Vol. 10, Sufi Poetry

1. The Poet and the Prophet

There is a saying that a poet is a prophet, and this saying has a great significance and a hidden meaning. There is no doubt that though poetry is not necessarily prophecy, prophecy is born in poetry. If one were to say that poetry is a body which is adopted by the spirit of prophecy, it would not be wrong. Wagner has said that noise is not necessarily music, and the same thing can be said in connection with poetry: that a verse written in rhyme and meter is not necessarily true poetry. Poetry is an art, a music expressed in the beauty and harmony of words. No doubt much of the poetry one reads is meant either as a pastime or for amusement, but real poetry comes from the dancing of the soul. And no one can make the soul dance unless the soul itself is inclined to dance. Also, no soul can dance which is not alive.

In the Bible it is said that no one will enter the kingdom of God whose soul is not born again, and being born means being alive. It is not only a gay disposition or an external inclination to merriment and pleasure that is the sign of a living soul; for external joy and amusement may come simply through the external being of man, although even in this outer joy and happiness there is a glimpse of the inner joy and happiness which is the sign of the soul having been born again. What makes it alive? It makes itself alive when it strikes its depths instead of reaching outward. The soul, after corning up against the iron wall of this life of falsehood, turns back within itself, it encounters itself, and this is how it becomes living.

In order to make this idea more clear I should like to take as an example a man who goes out into the world; a man with thought, with feeling, with energy, with desire, with ambition, with enthusiasm to live and work in life. And because of the actual nature of life, his experience will make him feel constantly up against an iron wall in whatever direction he strikes out. And the nature of man is such that when he meets with an obstacle then he struggles; he lives in the outer life, and he goes on struggling. He does not know any other part of life, for he lives only” on the surface. But then there is another man who is sensitive because he has a sympathetic and tender heart, and every blow coming from the outer world, instead of making him want to hit back outwardly, makes him want to strike at himself inwardly. And the consequence of this is that his soul, which after being born on this earth seems to be living but in reality is in a grave, becomes awakened by that action; and when once the soul is awakened in this way it expresses itself outwardly, whether in music, in art, in poetry, in action, or in whatever way it wishes to express itself.

In this way a poet is born. There are two signs which reveal the poet: one sign is imagination, the other is feeling, and both are essential on the spiritual path. A man, however learned and good, who yet lacks these two qualities, can never arrive at a satisfactory result, especially on the spiritual path.

The sacred scriptures of all ages, whether of the Hindus or the Parsis, the race of Ben Israel or of others, were all given in poetry or in poetic prose. No spiritual person however great, however pious and spiritually advanced, has ever been able to give a scripture to the world unless he was blessed with the gift of poetry. One may ask if this would still be possible nowadays, when sentiment takes second place in life’s affairs and people wish everything to be expressed plainly, “cut and dried” as the saying is, and when one has become so accustomed to having everything, especially in science, explained in clear words. But it must be understood that facts about the names and forms of this world may be scientifically explained in plain words, but when one wishes to interpret the sensation one gets when looking at life, it cannot be explained except in the way that the prophets did in poetry. No one has ever explained nor can anyone ever explain the truth in words. Language exists only for the convenience of everyday affairs; the deepest sentiments cannot be explained in words. The message that the prophets have given to the world at different times is an interpretation in their own words of the idea of life that they have received.

Inspiration begins in poetry and culminates in prophecy. One can picture the poet as a soul which has so to speak risen from its grave and is beginning to make graceful movements; but when the same soul begins to move and to dance in all directions and to touch heaven and earth in its dance, expressing all the beauty it sees–that is prophecy. The poet when he is developed reads the mind of the universe, although it very often happens that the poet himself does not know the real meaning of what he has said. Very often one finds that a poet has said something, and after many years there comes a moment when he realizes the true meaning of what he said. And this shows that behind all these different activities the divine Spirit is hidden, and the divine Spirit often manifests through an individual without his realizing that it is divine.

In the East the prophet is called Payghatnbar, which means the Messenger, the one who carries somebody’s word to someone else. In reality every individual in this world is the medium of an impulse which is hidden behind him, and that impulse he gives out, mostly without knowing it. This is not only so with living beings, but one can see it even in objects; for every object has its purpose, and by fulfilling its purpose that object is fulfilling the scheme of nature. Therefore whatever be the line or activity of a man, whether it is business or science or music or art or poetry, he is a medium in some way or other. There are mediums of living beings, there are mediums of those who have passed to the other side, and there are mediums who represent their country, their nation, their race. Every individual is acting in his own way as a medium.

When the prophet or the poet dives deep into himself he touches that perfection which is the source and goal of all beings. And as an electric wire connected with a battery receives the force or energy of the battery, so the poet who has touched the innermost depths of his being has touched the perfect God, and from there he derives that wisdom, that beauty, and that power which belong to the perfect Self of God. There is no doubt that in all things there is the real and the false and there is the raw and the ripe. Poetry comes from the tendency to contemplation. A man with imagination cannot retain the imagination, cannot mold it, cannot build it up unless he has this contemplative tendency within him. The more one contemplates the more one is able to conceive of what one receives. Not only this, but after contemplation a person is able to realize a certain idea more clearly than if that idea had only passed through his mind.

The process of contemplation is like the work of the camera: when the camera is put before a certain object and has been properly focused, then only that object is received by the camera. And therefore when an object before one is limited, then one can see that object more clearly. What constitutes the appeal of the poet is that he tells his readers of something he has seen behind these generally recognized ideas. The prophet goes still further. He not only contemplates one idea, but he can contemplate on any idea. There comes a time in the life of the prophet or of anyone who contemplates, when whatever object he casts his glance upon opens up and reveals to him what it has in its heart. In the history of the world we see that besides their great imagination, their great dreams, their ecstasy and their joy in the divine life, the prophets have often been great reformers, scientists, medical men or even statesmen.

This in itself shows their balance; it shows that theirs is not a one-sided development; they do not merely become dreamers or go into trances, but both sides of their personality are equally developed. It is an example of God in man that the prophets manifest. We can see this in the life of Joseph: we are told that he was so innocent, so simple that he went with his brothers, yielding to them, and that this led to his betrayal. In his relationship with Zuleikha we see the human being, the tendency to beauty. And at the same time there is the question he continually asks: What am I doing? What shall I do? Later in his life we see him as one who knows the secret of dreams, as the mystic who interprets the dream of the king. And still later in his life we see that he became a minister, with the administration of the country in his hands, able to carry out the work of the state.

Spirituality has become far removed from material life, and so God is far removed from humanity. Therefore one cannot any more conceive of God speaking through a man, through someone like oneself. Even a religious man who reads the Bible every day will have great difficulty in understanding the verse, “Be ye perfect, even as your Father in heaven is perfect.” The Sufi message and its mission are to bring this truth to the consciousness of the world: that man can dive so deep within himself that he can touch the depths where he is united with the whole of life, with all souls, and that he can derive from that source harmony, beauty, peace, and power.

2. Sufi Poetic Imagery

Sufi poetic imagery stands by itself, distinct and peculiar in its character. It is both admired and criticized for its peculiarity. Why it is different from the expressions of other poets born in various countries, is because of its Persian origin and the particular qualities of Persia–the fine climate, the ancient traditions, its being the place where, it is said, wine was tasted for the first time; a land of luxury, a land of beauty, a land of art and imagination. It was natural that with Persian thinkers of all periods, who thought deeply on life, its nature and character, their expressions should become subtle, artistic, fine, and picturesque. In short, it is the dancing of the soul. In all other living beings, the soul is lying asleep, but when once the soul has awakened, called by beauty, it leaps up dancing, and its every movement makes a picture, whether in writing, poetry, music or whatever it may be. A dancing soul will always express the most subtle and intricate harmonies in the realm of music or poetry.

