86. The Science of True Reality: More Mystical Wisdom of the Sufis

Excerpts

from

"Tales of the Dervishes:
Teaching-stories
of the Sufi Masters
Over the Past Thousand Years",

by

Idries Shah,

Dutton Books,
1967

The Chariot

There are
three sciences
in the study
of man.

The first
is
the Science
of
ordinary knowledge;
the second
is
the Science
of
unusual inner states,
often
called ecstasy.

The third,
which is
the important one,
is
the Science
of True Reality:
of
what lies beyond
these two.

Only the real
inner knowledge
carries with it
the knowledge
of
the Science
of True Reality.

The other two
are the reflections,
in their own form,
of the third.

They are
almost useless
without it.

Picture
a charioteer.

He is seated
in a vehicle,
propelled
by a horse,
guided
by himself.

Intellect
is the "vehicle",
the outward form
within which
we state
where
we think we are
and
what
we have to do.

The vehicle
enables
the horse and man
to operate.

That is
what we call
tashkil,
outward shape
or formulation.

The horse,
which is
the motive power,
is
the energy
which is called
"a state of emotion"
or other force.

This is needed
to propel the chariot.

The man,
in our illustration,
is that
which perceives,
in a manner
superior to the others,
the purpose
and possibilities
of the situation,
and
who makes it possible
for the chariot
to move towards
and
to gain its objective.

One of the three,
on its own,
will be able
to fulfill functions,
true enough.

But
the combined function
which we call
the movement
of the chariot
cannot take place
unless all three
are connected
in the Right Way.

Only the "man",
the real Self,
knows the relationship
of the three elements,
and their need
of one another.

Among the Sufis,
the Great Work
is
the knowledge
of combining
the three elements.

Too many men,
too unsuitable a horse,
too light
or
too heavy
a chariot --
and the result
will not take place.

+

This fragment
is recorded
in a dervish notebook
in Persian,
and various forms
of the story
are found in Sufi schools
as far apart
as Damascus and Delhi.

[p. 207 - 208]

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The Host
and the Guests

The teacher
is like
the host
in
his house.

His guests
are those
who are trying
to study
the Way.

These are people
who have never been
in a house before,
and
they only have
vague ideas
as to what
a house
may be like.

It exists,
nevertheless.

When the guests
enter the house
and see
the place set aside
for sitting in
 they ask:
"What is this?"

They are told:
"This is a place
where we sit."

So they sit down
on chairs,
only dimly conscious
of the function
of the chair.

The host
entertains them,
but they continue
to ask questions,
some irrelevant.

Like a good host,
he does not blame them
for this.

They want to know,
for instance,
where and when
they
are going to eat.

They do not know
that
nobody is alone,
and that
at that very moment
there are
other people
who are
cooking the food,
and
that there is
another room
in which
they will sit down
and have a meal.

Because they cannot see
the meal,
or
its preparation
they are confused,
perhaps doubtful,
sometimes ill at ease.

The good host,
knowing the problems
of the guests,
has to put them
at their ease,
so that
they will be able
to enjoy the food
when it comes.

At the outset
they are
in no state
to approach the food.

Some of the guests
are quicker
to understand
and
relate one thing
about the house
to another thing.

These are the ones
who can communicate
to their slower friends.

The host,
meanwhile,
gives each guest
an answer
in accordance
with his capacity
to
perceive
the unity and function
of the house.

It is not enough
for a house
to exist,
for it
to be made ready
to
receive guests,
for
the host
to be present.

Someone
must actively exercise
the function
of host,
in order that
the strangers
who are the guests,
and
for whom
the host has responsibility,
may become
accustomed to the house.

At the beginning,
many of them
are not aware
that they are guests,
or rather
exactly
what guest-hood means:
what they can bring to it,
what it can give them.

The experienced guest,
who has learned
about houses
and hospitality,
is at length
at ease in his guest-hood,
and he is then
in a position
to understand more
about houses
and
about many facets
of living in
them.

While he is still trying
to understand
what a house is,
or
trying to remember rules
of etiquette,
his attention
is too much taken up
by these factors
to be able to observe,
say,
the beauty,
value
or
function
of the furniture.

