An ignorant youth entered an assembly of pious persons who were being addressed by a holy Shaikh. He saw the Shaikh weeping copiously, and in mere blind and senseless imitation he copied the Shaikh's behavior, and wept as copiously himself, though he understood not a word of the discourse. In fact, he behaved just like a deaf man who sees those around him laughing, and laughs himself out of compliment to them, though he knows not the subject of their merriment, and is obliged to have it explained to him before he can laugh again with real perception of the joke. After he had wept in this ignorant way for some time he made due obeisance to the Shaikh, and took his departure. But one of the Shaikh's true disciples, being jealous for the honor of his master, followed him, and thus addressed him, "I adjure you by Allah that you go not and say, 'I saw the Shaikh weeping, and I too wept like him.' Your ignorant and mere imitative weeping is totally unlike the weeping of that holy saint. Such weeping as his is only possible to one who has, like him, waged the spiritual war for thirty years. His weeping is not caused by worldly grieves, but by the deep concerns of the spirit. You cannot perceive by reason or sense the spiritual mysteries that are open and plain to his enlightened vision, any more than the darkness can behold the light. His breathings are as those of 'Isa, and not like mere human sighs raised by worldly sorrows. His tears and his smiles and his speeches are not his own, but proceed from Allah. Fools like you are ignorant of the motive and design of saints' actions, and therefore only harm themselves if they try to imitate them, without understanding their meaning." To illustrate this a curious story is told of a foolish lady who copied a trick of her clever slave-girl, without understanding the modus operandi, and by so doing caused her own death. In like manner parrots are taught to speak without understanding the words. The method is to place a mirror between the parrot and the trainer. The trainer, hidden by the mirror, utters the words, and the parrot, seeing his own reflection in the mirror, fancies another parrot is speaking, and imitates all that is said by the trainer behind the mirror. So God uses prophets and saints as mirrors whereby to instruct men, being Himself all the time hidden behind these mirrors, viz., the bodies of these saints and prophets; and men, when they hear the words proceeding from these mirrors, are utterly ignorant that they are really being spoken by "Universal Reason" or the "Word of God" behind the mirrors of the saints.

In a certain convent there lived a Sufi whose conduct gave just offence to the brethren. They brought him before their Shaikh and thus accused him, "This Sufi has three very bad qualities; he babbles exceedingly like a bell, at his meals he eats more than twenty men and when he sleeps he is as one of the Seven Sleepers." The Shaikh then admonished him, insisting on the obligation of keeping to the golden mean; and reminding him that even the prophet Moses was once rebuked by Khizr for speaking to excess. But the delinquent excused himself on the grounds that the mean is relative, what is excess in one man being moderation in another, that he who is led by the spirit is no longer subject to the outward law, and that, the "inner voice," which rules such an one s conduct, is its own evidence.

(34) Sobriety is wrong, and a straying from that other road. O thou who seekest to be contrite for the past, How wilt thou be contrite for this contrition? At one time thou adorest the music of the lute, At another embracest wailing and weeping." While the "Discerner" reflected these mysteries, Like a soul he was freed from weeping and rejoicing, His old life died, and he was regenerated. Amazement fell upon him at that moment, For he was exalted above earth and heaven,

(42) The mysteries of the Islamic faith are now in the keeping of the dervishes--men who, renouncing worldliness, have withstood the test of a thousand and one days of temptation. Jelal-ud-din, the great Persian Sufic poet and philosopher, is accredited with having founded the Order of Mevlevi, or the "dancing dervishes," whose movements exoterically signify the motions of the celestial bodies and esoterically result in the establishment of a rhythm which stimulates the centers of spiritual consciousness within the dancer's body.

(3) Two men wearing the khirka of the Sufis were abusing each other before the tribunal. The judge stood them apart and

said: 'It is not becoming for Sufis to dispute among themselves. If you have put on the mantle of resignation why quarrel? If you are men of violence then throw away your mantles. But if you are worthy of them be reconciled to each other. I who am a judge, and not a man of the spiritual way, am ashamed for the khirka; it would be better to agree to differ than, while wearing it, to quarrel.'

If you wish to follow the way of love throw your prejudices to the wind and renounce attachment to the things of the body. Meanwhile, in order not to be a source of evil, do not give way to resentment and self-love!

Then follow exhortations to undergo "the pains of negation," as they are called in the Gulshan i Raz, i.e., even as the great saint and poet Faridu-'d-Din 'Attar cast away his drugs, to cast one's own will, knowledge, power, and ''self" into the unique river of "annihilation," and from that state to rise to the higher state of eternal existence in God. The end and object of all negation is to attain to subsequent affirmation, as the negation in the creed, "There is no God," finds its complement and purpose in the affirmation "but God." Just so the purpose of negation of self is to clear the way for the apprehension of the fact that there is no existence but The One. The intoxication of life and its pleasures and occupations veils the Truth from men's eyes, and they ought to pass on to the spiritual intoxication which makes men beside themselves and lifts them to the beatific vision of eternal Truth. This is the same thing as saying they must pass on from negation to affirmation, from ignorance to the highest knowledge. This is illustrated by the story of the Turkish noble and the minstrel, which is given with an apology for using illustrations derived from drunkenness. A Turkish noble awoke from his drunken sleep, and called his minstrel to enliven him. The minstrel was a spiritual man, and proceeded to improve the occasion by singing a song with a deep spiritual meaning:

