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SPECIAL PROBLEMS
IN THE STUDY OF
SUFI IDEAS
IDRIES SHAH
First published 1966
Second Edition, 1968
Copyright, 1966, 1968 by Idries Shah.
Special Problems in the Study of Sufi Ideas
is the annotated text of a lecture given at the University of Sussex,
in 1966. I
Published by the Society for the Understanding of the Foundation of Ideas,
Post Box 13, Tunbridge Wells, Kent, England.
Printed in England by Dowdcswells (1930) Limited, Woodbridge Meadows, Guildford, SurreyL
THE TEACHER
People think that a teacher should show miracles and manifest
illumination. But the requirement in a teacher is that he should
posses all that the disciple needs.
Ibn el-Arabi
THE TEACHING
The purpose of Sufism is not to be what people imagine it should
be — but to help in the attainment of the real destiny of man.
Hasan of Basra
THE TAUGHT
This present life of yours is a stage, an alighting point. A halting-
place is for rest from the journey, refreshment in company, effort
in preparation for the future. If you do not know the facts, you
need to know them soon. Tomorrow could be too late.
Hilali of Samarkand
CONTENTS
Special Problems in the Study of Sufi Ideas
Notes and Bibliography
Example of Sufi Ideas (Rumi)
Index.
Theories about Sufism:
Let us presume no background of Sufi ideas on the part of an
imaginary student who has recently heard of Sufism. He has three pos¬
sible choices of source-material. The first would be reference books
and works written by people who have made this subject their especial
province. The second might be organisations purporting to teach or
practise Sufism, or using its terminology. The third could be individuals
and perhaps groups of people, not always in Middle Eastern countries,
who are reputedly Sufis. He may not yet have been induced to believe
that Sufism is to be labelled ‘ Mohammedan mysticism or 4 the cult of
the Dervishes
What does this man learn, and what are his problems?
One of the first things that he could discover is that the very word
4 Sufism ’ is a new one, a German coinage of 1821. (1)
No Sufi ignorant of Western languages would be likely to recognise
it on sight. Instead of Sufism, our student would have to deal with
terms such as 4 The Qadiris ’, named after the founder of a certain rule,
who died in 1166. Or he might come across references to the 4 People
of Truth ’, 4 The Masters ’, or perhaps 4 The Near Ones Another pos¬
sibility is the Arabic phrase Mutassawif: ‘he who strives to be a Sufi’.
There are organisations called 4 The Builders ’, 4 The Blameworthy ’
which in constitution and sometimes even minor symbolism closely re¬
semble Western cults and societies like Freemasonry. (2)
These names can ring oddly, and not always felicitously, in the
contemporary Western ear. This fact alone is a real, though not obvious,
psychological problem.
As there is no standard appellation for Sufism, the enquirer may
turn to the word Sufi itself, and determine that it suddenly became
current about 1,000 years ago (3), both in the Near East and in Western
Europe (4); and it is still in general use to describe particularly the best
product of certain ideas and practices, by no means confined to what
people would conventionally call ‘religious’. He will find plenty of
definitions for the word, but his problem is now reversed; instead of
coming up against a mere label of no great age, he gets so many des¬
criptions of Sufi that he might as well have none at all.
According to some authors, and they are in the majority, Sufi is
traceable to the Arabic word, pronounced Soof , which literally means
‘wool’, referring to the material from which the simple robes of the early
Moslem mystics were made. (5) These, it is further claimed, were made
of wool in imitation of the dress of Christian anchorites who once
abounded in the Syrian and Egyptian deserts and elsewhere in the Near
and Middle East.
5
But this definition, plausible though it may appear, will not sblve
our problem as to name, let alone ideas, in Sufism. Equally important
lexicographers stress that ‘Wool is the garb of animals’ (6) and empha¬
sise that the Sufi objective is towards the perfectioning or completing of
the human mind, not to emulate a herd; and that the Sufis, always highly
conscious of symbolism, would never adopt such a name. Furthermore,
there is the awkward fact that, according to tradition, the Companions
of the Bench (7) — the Ashab as-Safa — are said in tradition to have
been the Sufis of the time of Mohammed (who died in 632) and that
they formed themselves into an esoteric group in the year 623, and that
their name is a derivation from this phrase. Although some grammarians
have pointed out that the ‘wool’ origin is etymologically more likely —
and more probable than, say, the derivation from ‘piety’ (Safwa) t \or
even Saff (contracted from the phrase ‘First Rank of the Worthy’), others
have contested such opinions on the ground that nicknames do not have
to abide by the rules of orthography.
Now the name is important as an introduction to the ideas, as jwe
shall see in a moment. Meanwhile let us look at its associations. Spfis
claim that a certain kind of mental and other activity can produce,
under special conditions and with particular efforts, what is termed a
higher working of the mind, leading to special perceptions whose appar¬
atus is latent in the ordinary man. Sufism is therefore the transcending
of ordinary limitations (8). Not surprisingly, in consequence, the wojrd
Sufi has been linked by some with the Greek word for divine wisdom
(Sophia) and also with the Hebrew cabbalistic term Ain Sof (the abso¬
lutely infinite). It would not reduce the problems of the student at this
stage to learn that it is said, with all the authority of the Jewish
Encyclopaedia , that Hebrew experts regard the Cabala and the Hasidim,
the Jewish mystics, as originating with Sufism or a tradition identical
with it (9). Neither would it encourage him to hear that, although the
Sufis themselves claim their knowledge to have existed for thousands pf
years, they deny that it is derivative , affirming that it is an equivalence
of the Hermetic, Pythagorean and Platonic streams (10).
Our still uninitiated student may by now be thoroughly confused^:
but he has had a glimpse of the problems of studying Sufi ideas, even if
only because he can witness for himself the unproductive struggle pf
scholastics.
A possible refuge would be found if our man could accept the
affirmation of a specialist — Professor Nicholson — or if he asked a Suf i.
Now Nicholson says: “ Some European scholars identified it wit i
Sophos in the sense of ‘theosophist’ (11). But Noldeke . . . showed
conclusively that the name was derived from Suf (wool) and was origin»
ally applied to those Moslem ascetics who, in imitation of Christian
6
hermits, clad themselves in coarse woollen garb as a sign of penitence
and renunciation of worldly vanities”. (12)
This characteristic, if not venturesome, opinion was published in
1914. Four years earlier, Nicholson himself had offered his translation
of the 11th century Revelation , the earliest available Persian treatment
of Sufism, and one of the most authoritative Sufi texts. In its pages the
author, the venerable Hujwiri, specifically states, doggedly translated
but ignored by the Professor, that Sufi has no etymology. (13)
Nicholson shows no curiosity about this claim: but thinking about
it could have led him to an important idea in Sufism. For him, quite
clearly, a word must have an etymology. Unconsciously assuming that
‘no etymology' must be absurd, he looks no further in that direction but,
all undismayed, continues to seek an etymological derivation. Like
Noldeke, and many others, such a mind will prefer the word ‘wool' to
the seeming paradox of ‘no etymology’.
This is surely the reason why, in his recent book on Sufism, the
learned Dominican Father Cyprian Rice (an admirer and pupil of
Nicholson) says, half a century after the English publication of Hujwiri’s
text — a version which he praises:
. • from their habit of wearing coarse garments of wool (suf)
(they) became known as Sufis”. (14)
But acquaintanceship with Sufis, let alone almost any degree of
access to their practices and oral traditions, could easily have resolved
any seeming contradiction between the existence of a word and its having
no ready etymological derivation. The answer is that the Sufis regard
the sounds expressed in writing by the letters S, U, F (in Arabic the
signs for Soad , Wao, Fa) as significant, in this same order of use, in their
effect upon human mentation.
The Sufis are, therefore, ‘the people of SSSUUUFFF
Having disposed of that conundrum (and incidentally illustrating
the difficulties of getting to grips with Sufi ideas when one thinks only
along certain lines) we immediately see a fresh and characteristic prob¬
lem arising to replace it. The contemporary thinker is likely to be inter¬
ested in this explanation — this idea that sound influences the brain —
only within the limitations imposed by himself. He may accept it as a
theoretical possibility in so far as it is expressed to him in terms which
are regarded as admissible at the time of communication. (15)
If we say: “Sounds have an effect upon man, making it possible,
other things being equal, for him to have experiences beyond the
normal ”, he may persuasively insist that, “ This is mere occultism.
7
primitive nonsense of the order of Om-Mani-Padme-Hum, Abracadabra
and the rest ”. But (taking into account not objectivity but simply the
current phrase of accepted thought) we can instead say to him: “ The
human brain, as you are doubtless aware, may be likened to an elec¬
tronic computer. It responds to impacts or vibrations of sight, sound,
touch and so on, in certain predetermined or ‘programmed’ ways. It
is held by some that the sounds roughly represented by the signs S, U, F
are among those for reaction to which the brain is, or may be, program¬
med”. He may very well now be able to assimilate this wretched sim¬
plification into his existing pattern of thinking.
This condition existing in our vis-a-vis , the special problem here is
that many of those who are anxious to study them are in fact unwilling,
because of a systematic intellectual commitment, to allow certain con¬
tentions about Sufism, held by Sufis, to be retained in the mind. This
situation, whose existence is demonstrated by much personal experience,
is far more widespread than this single example might suggest.
The problem is not made easier by the common tendency of the
individual addressed to attempt to deal with Sufi ideas by outright re¬
jection. A typical answer goes something like this: “To think in the
terms suggested by you would wreck my established ways of thought”
This individual is quite mistaken in believing this: to the Sufi he is
really a man under-valuing his own capacities. Another reaction is to
try to rationalise or reinterpret the ideas being offered him in the terms
of some system (anthropological, sociological, sophistic, psychological)
which he himself finds more to his taste. In our example this subjective
condition would perhaps be expressed in the statement: “Ah, yes, this
theory of the influence of sound has obviously been produced in order
to give a more esoteric twist to the rather mundane fact — wool”.
But this kind of thinking will not ultimately succeed because, far
from being represented only among primitive tribes or buried in books
in dead languages, Sufi ideas are in varying degrees contained in the
background and studies of up to forty million people alive today: those
connected with Sufism.
Limitations of Contemporary Approaches to Sufism:
A large part of this problem is the powerful tendency in the present
day to place all people, things, ideas, into specialist categories. Categories
may be all very well — and who could do without them? — but when
any matter is being studied and there is only a limited choice of label
offered, the experience can seem like being told by Henry Ford that
“You can have any colour automobile, providing it is black”. This
8
problem which the enquirer is possibly even unaware of, (his preoccupa¬
tion with a few categories) is matched by that of the Sufi in attempting
to convey his own ideas under other than ideal conditions.
Here is an illustrative example, chosen from recent experience. I
give it because it will incidentally, and not in a forced ‘system’, tell us
something about Sufi ideas.
