December 18, 2014
Smash a rock against the jar of companionship with the ignorant,
And clutch the hem of the robes of the wise ones in the world.
Don’t pause for a moment with the unworthy,
For the iron mirror collects rust when you put it near water.
(adapted from Masnavi i Ma’navi,
translated by E.H. Whinfield, p. 253 - 254)
The lover and the mistress in the above story represent two poignant states in spiritual maturity. Since the state of the lover leads to the state of the mistress, we’ll begin with the lover. But first a point of clarity: when the story uses the word “mistress,” we should not construe this as indicating an immoral (i.e. extramarital) relationship.
The mistress’ rejection of the lover’s embrace indicates her refusal to engage in such. In the time of the translator, mistress could also be used to refer to “a female lover,” and I was actually tempted to change the word to that or to “beloved.” But, as this post may indicate, we sometimes reduce what is beloved to us -- including the Beloved -- to a mistress of immoral circumstances. Therefore, I left the term as is since both meanings may have relevance for some readers.
An obvious but often underappreciated vital element of the spiritual journey is the commitment to continue on and endure. The story states that the lover was separated from his mistress for seven years yet he never relaxed his efforts to find her. Humans throughout all time are famous for embarking on big, determined starts that often end up unfinished or are sometimes completed with a diminished effort. If the results are not quick or what we think they should be, we often relax what was once diligent, consistent, and vigorous efforts. Yet if we are sincerely committed to the spiritual path, we have been promised “The seeker shall find” -- not always what we (our egos) want, but certainly something that will be undeniably useful to our spiritual journey. And surely, as the Qur’aan promises: “Whoso shall have wrought an atom’s weight of good shall behold it.” (Surah 99, Verse 7) Nothing we do that is good shall go unrewarded -- nothing! This is partly why masters and teachers encourage us to stay vigilant in our spiritual practice. And open, so when rewards and findings are bestowed we don’t ignore or reject them. These have been promised to be placed in our lives, but the promise doesn’t say it will force us to receive or even be aware of these.
In the lover’s case, his unwavering constancy and perseverance led him to find what he sought: his beloved mistress. Upon finding her, he reflects how often humans “hate the things that are good for them” since the patrol he sought to escape (something undesired) led him to find his beloved. When we are firmly and sincerely rooted in a spiritual practice, even unwanted and unfavorable occurrences serve our benefit. This is not a call to be a martyr or endure unnecessary suffering: the lover did flee the patrol (instead of allowing himself to be caught) and took refuge in a garden. The garden, as a Sufi metaphor, often speaks to “places” of spiritual beauty and piety, a setting befitting for meeting the Beloved or receiving Its greatest treasures. Such “places” are not limited to physical locations, virtues can be gardens of refuge. Whenever we encounter a hardship we are not sure we need to endure, one option can be see to seek refuge in a “garden.”
And a committed, unbroken, vigilant spiritual practice places us in the presence of countless gardens of refuge.
So now that the lover has found the mistress, what is he to do? In the same vein, when our spiritual practice brings us to a place where we overcome aspects of suffering, what do we do? Note, the suffering of separation from his mistress was a driving force in the lover’s quest. But now that the suffering is relieved (by reunion), his orientation shifts from that of disciplined seeking to pursuit of (ego-based) desires. It is important to understand the cultural and religious context of his attempt to embrace the mistress. Persian culture, as well as many others in the world, does not condone physical contact between men and women who are not close family members. This cultural tenet is affirmed religiously in Islam by the emphasis on modesty in social relations, particularly between unrelated men and women. So the lover’s attempt to embrace is a clear break from the noble quest of daily searching for his mistress and goes against established spiritual and cultural virtues. Added to this is the fact that he doesn’t seek to embrace her in the presence of others, instead when they are alone: reducing her to a mistress of an immoral deed he would most likely conceal from others.
I ask the question again: when our spiritual practice brings us to a place where we overcome aspects of suffering, what do we do? Do we shift from the orientation that brought us to relief and return to self-centered, ego-based ways (i.e. attempting to sate desires)? And do we look to do so discreetly, outside the sight of others, to maintain a facade of spirituality? Such an approach will ultimately return us back to suffering and, more importantly, impede our reunion with the Beloved. Thus, the lover is in the presence of the mistress but his inappropriate attempt to embrace her has placed a space of separation between him and her, since she is unwilling to compromise her morals.
The lover’s response to the mistress’ rejection reveals one of the greatest dangers to all spiritual seekers: spiritual ego. Although his attempt to embrace emanates from an ego-based desire, he seeks to justify it by saying: “It may be I am lacking in good manners, but I am not lacking in constancy and fidelity towards you.” Islam regards constancy and fidelity as spiritual virtues, so to claim to be upholding these while violating the virtue of modesty reeks of hypocrisy. Yet, there is a gem in the stance the mistress takes.
When the lover first attempts to embrace her, she states that though no people “were present, yet the wind was blowing and that showed that Allaah, the Mover of the wind, was also present.” And when he seeks to justify his position, she notes that his outward behavior is bad, not falling for his claim of virtuous sentiments. She then returns to her initial point: You are ashamed to misconduct yourself in the sight of humans, but have no scruple to do so in the presence of the Al-Basiir, The All-Seeing. When we arrive at the station the mistress is at, prior to performing any act we remember that the Beloved is always with us and watching us -- just like another person standing before us. Within such remembrance, we become more discerning with our acts. And, even further, when we remember that the Beloved sees all, not just the surface of our acts but also their roots, we will be more careful about falling into the trap of spiritual ego: of spiritually justifying ego-based / selfish acts.
Spiritual practice aims to bring us beyond the bondage of suffering so we can continue our journey within the space of remembering that the Beloved is always present and always watching. When we don’t violate this presence, in time we are brought into the bounty of an indescribable blissful reunion. Abandoning, regressing or even remaining stagnant in the flow of a sincere spiritual journey can impede this reunion. A wiser choice is to continue and deepen into this flow even when we are free from suffering.