(80) The Sufi said, "They were all singing the same words, Cursed be that blind imitation!" The effect of blindly imitating unprofitable conduct The ecstasy of that company cast a reflection, Whereby that Sufi's heart became ecstatic like them. You need many reflections from your associates The first reflection cast is mere blind imitation; Till it is thus verified, take it not from your friends; The drop, not yet become pearl, sever not from its shell.

(2) Shabli once disappeared from Baghdad, no one knew where. At last he was discovered in a house of eunuchs, sitting with humid eye and dry lips among these grotesque creatures. His friends said: 'This is no place for you who are a student of divine mysteries.' He replied: 'These persons, in the way of religion, are neither men nor women. I am as they. I sink in inertia, and my virility is a reproach. If you use praise and blame to make distinctions you are creating idols. When you conceal a hundred idols under your khirka, why appear before men as a Sufi?'

(2) The beloved of Tus, that ocean of spiritual secrets, said to one of his disciples: 'Melt yourself in the fire of love until you become as thin as a hair, then you will be fit to take your place among the locks of your beloved. If your eyes are turned towards the Way and if you are clear-seeing, then contemplate and ponder, hair by hair.

'He who leaves the world to follow this Way, finds death; he who finds death finds immortality. O my heart, if you have been turned inside out, cross the bridge Sirat and the burning fire; for when the oil in the lamp is burning it produces smoke as black as an old crow, but when it has been consumed by fire it ceases to have a coarse existence.

'If you wish to arrive at that high place first get rid of yourself; then go out from nothing as another Borak. Put on the khirka of nothingness and drink of the cup of annihilation, then cover your breast with the belt of belittlement

(1 ' 5)

and put on your head the burnous of non-existence. Place your foot in the stirrup of non-attachment, and urge your useless steed towards the place where there is nothing. But if there remains in you the least egoism the seven seas will be, for you, full of adversity.'

(1) What is it hinders me from expounding my doctrines But this, that my hearers' hearts incline elsewhere. Their thoughts are intent on that Sufi guest; So I am compelled to turn from my discourse To that story, and to set forth his condition. But, O friend, think not this Sufi a mere outward form, O son, our bodies are as dried grapes and raisins; If you are a man, cast away these things. If you pass on to the pure mysteries of God, Now hear the outward form of my story,

A sick man laboring under an incurable disease went to a physician for advice. The physician felt his pulse, and perceived that no treatment would cure him, and therefore told him to go away and do whatever he had a fancy for. This was the advice given by God to the Israelites when they were seen to be incurable by the admonitions of the prophets. "Do what you will, but God's eye is on all your doings." The sick man blessed the physician for his agreeable prescription, and at once went to a stream, where he saw a Sufi bathing his feet. He was seized with a desire to hit the Sufi on the back, and, calling to mind the physician's advice, at once carried his wish into effect. The Sufi jumped up, and was about to return the blow, but when he saw the weakly and infirm condition of his assailant he restrained himself. He disregarded his present angry impulse, and had regard to the future, so that the non-existent future became to him more really existent than the existing present. Here the poet digresses to point out that when wise men recognize the true relative importance of the present and the future they cease to shrink from death and annihilation, which lifts them to a higher and nobler life. This is illustrated by an anecdote of Mahmud of Ghazni, quoted from Faridu- 'd-Din 'Attar. Mahmud, in one of his campaigns, took prisoner a Hindu boy, who at first regarded him with the greatest dread, in consequence of the stories he had heard of him from his mother, but afterwards experienced Mahmud's kindness and tenderness, and came to know him and love him. So it is with death. According to the Hadis "Those who have passed away do not grieve because of death, but because of wasted opportunities in life." The Masnavi is "a shop of poverty and self-abnegation," and a treasury containing only the doctrines of "Unity;" and if its stories suggest aught else, that is due to the evil promptings of Iblis, who also misled the Prophet himself to attribute undue power to the idols Lat and 'Uzza and Manat, in a verse which was afterwards cancelled. The Sufi, being full of the spirit of self-abnegation, did not retaliate on his weak, assailant but led him before the Qazi. On learning the facts of the case the Qazi said, "This Faqir is sick to death, and you, being a Sufi, are, according to your profession, dead to the world. How, then, can I award a penalty against him in your favor? I am a judge, not of the dead, but of the living." The Sufi was dissatisfied with this view of the case, and again pressed the Qazi to do him justice. On this the Qazi asked the sick Faqir how much money he had, and on his replying, "Six dirhams," took pity on him, and let him off with a fine of three dirhams only. The moment the sentence was pronounced the sick Faqir went up to the Qazi and struck him a blow on the back, and cried out, "Now take the other three dirhams and let me go!" The Sufi then pointed out to the Qazi that by his ill-timed leniency to the Faqir he had brought this blow upon himself, and urged him to apply in his own case those principles of mercy and forgiveness which he had proposed in the case of another. The Qazi said that, for his part, he recognized every blow and misfortune that might befall him as divinely ordained, and sent for his good, according to the text, "Laugh little and weep much," and that his judgment in the matter of the Faqir had not been dictated by impulse, but by inspiration. The Sufi again asked him how evils and misfortunes could proceed from the divine fount of good, and the Qazi replied that what seems good and evil to us has no absolute existence, but is merely as the foam on the surface of the vast ocean. Moreover, every misfortune occurring to the faithful in this life will be amply compensated for in the life to come. The Sufi asked why this world should not be so arranged that only good should be experienced in it, and the Qazi replied by telling him an anecdote of a Turk and a tailor. The Turk, who typifies the careless pleasure-seeker, was so intent on listening to the jokes and amusing stories of the tailor, typifying the seductive world, that he allowed himself to be robbed of the silk which was to furnish him with a vesture for eternity. The Sufi again retorted that he did not see why the world would not get on better without the evil in it, and the Qazi replied with the poet's favorite argument that there would be no possibility of being virtuous if there were no temptations to be vicious. As Bishop Butler says, this life is a state of probation, and such a state necessarily involves trials and difficulties and dangers to be resisted and overcome.