In a recent book (16) 1 mentioned, among much else, that Sufi ideas
and even literal texts were borrowed by or lay behind theories, organisa¬
tion and teachings of such diverse aspect as those of Chivalry, of St.
John of the Cross (17), St. Teresa of Avila (18), Roger Bacon (19),
Geber, the father of Western alchemy (20) — surnamed the Sufi — Ray¬
mond Lully the Majorcan, (21), Guru Nanak (22) the founder of Sik¬
hism, and the Gesta Romanoruni (23), as well as Hindu Vedantist teach¬
ings (24). Certain deteriorated psychological procedures, too, have
passed into the Western literature of magic and occultism (25), as well
as legitimate psychological ideas and processes, sometimes thought of as
recent discoveries (26).
This book created, among reviewers and others, a quite remarkable
and manifold reaction (27). Some were enthralled, not always for good
reasons; but it is the others of whom I am speaking. What 1 had done
was to collect the results of whole lifetimes of other people’s academic
research, often buried in monographs and seldom-read books, always by
highly-respected orientalists and specialists of one kind or another. I
also included ‘live’ material from Sufic sources. But, although the quoted
material was by no means a complete selection from the teachings
available, it was too rich a mixture for some readers. And yet many
of them should have been far more familiar than I was with work
already done in their own fields. One celebrated expert had uncompli¬
mentary things to say about me, to say nothing of those who attacked
what they only thought they found in my work!
Shortly after this phase, in conversation with a certain ‘specialist’,
I mentioned that not only had I been relying in my thesis upon such as
Professors Asm, Landau, Ribera, Tara Chand, Guillaume and others
of equally unimpeachable integrity, but that I had in my own text freely
quoted their names and works; and that in other cases I had quoted the
books by such ancients as Lully, Bacon, Geber, and others who men¬
tioned the Sufis by name, Sufi books, or Sufism specifically. His reaction
was not to agree that the experts should have known their job better,
but to repeat the name of my main critic. Settling back in his armchair
and chuckling, he said: “You’ve got him, my boy. Make your choice:
do you just want to discredit him, or do you want his job?”
“My ‘error’, as far as treatment of the subject was concerned, had
9
simply been that instead of quoting authority and building up, step by
step, an unassailable ‘case’, I had assumed that the book would be read
thoroughly and that the facts would speak for themselves.
My friend in the armchair automatically assumed that I was en¬
gaged in a game of displacement of someone in authority. The original
critic had propelled himself into the attack on an equally false assump¬
tion: that I lacked good material because I had not hammered it home
triumphantly enough.
What is perhaps more astonishing, when we look at problems in
the study of Sufi ideas, is the treatment given to them by people who,
if not experts in ‘the field’ itself, might have familiarised themselves
with the academic resources available. Hence, to take an instance of a
not uncommon trend in the West, (28) we find a Professor writing a
book on philosophers of the East, in which, out of nearly one hundred
thousand words, only about three hundred (one page out of over three
hundred are concerned with the Sufis. And this in spite of the
fact that the same author had published a work on the philosophers of
the West: (29) both types of thinker having been influenced by Sufi
sources. This influence is never mentioned. The redoubtable English
philosopher Bertrand Russell, too, is found to have written a huge book,
Wisdom of the West , (30) in which Western thinkers whose connection
with Sufi thought is clear are named, but where no mention of Sufis or
Sufism may be found.
It may be said that both of these books are popularisations intended
for the general reader: but they do, after all, carry the names of scholas¬
tics, and they do lack information.
General readers, or members of the non-orientalist disciplines, con¬
sulting these books, would have little means of knowing what had been
left out.
Quite revealing among the problems facing anyone who wants to
study Sufi ideas is the constant repetition of unproved theories, represen¬
ted as facts, by ‘specialists’ and others who themselves have little
objectivity.
Since Sufic study is carried out mainly by direct methods (and it has
been known to be conveyed entirely by gesture, symbol and demonstra¬
tion) when we lose this element in our study, relying upon books, we
must be at the mercy of those who advance all kinds of subjective theo¬
ries (31).
There are those who say that Sufism is developed from historical
Islam; and they include some Sufi apologists writing in this vein for
good reasons. Some say that it is the reverse: a reaction against Islamic
10
attitudes. There are those who would believe that its ideas stem from
Christianity as they know it; or that they are partially or wholly attribu¬
table to the effect of Persian dualism; or from China, or India; or again,
non-Indian. There are champions of the Neoplatonic theory, of Sham¬
anism — and we could extend this list. The picture starts to look like
one of people debating whether iron comes from Sweden or Japan.
We may call Sufi ideas ‘a psychology’, not because this term ade¬
quately describes Sufism, but because nowadays ‘wisdom’ is not a popu¬
lar word. It is to be noted, however, that because the dictionary-makers
do not understand us, the possibility of Sufi ideas being understood is
not thereby excluded.
In the problem of permissible categories of study we see that Sufism
straddles many of them. We can find materials bodily taken from
Sufism, ideas which are characteristic of it, methods, tales, legends and
even poetry of the Sufis in the phenomenon of the Troubadours (32), in
the William Tell legend of Switzerland (33), in the Near Eastern cult of
the ‘Peacock Angel’ (34), in Gurdjieff (35) and Ouspensky, and Maurice
Nicoll, the Swede Dag Hammerskjold (36), Shakespeare (37), in the
psychology of Kenneth Walker (38), in the tales of the Dane Hans
Christian Andersen (39), in the works by Sir Richard Burton (himself
a Qadiri dervish) (40), in a recently-issued series of textbooks on learning
English from the Oxford University Press (41), in contemporary child¬
rens’ books (42), in the religion of the ‘witches’ (43), in the symbology
of the Rosicrucians (44), of the Illuminati (45), in many mediaeval
scholastics of the West (46), in the Bhakti cult of the Hindus, though
this is much popularised in the West as a traditional Hindu system (47),
in the secret books of the Ismailis (48), in the organisation, name and
techniques of some of the so-called Assassins (49), in tales and tech¬
niques of supposedly Japanese Zen origin (50), or reputedly connected
with Yoga (51), in material relating to the Knights Templar (52), in
psychotherapeutic literature, in Chaucer (53), and Dante Alighieri (54) -
and I am only enumerating the sources almost at random.
Misunderstandings of Sufi Ideas and Formulations:
What is a Sufi idea, how is it expressed, where do we look for it?
Many ideas we can easily identify as being derived from the Sufis
because of context or actual attribution in the text. But the special
problem beyond this is that there is no record of any other body of
ideas or system which has penetrated so widely and so far into so many
departments of life and thought, in the East and West. No mind has
been trained to expect such a thing, except that of the Sufi, who does
11
not need the material. As a consequence we get this questioning: lis
Sufism a series of shamanistic cults, a philosophy, a religion, a secret
society, an occult training system, the mainspring of whole ranges of
literature and poetry, or a military system, a chivalric, or perhaps ja
commercial, cult?
Serious problems in locating genuine and relevant Sufi ideas add
practices exist, too, for any student who has already met a watered-
down, generalised or partial variety of Sufism, whether in the East or
the West. There are many hundreds of people in Europe and America
who perform ‘ dervish dance, whirling or turning,’ though it is specifi¬
cally on record in easily acessible literature (55) that this practice wits
especially ‘prescribed’ jor local reasons , by Rumi for the people of Asia
Minor, the region of Iconium (56). In a similar way, when those
influenced by the Western ‘work’ or ‘system’ which attempts to follow
Gurdjieff (57) and Ouspensky (58) — and there are thousands of them —
are forthrightly told that their exercises and methods are well known
and applied in certain Sufi schools, but that they are to be used in a
different way and more intelligible manner corresponding to the com¬
munity involved, they are — more often than not — incapable of
assimilating this statement. The Sufic gains in such cases are beginning
to be overwhelmed by the losses due to misunderstanding or misapplica¬
tion.
Another, and until recently a rapidly-growing, phenomenon making
use of some Sufi ideas and practices, is known to thousands in the West
as ‘ Subud.’ Its procedure is mainly based upon Naqshbandi-Qadiri (59)
methods, but in its current presentation these have been turned upsiqe
down. In the Subud meeting called the Latihan , the member waits for
certain experiences, believed to be the working of God within him.
Some are slightly affected, some profoundly, some not at all. The
interesting thing here is that the Subud attitude values the experience,
and many people who are not affected or who cease to perceive it, drift
away. The remainder are stalwarts of the movement. But, according
to Sufi ideas and practice, it is precisely those who do not feel subjective
states, or who have at one time been affected by them and no longer
feel them, who may be real candidates for the next stage (60). To the
Sufi, one who does not know this may appear like a man trying to
exercise his muscles, who thinks the exercises are no good because he
no longer feels stiffness in his limbs. The gains of ‘Subud’ are offset,
at least in part, by the losses.
This is the real problem in the attempted study of the original
Sufi ideas through such popularisations (61). As this inversion has
invoked Sufi terminology, the student may very well not be able to shed
the Subud associations when he approaches Sufism.
12
Yet another problem, strongly characteristic of Sufism, awakens
a great deal of opposition. This may be stated by saying that Sufi
literature contains material which is ahead of its time. Certain Sufi
books, some translated into Western languages and therefore a matter
of verifiable record, contain material which seems to become com¬
prehensible only when ‘new’ psychological and even scientific technical
discoveries are made and well-known. A verification of claims which
once seemed bizarre or impossible then becomes possible. Western
orientalists and others have noted, for instance, that the Afghan sage
Jalaludin Rumi (62) (died 1273), Hakim Sanai of Khorasan (63) (14th
century), El-Ghazali of Persia (64) (died 1111), and Ibn el-Arabi of
Spain (65) (died 1240), speak of psychological states, theories of psycho¬
logy and psychotherapeutic procedures which would have been incom¬
prehensible to readers without the ‘infrastructure’ of knowledge which
has lately been acquired in the West. These ideas are called ‘Freudian’
and ‘Jungian’ and so on, in consequence.
Sufi claims that ‘ man rose from the sea,’ and that he is in a state of
evolution, covering an enormous period of time, appeared to be fanciful
nonsense until the 19th century Darwinists seized upon this material
with delight (66).
References said to be to the forces contained in the atom (67), to a
‘fourth dimension’ (68), to relativity (69), to space travel (70), telepathy,
telekinesis, are frequent; sometimes as facts, sometimes as due to tech¬
niques, sometimes as man’s present or future capacities. Accounts of
precognitive awareness and other phenomena of this kind are to be
judged only in the light of comparatively recent knowledge or still await
verification by conventional scientists. Over 700 years ago, Ibn el-Arabi
stated that thi nking man was 40,000 years old, while scholastic Jewish,
Christian and Moslem belief was still committed to scriptural ‘datings’
of the Creation being only four to six thousand years before. Some
recent research, however, now dates ‘modern’ man to about 35,000
years ago (71).