+

This venerated parable,
quoted
from the teachings
of the fourteenth-century
Nizamudin Awlia,
is supposed to hold good
on several levels.

It refers
to the ordering
of the various functions
of the mind,
in order that
a certain higher perception
may be able
to develop.

The story
is also intended to indicate,
in a manner
which can easily be held
in the mind,
the necessities of a Sufi group,
and
the inter-relation
between the various members,
and
how each
can complement
the others.

Much emphasis
is placed by dervishes
in the need
for
a certain
arrangement of factors
before the individual
can benefit
from the efforts
of the group.

This is one
of
the Sufi tales
which carry
an embargo.

It may not be studied
in isolation,
and wherever
it is written down,
the student must
read the following story
["The King's Son"],
immediately after
this one.

It does not appear
in any classic,
but may be found
in those
collections of notes
which dervishes
carry with them,
and refer to
from time to time,
as part of
a planned course
of study.

This version
is taken
from a manuscript
which states that it
was given out by
Master
Amir-Sayed
Kulal Sokhari,
who died in 1371.

[p. 215 - 216]

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The King's Son

Once in a country

where all men
were like kings,
there lived a family,
who were
in every way content,
and whose surroundings
were such
that the human tongue
cannot describe them
in terms of anything
which
is known to man today.
 
This country of Sharq
seemed satisfactory
to the young prince Dhat:
until
one day
his parents told him:
"Dearest son of ours,
it is the necessary
custom of our land
for each royal prince,
when he
attains a certain age,
to go forth
on a trial.
 
This is in order
to fit himself
for kingship
and so that
both
in repute
and in fact
he should have achieved --
by watchfulness and effort --
a degree of manliness
not to be attained
in any other way.
 
Thus it has been ordained
from the beginning,
and thus it will be
until the end."
 
Prince Dhat
therefore prepared himself
for his journey,
and his family provided him
with such sustenance they could:
a special food
which would nourish him
during an exile,
but
which was
of small compass
though
of illimitable quantity.
 
They also gave him
certain other resources,
which
it is not possible to mention,
to guard him,
if they were properly used.
 
He had to travel
to a certain country,
called Misr,
and he had to go
in disguise.
 
He was therefore
given guides
for the journey,
and clothes
befitting his new condition:
clothes
which scarcely resembled
one royal-born.
 
His task
was
to bring back from Misr
a certain Jewel,
which
was guarded
by a fearsome monster.
 
When his guides departed,
Dhat was alone,
but before long
he came across someone else
who was
on a similar mission,
and together
they were able
to keep alive
the memory
of their sublime origins.
 
But,
because of
the air and the food
of the country,
a kind of sleep
soon descended
upon the pair,
and Dhat forgot his mission.
 
For years
he lived in Misr,
earning his keep
and following
a humble vocation,
seemingly unaware
of what
he should be doing.
 
By a means
which was familiar to them
but unknown
to other people,
the inhabitants of Sharq
came to know
of the dire situation
of Dhat,
and
they worked together
in such a way as they could,
to help to release him
and
to enable him
to persevere with his mission.
 
A message was sent
by a strange means
to the princeling,
saying:
"Awake!
For you
are the son of a king,
sent
on a special undertaking,
and to us
you must return."
 
This message
awoke the prince,
who found his way
to the monster,
and
by the use
of special sounds,
caused it
to fall into a sleep;
and
he seized
the priceless gem
which
it had been guarding.
 
Now Dhat
followed
the sounds of the message
which
had woken him,
changed his garb
for that
of his own land,
and
retraced his steps,
guided
by the Sound,
to
the country of Sharq.
 
In
a surprisingly short time,
Dhat
again beheld
his ancient robes,
and
the country of his fathers,
and reached his home.
 
This time,
however,
through his experiences,
he was able to see
that
it was somewhere
of greater splendor
than ever before,
a safety to him;
and
he realized
that it was
the place commemorated
vaguely
by the people of Misr
as
Salamat:
which
they took to be
the word
for Submission,
but
which he now realized
meant --
Peace.
 
+
 
Very much the same theme
is found in
"The Hymn of the Soul"
 in
the New Testament Apocrypha.