When we read the works of Hafiz and of many other Sufi poets, we shall find that they are full of the same imagery and this is partly because that was the time of Islam. The mission of Islam had a particular object in view, and in order to attain that object it had strict rules about life. A free-thinker had difficulty in expressing his thoughts without being accused of having done a great wrong towards the religion and the State. And these freethinkers of Persia, with their dancing soul and continual enthusiasm, began to express their soul in this particular imagery, using words such as “the beloved”, “wine”, wine-press”, and “tavern.” And this poetry became so popular that not only the wise derived benefit from it, but also the simple ones enjoyed the beauty of its wonderful expressions which make an immediate appeal to every soul. There is no doubt that the souls which were already awakened and those on the point of awakening were inspired by these poems. Souls which were opening their eyes after the deep slumber of many years began to rise up and dance; as Hafiz says, “If those pious ones of long robes listen to my verse, my song, they will immediately begin to get up and dance.” And then he says at the end of the poem, “Forgive me, O pious ones, for I am drunk just now!’

This concept of drinking is used in various connections and conveys many different meanings. In the first place, imagine that there is a magic tavern where there are many different kinds of wine. Each wine has a different effect upon the person who drinks it. One drinks a wine which makes him light-hearted, frivolous, humorous; another drinks a wine which makes him sympathetic, kind, tender, gentle. Someone else drinks one which makes him bewildered at everything he sees. Another drinks and finds his way into the ditch. One becomes angry after drinking will find another becomes passionate. One drinks and is drowned in despair. Another drinks and begins to feel loving and affectionate; yet another drinks a wine that makes him discouraged with everything. Imagine how interested we should all be to see that tavern! In point of fact we live in that tavern and we see it every day; only, we do not take proper notice of it.

Once I saw a Madzub, a man who pretends to be insane, who though living in the world does not wish to be of the world, standing in the street of a large city, laughing. I stood there, feeling curious to know what made him laugh at that moment. And I understood that it was the sight of so many drunken men, each one having had his particular wine.

It is most amusing when we look at it in this way. There is not one single being on earth who does not drink wine; only, the wine of one is different from the wine of the other. A man does not only drink during the day but the whole night long, and he awakens in the morning intoxicated by whatever wine he has been drinking. He awakens with fear or with anger, he awakens with joy, or with love and affection; and the moment he awakens from sleep he shows what wine he has been drinking.

One might ask why the great Sufi teachers have taken such a great interest in the particular imagery of these poets. The reason is that they found the solution to the problem of life by looking upon the world as a tavern, with many wines and each person drinking a different one. They discovered the alchemy, the chemical process, by which to change the wine that a person drinks, and give him another wine to see how this works. The work of the Sufi teacher with his pupil is of that kind. He first finds out which blend of wine his mureed drinks, and then he finds out which blend he must have.

But, one will ask, is there then no place for soberness in life? There is, but when that soberness is properly interpreted, one sees that it too is wine. Amir, the Hindustani poet, has expressed it in verse, “The eyes of the sober one spoke to the eyes of the drunken one:”You have no place here, for your intoxication is different from mine.”” The awakened person seems to be asleep to the sleeping one, and so the one who has become sober also appears to be still drunk; for the condition of life is such that no one appears to be sober. It is this soberness which is called Nirvana by Buddhists and Mukti by Hindus. But if I were asked if it is then desirable for us to be sober, my reply would be, no. What is desirable is for us to know what soberness is, and after knowing what soberness is, then to take any wine we may choose. The tavern is there; wines are there. There are two men: one who is the master of wine, the other who is the slave of wine; the first drinks wine, but wine drinks up the other. The one whom wine drinks up is mortal; he who drinks wine becomes immortal. What is the love of God? What is divine knowledge? Is it not a wine? Its experience is different, its intoxication is different, for there is ordinary wine and there is most costly champagne. The difference is in the wine.

In the imagery of the Sufi poets this tavern is the world, and the Saki is God. In whatever form the wine-giver comes and gives a wine, it is God who comes. In this way, by recognizing the Saki, the wine-giver, in all forms, the Sufi worships God; for he recognizes Him in friend and foe as the wine-giver. And wine is that influence which we receive from life, an harmonious influence or a depressing influence, a beautiful influence or one that lacks beauty. When we have given in to it then we become drunk, then we become addicted to it, then we are under its influence; but when we have sought soberness then we have risen above it all, and then all wines are ours.

3. The Persian Poets

At all times Persia has had great poets and it has been called the land of poetry; in the first place because the Persian language is so well adapted to poetry, but also because all Persian poetry contains a mystical touch. The literary value of the poetry only makes it poetry; but when a mystical value is added this makes the poetry prophecy. The climate and atmosphere of Persia have also been most helpful to poetry, and the very imaginative nature of the people has made their poetry rich. At all times and in all countries, when the imagination has no scope for expansion, poetry dies and materialism increases.

There is no poet in the world who is not a mystic. A poet is a mystic whether consciously or unconsciously, for no one can write poetry without inspiration, and when a poet touches the profound depths of the spirit, struck by some aspect of life, he brings forth a poem as a diver brings forth a pearl.

In this age of materialism and ever-growing commercialism man seems to have lost the way of inspiration. During my travels I was asked by a well-known writer whether it is really true that there is such a thing as inspiration. This gave me an idea of how far nowadays some writers and poets are removed from inspiration. It is the materialism of the age which is responsible for this; if a person has a tendency towards poetry or music, as soon as he begins to write something his first thought is, “Will it catch on or not? What will be its practical value?” And generally what catches on is that which appeals to the average man. In this way culture is going downward instead of upward.

When the soul of the poet is intoxicated by the beauty of nature and the harmony of life, it is moved to dance; and the expression of the dance is poetry. The difference between inspired poetry and mechanical writing is as great as the difference between true and false. For long ages the poets of Persia have left a wonderful treasure of thought for humanity. Jelal-ud-Din Rumi has revealed in his Masnavi the mystery of profound revelation. In the East his works are considered as sacred as holy scriptures. They have illuminated numberless souls and the study of his work can be considered to belong to the highest standard of culture.

The poet is a creator, and he creates in spite of all that confronts him; he creates a world of his own. And by doing so he rises naturally above that plane where only what is visible and touchable is regarded as real. When he sings to the sun, when he smiles to the moon, when he prays to the sea, and when he looks at the plants, at the forests, and at life in the desert, he communicates with nature. In the eyes of the ordinary person he is imaginative, dreamy, visionary; his thoughts seem to be in the air. But if one asked the poet what he thinks of these others, he would say that it is those who cannot fly who remain on the ground. It is natural that creatures which walk on the earth are not always able to fly; those which fly in the air must have wings, and among human beings one will find that same difference, for in human beings there are all things.

There are souls like germs and worms, there are souls like animals and birds, and again there are souls like jinns and angels. Among human beings all can be found: those who belong to the earth, those who dwell in heaven, and those who dwell in the very depths.

Those who were able to soar upward by the power of their imagination have been living poets. What they said was not only a statement, it was music itself; it not only had a rhythm, but it had also a tone in it. It made their souls dance and it would make anyone dance who heard their poetry. Thus Hafiz of Shiraz gives a challenge to the dignified, pious men of his country when he says, “Pious friends, you would forget your dignity if you would hear the song which came from my glowing heart.” And it is such souls who have touched the highest summits of life, so that they have been able to contribute some truth, giving an interpretation of human nature and the inner law of life.

