Dervish ‘Abdullah is sitting in meditation by the banks of the Ganges river. He reads it like a book that tells him of the river’s nature, its hidden depths, its movements… He observes a log floating in the stream, lines and circles in the water, as well as a certain colour of the sun reflected in the Ganges. The dervish watches the leaves: some are floating placidly along and make no effort to resist the current. They are taken towards the Ocean. Other leaves are throwing themselves wildly in the turmoil and get ultimately thrown against the banks and remain there, rotting in the sun. Dervish ‘Abdullah says: “The people with inward peace don’t resist the nature of the river….
Sufis about Death
Prepare yourself for death, oh my brother, For it will descend. Do not draw out your hopes In case your heart treats you harshly. Persevere in reflection Which will make you aware And move you to do good works, For life will depart. Shaykh Ibn al-Habib is the one who has given the above counsel on death. Death can be seen as the physical death, but when the Sufis say that when they are forgetful of God, then they also see this as death. The remembrance of the divine Beloved thus implies life. Imam al-Ghazzali has said that there are three aspects to the remembrance of death: • The remembrance of a heedless person, who is involved with the world….
A judge in Basra
A judge in Basra, which is a city in Iraq, was renowned for his excessive acuteness of mind, observation and penetration. Many stories have been told about him in connection with these qualities, which were really astonishing. It is related of him that he said: “I was never worsted in penetration but by one man. I had taken my seat in the court of judgement in Basra, when a person came before me and gave testimony that a certain garden, of which he mentioned the boundaries, belonged to a man whom he named. As I had some doubts of his veracity, I asked him how many trees were in that garden, and he said to me after a long silence:…
Angels [2]
This is the second article about angels. The first article about angels can be read at: https://sufi-tavern.com/hikmat/angels/ 😇 I saw Gabriel, like a maiden, or like the moon amongst the stars. His hair was like a woman’s, falling in long tresses…He is the most beautiful of angels. [Shaykh Ruzbihan Baqli] 😇 Music is well said to be the speech of angels; in fact, nothing among the utterances allowed to man is felt to be so divine. It brings us near to the infinite. [Thomas Carlyle] 😇 Angelic alphabets are not made up of mere signs, like the letters in which this text is written. They partake directly of angelic ‘substance’; they constitute a system of organic links with the Unseen…
Diwaan-e-Mo’in: Ghazal 20
Maa ba-har wesaal az del o jaan niz gozashtim Dar wasl na-khaahi to az aan niz gozashtim During the experience of union I also have renounced both my heart and soul. If You dislike something else during this union, I’ll renounce that as well. Dar bahr-e-fanaa’ gharq-e-rezaa-ye-to chonaanim Kaz juyi moraad-e-do jahaan niz gozashtim I am drowned in annihilation’s ocean to satisfy You in such a way That I also have renounced all desires for this world and the next. ‘Omri ze paa-ye naam o neshaan-e-to dawidim Maa dar talab az naam o neshaan niz gozashtim All my life I have been in a quest to know You and where to find You. I have stopped paying attention to who…
Thread your way through my labyrinth of love and find me
A woman recently explained that there is a difference between a labyrinth and a maze. This is what she said: “When you enter a labyrinth, there is only one way that leads to its centre. When walking it you sometimes appear to get further away from the centre, but when you continue you get step by step nearer to the centre.” This woman entered a maze together with her children. After about 45 minutes she still was wandering from one dead-end to another, while her children had already found the exit. From their standing point, they not only could see their mother but also could give her directions and guided her out of the maze. “One day” {writes Alberto Manguel…
The Perfume Seller
Just suppose you are able to make an interview with shaykh Fariduddin ‘Attâr. What would you ask him? Perhaps some of your questions are similar to the ones as given below: Q: What has been your profession? A: I have written my poems in my “dâru-khâne” wherein I combined the selling of drugs and perfumes with the practice of medicine. Q: It is said that one day a dervish called at your dâru-khâne, your dispensary and asked for alms, but you were too busy with your patients to care for him and gave no reply. Hence you took no notice of him on his second polite demand, the dervish remarked: “You are so busy amassing wealth here. How will you…
What kind of Pir do you want?
Nawab Khadim Hasan was once approached for initiation. He asked the visitor if he would like a murshid who was a leaf, a stone or a log? The visitor was quite surprised and could not give a reply. So to save him the consternation Nawab Khadim Hasan gave him an explanation: If a leaf floats down a river and a stone is dropped on it, it sinks a little, then tilts and the stone falls off, and thus soon the leave alone is floating down the river. If you drop a stone in a river, it sinks. In fact if you tie anything to it, they both sink. But if a log floats down a river, you can grab it…
The Cherisher of the Poor
Just suppose you are able to make an interview with Khwaja Mo’inuddin Chishti, who is also known as Gharib Nawaz, the Cherisher of the Poor. What would you ask him? Perhaps some of your questions are similar to the ones as given below: Q: Can you tell us how you started on the spiritual path? A: After the death of my father – I was hardly 15 years old – I inherited a grinding stone and a garden. These formed my source of livelihood. From a very early age I liked the company of dervishes and I always offered them great respect. My meeting with Hazrat Ibrahim Qanduzi was a turning point in my life. It so happened that one…
Monsieur de Fortgib
When Deschamps was a little boy in Orleans, he was treated to some plum pudding by a neighbour, Mr. de Fortgibu. Ten years later he again encountered plum pudding in a restaurant in Paris. He wanted to order some, but the waiter told him that another customer had already ordered the last remaining dish. Deschamps looked; it was Mr. de Fortgibu who had ordered the dish. Years later Deschamps was again offered some plum pudding at a gathering. As he ate, he recalled the earlier incidents and told his listeners that the only thing missing at that moment was Mr. de Fortgibu. Suddenly the door burst open, and a very old man verging on senility staggered in. Who should it…