Some of the greatest and most ‘learnedly ignorant’ ridicule to which
Sufis have been subjected, still maintained in some circles, is due to
their having stressed in their classics the dangers of obsessions being
implanted in people. Sufis for centuries have pointed out the undesirable
nature of indoctrination and emotion being confused with spiritual gifts,
to the horror of religious enthusiasts. Only in the past few decades,
almost, have other people come to know better than the clerics (72).
The especial secondary problem here, too, is that although the
scientist will, rightly, await verification of this material, or try to investi¬
gate it, gullible occultists will pursue the Sufi who speaks of these things
13
as deriving from Sufism, urgently demanding, as of right, magical
knowledge, self-mastery, higher consciousness, hidden secrets and the
rest.
For the Sufi, these trustful and sometimes unbalanced people cah
be more of a problem than the sceptics. The believers create a furthejr
problem because, baulked of easy magical knowledge, they may quite
quickly turn to those organisations (well-meaning and otherwise) which
seem to them able to satisfy this thirst for the unkown or the unusual:
or offering ‘ short-cuts.’ It is not to be denied that we use this phrase-4-
but always with qualifications: “ Adepts have, however, devised short¬
cuts to an attainment of a knowledge of God. There are as many ways
to God as there are souls (selves) of men.” (73) Several such bodies
exist in Britain and America. If you write for the literature of one of
them, for example, you may receive a publication in which it is claimed
that Sufis prefer a vegetarian diet and that students must be ‘free of
caste, colour and creed,’ before developing ‘ occult powers.’
Other movements, using the name Sufi, idealise their founders,
giving members a sort of inter-religious ceremony. More than one
practices musical recitals supposed to throw the seeker into an advan¬
tageous ecstasy: in spite of the fact that Sufi teaching is widely on
record that music can be harmful (74) and that it is what is taught,
not the teacher, which is the point of Sufism. The gains in Sufi
information are once more offset by losses due to faulty practice anc
selectively biased reading.
Asiatic immigration — Arab, mainly from Aden and Somaliland,
India and Pakistan — into Britain has introduced another form of
‘ Sufism.’ This centres around groups of Moslem religious zealots who
gather for communal prayer-exercises which stimulate them emotionally
and sometimes have a cathartic effect. Using Sufi terminology and
similitudes of Sufi organisation, these have branches in many industrial
and seaport cities of Britain.
The problem here is not only that many of the participants will nof
now be able to study Sufi ideas (since they believe that they already
know them) but that just anyone — sociologist, anthropologist or ordi¬
nary member of the public — cannot always know that this does not
represent Sufism: any more than American revivalist snake-handling
represents Christianity, or the game of * Bingo,’ mathematics. The gains,
once more, are on a low level; the losses are not slight.
Like their indoctrinated confreres throughout the Moslem world
from Morocco to Java, these coteries are often in reality groups of
fanatics using the Sufi form. Some are plainly hysterics. Others never
have heard of any other form of Sufism. (75) To them such claims as
14
that of Ibn el-Arabi: “Angels are the powers hidden in the faculties
and organs of man” would seem utter blasphemy — and yet they
revere Ibn el-Arabi! (76)
It is not impossible that these entities (through sheer enthusiasm,
efficient deployment of money and recourse to modern mass-publicity
methods) will become generally considered by observers to be real
Sufis or representative of Sufi ideas. It is probably true to say that
religion is too important a matter to leave to speculative non-expert
intellectuals or clerics. The latter tend to ‘scramble’ devout activity.
This is an ancient error. Ghazali was once believed in the West to be
a Catholic theologian of the Middle Ages. ‘St. Jehosaphat’ has been
shown to be Buddha, and ‘St. Charalambos’ of the Greeks has been
revealed as none other than the dervish master Haji Bektash Wali, who
founded the Bektashis. (77) The fifteenth-century Christian saint Thera-
pion is the Dervish poet Turabi. (78)
Such developments can already be seen in countries of the East
where enthusiasts, often pleasant enough characters, out-shout the Sufis,
maintaining that their own antics are the true Sufism. This, in turn, has
posed a sore and largely unrecognised problem for many Westerners
interested in the Sufi heritage. Faced with acceptance or rejection,
convinced that this must be Sufism because so many people locally
consider it to be so, numbers of these students have reacted either by
revulsion or by total, uncritical acceptance. In Britain, to say nothing
of other Western countries, there are examples of the ‘Sufi conversion
syndrome’ — sometimes in the case of not inconsequential persons,
ready to leap into print to ‘prove’ that this cult, as they have seen it
among ecstatic sentimentalists, is something to be adopted in the West.
(79)
It can give one an almost uncanny sensation to compare this state
of affairs with a hypothetical situation in an underdeveloped area where
advanced ideas have penetrated but — through lack of accurate and
appropriately systemised information — have been adopted by the local
inhabitants in a superficial or untoward manner. One is tempted to
think in terms of the ‘cargo cults’ (80) among less advanced com¬
munities, whose members built tin-can replicas of aircraft, believing
that they could thus magically reproduce the wonders of supply of good
things from the skies. (80A)
And yet there is no real lack of basic information on Sufi ideas.
There is information, but much of it is not studied and assimilated by
those who could do so. There is another characteristic problem here;
the problem caused by the places where the material appears.
Much material on Sufism and the Sufis, some of it the product of
15
excellent observation, enquiry and field-work in Asia, Africa and
Europe, appears from time to time in the general-circulation press.
But because the work is not always by ‘recognised specialists,’ or
because it sees the light of day in media which are not regarded as
authoritative in ‘ the field,’ it can be missed.
Here are a few recent examples:
In two brilliant articles in Blackwood's Magazine (81) in 1961 and
1962,0. M. Burke described the ideas and practices of Sufis in Pakistan,
Tunisia, Morocco and elsewhere. He outlined theories and exercise?
well-known in Sufi practice but not always literally represented in its
overt literature. In 1961, a Dehli newspaper (82) carried a good report
of Sufi beliefs and deliberations in Paris. In a specialised scientific
journal in 1962 (83) there was an important contribution by an Egyp¬
tian physician in which ideas and psychotherapeutic procedures of a
Central Asian dervish community with international ramifications were
delineated. None of this material will ordinarily be quoted in Orienta¬
list, or even occultist, literature.
No citation seems yet to have been made from an important article
by another worker dealing with the living, oral tradition of ‘secret
teaching' in the Middle and Far East, which was published in thp
Contemporary Review in 1960. (84) The desire to diffuse Sufi ideas and
practices and the special manner in which this is done, and also
symbolic demonstrations of Sufi ideas carried out in a large Hindu-Kush
community which has branches in Europe, provides another first-class
document Because, no doubt, it was published in The Lady, (85) u
woman’s weekly magazine, this could be considered lost as research
material. (85A)
A resolute correspondent of The Times of London, (86) writing in
1964, imparted an account of ideas and practices in Afghanistan and
their ramifications in the Arab world. It seems unlikely that this
valuable report will ever form a part of the formal literature on Sufism.
An article in She magazine in 1963, and another in September, 1965, (87)
contained at least some material of interest and some previously recor¬
ded facts.
Forms of Sufi Activity:
What else do the Sufis teach, how do they do so, and what special
problems does this study pose for those who would wish to learn from
a reputable source of the ideas?
The Sufis state that there is a form of knowledge which can b;
attained by man, which is of such an order that it is to scholastic
16
learning as adulthood is to infancy. Compare, for instance, El-Ghazali:
“ A child has no real knowledge of the attainments of an adult. An
ordinary adult cannot understand the attainments of a learned man.
In the same way a learned man cannot understand the experiences of
enlightened saints or Sufis” (88). This, for a start, is not a concept
which would instantly commend itself to the scholar. This is no new
problem. In the 11th century, Mohamed el-Ghazali (Algazel) who
saved the Moslem theologians by interpreting Islamic material in such
a way as to defeat the attack of Greek philosophy, informed scholastics
that their mode of knowledge was inferior to that gained through Sufi
practice. They made him into their hero, and their successors still
teach his interpretations as orthodox Islam, in spite of his stating that
the academic method is insufficient and inferior to real knowledge.
Then there was Rumi, the great mystic and poet, who told his
audiences that like a good host he gave them poetry because they
demanded it: providing what was asked for. But, he continued,
poetry was tripe compared with a certain high development of the
individual. Nearly seven hundred years later he could still sting people
with this kind of remark. Not long ago a reviewer in a reputable
British newspaper was so affronted by this passage, (which he found
in a translation) that he said, in effect, “Rumi may think that poetry
is tripe. / think that his poetry is tripe in this translation.”
But Sufi ideas, in being put in this manner, are never intended to
challenge the man, only to provide him with a higher aim, to maintain
his conception that there may be some function of the mind which
produced, for instance, the Sufi giants. Too inevitably, the contentious
collide with this idea. It is because of the prevailence of this reaction
that Sufis say that people do not in fact want the knowledge that Sufism
claims to be able to impart: they really seek only their own satisfactions
within their own system of thinking. (89) But the Sufi insists: “A short
time in the presence of the Friends (the Sufis) is better than a hundred
years’ sincere, obedient dedication.” (Rumi).
Sufism also states that man may become objective, and that objecti¬
vity enables the individual to grasp ‘higher’ facts. Man is therefore
invited to try to push his evolution ahead towards what is sometimes
called in Sufism ‘real intellect.’ (90)
Sufis contend that, far from this lore being available in books, a
great part of it must be personally communicated by means of an inter¬
action between the teacher and the learner. Too much attention to the
written page, they insist, can even be harmful. Here is a further problem:
for it appears to oppose the scholar no less than the member of the
vast modem literate community who feels, if at times only subcons¬
ciously, that all knowledge must surely be available in books.
17
Yet Sufis have worked long and hard to adapt the written word to
convey certain parts of what they teach. This has led to the use of
manipulated and encyphered materials: not designed especially dr
always to conceal a real meaning, but intended to show, when decoded,
that what on its outward face seemed like a complete poem, myth,
treatise and so on, is susceptible of another interpretation: a sort df
demonstration analogous to a kalaeidoscopic effect. And when Suds
draw diagrams for such purposes as these, imitators merely tend to
copy them, (91) and use them at their own levels of understanding.
Another Sufi technique provides a further problem. Many Sufic
passages, even whole books or series of assertions, are designed tp
stimulate thought, even sometimes by the method of arousing healthy
criticism. These documents are only too often taken by their literalist
students as faithful renderings of beliefs held by their original authors.