It is another thing with poets who have made poetry for the sake of fame or name or popularity, or so that it might be appreciated by others; for that is business and not poetry. Poetry is an art, an art of the highest degree. The poet’s communication with nature brings him in the end to communicate with himself, and by that communication he delves deeper and deeper, within and without, communicating with life everywhere. This communication brings him into a state of ecstasy, and in his ecstasy his whole being is filled with joy; he forgets the worries and anxieties of life, he rises above the praise and blame of this earth, and the things of this world become Of less importance to him. He stands on the earth but gazes into the heavens; his outlook on life becomes broadened and his sight keen. He sees things that no one else is interested in, that no one else sees.

This teaches us that what may be called heaven or paradise is not very far from man. It is always near him, if only he would look at it. Our life is what we look at. If we look at the right thing then it is right; if we look at the wrong thing then it is wrong. Our life is made according to our own attitude, and that is why the poet proves to be self-sufficient, and also indifferent and independent; these qualities become as wings, for him to fly upward. The poet is in the same position as anyone else in regard to the fears and worries that life brings, the troubles and difficulties that everyone feels in the midst of the world, and yet he rises above these things so that they do not touch him.

No doubt the poet is much more sensitive to the troubles and difficulties of life than an ordinary person. If he took to heart everything that came to him, all the jarring influences that disturbed his peace of mind, all the rough edges of life that everyone has to rub against, he would not be able to go on; but on the other hand if he hardened his heart and made it less sensitive, then he would also close his heart to the inspiration which comes as poetry. Therefore in order to open the doors of his heart, to keep its sensitiveness, the one who communicates with life within and without is open to all influences whether agreeable or disagreeable and is without any protection; and his only escape from all the disturbances of life is through rising above them.

The prophetic message which was given by Zarathushtra to the people of Persia was poetic from beginning to end. It is most interesting to see that Zarathushtra showed in his scriptures and all through his life how a poet rises from earth to heaven. It suggests to us how Zarathushtra communicated with nature, with its beauty, and how at every step he took he touched deeper and deeper the depths of life. Zarathushtra formed his religion by praising the beauty in nature and by funding the source of his art which is creation itself in the Artist who is behind it all.

What form of worship did he teach? He taught the same worship with which he began his poetry and with which he finished it. He said to his pupils, “Stand before the sea, look at the vastness of it, bow before it, before its source and goal.” He said to them, “Look at the sun, and see what joy it brings. What is at the back of it? Where does it come from? Think of its source and goal, and how you are heading towards it.” People then thought that it was sun-worship, but it was not; it was the worship of light which is the source and goal of all. That communication within and without sometimes extended the range of a poet’s vision so much that it was beyond the comprehension of the average man.

When the Shah of Persia said that he would like to have the history of his country written, for one did not exist at that time, Firdausi, a poet who was inspired and intuitive said, “I will write it and bring it to you.” He began to meditate, throwing his searchlight as far back into the past as possible, and before the appointed time he was able to prepare that book and bring it to the court. It is said that the spiritual power of that poet was so great that when someone at the court sneered at the idea of a man being able to look so far back into the past, he went up to him and put his hand on his forehead and said, “Now see!” And the man saw with his own eyes that which was written in the book.

This is human; it is not superhuman, although examples of it are rarely to be found; for in the life of every human being, especially of one who is pure-hearted, loving, sympathetic, and good, the past, present, and future are interested to a certain extent. If one’s inner light were thrown back as a searchlight it could go much further than man can comprehend. Some have to develop this gift, but others are born with it; and among those who are born with it we find some who perhaps know ten or twelve years beforehand what is going to happen. Therefore a poet is someone who can focus his soul on the past, and also throw his light on the future, and make that clear which has not yet happened but which has been planned beforehand and which already exists in the abstract.

It is such poetry that becomes inspirational poetry. It is through such poetry that the intricate aspects of metaphysics can be taught. All the Upanishads of the Vedas are written in poetry; the suras of the Qu’ran and Zarathushtra’s scriptures are all in poetry. All these prophets, whenever they came, brought the message in poetry.

The development of poetry in Persia occurred at a time when there was a great conflict between the orthodox and the freethinkers. At that time the law of the nation was a religious law and no one was at liberty to express his free thoughts which might be in conflict with the religious ideas. And there were great thinkers such as Firdausi, Farid-ud-Din-Attar, Jelal-ud-Din Rumi, Sa’di, Hafiz, Jami, Omar Khayyam, who were not only poets, but who were poetry itself. They were living in another world although they appeared to be on earth. Their outlook on life, their keen sight, were different to those of everyone else. The words which arose from their hearts were not brought forth with effort, they were natural flames rising up out of the heart. And these words remain as flames enlightening souls of all times, whatever soul they have touched.

Sufism has been the wisdom of these poets. There has never been a poet of note in Persia who was not a Sufi, and every one of them has added a certain aspect to the Sufi ideas, but they took great care not to affront the minds of orthodox people. Therefore a new terminology had to be invented in Persian poetry; the poets had to use words such as “wine” and “bowl” and “beloved” and “rose”, words which would not offend the orthodox mind and would yet at the same time serve as symbolical expressions to explain the divine law. It belongs to the work of the Sufi Movement to interpret the ideas of these poets, to express their ideas in words that can be understood by modern people, for the value of those ideas is as great today as it ever was.

4. Farid-ud-din-Attar

a. Valley of the Quest

The first valley is the Valley of the Quest. How true it is that every child is born with the tendency to search, to know! What we call inquisitiveness or curiosity is born in each one of them, and it represents the inner feeling of quest. And as man is born with this tendency, he cannot be satisfied until by searching he has obtained the knowledge he wishes to have. There is no doubt that what prevents man from gaining that knowledge which his soul is really searching for, is himself. It is his small self, always standing in his way, that keeps him from searching for the only thing which every soul strives to find. Therefore it would be safe to say that there is no one in this world who is a worse enemy of man than man himself.

In this search some people think that one can perhaps find out from science or from art something which is behind this manifestation; and surely, whether the quest be material or spiritual, in the end one will arrive, and one must arrive, at that goal which is the same for everyone. Scientists and engineers, people who are absorbed in research into material things and hardly ever think of spiritual matters, even they, after much research, arrive very close to the same knowledge which is the ultimate knowledge. Therefore, whatever a man may seem to us, materialist, atheist, or agnostic, we cannot really call him that, because in the end his goal is the same and his attainment is the same. If he really reaches the depths of knowledge, if he goes far enough, whatever he was searching for he will arrive at the same goal.

b. Valley of Love

And when he has searched enough and found something satisfying, a man still cannot enjoy that satisfaction unless there is one faculty in play, and that is the faculty of love and devotion. Do we not see in our everyday life that people of great intellect and wide interests very often seem to miss something? When it happens with a couple that one is very intellectual, the other may feel there is something lacking to make their lives complete, that intellect alone is not enough. What is it? It is the heart which balances life, and the absence of heart keeps life dry.

c. Valley of Knowledge

Knowledge and heart are just like the positive and negative forces; it is these two things which make life balanced. If the heart quality is very strong and intellect is lacking then life lacks balance. Knowledge and heart quality must be developed together. And therefore according to Attar the faculty of devotion or quality of heart is the second valley, the Valley of Love; and the third valley is the Valley of Knowledge, the knowledge which illuminates and comes by the help of the love element and the intellect. That is the knowledge which is called spiritual knowledge. Without a developed love quality man is incapable of having that knowledge. There are fine lights and shades in one’s life which cannot be perceived and fully understood without having touched the deeper side of life, which is the devotional side. The person who has never in his life been wholly grateful cannot know what it is. He who has not experienced humility in life does not know its beauty. The one who has not known gentleness or modesty cannot appreciate its beauty or recognize it.

No doubt a person of fine qualities is often ridiculed if he happens to be in a place where these qualities are not understood, where they are like a foreign language. This shows there is a refinement in life for which intellect alone is not sufficient. The heart must be open too. A very intellectual man went to Jami and asked him to take him as his pupil and give him initiation. Jami looked at him and said, “Have you ever loved anybody?” This man said, “No, I have not loved.” Then Jami said, “Go and love first, then come to me and I will show you the way.’

