to my surprise, received a call almost immediately. The speed of the response made me suspect that not many people reached out. The man on the phone spoke with a thick Aussie accent. He politely vetted me and confirmed that he was part of a Sufi group. They gathered every Saturday night for dhikr at a local hall within a Uniting Church. That phone call marked the beginning of my journey into the world of Sufism in Melbourne—a journey that would challenge, transform, and deepen my understanding of faith in ways I never expected.
Sufi Circles: Saturday Nights
As I would soon discover, Sufi dhikr (remembrance) circles always seemed to be far away—no matter where you lived in Melbourne, they were often tucked away in secluded locations. This added an air of mystique, and I felt a sense of adventure as I made my way there. When I arrived, I was surprised to see that most of the attendees were white Australians dressed in traditional Islamic clothing. This was quite different from my local mosque, where the congregation was primarily from South Asian and Middle Eastern backgrounds. The dhikr took place in a hall, with cushions spread across the floor, a drum set up for rhythmic chanting, and men and women gathered in the same space. I was warmly received and immediately sensed an atmosphere of care and kindness. The session began late in the evening. Whether this was for spiritual reasons or simply convenience, I wasn’t sure. For an 19-year- old, spending a Saturday night like this was certainly unusual—but I went with it. The session started with one person handing out printed sheets containing Sufi chants and Quranic recitations. Thanks to my prior Arabic studies, I was able to follow along quickly. As we recited, the room filled with a deep, resonant energy. The rhythmic breathing, the synchronized chanting—it all vibrated in my heart. At one point, I felt myself tearing up, overwhelmed by a profound connection to the Divine. My heart expanded with the experience. The session lasted two to three hours, and by the end, I felt an incredible sense of clarity—almost as if I had consumed six strong Melbourne lattes at once. I was refreshed, hyper-aware, and deeply moved. After the session, I met the imam of the dhikr circle. He explained that this gathering was part of the Naqshbandi Sufi order and that they had been meeting here every Saturday night for years. The group consisted of people from all over Melbourne, many of them converts who had discovered Sufism in various ways. I continued attending these sessions and developed a deeper appreciation for Sufi practices. Over time, I explored different Sufi circles across Melbourne and Victoria. Some were small gatherings with just a handful of people—often older individuals who had spent years on their spiritual journeys. In these circles, I encountered people from diverse religious backgrounds, some of whom identified more with a pantheistic worldview rather than traditional Islam. Another Sufi group I attended was more traditionally Islamic in its approach. Some circles practiced silent meditation, while others engaged in rhythmic chanting, repeating the divine names of God. Some incorporated singing, their voices rising in devotion, while others used visualization techniques, imagining specific colors to enhance spiritual focus. Many cantered their gatherings around the recitation of Quranic verses, using breath and repetition as a means of deepening their connection to the Divine. It would take many years to gain the spiritual wisdom and insight to truly understand the essence of the Sufi path, but my journey had begun.
The Hidden Presence of Sufism in Australia
One of my biggest realisations was that Sufis in modern-day Australia exist in the margins—they are not mainstream, nor do they seek to be. Yet, they come in various forms and follow different paths. I met successful, wealthy Sufis who thrived in the corporate and commercial world, as well as those who chose a life of simplicity, tending to farm and living close to nature. I encountered new migrants from Sufi traditions in Turkey, Pakistan, Senegal, Indonesia, and Iran, as well as white Australians who had discovered Sufism later in life and converted. There was no single ‘Sufi look.’ Some had long beards, others were clean-shaven. Some women wore the hijab, while others did not. Yet, despite their differences, they all shared a common trait—a deeply spiritual outlook and a profound focus on the inward journey. Worship for them was not just about ritual but about experience, connection, and love for the Divine.The deeper I immersed myself in Sufism, the more I realized that this path was not about external identity but about the transformation of the heart. It was about presence, remembrance, and finding peace in the remembrance of the One. My journey had only just begun, but already, I could feel its impact shaping my soul in ways I had never imagined.
Rumi: My teacher.