(91A) |
In the West in general we have plenty of translations. Mostly they
are literal renderings of only one facet of multidimensional texts. Wed-
tern students actually know that the internal dimensions exist, but they
have not yet applied them to any extent in their work. To be fair it
must be said that some have admitted that they cannot do this. (92) j
Another Sufi idea, producing a problem which many have found it
impossible to integrate in their minds, is the Sufi insistence that Sufism
can be taught in many guises. Sufis, in a word, do not stick to anif
one convention. (93) Some quite happily use a religious format, others
romantic poetry, some deal in jokes, tales and legends, yet others rel^
on art-forms and the products of artisanship. Now, a Sufi can tefl
from his experience that all these presentations are legitimate. But the
literalist outsider, however sincere he may be, will often testily demand
to be told whether these Sufis (or this and that group of Sufis) are al¬
chemists, members of guilds, religious maniacs, humourists (94) scien¬
tists — or what. This problem, while it may be special to Sufism, is by
no means new. Sufis have been judicially murdered, (95) hounded oujt
of their homes, or had their books burned, for using non-religious ojr
locally unacceptible formulations. Some of the greatest Sufi classical
authors have been accused of heresy, apostasy, even political crimes
And today they still come under fire from all kinds of committed circles,
not just religious ones. (95A)
Even a cursory examination of reputed origins in Sufism will reveal
that, although Sufis claim that Sufism is an esoteric teaching within
Islam (with which it is therefore regarded as entirely compatible) It
also stands behind formulations which many people consider to be quitp
different from one another. Hence, while the ‘chain of transmission’
of named teachers extends back to the Prophet Mohammed in this or
that line of attribution used by a school or teacher, it may also be
referred to — by the same authorities — as stemming from such as
Uways el-Qami (died in the 7th century) who never met Mohammed
in his life. (96) The authoritative Suhrawardi, in common with (though
much before) the Rosicrucians and others, specifically states that this
was a form of wisdom known to and practicsed by a succession of sages
including the mysterious ancient Hermes of Egypt. (97) Another indivi¬
dual of no less repute — Ibn el-Farid of the early 13th century — (1181-
1235) stresses that Sufism lies behind and before systematisation; that
‘our wine existed before what you call the grape and the vine ’ — the
school and the system: — (98)
We drank to the mention of the Friend
Intoxicating ourselves, even before the
creation of the vine.
There is no doubt that dervishes, would-be Sufis, have traditionally
collected together to study whatever remnants of this teaching they
could find, awaiting the moment when an exponent might appear among
them and make effective the principles and practices whose active mean¬
ing was for them lost. This theory is to be found in the West ,of course,
in Freemasonry (with its concept of the ‘lost secret’). The practice is
duly confirmed, for instance, in the textbook Awarif el-Maarif (99) and
it has been regarded by those interested in such things as an indication
of the occurrence of a messianic-expectation characteristic in Sufism.
However that may be (and it belongs only to a ‘preparatory phase’ not
to Sufism proper) there is evidence that people in Europe and die Middle
East, whatever their psychological commitment of faith, have from time
to time been located and inspired in the Sufi doctrines by teachers, some¬
times of mysterious origins, who came among them. These people have
for centuries been referred to as Universal, or Completed, Men (Insan-i-
Kamil). Such was the case with Rumi (13th Century) and Shams of
Tabriz; of Bahaudin Naqshband,* in the fourteenth century in Bokhara;
of Ibn el-Arabi, who taught in terms of religion, figures of antiquity and
love-poetry; and of many others less known in Western circles.
The problem for the student here may be not whether this ‘irratio¬
nal’ form of action or refreshment of a tradition took place or not: it
is the psychological difficulty of accepting such people as really having
any special function to ‘reunite the beads of mercury’ or to ‘reactivate,
awaken, the inner current in man.’
But we have not even started to enumerate the fields in which Sufis
and entities known to have been devised by them (these latter being a
minority of the real number, because Sufism is action, not institution)
* Incorrectly but frequently rendered as ‘Naqshiband\
19
have carried out social, philosophical and other forms of action, in thfe
past thousand years. Characters as seemingly diverse as the forthright
Rumi, the saintly Chisti, the ‘God-intoxicated’ Hallaj, (100) the states¬
men of the Mujaddids, have worked for centuries to further the actual
reunification of communities seemingly irrevocably parted. |
For their pains, and again assessed by the inadequate and oftefi
inaccurate standards of their commentators, these people have been
accused of being secret Christians, Jews, Hindus, apostates and sun-
worshippers. When the Bektashis used the number twelve, and gave,
like Arabi and Rumi, Christian myths a high place in their teachings, it
was (and still is) assumed that they only were capitalising on the local
abundance of Christians deprived of effective leadership. The validity
of this charge awaits the verification of the Sufi answer that Christian,
and numerous other, formulations, contain a valuable measure of in¬
sights which, under suitable circumstances, can be applied to man.
The followers of Haji Bektash (died 1337) were and still are in
some places regarded as immoral simply because of their practice of
admitting women to their meetings. Nobody could, or would under¬
stand them when they said that it was necessary to redress the social
balance of a society based upon male supremacy. “Social reinstatement
of women” simply sounded, until it recently became a ‘ respectable) ’
objective, like a cloak for orgies.
Nobody of consequence, even in the nineteenth and early twentieth
centuries, bothered himself to look at the claim, made by such as the
distinguished Turkish Sufi and savant Zia Gokalp (101) that Sufi writers
centuries ago had outlined and employed theories later identified with
the names of Berkeley, Kant, Foullee, Guyeau, Nietzsche and Williaija
James.
* ■ i
This brings us to another important Sufi projection, one which
causes bafflement — and even rage — in certain types of person, but
which should instead be faced. It is the assertion that when Sufic acti¬
vity becomes concentrated at one point or in one community in a very
active and ‘real’ (not imitation) form, it does so only for a limited time
and for distinct purposes. It is the type of person which says: ‘I wait
it here and now or not at all’ who dislikes this statement. Put in another
way, the idea is that no society is ever complete, neither are its needs
exactly the same as those of other societies. No Sufi sets up an institu¬
tion intended to endure. The outer form in which he imparts his ideas
is a transient vehicle, designed for local operation. That which is per¬
petual, he says, is in another range.
Difficulties in understanding Sufi Materials:
In this age of creeping institutionalisation it is at least as difficult s.s
20
it has ever been to make this point effectively. Yet a thousand years ago
the dervish wanderer Niffari in Egypt, in his still-influential classic the
Muwaqif (‘stops’), energetically stressed the danger of mistaking the
vehicle for the objective.
Coming closely on the heels of this problem is the one guidance or
teachership. The Sufi teacher is a conductor, and an instructor — not
a god. Personality-worship is forbidden in Sufism. (102) Hence
Rumi: “Look not at my exterior form, but take what is in my hand”;
and Gurgani: “My humility which you mention is not there for you to
be impressed by it. It is there for its own reason”. (103) Yet such is
the attraction of personality to the ordinary man that the successors of
Sufi teachers have tended to produce, rather than a living application
of the principles taught, hagiographies and bizarre and deficient systems.
The theme of the temporary nature of the ‘cocoon’ is conveniently for¬
gotten. Hence the constant need for a new exemplar.
A further problem for the student who is not aware of the above
situation is the existence of what have been called ‘illustrative biograph¬
ies’. These contain material designed for study, to cause certain effects,
much in the way in which myths can contain dramatised fact. With the
passage of time they outlive their usefulness, and are then taken as lies
or, alternatively, as records of literal truth. Where is the historian who
will willingly relinquish such source-material? Hence, for example,
because in a biography of Maulana Jalaludin Rumi (104) he is stated to
have spent long periods in his Turkish bath, seekers of higher conscious¬
ness and would-be illuminates have actually been known to endow this
report with such significance as to build and frequent their own steam-
baths. They have, in turn, their own imitators . . .
Those who remember their nursery rhymes may be able to grasp
one aspect of Sufic study by thinking about the unfortunate Humpty-
Dumpty. Like Humpty, Sufi ideas have had a great fall — when they
have been adopted at their lowest level. They have, in consequence,
fallen in all sorts of strange places. Looking at the pieces of Humpty,
we can call the emotionalists and conventional scholars the ‘King’s
horses and the King’s men’ of the rhyme. Like them, there is an in¬
evitability about their helplessness to deal with the problem. A man
and a horse — or any number of them — belonging to a King or other¬
wise, are suitable for just so many tasks, no more. Something is missing,
as in the nursery rhyme: and, unless they are Sufis or use Sufic methods,
they ‘cannot put Humpty together again’. They have the horses, and
they have the men; but they have not got the vehicle, the knowledge.
If Sufi ideas, as expressed in books and among preparatory or
‘orphaned’ communities, and given shape by the teachings and existence
21
of a human exemplar, are in fact designed to produce a form of menta¬
tion more valuable than mechanical thought, the student might argue
that he is entitled to know about the product. He may expect to find
avowed Sufis taking an invariably significant or even decisive part in
human affairs. While the Sufi would not accept that public acclaim Is
what he seeks (most of them flee it), and is not anxious to be¬
come a sort of Albert Schweitzer-cum-Napoleon-cum-Einstein, there is
nevertheless massive evidence of the powerful Sufi heritage. More sur¬
prising than that, for those who seek to label and limit Sufism as simply
this or that cult, is the extent and variety of the Sufi impact, even setting
aside the Sufi claim that their greatest figures are almost always anony¬
mous.
During the periods of mainly monarchial rule over the past millen-
ium, Sufis in the East have been kings or stood behind them as advisors.
At the same time, under other conditions, Sufis have worked against the
very institution of kingship, or to mitigate its abuse. The names of many
of these men and women are well known. The Mogul Dara Shikoh of
India sought to form an esoteric bridge between his Hindu, Moslem and
other subjects. (105) Sufi patriots have fought against foreign tyrants,
just as Sufi soldiers have fought for the preservation of existing states - 4 -
sometimes on a grand scale, as with the Sufi-inspired Janissaries of Tur¬
key, the resistance leader Shamyl of the Caucasus, the Senussi of Libya,
or the Dervishes of the Sudan. Almost all the literature of Persia in the
classical period is Sufic, and so are innumerable scientific, psychological
and historical works. T
The citations just made are a matter of historical record, and could
be greatly increased in range and number. \
Whereas the fragmentary researches of committed scholars upon
which I have often drawn in this discourse have their inestimable value
in the preservation of fact, it remains for a new spirit of learning to
assemble and collate the extent and value of the Sufi activity in human
society. In this way we may preserve the gains and reduce the losses.
Such students—and here is another problem—in addition to being
less prone to indoctrination than their predecessors, would have to take
into account the contention of the Sufis themselves, when they say:
“Sufism must be studied with a certain attitude, under certain condi¬
tions, in a certain manner”. (106)
Many people, unthinkingly in too many cases, have rebelled against
this dictum, But is it, after all, so very different from saying: “Econo¬
mics must be studied with a certain attitude (the desire to understand]
under certain condtions (the discipline of scholasticism and the right
books) in a certain manner (following a curriculum devised by those
who know the subject properly)”?
22
The study of Sufism cannot be approached, for instance, from the
single standpoint that it is a mystical system designed to produce ecstasy
and based on theological concepts. As a Sufi poem by Omar Khayyam
states:
In cell and cloister, in monastery and synagogue:
Here one fears hell, another dreams of paradise.