Love has its time at every stage of life. As a child, as a youth, as a grown-up person, whatever stage of life one has reached, love is always asked for and love has always its part to perform; whatever situation we are placed in, among friends or foes, among those who understand us or among those who do not, in ease or in difficulty, in all places, at all times, it has its part to perform. And the one who thinks, “I must not let the principle of love have its way, I must harden myself against it”, imprisons his soul. There is only one thing in the world which shows the sign of heaven, which gives the proof of God, and that is pure unselfish love. For all the noble qualities which are hidden in the soul will spring forth and blossom when love helps them and nurtures them. Man may have a great deal of good in him and he may be very intelligent, but as long as his heart is closed he cannot show that nobleness, that goodness which is hidden in his heart; and the psychology of the heart is such that once one begins to know it one realizes that life is a continual phenomenon. Then every moment of life becomes a miracle; a searchlight is thrown upon human nature and all things become so clear that one does not ask for any greater phenomenon or miracle; it is a miracle in itself. What one calls telepathy, thought-reading, or clairvoyance, and all such things, come by themselves when the heart is open.

If a person is cold and rigid, he feels within himself as if he were in a grave; he is not living, he cannot enjoy this life, for he cannot express himself and he cannot see the light and life outside. And what keeps man back from developing the heart quality? His exacting attitude. He wants to make a business of love. He says, “If you will love me I will love you.” As soon as a man measures and weighs his favors and his services, and all that he does for one whom he loves, he ceases to know what love is. Love sees the beloved and nothing else.

As Rumi says, “Whether you love a human being or you love God, there will come a day when all lovers, either of man or of God will be brought before the throne of love, and the presence of that only Beloved will reign there.”

What does this show? In loving our friend, in loving our neighbor, even in the love that one shows to one’s enemy, one is only loving God. And the one who says, “I love God but I cannot love man,” does not love God; he cannot. It is like saying, “I love you very much but I do not like looking at your face!”

d. Valley of Annihilation

And after this third valley, where the knowledge of human nature and of the fine feelings which are called virtues is attained, the next step is annihilation. But what we call destruction or annihilation is nothing but change. Neither substance nor form nor spirit, nothing, is absolutely destroyed; it is only changed. But man sometimes does not like to change. He does not like it but he cannot live without it. There is not one single moment of our life when there is no change; whether we accept it or not the change is there.

Destruction or annihilation or death might seem a very different change, and yet there are a thousand deaths that we die in life. A great disappointment, the moment when our heart breaks, is worse than death. Often our experiences in life are worse than death, yet we go through them. At the time they seem unbearable; we think we cannot stand it, and yet we live. If after dying a thousand deaths we still live, there is nothing in the world to be afraid of. It is man’s delusion, his own imagination which makes death dreadful to him. Can anyone kill life? If there is any death, it is that of death itself, for life will not die.

Someone went to a Sufi with a question; he said, “I have been puzzling for many, many years and reading books, and I have not been able to find a definite answer; tell me what happens after death?” The Sufi said, “Please ask this question of someone who will die. I am going to live.”

The idea is that there is one sky which is our own being; in other words we can call it an accommodation. And what has taken possession of this accommodation? A deluded ego which says “I.”     It is deluded by this body and mind and it has called itself an individual. When a man has a ragged coat he says, “I am poor.” In reality his coat is poor, not he. What this capacity or accommodation contains, is that which becomes his knowledge, his realization, and it is that which limits him; it forms that limitation which is the tragedy of every soul.

Now this capacity may either be filled with self or it may be filled with God. There is only room for one. Either we live with our limitation, or let God reign there in His unlimited Being. In other words, we take away the home which has always belonged to someone else and fill it with delusion and call it our own; and not only call it our own, but even call it our self. That is man’s delusion, and all religious and philosophical teachings are given in order to rid man of this delusion which deprives him of his spiritual wealth. Spiritual wealth is the greatest wealth, spiritual happiness the only happiness; there is no other.

Once a person is able to disillusion himself, he arrives at the stage described in the fourth valley, the Valley of Non-Attachment, and he is afraid. He thinks, “How can I give my home to someone else, even if it is God? This is my body, my mind, my home, my individuality. How can I give it away, even to God?” But in reality it is not something upon which he can rely. It is delusion from beginning to end and subject to destruction. Does anything stand above destruction? Nothing. Then why be afraid to think for the moment that it is nothing? This natural fear arises because man is unaccustomed to face reality. He is so used to dreams that he is afraid of reality.

People are afraid of losing themselves, but they do not know that non-attachment is not losing one’s self; it means losing illusion, and in reality it is only by losing this illusion that they can find themselves. One’s soul has become lost in this illusion; and the process is to get out of it, to rise above it.

e. Valley of Unity

By the time the fifth valley, the Valley of Unity, is reached one has disillusioned one’s self, and it is this act which is called in the Bible rebirth; when the soul has emerged from illusion it is the birth of the soul.

And how does this birth of the soul express itself? What does one feel?

• It expresses itself first in a kind of bewilderment together with a great joy. A man’s interest in life is increased; all that he sees he enjoys. He concerns himself with few things but wonders at all. This bewilderment is such that it becomes wonderfully amusing to look at life. The whole world becomes a kind of stage to him, full of players.

• He then begins to amuse himself with the people of this world, as one might play with children and yet not be concerned with what they do, for he expects no better. If children do something different from the parents, the parents are not much concerned; they know it is a stage of the child’s life and that they cannot expect any better from them. So likes and dislikes, favors and disfavors may interest him, but they will not affect him in the least.

f. Valley of Amazement

There is another stage, where this bewilderment brings a man to see the reflection of the One who has taken possession of his heart. This means also to see one’s Beloved in everyone, even in one’s enemy. The Beloved is seen in all things, and then the bowl of poison given by the Beloved is not so bitter. Those who, like Christ, have sacrificed themselves and suffered for humanity, have given an example to the world, revealing a God-conscious soul which has reached the stage where even an enemy appears as a friend, as the Beloved. And it is not an unattainable stage, for the soul is made of love and it is going towards the perfection of love. All the virtues man has learned, love has taught him. Therefore this world of good and bad, of thorns and flowers, can become a place of splendor only.

In the sixth valley, the Valley of Amazement, man recognizes and understands what is beyond all things, the reason of all reasons, the cause of all causes; for all intuition and power develop in man with this unfoldment.

g. Valley of God-Realization

And the seventh valley, the Valley of God-Realization, is the valley of that peace which every soul is looking for whether spiritually or materially, seeking from morning until night for something which will give it peace. To some souls that peace comes when asleep; but for the God-conscious that peace becomes his home. As soon as he has closed his eyes, as soon as he has relaxed his body and stilled his mind and lost the limitations of his consciousness, he begins to float in the limitless spheres.

Note: In Eckankar, this stage of initiation is considered to be the entry into residence on the Soul Plane, the first of the pure spiritual planes where the first manifestation of the Absolute is met, and this is why some Sufis call it God-Realization.

5. Jelal-ud-din Rumi

The poetry of Jelal-ud-Din Rumi has made the greatest impression upon humanity. In the beginning he was inspired by Farid-ud-Din-Attar. Although Jelal-ud-Din Rumi was a highly educated man, who had the gift of speech, yet his soul was waiting for an enlightenment which came in the latter part of his life. Then Shams-i-Tabriz, a dervish, entered his life, a man in rags, showing no learned qualifications recognizable by the world, and yet he was in tune with the infinite and, to speak in religious terms, had gained the kingdom of God.