The philosopher

Ibn-Sina (died 1038),
who is known as
Avicenna
in the West,
has dealt with
the same material
in his
"Allegory of the Soul's Exile",
or
"Poem of the Soul".
 
This version
appears
in a wandering dervish's
transcription
from
a recital
supposedly
given by
Amir Sultan,
Sheikh of Bokhara,
who taught
in Istanbul
and
died in 1429.
+++

The Servants

and the House

At one time

there was
a wise
and kindly man,
who owned
a large house.

In the course

of his life

he often
had to go away
for long periods.

When he did this,
he left the house
in the charge
of his servants.

One

of the characteristics

of these people
was
that they were
very forgetful.

They forgot,
from time to time,
why they were
in the house;
so
they carried out
their tasks
repetitiously.

At other times
they thought
that they should
be doing things
in a different way
from the way
in which their duties
had been
assigned to them.

This was because
they had lost track
of their functions.

Once,
when
the master was away
for a long time,
a new generation
of servants arose,
who thought that
they actually owned
the house.

Since

they were limited
by
their immediate world,
however,
they thought that they
were in
a paradoxical situation.

For instance,
sometimes
they wanted
to sell the house,
and could find no buyers,
because they did not know
how to go about it.

At other times
people came inquiring
about buying the house
and asking to see
the title-deeds,
but
since they did not know
anything about deeds
the servants
thought
that these people
were mad
and
not genuine buyers
at all.

Paradox
was also evidenced
by the fact
that supplies
for the house
kept
"mysteriously" appearing,
and this provision
did not fit in
with the assumption
that the inmates
were responsible
for the whole house.

Instructions
for running the house
had been left,
for purposes
of refreshing
the memory,
in the master's
apartments.

But

after
the first generation,
so sacrosanct
had these apartments
become
that
nobody was allowed
to enter them,
and they became considered
to be
an impenetrable mystery.

Some, indeed,
held that there was
no such apartment at all,
although
they could see its doors.

These doors,
however,
they explained
as something else:
a part
of the decoration
of the walls.

Such was the condition
of the staff
of a house,
which neither
took over the house
nor
stayed faithful
to their
original commitment.

+

Tradition states
that this tale
was much used
by the Sufi martyr
el-Hallaj,
who was executed
in 922 for
allegedly saying:
"I am the Truth!"

Hallaj

left behind
a remarkable collection
of mystical poetry.

At great risk
to themselves,
many Sufis
during
the last thousand years
have
steadfastly maintained
that Hallaj
was
a high illuminate.

+++

The Indian Bird

A merchant
kept a bird
in a cage.

He was going
to India,
the land
from which
the bird came,

and

asked it
whether he
could bring
anything back
for it.

The bird asked
for its
freedom,
but
was refused.

So he asked
the merchant
to visit a jungle
in India
and
announce his captivity
to
the free birds
who were there.

The merchant did so,
and
no sooner
had he spoken
when a wild bird,
just like his own,
fell senseless
out of a tree
on to the ground.

The merchant
thought
that this must be
a relative
of his own bird,
and felt sad
that he should have
caused this death.

When he got home,
the bird asked him
whether he
had brought
good news
from India.

"No,"

said the merchant,

"I fear

that my news is bad.

One

of your relations
collapsed
and
fell at my feet
when I mentioned
your captivity."

As soon

as
these words
were spoken
the merchant's bird
collapsed
and
fell
to the bottom
of the cage.

"The news

of
his kinsman's death
has
killed him, too,"
thought
the merchant.

Sorrowfully
he picked up the bird
and put it
on the window-sill.

At once
the bird revived
and
flew
to a near-by tree.

"Now you know",
the bird said,
"that
what you thought
was disaster
was in fact
good news
for me.

And how
the message,
the suggestion
of how to behave
in order
to free myself,
was transmitted
to me
through
you,
my captor."

And he flew away,
free at last.

+

Rumi's fable

is one of many
which stress
for the Sufi Seeker
the great importance
played
in Sufism
by
indirect learning.

Imitators
and
systems
styled to accord
with
conventional thinking,
in East
and
West alike,
generally prefer
to emphasize
"system"
and
"program",
rather than
the totality of experience
which takes place
in
a Sufi school.

[p. 187 - 188]

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