But he who knows the true secrets of his God —
Has planted no such seeds within his heart. (107)
It seems unlikely that much progress towards the widespread under¬
standing of Sufi ideas will be made until more scholars avail themselves
of Sufi interpretative methods. If they do not, they will continue to
waste effort on secondary phenomena. This, in turn, poses a special
problem for the Sufi himself. As Ibn el-Arabi has said:
“The Sufi must act and speak in a manner which
takes into consideration the understanding, limitations
and dominant concealed prejudices of his audience”. (108)
The correct study of Sufi ideas depends upon the supply and right
use of the literature and also the contact with the Sufi instructor.
As to supply of literature, time may put that right in the ordinary
course of events, although two recent experiences indicate that the los¬
ses, again, may be serious.
One of my books was criticised by an eminent scholastic and ex¬
pert on Sufism in the Middle East on the ground that Mulla Nasrudin
the joker was no Sufi instruction-figure. He did not know at the time,
and perhaps still does not know, that at that moment a European stud¬
ent was actually living in a dervish community in Pakistan which was
using Mulla Nasrudin and nothing else, as instruction material. An
account of these studies was recently published in a British journal of
religion. (109)
But merely adding to the information on Sufism is not enough. Not
long ago, when I was innocently enquiring about holiday prospects from
a Western intellectual whom I buttonholed on a Greek island, he roun¬
ded on me with a fair amount of abuse. Brandishing a copy of one of
my own books, he said: “You are wasting your time thinking about a
holiday, and trying to waste the time of a man who is reading this book:
something more important than all your holidays!”
23
NOTES AND BIBLIOGRAPHY
Where possible, citations have been made of European, American and
other comparatively available works.
All dates expressed in Christian Era terms. j
(1) Tholuck, F. A. G., Ssufismus sive Theosophia Persarum pantheistica y
Berlin 1921. (In Latin).
(2) Masonic rituals, words, terms, etc., can often be ‘decoded* by using
Sufi systems. For instances and references see my The Sufis (New
York & London 1964, 1966), pp.xix, 50, 178, 179, 182, 183, 184, 18£,
188. According to tradition (English citation in Brown, J.P., The
Darvishesy London, p.229, 1927 ed.) the Sufi Masons have a warrant
from the Grand Lodge of Tiberias, whose members fled there from the
destruction of Jerusalem. They became widely known in the Ne&r
East through Zounoun, (Dhu’Nun), died 860.
(3) Sufism: The word Sufi became current about 1,000 years ago, accor¬
ding to the 15th century poet and Sufi master, Jami (in his Nahfiht
el-Uns), Sheikh Suhrawardi dates it to the 9th century, and the word
is not sufficiently established to be found in dictionaries of such ja
comparatively early date. Imam Qushairi in his Rasail places tlxe
appearance of the word in about 822. Earlier Sufis used many names,
including The Kindred, The Recluses, The Virtuous, The Near Ones.
(4) E.g., in Ibn Masarra of Cordoba (Spain), 883-931. For Sufic influence
in Europe see, e.g., Garcin de Tassy, Introduction to the Mantil-
Uttair (Parliament of the Birds), Paris 1864.
(5) Sufi = wool. Externalists in the East and West have often adopted
etymology, which therefore often appears in reference books as
derivation.
(6) ‘Wool is the garb of animals’ (As-Suf libas al-Inam), Arabic quotation
from Hujwiri’s Revelation of the Veiled , in Sirdar Ikbal Ali Shahfs
Islamic Sufiismy London 1933, p.17.
(7) This and other derivations have been used by Sufis themselves,
explaining that ‘bench’ is not the origin but the nearest equivalence
which the Companions could find to their own word for themselves. J
(8) Higher functions of the mind: e.g., the Persian couplet Ba Murshtd
beshudi InsanjBe Murshid mandi Haiwan (With a Guide you may
become a real man, without one you will remain an animal); and Ruim:
“From realm to realm man went, reaching his present reasoning,
knowledgeable, robust state— forgetting earlier forms of intelligence.
So, too, shall he pass beyond the current forms of perception ... There
are a thousand other forms of Mind ..(Couplets of Inner Meaning,
Mathnavi-i-Maanavi), and “The degree of necessity determines the
development of organs in man . . . Therefore increase your necessity*'.
(. Ibid) |
(9) Jewish Encyclopaedia y Vol. XI, pp.579, 580, 581, et passim . Jewisi
sages regarded by Western scholars as following the Spanish Su;i
schools include: Juda Halevi of Toledo, in his Cuzari, Moses ben Ezra
of Granada, Josef ben Zadiq of Cordoba, in his MicrocosmiiSy Samu< 1
ben Tibbon, Simtob ben Falaquera.
24
(10) Identity of Sufi ideas with ancient Egyptian, Pythagorean and Platonic
noted, e.g., by Ubicini, M.A., Letters on Turkey , London 1856.
(11) ‘Theosophy* used of Sufism: see Tholuck, op. cit. (item (1,) above).
This book appeared ten years before Mme. Blavatsky was born, and
nine years before the birth of Col. Olcott, co-founder of the Theoso-
phical Society.
(12) Nicholson, R.A., The Mystics of Islam , London 1914, pp.3—4.
Professor Nicholson was in his time believed to be a great authority on
Sufism and published several useful books and translations. “Nicholson
was the greatest authority on Islamic mysticism this country has
produced, and in his own considerable field was the supreme authority
in the world”. {The Times , 27 August 1945).
(13) Nicholson, R.A., The Kashf al-Mahjub (Revelation of the Veiled),
London 1911, p.34.
(14) The Persian Sufis, London 1964, p.9. Increasing Roman Catholic
interest in Sufism, already shown to have had a significant ancient
effect upon Catholic mystics and academicians, is recently evidenced
by the fact that this book was given Nihil Ohstat and the Imprimatur of
the Dominican and Diocesan authorities of Rome. Its author believes
that the future purpose of Sufism will be “to make possible a welding
of religious thought between East and West, a vital oecumenical
commingling and understanding, which will prove ultimately to be, in
the truest sense, on both sides, a return to origins, to the original
unity”. (Ibid, p.10).
(15) Summed up by the Sufi ancient Abdul-Aziz Mekki (died 652) as
“Offer a donkey a salad, and he will ask you what kind of a thistle it is**.
(16) The Sufis , New York & London 1964, 1966.
(17) Asin y Palacios, Professor Miguel, Un precursor hispanomusulman de
San Juan de la Cruz; in Andalus I, 7ff, 1933. And see: Nwyia, P., Ibn
Abbad de Ronda et Jean de la Croix: in Andalus 22, 113ff, 1957.
(18) Asin: El Simil de los Castillosy moradas del alma en mistica islamica y
en Santa Teresa . In Andulus II, 263ff, 1946.
(19) The Sufis , 239; and Baron Carra de Vaux in Journal Asiatique , vol. 19,
p.63. The Franciscan Roger Bacon, (died 1294) wearing Arab dress,
discoursed at Oxford, quoting the Hikmat el-Ishraq {Wisdom of
Illumination) identified with the Sufi school of Sheikh Shahabudin
Yahya Suhrawardi, who had been executed for apostasy and carrying
on ‘the ancient philosophy* in 1191. For Franciscan connection with
Sufism, see The Sufis .
(20) The Sufis , xvi, 155, 191, 194, 196, 199, 202 — 4, 243, 370.
(21) Asin: Abenmasarra; and The Sufis , xvii, xix, 42, 140, 203 — 5, 243,
244, 246, 247, 261, 370, 388, 389; Ribera, J., Origines de la Filosofia de
Raimundo Lulio .
(22) Loehlin, C.F., Sufism and Sikhism , Moslem World 29, 351ff, 1939;
and see: The Sufis , 358f.
(23) Swan, C., Gesta Romanorum , London 1829, etc. The first known
Western manuscript of this collection dates from 1324. Its stories are
found in Shakespeare’s King Lear , Merchant of Venice , Pericles , Rape
25
of Lucretia. Chaucer, Lydgate and Boccacio all included material from
this source.
(24) Barth A., Religions of India; Dr. Tara Chand in The Cultural History
of India, Hyderabad 1958, p.153; and The Sufis, pp.356ff.
(25) See my The Secret Lore of Magic, London 1957, 1963, 1965, and N.y.,
1958. For the Sufi attitude to magic, see The Sufis, pp.326ff; and my
Destination Mecca, London 1957, pp.l69ff. For supernormal faculties
exercised by Sufis, see J.P. Brown’s The Darvishes, London 1867 (and
1927 ed. by Rose); L.M.J. Garnett’s Mysticism and Magic in Turkey,
London 1912; S.A. Salik’s The Saint of Gilan, Lahore 1953 and 1961;
J.A. Subhan’s Sufism, its Saints and Shrines , Lucknow 1939.
(26) Freud’s psychological symbolism interpretation method is used in the
Sufi Ghazali’s Niche, 900 years before Freud, see (s.v. Symbolism) in
Gardner’s translation of the Niche , Royal Asiatic Society, London
1924. The ‘Jiingian Archetypal theory’ was known to Sufis in ancient
times: see Prof. R. Landau’s The Philosophy of Ibn Arabi , New York
1959, p.4f. Freud’s debt to Kabbalism and Jewish mysticism, whi$h
Jewish authorities regard as derived from Sufism or identical with it,
is treated in Professor David Bakan’s Sigmund Freud and the Jewish
Mystical Tradition, New York 1958.
(27) Certain reviewers and others, ignorant of the fact that Sufi books
seldom have indices, (so that the reader will read the book in its
entirety), have deplored the lack of an index to The Sufis ; The Coomffe
Springs Press issued an independent Index to The Sufis in 1965. |
(28) E. W. F. Tomlin, F.R.A.S., Great Philosophers of the East, London 1959,
p.295.
(29) Great Philosophers of the West.
(30) London 1959 and 1960.
(31) Some Experts’ opinions about the ‘origins’ of Sufism:— “The influence
of Christian mysticism is paramount” (Prof. E. W. F. Tomlin, Great
Philosophers of the East, London 1959, p.295). “A reaction from tHe
burdens of a dry monotheism, of a rigid law and a stiffened ritual.”
(Rev. Dr. Sell, Sufism , Madras 1910 p.ll).” . . . Having its origins in
the religious conceptions of India and Greece”. (Brown J. P., ibid.,
1927, p.v.). “Appear to be a kind of Gnostics”. (Redhouse, J. W., The
Mesnevi, London 1881, p.xiv). “ ... the emotional character of Sufism,
so different from the cold and bloodless theories of the Indian philoso¬
phies, is apparent.” (Prof. E. G. Browne, A Lit . Hist, of Persia, Lon¬
don 1909, p.442). “a little Persian sect” (Hadland Davis, F., The
Persian Mystics: Jalaluddin Rumi, London 1907, p.l.). “great perver¬
sion of Mohammad’s teaching” (Bell, Miss G. L., Poem from the
Divan of Hafiz, London 1928, p.51). “derived in part from Plato, ‘the
Attic Moses’, but mainly from Christianity”, (Whinfield, E. H.