This man happened to come to the home of Rumi, who welcomed him as was his habit. Rumi was working on a manuscript, and the first thing Shams-i-Tabriz did was to throw the manuscript away. Rumi looked at him in wonder. Shams-i-Tabriz said, “Haven’t you had enough of reading and study? Now study life instead of a book!’

Rumi respectfully listened to the words of Shams-i-Tabriz who said, “All things which seem of importance, what are they on the day when you depart? What is rank, what is power, what is position? A far greater problem is what will go with you, for the solution of that problem will lead you to eternity. The problems of this world, you may solve them and solve them, yet they are never finished. What have you understood about God, about man? What relationship have you found between man and God? If you worship God, why do you worship Him? What is limitation, what is perfection? And how can one seek for it?’

After this conversation Rumi realized that it is not learning but living the knowledge that counts. For he had read much, and he had thought much, but he suddenly saw that what is important is not saying but being. When he realized this, and after Shams-i-Tabriz had left, he wrote a verse, “The King of the earth and of heaven, of whom people have spoken, today I have seen in the form of man.” For he saw how wide can be the heart of man, how deeply the soul of man can be touched, and how high the spirit of man can reach.

Rumi then followed this dervish. And everyone in his family and also his friends were against this, because to ordinary people a mystic is a queer individual who is not of this world and whose ideas are unusual. The language of the mystic is quite different; his ways are strange; his ideas do not correspond with the ideas of the practical man. Naturally they thought Rumi was going backward instead of forward.

Rumi had to give up his position, and wandered from place to place with Shams-i-Tabriz. After he had followed Shams-i-Tabriz for several months, everyone blaming him for this action, one day the Master disappeared. This left Rumi in very great sorrow; on the one hand he had given up his position and his work, and on the other the teacher whom he followed had left him. But this was his initiation; for Rumi this was the birth of the soul. From that moment he looked at life from quite a different point of view.

The result of this impression was that for a long period of time Jelal-ud-Din Rumi experienced a kind of ecstasy, and during this ecstasy he wrote the Divan of Shams-i-Tabriz. For, owing to the oneness he had achieved with the heart of his teacher, he began to see all that his teacher had thought and spoken of; and for that reason he did not call it his book, but he called it his teacher’s book. And his heart which had listened to his master so attentively became a reproducing and recording machine. All that had once been spoken began to repeat itself, and Rumi experienced a wonderful upliftment, a great joy and exaltation. In order to make this exaltation complete Rumi began to write verses, and the singers used to sing them; and when Rumi heard these beautiful verses sung by the singers with their rabab, the Persian musical instrument, he experienced the stage known to Yogis as Samadhi, which in Persian is called Wajad.

Man today has become so material that he is afraid of any experience except that of the senses. He believes that only what he can experience through the senses is a real experience, and that which is not experienced by the senses is something unbalanced, something to be afraid of; it means going into deep waters, something abnormal, at the least an untrodden path. Very often man is afraid that he might fall into a trance, or have a feeling which is unusual, and thinks that those who experience such things are fanatics who have gone out of their minds. But it is not so. Thought belongs to the mind, feeling to the heart. Why should one believe that thought is right and feeling is wrong?

All the different experiences of meditative people are of thought and feeling, but the poet who receives inspiration experiences a joy which others cannot experience. It is a joy which belongs to inspiration, and the poet knows it. A composer after having composed his music is filled with a certain joy, a certain upliftment others do not know. Does a poet or musician lose his mind by this? On the contrary, he becomes more complete. He experiences a wider, deeper, keener, fuller life than the life which others live. A life of sensation lacks the experience of exaltation. Even religious prayers, rituals, and ceremonies were intended to produce exaltation, for it is one of the needs of life; exaltation is as necessary, or perhaps even more so, as the cultivation of thought.

Rumi had many disciples seeking guidance from him. Through his deep sorrow and bewilderment he achieved another outlook; his vision became different. At that time he wrote his most valuable work, which is studied in all the countries of the East: it is called Masnavi-i Ma’navi, and it is a living scripture in itself which has enlightened numberless souls. It has led the sincere seeker as far as he was able to go, and yet it is so simple; there is no complexity, there are no dogmas, no principles, no great moral teachings, no expressions of piety. What he wrote is the law of life, and he has expressed that law in a kind of word-picture.

this work Rumi tried to show the mystic vision and to explain in verse what the prophetic mission means. In the Western world many have never even thought about the subject of the prophet and his work in the world. What they know about prophets is only what is told in the Old Testament about those who prepared the world for the message of Jesus Christ. But what Rumi wished to explain about prophethood was the meaning of Jesus” words, “I am Alpha and Omega.” Rumi wished to express that the One who is first and last was, and is, anal ever will be, and that we should not limit Him to one period of history.

Then Rumi explains that the words of the prophet are the words of God Himself; he takes as an example the flute of reed, which is open at one end while the other end is in the mouth of the musician, the player. He wished to show that at one end of the flute are the lips of the prophet, and that at the other end is to be heard the voice of God. For the Muslims have never called the message given by the Prophet the message of Mohammed; they always speak of Kalam-ullah, which means the Word of God. The person of the Prophet is not mentioned, and that is why the Muslims also never call their religion Mohammedanism, but Islam, or “peace.” They are even offended if one calls their religion the Mohammedan religion; they say, “The Prophet was the instrument through which God expressed Himself, God is capable of speaking through any instrument; all are His instruments. It is the spirit of God which must be brought forward.’

The original words of Rumi are so deep, so perfect, so touching, that when one man repeats them hundreds and thousands of people are moved to tears. They cannot help penetrating the heart. This shows how much Rumi himself was moved to have been able to pour out such living words. Many wanted to consider him a prophet, but he said, “No, I am not a prophet, I am a poet.” When Hafiz wrote about Rumi he said, “I am not capable of writing about the verses of Rumi. What I can say is that he is not a prophet, but he is the one who brought the Sacred Book.” In other words he wanted to say that in fact he was a prophet.

No poet of Persia has given such a wonderful picture of metaphysics, of the path of evolution, and of higher realization as Rumi, although the form of his poetry is not so beautiful as that of Hafiz.

Explaining about the soul Rumi says, “The melodious music that comes as a cry from the heart of the flute of reed brings to you a message: the flute wants to say, ‘I was taken away from the stem to which I belonged, I was cut apart from that stem, and several holes were made in my heart. And it is this that made me sad; and my cry appeals to every human being.'”

By the flute he means the soul; the soul which has been cut apart from its origin, from the stem, the stem which is God. And the constant cry of the soul, whether it knows it or not, is to find again that stem from which it has been cut apart. It is this longing which those who do not understand interpret as due to lack of wealth or position or worldly ambitions; but those who understand find the real meaning of this longing, and that is to come nearer, closer to the Source, as the reed longs to find its stem.

The difference between Jelal-ud-Din Rumi’s work and the work of the great Hafiz of Persia is that Hafiz has pictured the outer life, whereas Rumi has pictured the inner life. And if I were to compare the three greatest poets of Persia, I would call Sa’di the body of the poet, Hafiz the heart of the poet, and Rumi the soul of the poet.

6. Muslih-ud-din Sa’di

In the east the works of Sa’di have been considered to be simple, educational, and at the same time uplifting. In India, Sa’adi’s poem “Karima” is taught to children of nine and ten, and this work is not just a legend or an amusing story; it is like a seed sown in the heart of a child of that age, so that in time it may flourish and bring forth fruits of good thought and imagination. Karima is a poem of thanksgiving. In it the first lesson Sa’di gives is how to be grateful, how to express gratitude, how to appreciate; and he gives the lesson of gratefulness and appreciation for everything in the world, for the kindness and love of the mother and father, of the friend and the companion, by teaching first of all gratefulness to God for all the blessings and benefits man receives. Sa’di was a lover of humor, and he was a very simple man.

