Rumi Teaches Blog Posts: 2015 by Nashid Fareed-Ma'at - HTML preview

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To catch a deer - Part 1 of 2

February 12, 2015

Once, when Ibraahiim, son of Adham, was king, he galloped in the track of a deer he was hunting, until he became entirely separated from his soldiers, leaving them far behind. His horse was weary and covered with sweat, but still he chased on. After passing far into the desert wilderness, the deer suddenly stopped, turned back its face and said, “You were not created for this. Beingness was not brought forth from not-being for you to hunt me. Even if you catch me, what will you have accomplished?”

When Ibrahim heard these words, he cried aloud and flung himself from the horse. There was no one in that desert except a shepherd. Ibraahiim said to him, “Take my royal robes encrusted with jewels, my arms and my horse, and give me your gown of coarse cloth. And please tell no one, not even a hint to anyone, what has become of me.” He put on the rough gown and set out on his way.

Now consider what his intention was, and yet what his true objective turned out to be! He wanted to catch a deer, but Allaah caught him by means of that deer. Therefore, realize that in this world things happen as Allaah wills. Allaah’s is the design, and all purpose comes from Allaah.

(adapted from Fihi Ma Fihi,

translated by A. J. Arberry, p. 290 - 291)

* * *

As promised in the last post, this post will address the topic of the Beloved’s plan. The Beloved’s plan is not something that can be fully explained. So instead of taking an approach that seeks to understand it, let’s use the above story to reflect on the dynamics of how the Beloved’s plan can unfold -- and in particular, where we are in relation to this.

Ibraahiim ibn Adham is one of the more noted Sufi saints of the Persian region. He was a king of Balkh, the land where Jalaal ud-Diin Rumi spent most of his life. The above story captures the moment in which Ibraahiim renounced his kingly life to embrace the path of a humble ascetic.

In the story he starts off as a king. This is a fitting metaphor for most of us: in living an ego-centered life, even if it’s “spiritual,” we replace the Sovereignty of the Beloved with the rulership of our mind -- the mind is the seat of the ego. Even if such a mind is sincerely committed to living spiritual principles, if the determining factor is our mind, we have placed that upon the Throne of our lives. Thus, we set off on pursuits that are determined by and appeal to the mind. But such is not in harmony with the Beloved’s plan because the Beloved is the only Sovereignty. Even if with our minds we seek to serve the Beloved, for such to be in harmony with the Beloved’s plan we must relinquish the mind being the determining factor: a restraint or relinquishment of free will to the quietude (to listen) and obedience of surrender. And note, the mind can be very clever in deluding itself into thinking it’s doing something for the Beloved, when it’s only serving its own selfish ends. This calls for the deepest of honesty and reflection.

As is the nature of the ego, we often set out on mind-based pursuits in the company of others. For most, the majority of people we invite and keep in our lives we do so to validate our egos (personalities) in some way. This is often done discreetly: many choose friends because we like them -- likes contrived by past pleasurable experiences of the mind that validate the personality we’ve sculpted from mind stuff. Or maybe we share certain things in common with them: again, qualities and pursuits of the mind. Or even with family members we don’t like, we may maintain relations with them because they validate our identity: our bloodline, shared physical and behavioral traits, shared experiences that affirm who “I” (the ego) am. But eventually even mind-based pursuits bring us to a place of solitude, beyond the company of others even if we are still in their presence. Just as in the story, Ibraahiim stayed on his hunt of the deer -- a mind-based pursuit -- until he became entirely separated from his soldiers, leaving them far behind.

For the wise, this separation is a precious opportunity, and some will even seek it directly. This solitude beholds the opportunity to arrive at the realization of the heart, even if just a temporary realization. This rarely happens in the presence of others: in the ego-based engagement that happens with others through the mind, we usually become so consumed with