Masnavi I ma'navi, the Spiritual Couplets , London 1887, p.xv).
“Orientalists . . have indeed attributed the origins of Sufism tb
Persian, Hindu, Neo Platonic or Christian sources. But these diverse
attributions have ended by cancelling one another”, (Burckhardt, T ,
An Introduction to Sufi Doctrine , (Tr. Matheson, D. M., Lahore,
Pakistan 1959, p.5.)
26
(32) Nicholson, R. A., Selections from the Diwan-i-Shams-i-Tabriz,
Cambridge 1988 and 1952, pp.xxxvi ff. Professor Edward Palmer has
recorded for Western students the fact that Mutrib , the Arabic equival¬
ent of Troubadour, also stands for ‘Sufi teacher* (Oriental Mysticism,
P-80). Professor Hitti is even more explicit: “In southern France the
first Proven 9 al poets appear full-fledged towards the end of the
eleventh century with palpitating love expressed in a wealth of fantas¬
tic imagery. The troubadours ( Tarab: music, song) who flourished in
the twelfth century imitated their southern contemporaries, the
zajal singers. Following the Arabic precedent the cult of the dame
suddenly arises in southwest Europe. The Chanson de Roland , the
noblest ot early European literature, whose appearance prior to 1080
marks the beginning ot a new civilisation — that of Western Europe —
just as the Homeric poems mark the beginning of historic Greece, owes
its existence to a military contact with Moslem Spain”. (Hitti, P. K.,
History of the Arabs , 1951 edition, p.562).
(33) William Tell Legend: see Robert Graves* Introduction to The Sufis
(item 2, above, p.xvii). The most accessible English rendering of
Attar’s Bird Parliament is the 1954 version, translated by C. S. Nott
Irom a French copy, reissued in 1961, in London. The Rev. Baring-
Gould had shown in Victorian times the Tell legend lacked historical
backing. Hadyn’s Dictionary of Dates: says: “The popular stories
respecting him were demonstrated to be mythical by Professor Kopf
of Lucerne, 1872”. (s.v. ‘Tell’).
(34) Peacock Angel cult: Founded by the Sufi master Sheikh Adi ben
Musafir (died 1162). A chapter on this society is to be found in Arkon
Daraul’s Secret Societies (Chapter 15), London 1961 and 1965,
published in New York in 1961 as A History of Secret Societies . The
symbolology of the cult can be unlocked by applying the “Abjad-
notation* encypherment system used by the Sufis, described in The
Sufis; extensively used by poets and Sufis. See also Note 92.
(35) G. I. Gurdjieff left abundant clues to the Sufic origins of virtually
every point in his ‘system*; though it obviously belongs more specifi¬
cally to the Khajagan (Naqshbandi) form of the dervish teaching. In
addition to the practices of ‘the work*, such books as Gurdjieff’s
Beelzebub (otherwise known as All and Everything , New York 1950,
1238 pages) and Meetings with Remarkable Men , 2nd impression, 1963,
abound with references, often semi-covert ones, to the Sufi system. He
also cites by name the Naqshbandis, Kubravis and other Sufis, in his
1923 Paris ‘prospectus* of a public presentation. {The Echo of the
Champs-Elysees , 1, 37, part 2, Paris: 13 — 25 Dec. 1923,) quoting as
sources, inter alia , the Naqshbandi, Qadiri, Kalandar, Kubravi and
Mevlevi Dervish practices. Maurice Nicoll’s Psychological Commen¬
taries (London 1952, *53, *57) and The New Man (London 1950)
abound with examples of Sufic methods used to interpro; religious and
other documents. These works depart from Sufi usage in dealing with
subjects in a random fashion, and being aimed at an ‘accidental* rather
than a chosen community of students. P. D. Ouspensky: Largely
through his contact with G. I. Gurdjieff this Russian philosopher
names the Sufis as a source of ancient psychology, e.g., in The Psychol¬
ogy of Man's Possible Evolution , London 1951, p.7. Ouspensky,
27
however, had no direct contact with dervishes and was unable to effect
the necessary transposition of Sufic ideas from their literary sources in
Eastern and other literature into the terminology used in his ‘system’.
Had he been able to do so, he would have realised that his ‘system’ had
ignored the Sufi requirements of ‘time, place and certain people’. He
attempts to systematise the material of Gurdjieff in In Search of the
Miraculous , London 1950, etc., in which he records conversations
with Gurdjieff. Both the Naqshbandi Sufis and the Gurdjieff-Ouspen-
skians call their studies ‘The Fourth Wav’. {The Fourth Way,
Ouspensky, London 1957).
(36) Hammerskjold and Sufis: Jalaludin Rumi, quoted literally by him
{Markings, London 1964, p.95); and see also Reader's Digest quoting
Dagens Nyheter , Stockholm, 1962) his copy of the Sufi poem translated
by Sir William Jones (1746 — 94): “On parent knees, a naked new¬
born child/Weeping thou sat’st while all around thee smiled/So live,
that sinking in they last long sleep/Calm thou may’st smile while all
around thee weep’; and see his Markings, passim .
(37) Shakespeare’s plays not only contain many stories of Persian, Arabian
and other Eastern origins, but what might seem almost literal quotat¬
ions from Sufi literature. Prof. Nicholson has noted one or two
equivalents from the Divan of Shams-i-Tabriz, in his translation of
that book (see ref. 19 above), on pp.290 and 291, {et passim). See also
Garcin de Tassy’s Philosophical and Religious Poetry of the Persians ,
Paris 1864.
(38) Professor Kenneth Walker, Diagnosis of Man , London 1962, quoded
the Sanai-Rumi Sufi school usage of the legend ot the “Elephant in the
Dark”, to show how modern man may fumble with parts of a problem,
instead of going to the heart of it. Walker follows Gurdjieff; vide his
Study of Gurdjieff's Teaching.
(39) The ‘Tale of the Ugly Duckling’ is one, vide The Sufis .
(40) Hitchman, F. Burton , L 286.
(41) By L. A. Hill. !
(42) Eg. Saxe, J. G. The Blind Men and the Elephant. London 1964, and:
Downing, C. (trans.) Tales of the Hodja. London 1964.
(43) The Sufis , 208ff; 243. Eastern origins of ‘witches’ Bracelin, J. L.,
Gerald Gardner — Witch , London 1960, p.75; and Daraul, A. Witches
and Sorcerers , New York 1966, pp.20, 23 — 4; 73, 204f., et passim.
(44) Rosicrucians’ origins: See The Sufis , 187, 191, 223, 389-f, and Darajal,
A., Secret Societies . Rosicrucians claim that their founder brought his
knowledge from Arabia, Fez and Egypt. The origins have been traced
by Daraul, ibid. p. 195, to the Qadiri Sufi Order.
(45) Daraul, A. Secret Societies , London 1961, Chap. 22: Jurji, E. J., The
lUummistic Sufis , JAOS 57, pp. 90ff, 1937; and Brown, Darvishes ,
London 1868, republished (ed. Rose) London 1927.
(46) See The Sufis , passim, for references of the influence of Ghazali and
others on Western Europe. Most books on mediaeval scholasticism
and the history of its thought carry references to this source. Cf.
Professor P. Hitti’s History of the Arabs (Note 29 above); and p.
Leff’s Mediaeval Thought , London 1958.
28
(47) See, for instance, 0. B. Kapor’s Research Thesis on the Mystic Philos¬
ophy of Kabir (Allahabad University Studies 10, pp. 166, 1933).
(48) Ivanow, W., The Truth Worshippers of Kurdistan. Leiden 1953, pp.
57 — 68 et passim.
(49) The people who became known as the Assassins were a Sufi organisa¬
tion originally called Asasin (‘People of the Foundation, the Funda¬
mentals’), a branch of which was taken over in the tenth Christian
Century by Hasan, son of Sabah, known as the Great Assassin or Old
Man of the Mountains. This name is a mistranslation of his usurped
titled, Sheikh el-Jabal (Master of the Mountains) erroneously rendered
by Westerners in its alternative meaning (Sheikh) of Senex del Monte’,
which Crusaders called him. The ‘Aga Khans’ are reputed to be
descended from this Hasan. Another, rival, leader of the cult is
located in Bombay. The original ‘order’, however, continues indepen¬
dently. Vide: Sirdar Ikbal Ali Shah, The General Principles of Sufism,
in Hibbert Journal, vol. 20 (1921 —22), 523 —35 Great confusion
has been created in the West by literal translation of Arabic names.
Hence, for instance, while ‘Algazel’ may be seen to be Al-Ghazali, not
everyone recognises ‘Doctor Maximus’ (The Greatest Teacher) as
El-Sheikh el-Akbar (Ibn Arabi); or ‘Basil Valentine’ (The Triumphant
King) as El-Malik el-Fatih, the alchemist; or, for that matter, the
anti-witch tract Errores Gaziorum as ‘Ghulat aljazair’ (Sects of Algeria).
(50) Examples, etc., relating to Zen, The Sufis , 309, 362 — 4.
(51) See The Sufis , 309, Yoga and Zen material nowadays tends to ignore
the special requirements of choice of disciple and type of teacher.
(52) Knights Templar: Ibid., xiv, xix, 225 — 7, 399.
(53) Chaucer: Ibid., xxii, 50, 104, 106, 115, 163, 166, 223, 393.
(54) Prof. m. Asin Palacios: Islam and the Divine Comedy (Ibn el-Arabi,
1165 — 1240) tr. H. Sunderland, London 1926.
(54) Prof. m. Asin Palacios: Islam and the Divine Comedy (Ibn el-Arabi,
1165 — 1240) tr. H. Sunderland, London 1926. [La Escatologia
Musulmana en la Divina Comedia , Madrid, 1961.)
(55) For instance, in Munaqib el-Arifin ( The Acts of the Adepts), by
Shamsudin Ahmad el-Aflaki, Tr. Redhouse, London, 1881; reprinted
facsimile, Kingston, (as Legends of the Sufis ) 1965 pp. 35f. And see:
Ghazali, Alchemy of Happiness. (56). Rumi (1207 — 73) was born in
Balkh, Afghanistan, and died at Konia, (Iconium) Turkey, where
‘dervish dancing’ in public is now proscribed except as a tourist
spectacle.
(57) Died 1949.
(58) Died 1947.
(59) Abdul-Qadir of Gilan. (‘Sultan of the Friends’), 1077 - 1166;
Hadrat Bahaudin Naqshband (El-Shah), 1318 — 1389.
(60) “Truth comes after ‘states’ and ecstasy, and takes its place.” Kalabadhi,
Kitab el-Taaruf (In A. J. Arberry’s version, The Doctrine of the Sufis,
Cambridge 1935, p.106: “But when Truth cometh, ecstasy itself is
dispossessed”.), citing Junaid of Baghdad (d.910).