He begins his Gulistan with a prayer in which he says, “Let me not show my infirmities to others but to thee, my Lord, for Thou art the Judge and Thou art the Forgiver. Thou choosest whatever Thou likest, whether to be Judge or Forgiver.”

The way in which he proceeds in this prayer is wonderful and so simple, and yet it has touched thousands and thousands of people.

In Karima Sa’di begins by saying, “O Lord, most merciful, I ask Thy forgiveness for I am limited, and in this life of limitation I am always apt to err.”

He teaches in the first lesson that man should recognize his limited condition, and realize that this limitedness makes him subject to error; at the same time he suggests that the innermost desire of every soul is to rise above limitations and keep from error, to seek divine love and ask pardon, and to appreciate all the blessings received in life, in order to rise towards the ideal stage of the human man.

And when we look at life today, it seems this is the very thing which is lacking. When children grow up without that tendency of appreciation they often cannot understand what their mother has done for them, what their father has done, what their duty is to their friends, to older people, or to their teacher. And when they grow up without developing this gratefulness then the egoistic aspect of their nature naturally develops and becomes a menace. A boy who does not appreciate in his childhood all that his mother has done for him, cannot learn to be tender and gentle to his wife, for he should have learned his first lesson with his mother.

Everything that springs up by nature has to be refined, and in its fulfillment it has to become perfect. From childhood there is a self-asserting tendency in human beings. In the nature of the child the “I” is most pronounced, and of everything he possesses he says “my.” If this is not changed, if the same attitude persists when that child grows older, he becomes hard to those around him, and this I and what he calls “my” cause difficulties for them all.

The whole of religious, spiritual, and philosophical teaching leads us towards the development of the personality. There is something in man that is made by nature, but there is also something that a man himself has to make. Man is born as man, but man develops in order to become human. And if man remains only man as he was born, and the same qualities with which he was born remain undeveloped and unrefined, then he does not fulfil the object of life.

With all the great ones who have come from time to time to this world and whom we recognize as saints and sages, masters, teachers, and inspired helpers, it is not always the philosophy they taught, it is not always the dogmas or the form of religion they gave that was of the greatest importance; what was most important was their personality, their person. The teachings of Buddha are held in esteem by many millions, but greater than his teachings was the life he lived and the wisdom he expressed in his life, for therein lies the fulfillment of his message.

Man is born with a purpose, and that purpose is fulfilled in the refinement of his personality. This unrefined nature of the ego, when developed through life, has an effect like the prick of a thorn. Wherever, whoever, whatever it touches, it causes some harm or disturbance, some destruction. And so when the personalities of human beings are not refined, and they are confronted with temptations, with all the things that attract them, things they like and admire and wish to possess, then they come up against the conflicting activities of life, and they rub against everything like a thorn, tearing it to pieces. And what happens? No doubt when thorns rub against thorns they crush one another and they feel it less; but when thorns rub against flowers, they tear them to pieces.

If we ask individuals in all walks of life what they find to be their difficulty in life, they may tell us that they lack wealth or power or position, but mostly their complaint will be that they are in some way or other hurt by others, by a friend, a parent, a child, their life’s companion, a neighbor, or a colleague; they are disturbed or troubled and in difficulty from morning till night by the influence of this thorn-life which touches and scratches them. And yet man does not seem to ponder deeply enough on this subject. Life is blinding, and it keeps him always busy and engaged in finding fault with others. He does not find the thorn in himself; he always sees the thorn in other people.

Sa’di has tried in simple language to help man towards the development in his personality of the flower-like quality: to train his personality which was made to be a flower and not a thorn. He has called his books “Gulistan”, which means a flower-bed or a rose-garden, and “Bustan”, a place of fragrance; and his whole life’s work was to explain to man how the heart can be turned into a flower and that it is made to spread its perfume. If only one can train it and tend it, it will show the delicacy and beauty and fragrance of a flower, and that is the purpose of our life.

There is no mystification in Sa’di’s poetry. It is full of wit and intelligence, and at the same time it is original. And the most wonderful thing that one finds in the poetry of Sa’di is his humorous turn of mind. He is ready to look at the funny side of things and to amuse and enjoy himself. How few of us in this world know what real, true mirth means, humor that is not vulgarized, not abused! It shows the rhythm and tune of the soul. Without humor life is dull and depressing. Humor is the reflection of that divine life and sun which makes life like a day full of sunshine. And a person who reflects divine wisdom and divine joy adds to the expression of his thought when he expresses his ideas with mirth.

One day Sa’di was sitting in a bookseller’s shop, where his books were sold. The bookseller was absent, and someone came in and asked for one of Sa’di’s books, not knowing that he was speaking to the poet himself. Sa’di said, “What do you like about Sa’di’s books?” He replied, “O, he is a funny fellow!” Whereupon Sa’di made him a present of the book, and when he wished to pay for it said, “No, I am Sa’di, and when you called me a funny fellow, you gave me all the reward I could wish for!’

He wanted life to be joyous. Spirituality does not mean a long face and deep sighs. No doubt there are moments when we sympathize with the troubles of others; there are moments that move us to tears, and there are times when we must close our lips. But there are other moments when we can see the joyous side of life and enjoy its beauties. Man is not born into this world for depression and unhappiness. His very being is happiness. Depression is something unnatural. By this I do not mean to say that sorrow is a sin or that suffering is always avoidable. We all have to experience both in life, in order to accomplish the purpose of life. We cannot always be smiling, and there is no spiritual evolution in ignoring either side of life. As long as one is not bound, it is no sin to stand in the midst of life. Man need not go into the forest away from everyone to show his goodness and virtue. Of what use is his goodness and virtue if he buries himself in the forest? It is in the midst of life that we have to develop and express all that is beautiful and perfect and divine to our souls.

In the Gulistan Sa’di expresses a wonderful thought. He says, “Every soul is meant for a certain purpose and the light of that purpose has been kindled in that soul.”

It is one short verse, but it is a volume in itself. It suggests to us that this whole universe is like a single symphony, and that all souls are like the different notes. Their activities accord with the rhythm of this symphony, and the purpose of their life is to perfect this symphony.

People are often anxious to do a certain thing, and wait for years and years, unhappy, in despair, for the right moment to come. The soul knows subconsciously that there is a note to be struck, and at the moment when it strikes that note, this soul will be satisfied; and yet the soul does not know what note it is nor when it will be struck. What is life, and what keeps us living in this world of limitation, this world of continual changes, full of falsehood and full of suffering and trouble? If there is anything in this world that keeps us alive it is hope, the honey of life. There is not one soul in this world who will say, “Now I am satisfied, I have no further desire.” In everyone, whatever be his position in life, very rich or very poor, full of health or ailing, in all conditions man is continually yearning and waiting for something to come; he does not know what, but he is waiting for something to come.

The real explanation of life is waiting; waiting for something. And what is it that man awaits? It is the fulfillment of the purpose of life, which comes when the soul strikes that note, the note which is meant to be that soul’s note; this it seeks, whether on the outer plane or the inner plane. Man has not fulfilled his life’s purpose until he has struck that note which is his note, and the greatest tragedy in life is obscurity of purpose. When the purpose is not clear man suffers; he cannot breathe. He does not know what to do. This life will present him with things that will interest him for the moment, but as soon as he possesses them he will say, “No, this is not it; it is something else.” So man goes on in illusion, constantly seeking, and yet not knowing what he seeks. Blessed is he who knows his life’s purpose, for that is the first step to fulfillment.

How are we to know our life’s purpose? Can anybody tell us? No; no one can tell us, for life in its very nature is self-revealing, and it is our own fault if we are not open to that revelation which life offers to us; it is not the fault of life. Man is the offspring of nature, therefore his purpose belongs to nature. But the artificiality of life brings obscurity, and this prevents him from receiving that knowledge which is the revelation of his own soul.

