The Treasure-Seeker - Part 2 of 2
May 14, 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)
***
It’s worth noting that despite how many people heard about the treasure and set forth to find it, only the poor man who received directions in his dream found the treasure. What the Beloved decrees for you is only for you, despite what others may do to obtain or prevent you from receiving it. Yet the treasure found underneath the arrow put to the bow (obedience to directions given) is not the real or ultimate treasure. The treasures found in this world through surrender to the Beloved are only pointers to a greater treasure that is nearer than the neck-artery.
Regular readers of this blog should find it as no surprise that the line “That which is real is nearer than the neck-artery” refers to the Beloved. Al-Haqq is one of the ninety-nine names of the Beloved in Islam and can be translated as The Real (Reality) or The Truth. This line is an explicit declaration by Jalaal ud-Diin Rumi as to what the real treasure is, particularly since it mirrors a verse in the Qur’aan which states:
We verily created human and We know what its soul
whispers to it, and We are nearer to human than its
jugular vein. (Surah 50, Verse 16, emphasis mine)
The Beloved is so close within we cannot perceive It with our senses, which only perceive the outer. With every perception there is a thought, and the realm of thinking is the philosopher’s domain. Every thought beyond the initial perception only takes us further away from the real treasure of the Beloved.
It is thinking that often takes us beyond carrying out directions as given, and the philosopher embodies the thinking approach to life. In essence, the philosopher in Jalaal ud-Diin Rumi’s time sought to reduce everything to fit within the space of the mind: what it could observe, understand, and conceptualize. Philosophers even applied this approach to the Beloved, which is beyond perception. Instead of seeking to quiet the mind to allow the guidance of the heart to prevail, philosophers worshiped their ideas of the Beloved instead of the Beloved itself. Often done subtly and without evil ambition, this indeed is the mischief of philosophy, the folly of philosophy -- even if pursued with sincere intentions. (Note: I mention sincere intentions, not sincerity which is built upon the foundation of surrender.)
Not only does such thinking (mind-based living) lead one beyond the real treasure, it fuels a potentially endless drive further away from this treasure while the clever ones are pleased with the device of thinking. Be honest: don’t you often feel a sense of satisfaction with coming up with a good idea? And don’t you often look to apply such to your life in some way? Well, how many ideas are part of your approach to religion / spirituality? Or even looking beyond that: how much of your life is dominated by ideas and thinking? The more there are the further away we take ourselves from the real treasure.
Jalaal ud-Diin Rumi holds no punches in explaining the fate of such an approach: The philosopher kills one’s self with thinking. This is not to say we should not think: there is a time and place for thinking. But if the mind is the dominating force in how we live, especially our spirituality, we are rendering our lives to spiritual death. By living in such a manner, we increasingly make it more difficult to realize oneness with the Beloved because of our own thinking. So to the extent we can abstain from any unnecessary thinking, we are better off. Yet when we seek to use the mind to curb the mind’s thinking, we often create more thinking. For example, to think that I should stop thinking is another thought added to all the thinking I was already doing. How are we to escape this potentially endless cycle of thinking once immersed within it?
Most of those destined for Paradise are simpletons. We tend to use the term simpleton in a negative sense nowadays, such as a person who is foolish or gullible. But in Jalaal ud-Diin Rumi’s time, if you told a simpleton to put the arrow to the bow, the simpleton would do just that. The simpleton would not think maybe I should pull the arrow back because that must be the reason I’m being given this direction. The simpleton would not analyze or change the direction: the simpleton performs the direction as given, this is the wisdom of the simpleton. This simplicity undercuts the thinking mind, particularly the cleverness of the mind (and ego) that turns directions, such as divine guidance, into devices that lead us astray.
One of the “greater” treasures of obeying directions as given is not always the apparent result, such as the poor man finding the buried wealth. To the extent we become open to living in a way that is not led by the thinking mind, within the quietude of simply following directions as given -- no thinking -- we allow ourselves to “hear” that which is nearer than our jugular vein. We allow ourselves to be open to an inward orientation, to be guided by the heart (that innermost place of being) even as we move through the external world with our senses. And to paraphrase a saying of the Prophet Muhammad (p.b.u.h.): The Beloved dwells in the heart of the faithful. To realize this real treasure, we need not pull back our bow, we need not think: we only need to follow the directions as given. Such obedience suffices to quiet the mind, particularly when accompanied by humble surrender, sincerity, and faith. When the mind is quiet, the whispers of the Beloved that speak through the heart cannot be denied.
With continued obedience, living the wisdom of the simpleton, one comes to realize for one’s self that thinking is so overrated. We truly do not need to think as much as most of us do to live -- and often we don’t even need to think at all. The Beloved is always offering us divine guidance, but we often don’t “hear” it beneath the noise of the thinking mind. But when we quiet the mind and experience this guidance for ourselves -- beyond an idea of what this may be -- such experience cultivates an enduring faith and trust in the Beloved. Then we are truly able to be the simple ones [who] rest, like babes, in the bosom of the Deviser. This state is beyond description, beyond thoughts and concepts. To the extent that we simply put the arrow to the bow in every facet of our lives, we will find ourselves as wise simpletons resting in the bosom of the Beloved.
The Prophet (p.b.u.h.) said,
"The majority of those in Paradise are the simple,"
Who have escaped the snares of philosophy, of thinking.
Strip yourself bare of overweening intellect,
That grace may ever be shed upon you from above.
Cleverness is the opposite of humility and surrender,
Quit cleverness, and consort with simple-mindedness,
with quietude of mind!
(adapted from E.H. Whinfield, M.A.’s translation of
Masnavi i Ma’navi: Teachings of Rumi, p. 446)