29
Founded by an Indonesian, Mohammed Subuh, in 1934. Indiscrimin¬
ate indulgence in the Latihan exercise has been known to give rise to a
condition referred to in medical literature ‘as ‘Subud psychosis’.
In Fihi Ma Fihi (Professor A. J. Arberry’s translation London 1961,
entitled Discourses of Rumi ); The Mathnawi (translations of R. A.
Nicholson, London 1926; J. W. Redhouse, London 1881; E. H.
Whinfield, London 1887 and 1898; C. E. Wilson, London 1910, etc!)
First Book of the Hadiqa (Walled Garden of Truth), Calcutta 1910,
translation of Maj. J. Stephenson; Karnama (‘Book of the Work’), and
Diwan .
Niche for Lamps — Mishkat al-Anwar — (Tr. W. H. T. Gairdnsk
London 1924, Royal Asiatic Society; and Lahore (Pakistan), 1952.
Ihya el Ulum el-Din (Revival of Religious Sciences).
Futuhat al-Makkia (openings in Mecca); Fusus el-Hikam (Bezels of
the Wisdoms) ; Kimia-i-Sadat (Alchemy of Happiness) ; Tarjuman
el-Ashwaq (Interpreter of Desires , Tr. Nicholson).
See: Dietrici, Der Darwinismus in 10 und 19 JahrhunderL Leipzig 1879;
and: Mathnavi.
Shabistari, Garden of Mysteries)Secret Garden , (13th — 14th centuries)
Sayed Ahmad Isfahani, Tarjiband , and others.
E.g.,: “The Hidden World has clouds and rain, of a different kind . J.
made apparent only to the refined, those not deceived by the seeming
completeness of the ordinary world” (Rumi, Mathnavi):—
Ghaib ra abri wa abi digar ast
Asman wa aftab-i-digar ast.
Nay ad an ilia ni bar pakan padid
Barqiyanfi labs min khalkin jadid.
E.g.,: In Hujwiri’s (11th century) Revelation of the Veiled , s.v.‘Re¬
capitulation of their Miracles’.
See, for example, No. IX in Nicholson’s Divan of Shamsi-Tabriz,
p.32 (13th century) Persian text. i
La Quintessence de la Philosophic de Ibn-i-Arabi (Prof. Mohammed Ali
Aini, Tr. A. Rechid), Paris 1926, pp. 66 — 7.
Junaid of Baghdad (d.910) answered conditioned minds thus: “Noie
reaches the rank of Truth until a thousand honest people testify that he
is a heretic”.
Arabic: Al-turuqu iilahi ka nufusi bani Adama (in Islamic Sufism —
Note (6) above, p.211).
See, e.g. Saadi’s Gulistan (Rose Garden) of the 13th century: Section
on Manners of the Dervishes, Agha Omar Ali-Shah’s translation,
Gulistan , (Sheikh Muslihuddin Saadi Shirazi, Le Jardin de Roses)
Paris, 1966; and Cf. Ibn Hamdan, cited in Hujwiri’s Kashf: ‘Be sure
that you do not train yourself to music, in case this holds you back
from even higher perceptions’. Contemporary dervishes of the Chishti
‘order’ have strayed far from the instructions of their founder in this
matter, settling for a dissociated or ecstatic state induced by listening
to or playing music. Muinudin Chishti himself wrote again >t
this practice: “They know that we listen to music and that v e
perceive certain ‘secrets* as a result. So they play music and cast
themselves into ‘states’. Know that every learning must havj all its
requirements fulfilled, not just music, thought, concentration. Remem¬
ber: what is the good of a wonderful milk yield from a cow which
kicks the pail over? (Risalat — Epistles to Disciples).
(75) Although all pay lip-service to the teachings of Ibn-Arabi, for instance,
they have not absorbed such w’ords as these: “She has confused all the
learned of Islam/All who have studied the Psalms/Every Jewish
Rabbi/Every Christian Priest”, where he refers to Sufism. Or the
famous w r ords of Abu-Said ibu Abu’l Khair (1040): “Until college and
minaret have crumbled/This holy work of ours will not be done.
Until faith becomes rejection, and rejection becomes belief/There
will be no true Moslem”. On the limitations of religious ‘vehicle’:
“What can I do, O Moslems? I do not know myself. I am no Christian,
no Jew, no Magian, no Musulman. Not of the East, nor ot the West”
{Divan of Shams-i-Tabriz , reprint of Nicholson, London 1911, xxxii,
p.124, (Persian version).
(76) Ibn el-Arabi, Fusus el-Hikam (Bezels or Segments of the Wisdoms),
s.v. El-Fas el-Adamia (‘Segment of Adam’) paraphrased in S.A.Q.
Plusaini’s Ibn Al Arabia Lahore —1931 edition: French version:
Burkhardt, T., La Sagesse des Prophetes , Paris 1955, pp. 22f.
(77) Birge, Dr. J. K., The Bektashi Order of Dervishes , London 1937, p.39,
note 3 (Reprinted 1965).
(78) Brown, J. P., The Darvishes (ed. H. A. Rose), London, 1927, p.475.
(79) These cults are sometimes deteriorations of such communities as I
describe in Destination Mecca (London 1957), pp.l69ff.
(80) A penetrating perception of the fact that many Sufi ideas have filtered
into primitive communities was written by the well-known poet Ted
Hughes two years ago: “One w 7 ould almost be inclined to say that
Shamanism might well be a barbarised, stray descendant of Sufism”.
(In The Listener , London, 29, October, 1964, p.678).
(80A) Lawrence, P., Road Belong Cargo , London 1964, contains a description
of this cult and has an excellent bibliography.
(81) Blackwood's Magazine , Vol. 290, No. 1754, pp.481 —595; and Vol.
291, No. 1756, pp.123 — 135.
(82) Siraat (English-language), Delhi, Vol. 1, No. 5, 1 January, 1961, p.5.
Cols. 1 —3, “Sufism in a Changing World”, by Selim Brook-White,
‘Murid’.
(83) International Journal of Clinical and Experimental Hypfiosis , Vol. 10,
No. 4 (October), pp.271 —4: Hallaj, J., Hypnotherapeutic Techniques
in a Central Asian Community. Reprinted 1965 in Shor, R.E., and
Orne, M.T., The Nature of Hypnosis , (Selected Basic Readings) New
York, V. 6, pp.453ff.
(84) Contemporary Review (London) Vol.197, No.1132, May, 1960:
Foster, W., The Family of Hashim t pp.269 — 271.
(85) The Lady (London), Vol. CLXIJ, No.4210, 9 Dec. 1965: Martin,
D. R., Below the Hindu Kush , p.870.
(85A) Some of these articles are now reprinted in Davidson, R. W., Docu¬
ments on Contemporary Dervish Communities , London 1966 and 1967.
31
( 86 )
(87)
( 88 )
(89)
(90)
(91)
The Times (London) No. 55,955, 9 March, 1964. Elusive Guardians of
Ancient Secrets , p.12, Cols. 6 — 8.
She Magazine (London) March 1963, p.58: ('She Looks at Religion —
No. IT); and also: She Magazine (London), September, 1965, The
Hard High Life , by Mir S. Khan, pp.68 — 70. (Both items illustrated).
From Ghazali’s monumental Revival of Religious Sciences.
Sentences upon Sufis and Sufism by early historical masters of the
Sufis:
Dhun’Nun the Egyptian (died 860): “A Sufi is one whose speech
accords with his behaviour and whose silence indicates his state, and
who discards wordly connections”.
The woman adept Rabia el-Adawia (died 717): “The Sufi is he
who neither fears hell nor covets paradise”.
Abul-Hasan Nuri (died 907): “Sufism is the renunciation of all
pleasures of the (transitory) world”.
Hujwiri (11th century): “The follower of Sufism is he who seeks to
reach the rank of being dead to self and alive to truth by means of
struggle. He who has reached this end is called a Sufi 4 ”.
Junaid of Baghdad (died 910): “Sufism is an attribute wherein is
man’s subsistence”.
Nuri: “The Sufi has no possession, nor is he possessed by any¬
thing”.
Ibn el-Lalali (11th century): “Sufism is truth without formulatiojn”.
Rumi, ‘AQL* = real intellect, NB. Rumi: “The Sufi’s book is hot
literacy and letters”.
This is how psychological and other diagrams become ‘mandalas’ and
‘magic figures’. 1 J
(91 A) Various versions of the dervish teaching — stories in my Tales of the
Dervishes (London 1967) have been represented by Sufi masters as
events which happened to them, tor this reason.
(92) As Professor A. J. Arberry of Cambridge puts it, the doctrine is
obscure because it is “based largely on experiences in their very nature
well nigh incommunicable”. (Tales from the Masnavi y London 1961,
p.19) The technical term for one form of this, the use of words written
similarly which have different meanings, is Jinas-i-Mukharif much
used in poetry. Gibb (History of Ottoman Poetry , I, 118, 1900) shows
familiarity with this system, but fails to apply it in his studies.
(93) Mahmud Shabistari (1317), in common with many other Sufi teachers,
speaks thus of the transient nature of formulation: “If the Moslem
knew what an idol was/He would know that there is religion in idolatty./
If the idolater knew what religion was:/He would know where he had
gone astray./He sees in the idol nothing but the obvious creature:/
This is why, in Islamic Law, he is a heathen”. (Gulshan-i-Raz y
Garden of Secrets). Persian text: “Musulman gar bi-danist ki but
chist/Bi-danisti ki din dar/butparasti’st./Agar mushrik zi din agah
gashti/Kuja dar din khud gumrah gashti./Na did u dar but ilia khalqi
zahir:/Badan illat shud an dar Shara, Kafir.”
(94) How little this important part of Sufi transmission is known in jthe
literature of the field’ is evidenced by the fact that almost the only
reference to humour in Sufism at all current is made by an American
32
student (Dr. J. K. Birge: The Bektashi Order of Dervishes, London
1937, p.88); and even he regards it as a ‘characteristic peculiarity' of
the Order which he is studying. See also my Exploits of the Incomparable
Mulla Nasrudin , London 1966.
(95) The best-known case is that of Husain ibn Mansur el-Hallaj, the
great Sufi martyr, dismembered alive and done to death, his corpse
then being burnt, by the order ot the Caliph el-Muqtadir, of the
House of Haroun el-Rashid, in the year 922, for allegedly claiming
that he was God. Professor Louis Massignon has specialised in the
Hallaj literature. See also Ref. No. 100, below. The great teacher
Suhrawardi, too, was executed for teaching ‘ancient philisophy’ in the
12th century (see ref. 19, above).
(95A) On conditioned and indoctrinated groups and movements, see Liftan,
R. J. Thought Reform , London 1961; Mann J., Changing Human
Behaviour , New York 1965; Sprott W. J. H., Human Groups , London
1958, 1962, 1963; ( Small Social Groups in England Phillips, M.)