On my journey to Sufism, it goes without saying that I eventually came across Rumi. Like many, I fell in love with his poetry. I would share Rumi quotes on Facebook, and to my surprise, my friends—many of whom had no connection to Sufism—were also familiar with his words. At my local café, I noticed Rumi’s books stacked on the shelves and poetry cards scattered across the tables. There was even a restaurant in Brunswick named after him. Rumi had become a cultural icon, his words transcending religious and spiritual boundaries. “What you seek is seeking you”—I used to quote this all the time. Although some scholars now debate whether this exact phrase was ever truly said by Rumi, its sentiment resonated deeply with me. “I came across this funny meme that Rumi’s poetry isn’t about your ex-girlfriend it’s about God.” His poetry became my gateway to Sufism, opening the door to a world I had yet to fully explore
Is Sufism Islam?
The short answer is—most definitely, yes. Sufism is not separate from Islam; it is its heart. Some may be hesitant to use the word “Sufism,” preferring tasawwuf or tazkiyah but at its core, it refers to the inner dimension of the faith, the purification of the soul, and the journey toward God. The great Sufis thinkers, scholars and saints throughout history were not only deeply immersed in the spiritual sciences of tasawwuf, but they also upheld the Islamic Shariah—the outward practice of the faith. They followed the fundamentals of worship, adhered to the teachings of the Quran, and walked in the footsteps of the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him). Many, if not all, Sufi orders trace their spiritual lineage back to Imam Ali, the cousin and son-in-law of the Prophet, recognizing him as a key figure in their tradition. Islam perfectly balances between the outward and inward—fulfilling obligations, helping others, and striving for excellence in character, while also cultivating a deep spiritual connection through reflection, remembrance, and sincerity in worship.In the modern era, there have been attempts to separate Sufism from Islam—some trying to remove the Islamic essence from Sufism, while others attempt to strip Islam of its rich spiritual heritage. This has led to misunderstandings, with some questioning whether Sufism is a different sect or even a separate religion. However, the reality is that tasawwuf has always been an integral part of the Islamic tradition.
As Shaykh Abdal Hakim Murad eloquently puts it:
“Sufism is not a sect, nor is it a heretical innovation. It is simply the intensification of Islamic faith and practice, a spiritual flowering that occurs when the roots of faith are deep and well-nourished.”
For me, there is no doubt—Sufism is Islam. It is not an addition to the faith but rather its deepest expression.
A Sufi in Melbourne Today/Growing up in Melbourne
It’s true that sport is our true religion. The MCG is our Mecca, and we make pilgrimages there in September for the Grand Final and on Boxing Day for the Test match. In Melbourne, saying you’re religious often recalls the same reaction as if you’d asked someone about rugby league. However, a new wave of spirituality and wellness has emerged among the younger generation. People are seeking a more holistic lifestyle, with yoga studios on nearly every corner, artist residencies, nature/ environmental, diet/health trends, and a deep desire for self-discovery and ancestral connection.Yet, it often feels like this spirituality exists without a true anchor in God. For me, Sufism provides that answer. It combines all the spiritual elements but with a strong connection to the divine. Though the Sufi community in Melbourne may be small, it holds the potential to bridge the gap for those searching for deeper truth. Sufism in Melbourne today remains somewhat hidden—found on outdated websites, tucked away in Rumi books at local bookstores, or in quiet retreats and halls where, on Saturday nights, the hum of mysticism subtly reverberates through the basketball courts. Even in academic spaces, such as university religion courses with low enrolment numbers, its presence feels more like a niche interest than a mainstream practice. The Muslim community in Melbourne and across Australia, by and large, remains unaware, neutral, or even somewhatsuspicious of Sufism. Hence why Sufi circles are not seen at mainstream mosques. However, as previously mentioned, there is a growing interest among young people seeking spiritual depth and connection, and Sufism offers a pathway for those drawn to its mystical and devotional aspects. At 29 years old, and ten years into my journey with Sufism, I’m still learning and navigating what it means to be a Sufi in Melbourne. There’s so much more for me to understand. For instance, a true Sufi never declares themselves as such; their actions speak for them. Clearly, I still have much tolearn. Despite feeling lost at times, I’ve found a path that brings peace to my heart and hope it can for others.
Verily in the remembrance of Allah do hearts find rest” is a verse from the Qur’an, Surah al-Ra’d
(Lightning), verse 28
Oz Malik
OZ MALIK 