The Treasure-Seeker - Part 1 of 2
April 30, 2014
He was engaged in this prayer
when a Voice came from the Heavens, saying,
“You were told to put the arrow to the bow;
but who told you to shoot with all your might?
Self-conceit caused you to raise the bow aloft
and display your skill in archery.
You must put the arrow to the bow,
but do not draw to the full extent of your power.
Where the arrow falls, dig and search! Trust not in strength,
seek the treasure by means of piteous supplication.”
That which is real is nearer than the neck-artery,
and you have shot the arrow of thought far afield
The philosopher kills one’s self with thinking.
Let the philosopher run on: its back is turned to the treasure.
Most of those destined for Paradise are simpletons,
so that they escape from the mischief of philosophy.
While the clever ones are pleased with the device,
the simple ones rest, like babes, in the bosom of the Deviser.
(adapted from Selected Poems of Rumi,
translated by Reynold A. Nicholson, p. 25 - 26)
***
The above is based on a Sufi story, which I’ll offer a condensed version of. There was a poor man who prayed to attain food without having to endure harsh work to obtain it. Not having a skilled profession or wealth (to be a merchant) meant he had to take on hard manual labor for low wages. In his sleep, he heard a heavenly voice say where to find a paper containing directions to where a precious treasure lay buried. The directions stated that he should go outside the city to the tomb of a martyred saint. Once there, he should turn his back to the tomb and toward Mecca, and then place his arrow on his bow. Where the arrow landed, dig there and find the treasure.
The poor man went to pursue this hidden treasure, but word got out about it and others joined the hunt. Person after person went to the declared spot and faced Mecca. They drew back their arrows and let them loose into great distances, digging where their arrows landed. Soon enough the land nearby was filled with empty holes bearing no treasure. Eventually all the people, losing hope, departed except for the poor man. He remained and, remembering the voice in his dream, prayed to Allaah for guidance. The above poem continues from this point.
Note that the directions were very clear: “You were told to put the arrow to the bow.” In the context of that time, that meant placing the arrow firmly on the bow but not pulling back. The act of pulling back was added by the poor man and many others who, in their quest to find the treasure, pulled back the arrow on their own accord. There is a difference between their quest and the quest of the Beloved. In fact, the Heavenly voice questions the poor man for this: but who told you to shoot with all your might? Self-conceit caused you to raise the bow aloft and display your skill in archery.
In self-conceit we make the ego more important than everything else --including the Beloved. Self-conceit is at the root of all disobedience to Truth. Disobedience is not limited to explicit rejection of Truth and Its guidance; in the Islamic context, it also includes adding (on one’s own accord) to divine guidance. In this story, it is adding the act of drawing back the arrow to the simple direction of place the arrow on the bow. Although this may seem like a minor addition, the difference in location of where the arrow lands is vast: instead of being placed on the bow and falling a few feet away, when we draw the arrow back we might be hundreds of yards off the mark because of this act alone. And even further astray if we modify other elements of the directions.
It is no coincidence that the treasure the Beloved intended for this poor man was only a few feet away from the tomb of a martyr: one who died upholding the path of surrender. When we draw back the arrow on our bow, it not only sends us further away from the treasure but also away from the sacred space (tomb) of those who lived and died the path of surrender: a path their sacrifices place at our very own feet.
You must put the arrow to the bow: the directions as given are what we are expected to do -- nothing more, nothing less. I am reminded of an old story of a Sufi master who would say to anyone seeking to take hand (initiation): in order to be accepted into this Sufi order, you must recite the shahaadah (affirmation of being a Muslim) exactly as I say it, intonation and all. He would then demonstrate how it was to be said. Even if a person possessed all the other necessary attributes to join this order, if someone pronounced even a syllable different than the master, he would turn that person away. Some people assumed the reason to be arrogance; others pondered if there was some hidden mystical power in reciting the shahaadah precisely in this manner.
One day, a disciple gathered the courage to ask the master why he insisted on this pronunciation. This was a very risky thing to do because in this and many traditional Sufi orders disciples are not allowed to ask those in authority questions; such could result in being expelled from the order. But this proved to be an incident of grace, because instead of chastising the disciple or ignoring the question, the master revealed the reason. He said if a person cannot follow directions as given, they are doomed to fail on this path. They will either not do what is required and waste away in stagnation. Or they will go too far adding things that will take them astray or bring unnecessary burdens. To follow directions as given is essential to fulfilling the purpose of the Sufi way, which is to reveal to the seeker Oneness with the Beloved.
Often when we reject or add to divine guidance, an underlying intention is to display our ego-based skills and power in some way. There is usually some degree of ego-based power we must exude: some level of effort to carry out the directions as given and some effort to restrain from going beyond what the directions call for. There is a middle ground between doing too little and doing too much, between being lazy and overzealous. But many who commit to a spiritual path tend to do too much. Therefore, we are warned: “but do not draw to the full extent of your power. Where the arrow falls, dig and search! Trust not in strength, seek the treasure by means of piteous supplication.” Exertion beyond merely fulfilling the directions as given takes us beyond the treasure. But fulfilling the directions as commanded allows the arrow to fall where the treasure is. There is a grace in being placed upon the mark. The next step in the directions calls for appropriate exertion of effort, as we dig deeper to realize a treasure that was only a few steps away. Our own ego-based strength will lead us astray; but mere supplication to the directions as given --which often involve little to no ego-based strength -- allows us to be guided to the treasure. Often, by turning to our ego-based strength and adding, even slightly, to directions given we turn a two-day journey into a lifetime quest that may not reach the destination.
In closing, let us be clear about what are the directions given. Many of us may find ourselves in situations similar to the poor man: faced with hardships we would rather have an “easier” way of addressing. And like the poor man, we may pray but we don’t always hear that voice from the heavens declaring guidance. But, as Jalaal ud-Diin Rumi and traditional Sufi orders stressed, certain guidance has already been offered to address whatever life situations we may encounter. In Islam, it begins with sharii’ah: the moral code and divine laws Muslims follow. These are taken directly from the Qur’aan (the Revelation of the Beloved as received through the Prophet Muhammad, p.b.u.h.), the divine law given through the prophets, and the example of the prophets’ lives. Every major spiritual tradition has a code of morality that serves as an undeniable foundation for that path. Whether one looks at Islam, Christianity, Judaism, Buddhism, Yoga, Indigenous Spiritual Traditions, Traditional African Spirituality -- they all begin with morality. Such morals include: not committing violence (although this doesn’t prohibit self-defense); not lying; not stealing; not committing acts of sexual immorality (i.e. adultery); not using intoxicants; etc. These moral abstentions set the stage to practice affirmative spiritual observances, such as: prayer and meditation; selfless service of others; charity; cleanliness and purification; discipline; etc.
Even if we never hear a voice from the heavens, these moral codes have been as clearly communicated as the direction put the arrow to the bow. For example the prohibition “Thou shalt not lie” does not include “except for when you can tell a little white lie for an apparently good reason and get away with it.” When we do such, we have drawn back the bow and shot the arrow beyond the directions given. This is why many people who have committed to a spiritual path for many years, put in consistent time and effort with various spiritual practices, have yet to find their “treasure.” Not only does this take us further away from the treasure that was placed near our feet, it blinds and deafens us to guidance. I remember one teacher who asked: If we do not heed the simple directions given, whose benefits are clear and for which there are no reasons to doubt, why should the Beloved grant us any additional guidance?
Part 2 will explore the second part of the poem, including realizing a treasure that is closer and greater than the treasure the arrow placed on the bow points to.