London 1965.
(96) The story of how Uwais was visited by Companions of Mohammed
after the Prophet’s death is found in many books, including the well-
known Recital of the Friends (Lives of the Saints) by Faridudin
Attar, translated as Le Memorial des Saints , by A. Pavet de Courteille
and published in Paris in 1889 (pp.llf.). See Dr. B. Behari’s English
abridgement ( Fariduddin Attar's Tadhkiratal-Auliya ), Lahore, Pakistan
1961 and 1965.
(97) The Awarif-l-Ma'rif written in the 13th century by Sheikh Shaha-
budin Umar ibn Mohamed Suhrawardi, version of Mahmud ibn Ali
Alkashani, translated from Persian into English by Col. H. Wilberforce
Clarke: Calcutta, 1890.
(98) Died 1234. Literally the passage runs in Arabic: Sharibna ala dhikri
alhabibi mudamatu/Shakirna bi ha min qabli an yukhlaka alkarmu.
Professor Hitti (op. cit., 436) calls Ibn el Farid the only Arab mystical
poet.
(99) Wilberforce Clarke’s rendering, see supra , Ref. 83.
(100) See Prof. L. Massignon’s Le Diwan d'Al Hallaj , Paris 1955, etc.
(101) See his Turkish Nationalism and Western Civilisation , London 1959.
(102) E. G., Ibn el-Arabi’s dictum: “People think that a Sheikh should
show miracles and manifest illumination. The requirement of a teacher
is, however, that he should possess all that the disciple needs”.
(103) Recorded in Hujwiri’s Revelation of the Veiled.
(104) Munaqib , as quoted, Note 49, above.
(105) He wrote Majma el-Bahrain (‘Confluence of the Two Seas’) published
in translation by the Asiatic Soc. of Bengal.
(106) In a Sufi circle, even one unsuitable member will harm the effort of
the whole; enunciated for instance by Saadi (1184— 1263), in His
Gulistan (Rose Garden), ‘On the Manners of Dervishes’.
(107) Omar Khayyam for considerations of the Khyamic Sufi teachings, see:
Swami Govinda Tirtha’s The Nectar of Grace — Omar Khayyam’s
Lite and Works — Allahabad 1941; and Cf. The Sufis , 164—171.
33
The poem quoted is Quatrain 24 of the Bodleian MS, published by
Heron-Alien {The Ruba’iyat of Omar Khayyam , London 1898). 'text
facsimile and translation on p.141. The original text is:
Bar sauma’s wa madrasa wa deir wa kanisht —
Tarsinda zi dozakhand wa juya-i-bihisht. I
Ankas ki zi asrar-i-khuda ba-khabar ast: |
Z'in tukhm dar andarun-i-dil kick nakasht.
Khayyam’s Rubaiyat was translated and published in 1967 by Robert
Graves and Omar Ali Shah, with critical commentaries. T
(108) English version: Maulvi S. A. Q. Husaini, Ibn Al Arabi, Lahore 1931,
VI, l(p.38).
(109) Simac, R. In a Naqshbandi Circle , Hibbert Journal, Spring lj967
(Vol. 65, No.258). See also my Exploits of the Incomparable MiiUa
Nasrudin (London and New York, 1966) and my Caravan of Dreams
(London 1968).
34
EXAMPLE OF SUFI IDEAS:
from Jalaludin Rumi (1205 — 1273)
Man is the product or evolution. He continues this process. But the ‘new’
faculties, for which he yearns (generally unknowingly) come into being as a
result of necessity. In other words, he now has to take part in the develop¬
ment of his own evolution. “Organs come into being as a response to necessity.
Therefore increase your necessity.”
When he does not realize this, man is in a state which is referred to as
‘sleep’. He has to ‘wake up’.
There is a means ot doing this, but the means is not through scholastic
endeavour and what man takes to be the exercise ot intellect. The means is by
what is called the ‘direct perception of Truth’.
Man’s thinking pattern is in the ordinary way based upon alternation and
changes of mood. He needs what is conceived of as a unification of mentation.
Man’s perceptions are faulty, because they are subjective and relative.
They are also ‘conditioned’, so that he interprets things according to limited,
not objective, standards. He may therefore be said to have little capacity for
real judgment.
There are realms of mind far beyond the ordinary state of man. These
advanced realms cannot completely be rendered in the language of the brain
as it stands.
Because of these limitations, man needs the guidance of one who knows
more.
The methods used to help in the production of the higher state of percep¬
tion include historical, religious and fable frameworks, as well as exercises of
all kinds.
All such formulations are ‘ways’.
Men have warped and made useless these ‘ways’ by repetitiously insisting
on literal meanings for the figurative. Thus are ‘idols’ made.
When man reaches behind exterior form, he can see that such forms,
apparently multiple, stand before one and the same thing.
These teachings were given by ancient sages, and by Moses, Jesus and
Mohammed. They have been changed and used in a minor and inefficient
way.
This changing process is due to the use of man’s vanity, where, for instance,
he imagines that he can conceive more than he can at any given moment. As
a result, giving a name to an undefinable concept makes him think that he has
mastered it; or can master it, through having named it.
Beyond the confines of outward religion, man cannot truly call himself a
Jew, a Christian, a Moslem. Ritual and dogmas have no place in this sphere.
Man can be conceived as incomplete, a ‘limb severed from a body’.
The effort of man to reunite with the understanding from which he is cut
off can be called ‘the religion, or duty, of Love’. But this is not a religion as
such things are normally understood by man.
The ‘eye’, the advanced organ of perception of that from which man is cut
off in the normal w r ay, is within man.
35
External impressions ‘condition’ man, so that he is insensitive to inner
impressions.
Any ‘language’ (terminology) may be used to refer to the transformation of
man. This is why such conventions as the language of alchemy are used; or
the language of myth and fable, which often refers to psychological processes,
not to historical events. 1
Those who have developed the ‘higher perceptions’ sometimes have 10
conceal this fact, for social and other reasons, behind a locally acceptable
tacade.
36
Psychology, contemporary forms and
Sufism,9;
Use of the word in Sufism, 11;
Found in Sufi classics, 13.
Pythagoreanism and Sufism, 6.
Qadiri Sufis, 1.
Relativity, ancient Sufi references to,
13 and Note 69.
Religion, Sufism not confined to, 2.
Ribera, Professor, Sufic researches of, 9.
Rice, Father Cyprian, and derivation of
‘Sufis’, 7.
Ritual, deficiencies of (Rumi), 35.
Rosicrucians, Sufic origins of, 11 and
Note 44.
Rumi (Maulana Jalaludin Rumi) Christ¬
ian myths used by, 20;
On falsity of externals, 21;
On poetrv’s inferioritv to Sufism,
17;
Psychology of, 13 and Note 62;
Turkish bath habit, 21 and Note
104.
Russell, Bertrand, limitations of his
Wisdom of the West , 10.
Saint Charalambos of the Greeks shown
by research to be the dervish master
Haji Bektash Wali, 15; and Note
77.
Saint Jehosaphat, shown to have been
the Buddha, 15.
Saint John of the Cross, Sufi influences
on, 9.
Saint Teresa of Avila, Sufi connections
of, 9.
Saint Therapion, shown to have been
the dervish Turabi, 15 and Note 78.
Sanai (Hakim Sanai), psychology, 13
and Note 63.
Secret, lost (Freemasonry) Sufi concept,
19 and Note 99.
Senussi of Libya, Sufi organisation, 22.
Shakespeare, Sufi materials in, noted by
Nicholson, 11 and Note 37.
Shamanism, supposedly connected with
Sufism, 11.
Shamyl, Caucasian leader, 22.
‘Short cuts’, 14f.
Sikhs, a foundation connected with
Sufi influences, 9.
Sleep state of man (Rumi), 35.
Sophia (wisdom) and Sufism, 6.
Sound, influence upon the brain of, 7.
Space travel, Sufi references to, 13 and
Note 70.
Subud, 12.
Sudan, dervishes of the, 22.
S, U, F, sounds the origin of ‘Sufi’, 7.
Sufi organisations, names of, 1;
Origins, confusion of ‘experts’
(opinions cited) Note 31;
Thought, not narrowly mechanical,
22 ;
Word recorded 1,000 years ago, 5.
Sufism, term coined by Tholuck in
1921, 1; (Reference: Note 1).
Suhrawardi on origins of Sufism, 19
and Note 97.
Symbols in Sufi teaching, 10.
System, Sufism lies before and beyond
(Ibn el-Farid) 19 and Note 98.
Tabriz (Shamsudin of), 19.
Teacher needs only fulfil needs of
disciple (Arabi) 33 (Note 102).
Telekinesis, Sufi references to, 13.
Telepathy, Sufi references to, 13.
Tell, William, legend found in earlier
Sufi classical writing, 11.
Templar, Knights, 11 and Note 52.
Theosophy, formerly a word sued for
Sufism, 6 (Note 11).
Tradition, refreshment of, 19.
Translations, inadequacy of, 18 and
Note 92.
Troubadour, Arabic origin of recorded
by Professors Palmer and Hitti, 27
(Note 32).
Tunisia, contemporary Sufism in, 16
and Note 81.
Unification of mind a necessity (Rumi)
35.
Uw r ais el-Qarni, early historical Sufi
master, 19 and Note 96.
Note on story of, 47 (Note 96).
Vehicle, quite distinct from objective
(Niffari), 21.
Walker, Professor Kenneth, 11 and
Note 38.
Witches, 11 and Note 43.
‘Wool’ etymology of ‘Sufi’ incorrect, 6f.
Yoga, 11 and Note 51.
Zen, 11 and Note 50.
39
Other works by Idries Shah, available through The Society for the
Understanding of the Foundation of Ideas (Publications), 13 Soho
Square, London, W.I., England:
ORIENTAL MAGIC
Anthropological study. Foreword by Professor Louis Marin.
25s. (U.S., S3.00).
THE SUFIS
Historico-philosophical study. Foreword by Robert Graves.
45s. (U.S., $5.40).
TALES OF THE DERVISHES
A thousand years of teaching-stories. 30s. (U.S., $3.60).
REFLECTIONS
Original writings, fables, traditions of thought. 15s. (U.S., $2.00).
CARAVAN OF DREAMS
Selections from Eastern literature. 35s. (U.S., $6.00).
EXPLOITS OF THE INCOMPARABLE MULLA NASRUDIN
Illustrated by Richard Williams. 30s. (U.S., $4.95).
THE WAY OF THE SUFI
Introduction to Sufi thought through its greatest masters (forthcoming).
36s.
THE SECRET LORE OF MAGIC
BiR&g3$S7<*ltudy, fully illustrated. 42s. (U.S., $5.00).
5-11
PLEASANTRIES OF THE INCREDIBLE MULLA NASRUDIN
(forthcoming). 36s.
40
Special problems in the study of Sufi ideas.
Idries Shah; Society for the Understanding of the Foundation of Ideas.