And if asked how one should proceed, I would advise the study of every object, whether false or true, which holds and attracts us either outwardly or inwardly; we should not be doubting and suspicious. What Christ taught from morning until night was faith, but the interpretation generally given to this word does not make it clear. People have said it means faith in a priest, in a church, or in a sect, but that is not the meaning. The true meaning of faith is trust in oneself.

The works of Sa’di from beginning to end teach the first lesson of faith, which is to understand that we are not here in this world in vain, to waste our lives. We are here for a purpose, everyone for a particular purpose. Each one of us is an atom of this universe and completes the symphony, and when we do not strike our note it means that note is lacking in the symphony of the whole. When we do not fulfilled our life’s purpose in the way for which we were created we are not living rightly and consequently we are not happy.

Our happiness depends on living rightly, and right living depends on striking our note; the realization of that purpose is in the book of our heart. Open that book and look at it. The aim of all meditation, concentration, and contemplation is only to open this book, to focus our mind, and to see what purpose there is in our life. And as soon as we see that our ultimate goal, our life’s object and happiness, our true health and well-being, and our real wealth lie in the fulfillment of our purpose, then the whole trend of our life will change.

7. Shams-ud-Din Mohammed Hafiz

The name of Hafiz is well known to every one interested in the poetry of Persia, because among the Persian poets Hafiz is unique in his depth of thought, and the excellence of the symbolism with which he expresses his thoughts and philosophical ideas.

There was a time when a deep and independent thinker had great difficulty in expressing his thoughts. Although this has not entirely changed, there does seem in some ways to be much more freedom of expression in this age. In ancient times, when anyone expressed his thought freely about life and its hidden law, about the soul, God, creation, and manifestation he met with great difficulties. The chief difficulty was that the government was in the hands of various religious authorities, and under their rule the principles of exoteric religion prevailed; therefore those who sought attainment through the esoteric side of philosophy always had difficulty in speaking to people about it.

Many were persecuted; they were stoned, they were flayed, they were put to death in different ways; all sorts of punishments were inflicted upon them, and because of this the progress of humanity was retarded. Today we no longer see this, nevertheless the limited attitude of the human mind in regard to religious and philosophical questions is to be found in all ages. For the Sufis, who by the help of meditation found the source of knowledge in their own hearts, it was very difficult to give to the world in plain words what little they could explain of the truth. No doubt the truth cannot be spoken of in words, yet those gifted with poetic and prophetic expression have always had the inclination and tendency to express what their souls experienced. Hafiz found a way of expressing the experiences of his soul and his philosophy in verse, for the soul enjoys expressing itself in verse.

The soul itself is music, and when it is experiencing the realization of divine truth its tendency is to express itself in poetry. Hafiz therefore expressed his soul in poetry. And what poetry! Poetry full of light and shade, line and color, poetry full of feeling. No poetry in the world can be compared to that of Hafiz in its delicacy. Only the fine soul who has a subtle perception of light and shade expressed in words, can grasp the meaning of the illumination of the soul. Nevertheless the words of Hafiz have won every heart that listens, and even those who do not wholly understand them are won by their rhythm, charm, and beauty of expression.

In the East the Persian language is considered the most delightful of all for poetry. It is soft, it is expressive, and its expression is tender. Every object has perhaps ten names for the poet to choose from, and the slightest thought can be expressed in some twenty different ways according to the poet’s choice.

Hafiz, whose style resembles that of Solomon, used in his poetry symbolical terms such as the beloved’s beautiful countenance, her smiles, her glance, her graceful movements; the lover’s feeling heart, his deep sigh, his pearl-like tears; the nightingale, the rose, the wine, the cup and the tavern, the arrow and the bow, spring and autumn. With these terms he composed a special language in which he subtly expressed life’s secret. All the other Persian poets, and also many of the poets of India, have adopted this terminology. Persian poetry is like painting; these poets painted pictures of the different aspects of life. The work of Hafiz, from beginning to end, is one series of beautiful pictures, ever-revealing and most inspiring. Once a person has studied Hafiz he has reached the top of the mountain, from whence he beholds the sublimity of the immanence of God.

The mission of Hafiz was to express to a fanatical religious world that the presence of God is not to be found only in heaven, but also here on earth. Very often religious belief in God and in the hereafter has kept man asleep, waiting for that hour and day to come when he will be face to face with his Lord; and he is certain that that day will not come before he is dead. Therefore he awaits his death in the hope that he will see God in the hereafter, for heaven is the only place where God can be found; there is no other place. And he thinks that only a certain place, that is the church, is a sacred place of worship, and that God cannot be found anywhere else. The mission of Hafiz was to destroy this idea and to make man conscious of the heaven close to him, and to tell him that all he expects as a reward in the hereafter could be had here if he lived a fuller life.

The same ideal which one finds in all religions, and which was one of the principal teachings of Jesus Christ, namely that God is love, was also the chief ideal of Hafiz, and he has expressed it constantly in his Divan. If there is anything divine in man it is love. If God is to be found anywhere it is in man’s heart which is love. And if the love element is awakened in the heart then God is, so to speak, made alive and is born in man’s self.

But at the same time Hafiz has shown in his poetry what is the key to this; and that key is appreciation of beauty in all forms. Beauty is not always to be found in an object or a person; beauty depends upon one’s attitude towards life, how one looks at it, and its effect depends upon our power of appreciation. The very same music or poetry or painting will touch one person so that he feels its beauty to the very depth of his being, while another person may look at it but not see it. The whole of manifestation has its beauty. Sometimes its beauty is clearly manifest to us, sometimes we have to look for it. We may meet a good person, and we are always charmed by the beauty of goodness. But we may meet another person who seems bad, and yet at the same time there is good hidden in him somewhere if we would only look for it, if we only had the desire to draw it out. The badness is not always in the objects and persons, but is often in our way of looking at them. The whole trend of the poetry of Hafiz is to awaken that appreciation and love of beauty which is the only means by which to experience that bliss which is the purpose of our life.

Someone asked a Sufi the reason for this creation, and he answered, “God, whose being is love itself, desired to experience the nature of His own being, and in order to experience it He had to manifest Himself.” God Himself and His manifestation, the soul and God — this dual aspect — can be seen in all forms of nature, in the sun and the moon, in night and day, in male and female, in positive and negative, and in all things of opposite characteristics in order that this love principle, itself the original and the only principle behind the whole of manifestation, may have full play. That is why the fulfillment of the purpose of life lies in the full expression of the love principle.

Very often by learning philosophy and by looking at this world with pessimistic thought, people have renounced the world and have called it material and false; they have left this world and gone to the forest and desert or to a cave, and have taught the principle of self-denial and renunciation. This was not the way of Hafiz. He said life is like journeying over the sea and coming to a new port, and before landing a man becomes frightened and says, “But perhaps I shall be attacked, or the place will attract me so much that I shall not be able to go back to where I came from.” But he does not know why he has started on that journey; he has certainly not undertaken it in order to go back again without landing somewhere. The attitude of Hafiz is to land there, to risk it. If it turns out to be an attractive place, he is ready to be won; if it will crush him, he is ready to be crushed. This is a daring attitude: not to run away from this false world, but to discover glimpses of the truth in this false world and to find God’s purpose in this maze.

There is another great revelation which Hafiz has brought before humanity in a most beautiful form. Many people in this world have at one time believed in God, in His mercy and compassion, in His love and forgiveness; but after having suffered, after seeing catastrophes and injustice, they have given up their belief, and after great sorrow they have given up their religion. The reason for this is that the religion they have followed has taught them that God is goodness, or God is Judge; and so they ask justice from that Judge, but a justice to satisfy their own ideas. They think that their standard of justice is God’s, and they also look for goodness according to their understanding of it. Thus a struggle arises in their hearts. They do not see justice, because they are looking for it from their own point of view; they are looking for goodness, kindness, and mercy from their own point of view, and there are many situations which make them think that there is no justice and no such thing as an element of forgiveness.

