September 4, 2014
In Love, the part sings first -- then the whole.
In the orchard, the sour grape is first -- then the sweet nectar.
O heart, this is the rule in the springtime;
That the cat in heat becomes noisy first -- then the song of the nightingale.
(adapted from The Quatrains of Rumi,
translated by Ibrahim Gamard and Rawan Farhadi, p. 293)
***
In Love delineates the Sufi path, the mystic path. It is not a path of knowledge, such as for the scholar. Or a path of austerities, such as for the ascetic. Knowledge and austerities may have places on a mystic path but it is Love that sets the orientation for the one committed to the path of the heart. It is Love that maps the journey of becoming a lover of the Beloved who dissolves into the Oneness of Love. Without such orientation, the following may have a limited relevance.
The part sings first -- then the whole. The fullness of Love is beyond parts and wholeness, beyond all duality. But it is easier to realize the pervading reality of Love from the station of wholeness than the station of parts -- and often scattered parts. The fullness of Love cannot be realized in wholeness or parts, but It can reflect upon these. From wholeness we are more open to realize these reflections and embrace what is necessary to be drawn beyond duality into the domain of Love. This is as much a matter of practicality, to embrace what is easier since even within the ease of wholeness there will be enough challenges to release all that impedes from being drawn completely to Love.
Most of us embark upon the spiritual journey not being whole, so how do we reach wholeness? Many say we can become whole bit by bit, addressing what is lacking part by part. Yet is this what you actually do? Often when people decide to “become (more) spiritual,” they look to change the scope of their entire lives. They seek to make expansive (and often dramatic) changes they’re not yet ready to sustain or within conditions that are not open to such changes. They seek to sing wholeness before singing the parts. This contradicts what Jalaal ud-Diin Rumi’s words, which suggest a part by part approach to strengthen the individual and address the conditions (remove, purify, etc.) of one’s life to steadily progress toward wholeness.
Let’s use being a righteous person as an example. What is it that makes one unrighteous: violating moral codes, such as the moral edict against telling lies. And let’s say for this person lying is the predominant moral violation this person commits. Instead of seeking to be a righteous person -- a level of wholeness that abides by all moral codes -- how much wiser would it be to focus on the part of righteousness that refrains from lying? So many people seek to be righteous, to sing the wholeness of moral obedience; yet in striving to do all, they fail to refrain from their predominant immoral habits. Like this person seeking to be righteous yet still continuing to lie. If this person instead focused on not lying, a part of the wholeness of righteousness, by attaining this alone this person is closer to the wholeness of righteousness. Then this person can proceed to focusing on another moral flaw, continuing part by part, until the singing of the parts arrives at the song of wholeness. This may seem obvious, but again the question is: is this how you live?
We also tend to overlook more subtle parts when we focus on wholeness. Parts like being more considerate of others, being more mindful and aware, taking a more simple approach to life can go a long way in helping a person arrive at the wholeness of righteousness. And we should not underestimate the importance of righteousness on the path of Love: traditionally, Sufi paths regarded morality as an essential foundation of the mystic path.
With this in mind, the approach of advancing by parts toward wholeness is not a license to excuse moral wrongs. Just because a person may presently be focusing on refraining from lying doesn’t mean it’s okay to steal -- especially if the person wasn’t stealing before. When Love is the orientation directing a person to the “destination” of the Oneness of Love, it is not acceptable to decay in moral maturity or remain stagnant. A commitment to steadily progress part by part toward perfection is called for, and there is no justifying the immoral acts one may commit.
In the station of parts, the journey may not seem to make sense at times: for some, it may not seem logical how overcoming lying can lead to the Oneness of Love. Especially if it’s an intense struggle to overcome the tendency to lie, this struggle may not seem to have a “worthwhile” connection to Love. What does this “little white lie that’s not harming anyone” have to do with Love? Often one may not realize the full danger of lying until one arrives at the wholeness of righteousness, to see how any lie can create numerous obstacles on the path toward Love. To this point, trust and faith (in the part by part approach, in the masters who teach it) are very important. Trust and faith support us to endure the struggle to not tell this little white lie, although we may not realize what a precious opportunity this challenge is. The tendency to tell a harmless little white lie is the same tendency that leads to telling larger and more harmful lies. And until this tendency is overcome, one will continue to lie and commit actions that deter one from reaching the wholeness of righteous.
In the orchard, the sour grape is first -- then the sweet nectar. It is not a new revelation to most embarking on the spiritual journey that there will be challenges that are sour, sometimes very bitter. Yet how many of us are disturbed by these sour instances when they occur? One of the common reasons people abandon the spiritual journey is because of the sourness they encounter -- yet this is exactly what we’re supposed to encounter. Many become frustrated with something that is actually serving its intended beneficent purpose? If we stick it out, endure the sourness, we will come to see the sourness is the very “thing” that becomes sweet. (This is not a call to seek out sourness, but to endure the sourness that is part of one’s journey.) The sourness is not so much the challenging external stuff we encounter, but how we (mentally) react these. Again, these are not new revelations: but are we living in a way that embraces, if not welcomes, the sourness? Are we doing so in a way that appreciates the sourness as a treasure that will mature into the Beloved’s sweet nectar if we don’t pull the grapes from the vine prematurely? This is not to say the sourness isn’t challenging to endure, be we don’t have to unnecessarily add to the stress of such endurance by our (mental) reactions. Some masters would actually encourages us to be glad to have the sourness knowing what it will become if seen to fruition.
O heart, this is the rule in the springtime. Another assurance of something many of us know on the level of ideas: that the part by part approach through sourness is only for a season. The choice of spring is not coincidental: that as we emerge from the winter of ignorance and selfishness, spring is a season of transformation, where what is dead and barren is turned in the direction of life through budding and blooming. No spring lasts forever. In fact, there’s a section in Qur’aan that can be translated as:
“With every hardship comes ease.
Indeed, with every hardship comes ease.
So when you are relieved, still toil,
and strive to please (your Lord),
and turn all your attention to your Lord”
Surah 94, Verses 5 - 8
Living -- beyond mere thinking -- the remembrance that this season of sourness has a sweet ending can totally transform how we proceed through this season. We won’t flee the sourness that comes. We’ll take a tempered approach to bearing this sourness without being unnecessarily disturbed by it. We’ll heed the guidance of masters to progress part by part toward wholeness. And once this spring matures into full bloom, we’ll see what is the rule (the nature) of the next season when we arrive there. But we won’t be dismayed by the sourness of spring since the maturity of spring beholds a sweetness we arrive at within this very season, if we don’t run back to the winter.
The last line is simply a reinforcement of what the previous lines convey: That the cat in heat becomes noisy first -- then the song of the nightingale. Those who have lived with a cat in heat know how intensely trying this period can be for the cat (and sometimes those around it). But this very turmoil becomes the song of the nightingale, one of the most beautiful songs this world contains. Accept and flow with the noisy, turbulent heat to arrive at a pure song of Love.
Oh, and did I say Love is the Beloved...
