December 30, 2013
A certain man of Qazwín went to a barber and said, “Tattoo me (and) do it charmingly (artistically).” “O valiant sir,” said he, “what figure shall I tattoo?” He answered, “Prick in the figure of a furious lion. Leo is my ascendant. Exert yourself, prick in plenty of the blue dye.”
“On what place,” the barber asked, “shall I tattoo you?” Said the man, “Prick the design of the beauty on my shoulder-blade.” As soon as the barber began to stick in the needle, the pain of it settled in the shoulder, and the hero fell a-moaning -- “O illustrious one, you have killed me: what figure are you tattooing?” “Why,” said the barber, “you bade me do a lion.” “What limb,” asked the other, “did you begin with?” “I have begun at the tail,” said he. “O my dear friend,” he cried, “leave out the tail! My breath is stopped by the lion's tail and rump: his rump has tightly closed my windpipe. Let the lion be without a tail, O lion-maker, for my heart is faint from the blows of the needle.”
That barber commenced to prick in another part without fear, without favour, without mercy. The man yelled -- “Which of his members is this?” “This is his ear, my good man,” the barber replied. “O Doctor,” said he, “let him have no ears: omit the ears and cut the frock short.”
The barber began to insert his needle in another part: once more the man of Qazwín set out to wail, saying, “What is the member you are pricking in now on this third spot?” He replied, “This is the lion's belly, my dear sir.” “Let the lion have no belly,” said he: “what need of a belly for the picture that is already sated?”
The barber became distraught and remained in great bewilderment: he stood for a long time with his fingers in his teeth. Then the master flung the needle to the ground and said, “Has this happened to anyone in the world? Whoever saw a lion without tail and head and belly? Allaah Itself did not create a lion like this.”
O brother, endure the pain of the lancet, that you may escape
from the poison of your miscreant self (ego),
For sky and sun and moon bow in worship to the people who
have escaped from self existence.
Anyone in whose body the miscreant self has died,
sun and cloud obey that one’s command.
Since that heart has learned to light the candle (of spiritual knowledge
and love),
the sun cannot burn that one.
The Beloved hath made mention of the rising sun as turning aside --
like that -- from their cave.
The thorn becomes entirely beautiful, like the rose, in the
sight of the particular that is going towards the Universal.
(adapted from The Mathnawi of Jalaal Ud-Diin Rumi, translated
by Reynold Alleyne Nicholson, Book 1 Lines 2980 - 3010)
***
As the solar year ends, many people look to the new year as a time to make resolutions for new beginnings. While this can be a noble endeavor, the wise often encourage us to complete old unfinished work before resolving to something new. A common reason we leave work incomplete, particularly with things that involve the spiritual, is the discomfort that is involved. Often we deny ourselves opportunities to realize greatness because we choose not to tolerate the discomforts that are part of growing.
First, it should be noted that traditional Islam forbids tattoos. (If someone had tattoos prior to being a Muslim that is accepted, but traditionally a Muslim would not get a permanent tattoo.) Such is looked upon as unnecessarily altering the creation of the Beloved. Traditional Islam regards the Beloved as a perfect Creator who holds human beings among Its greatest creations. In addition to upholding the virtue of modesty, traditional Islam views making permanent alterations to one’s skin via tattoos as second guessing the perfection of the Creator. Yet, there are messages in why a forbidden act is used as a metaphor in this story. Just as when Jalaal ud-Diin uses wine (which is also forbidden) as a metaphor, it is often a call pointing the listener to something deeper beyond the surface.
Like the man getting tattooed, we often embark upon spiritual work with great excitement and encouragement. Prick in the figure of a furious lion... Exert yourself, prick in plenty of the blue dye, the man exclaims until he feels the sharp needle. It’s worthy to note that the barber starts with one of the smallest parts of the lion -- the tail; yet the discomfort of this becomes the basis for embracing a path that results in the task being unfinished. The guidance of the wise often begins with smaller tasks firsts: for if we are unwilling to bear the challenges of these, why bother with tattooing the larger and more detailed parts, like the body and the head. And, as the barber demonstrates, the wise often exercise patience with initial resistance. Heeding the man’s complaints, the barber begins to tattoo the ears and the belly, to which the man presents outlandish reasons for why these should not be part of the tattoo. There is a mercy in allowing this, granting us the opportunity to see our own nonsense -- if we are willing. And let’s not forget who went to who for the tattoo, who is more in need of being served by the work. Finally, the barber puts down the needle, acknowledging that the man is asking him to create something that not even the Creator creates. How often do we exhibit this same dynamic in seeking to impose a situation that combs out the benefits of growth from the unpleasant aspects of growing -- the growing pains? How often do we exude such arrogance when we are need of the spiritual work, the spiritual growth?
While immersed in the ego, most spiritual work involves bearing “growing pains” that appear to torture the comfortableness of the ego. The prick of a needle may seem like someone is trying to kill you when, in actuality, it is only an uncomfortable prick that the ego exaggerates to be equivalent to murder. Jalaal ud-Diin Rumi encourages us to bear this tolerable discomfort not only to escape from the poison of your miscreant self (ego), but also so that our thorns may become entirely beautiful, like the rose, in the sight of the particular that is going towards the Universal. Often how the ego paints the prick of the needle is a thorn more painful than the actual experience of the prick. Yet if we endure this self-exaggeration of the pain, the (self-imagined) suffering we add to the painful experience will transform the thorns of our minds into roses that bloom to be beautiful.
This is not a call to bear unnecessary pain, such as the suffering we often (self-)create by pursuing sense-based pleasures. We do not have enough space in this post to engage a more expansive exploration of what is suitable pain but I’ll share a few quick points. First, the pain of spiritual work is always bearable. In the Qur’aan, it is said: “no burden do We place on any soul, but that which it can bear. ” (Surah 6, Verse 152, translated by Abdullah Yusuf Ali) The wise never guide us to engage pains we are not ready to bear since this often results in more (self-created) pain and undesirable consequences. But we do need to be honest about what is truly unbearable, and what we don’t want to bear so we deem it “unbearable.” Secondly, with spiritual work we often can see how the pain to be endured correlates to the benefit awaiting us in completing the work. It is clear in this story that bearing the pain of the needle will result in having a beautiful tattoo of a lion. Also, often such pain can be seen in the examples of what prophets and saints bore to realize their spiritual maturity or as a sacrifice paid to serve the Beloved. If you are presented with a pain that no prophet or saint has ever experienced in their development or service, perhaps that is a pain to steer clear from. These guiding posts will greatly help us navigate which pains are suitable to endure, and which are unnecessary and should be avoided.
A key to completing unfinished work is to remember: spiritual work need not adjust to our sense of comfort, instead our mind / ego should adjust to the spiritual work despite suitable discomfort. When we are under the care of a guide, we have a barber before us to make this obvious. But even when we embark on spiritual work "alone," the barber is still there. Traditional Islam holds there is only One Teacher, Ar-Rashiid, the Beloved who never leaves us, who always remains nearer to us than our own jugular vein (Surah 50, Verse 16). At times this Teacher works through the form of others, sometimes its guiding force appears to be invisible. But when we set out for spiritual work, that Barber is always here, ready to serve us. It will not force us to complete any work, freewill is part of the covenant the Beloved upholds with each human being. But if we endure the pain of discomfort, this purifies the more subtle impressions we hold to in our minds. Then, in retrospect, we can look back at each prick of the needle being a small yet passing price to pay to have a beautiful furious Lion imprinted upon our shoulders and our hearts...