But the way of Hafiz is different. The name of God is hardly to be found in the Divan. He does not express belief in God as the Just and the Good. His God is his Beloved, to whom he has surrendered in perfect love and devotion, and everything coming from the Beloved is accepted by him with love and devotion, as a reward. He prefers poison coming from the hand of the Beloved to nectar from the hand of another. He prefers death to life, if it is the wish of the Beloved.

One may ask if this is fair. There is no question of fairness where there is love. Law is beneath love. Law is born of love. The mistake today is that we consider law to be higher than love. We do not see that the divine principle which is love, stands above law. Man makes of God a judge who is bound by law, who cannot do His own will, but has to do according to what is written in His book. God is not justice. Justice is His nature, but love is predominant. People attach such importance to actions and their results. They do not know that above action and result is a law which can consume the fire of hell, which can dominate even if the whole world were being drowned in the flood of destruction; they do not know that the power of love is greater than any other.

Think of the hen when she takes care of her little ones. If they are threatened with danger, even if it should be a horse or an elephant, she would fight because the love principle is predominant. A kind mother is ready to forgive when her son comes with bowed head and says, “Mother, I have been foolish, I have not listened to you, I have been insolent; I am sorry.” She is ready to understand, she is ready to forgive.

So we see mercy and compassion going forth as love, a stream of love which can purify all the evil actions of years. Also, if a human being can actually forgive, why should God not forgive? Many of the dogmatic religions have taken away the love element which makes God sovereign; instead they make a God who is limited, who is bound by the book, and who cannot show His compassion. If God were so limited He could not be just; an individual would be better, because an individual can forgive.

The poetry of Hafiz has inspired the poets of Persia as well as of India. And the great Indian poet Rabindranath Tagore sometimes imparted a Persian color to his poems, and it is that color which has made them so popular.

Hafiz was the disciple of a master, and on one occasion he and some of the other disciples were told to meditate at a certain time of the night. And while he was in meditation the teacher called, “Hafiz!” and Hafiz came immediately. It was at this moment that the teacher inspired him, for he had reached that stage where he could inspire anyone instantly. But there were ten other disciples whose name was Hafiz too, so the teacher called, “Hafiz!” ten times, and each time this same Hafiz came, for the others were sleeping instead of meditating.

This is a symbolical story. The Inspirer is calling us from every direction, but we do not all respond. The voice is always there, the light is there, the guidance is there; but we are not always ready or willing to respond, and are not always open to the call. In reality this is not only the story of Hafiz, but the story of every soul on earth.

Hafiz gives a picture of human nature: hate, jealousy, love, kindness, vanity; the play of friendly impulse, the play of pride; all aspects of life. Hafiz is not only a poet, he is a painter. He has made pictures of the different aspects of life. Every verse is a picture; and in every picture, whatever be its color — vanity, pride, conceit,. love, mercy, or compassion, in all their garbs — he sees only one spirit, the spirit of the Beloved. And he shows the same devotion, appreciation, and love to all the manifestations of that one and the same Beloved.

He has insight into life and looks at life from a psychological point of view, but at the same time he sees the whole of life as the phenomenon of love, harmony, and beauty, and he recognizes all the different aspects of love, harmony, and beauty. Whatever they be, he weaves them into a form so beautiful that it makes a most wonderful picture. From beginning to end his phraseology is peculiar to himself. He uses words such as wine, the goblet, the beloved, the beautiful countenance of the beloved, the running river, the rising spring, the clear sky, the moon, the sun. Also, in these poems the lover continually reproaches the beloved. Then there is the indifference of the beloved towards all except her lover, so beautifully expressed that it almost seems as if while he was writing these poems the poet’s soul was dancing. There is such musical inspiration that every line of his poetry is a strain of music.

The word “wine” is often used, and according to the mystic, life is wine. To the mystic each person drinks a wine peculiar to himself. Hafiz pictures the whole world as a wine-press, and every person takes that wine which is in accord with his own evolution. The wine of one is not the wine of another. He wishes to express the idea that every person, whether evolved or ignorant, whether honest or dishonest, whether he realizes it or not, whether he has a great belief or no belief at all, is in every case taking a certain wine. It is the type of intoxication produced by that particular wine which is his individuality, and when a person changes, he does so by drinking another wine. Every different kind of wine changes the outlook on life, and every change in life is like taking a different wine.

Then Hafiz praises those who have come to a high realization. He says, “Be not fooled by the patched garment of the wandering dervish, for under the patched sleeves most powerful hands are hidden.” He also says, “The bare-headed have a crown over their head, if you only knew.”

By this he means that once a person has absorbed the thought of reality, it is not only that this ennobles his soul, but it gives him a kingly spirit. It is like being crowned. It is this inspiration and power which in his poetry he calls intoxication.

There are many religions and beliefs according to which some day man will be able to communicate with God. But when will that day come? Life is so short and our hearts are so hungry! And if it does not come today, perhaps it will not come at all.

Therefore the one thing that Hafiz has pointed out from beginning to end is this, “Do not wait for that day to come tomorrow. Communicate with the Beloved now; He is before you here in the form of your friend and in the form of your enemy; with a bowl of poison or with a rose. Recognize this and know it, for this is the purpose of life.”

Religions have made it seem like a journey of millions of miles, but Hafiz has brought it close at hand.

Man likes complexity. He does not want to take only one step; it is more interesting to look forward to millions of steps. The man who is seeking the truth gets into a maze, and that maze interests him. He wants to go through it a thousand times more. It is just like children: their whole interest is in running about; they do not want to see the door and go in until they are very tired. And so it is with grown-up people: they all say that they are seeking truth, but they like the maze. That is why the mystics made the greatest truths a mystery, to be given only to the few who were ready for them, letting the others play because it was the time for them to play.

According to the ideas of the Sufis and of all the prophets and sages who ever came to this world, the love principle is the first principle, and so also it is the last principle. There are different Yogas practiced by people of India, which are the intellectual, scientific, philosophical, and moral paths to God; but the most desirable path to God that the Hindus have ever found, one which makes the whole of life beautiful, is Bhakta Yoga, the path of devotion, for it is the natural path. Man’s inclination is love. If he is cold it is because he is longing for love; if he is warm, it is because love is alive. If he is suffering from depression, is yearning or sorrowing, it is because the love principle is not alive. The only life, the very source of inspiration, salvation, and liberation, is love.

Those great souls who have brought the message of God to humanity from time to time, like Buddha, Krishna, Jesus Christ, Moses, Abraham, or Zarathushtra, were well known as most learned men. But whatever they learned, they learned from the love principle; what they knew was compassion, forgiveness, sympathy, and tolerance, the attitude of appreciation, the opening of the heart to humanity. What they taught was love, a simple truth. If religions seem complex they have been added to. In every case what was brought by the prophet was simple, and it was expressed in his personality and his life; and it is that influence which has remained for centuries after they have passed away. It is not the literature they have left; most of the literature is from their pupils. It is the simple truth shown in their personalities, in their lives. The error of this day and age is that we cannot understand the simple truth, the truth as it is manifested everywhere. Instead we are trying to find truth covered by a shell.

At the same time Hafiz teaches one to see both the ultimate truth and the ultimate justice in God. He teaches that justice is not in related things, that perfect justice is in totality. And he shows that the power behind manifestation is the love power, and that it is by this power that the whole world was created. It is the love principle, whether it works through God or through man, and if that principle is at the back of the whole of creation then it is this same principle which helps man to fulfil the purpose of his life.

From: http://hazrat-inayat-khan.org/php/views.php?h1=34