(1) Whoso is restricted to religious raptures is but a man; Sometimes his rapture is excessive, sometimes deficient. The Sufi is, as it were, the "son of the season," Religious raptures depend on feelings and will, You are a lover of your own raptures, not of me; Whoso is now defective, now perfect, Is not adored by Abraham; he is "one that sets." Because the stars set, and are now up, now down, He loved them not; "I love not them that set." Whoso is now pleasing and now unpleasing Is at one time water, at another fire.

(5) There was once a celebrated shaikh who wore the khirka of poverty', but he fell deeply in love with the daughter of a man who looked after dogs, and in hope of seeing her lived and slept in the street. The girl's mother discovered this, and said to the shaikh: 'You know, of course, that we are dogkeepers, but since you have lost your heart to our daughter you may marry her in a year, and lodge with us; and you must consent to be a dog-keeper and accept our way of life.' As the shaikh was no weakling in love he took off his Sufi mantle and set to work. Every day he took a dog into the bazaar, and continued to do so for almost a year. One day, another Sufi, who was also his friend, said to him: 'O man of nothing, for thirtv' years you have worked in, and pondered over, spiritual things, and now you do what your equals have never done!' The shaikh replied: 'You do not see things in their true light, so stop protesting. If you wish to understand, learn that God alone knows the secret and only he can reveal it. It is better to appear ridiculous than, like vou, never to have penetrated the secrets of the spiritual Way.'

(3) Ben Ali Tuci, one of the great sages of his time, walked in the valley of awareness and attention. I do not know of anyone who possessed such grace and who attained such perfection. He once said: ' In the other world, the unfortunate damned will see clearly the dwellers in heaven, who will be able to tell them about the joys of that place and the taste of union. The fortunate will say: "Vulgar joys do not exist here, because the sun of divine beauty has appeared to us, and

it is such that the eight paradises appear to be dark. In the brightness of this beauty there remains of eternity neither name nor trace!" Then those in the underworld will say: ''We sense that what you say is true, but for us in this horrible place it is evident that we have incurred the anger of God, and for this we have been put far from his face. We are reminded of the fire of the underworld by the fire of remorse in our hearts." '

Strive to bear sorrow, affliction and wounds, and thereby show your zeal. If 3ou are wounded, accept it, and do not give way to self-pity.

(3) A holy man who had found prosperity in God gave himself up to worship and adoration for forty years. He had fled from the world, but since God was intimately united to him he was satisfied. This dervish had enclosed a plot of ground in the desert; in the middle of it was a tree, and in the tree a bird had made its nest. The song of the bird was sweet to hear for in each of its notes were a hundred secrets. The servant of God was enchanted. But God told a seer about this state of things in these words: 'Tell this Sufi I am astonished that after so many years of devotion he has ended by selling me for a bird. It is true that this bird is admirable, but its song has caught him in a snare. I have bought him, and he has sold me.'

(4) In the time of Moses there was a dervish who spent days and nights in a state of adoration, yet experienced no feeling for spiritual things. He had a beautiful long beard, and often while praying would stop to comb it. One day, seeing Moses, he went to him and said: 'O Pasha of Mount Sinai,

ask God, I pray you, to tell me why I experience neither spiritual satisfaction nor ecstasy.'

The next time Moses went up on Sinai he spoke to God about the dervish, and God said, in a tone of displeasure: 'Although this dervish has sought union with me, nevertheless he is constantly thinking about his long beard.' When Moses came down he told the Sufi what God had said. The Sufi thereupon began tearing out his beard, weeping bitterly. Gabriel then came along to Moses and said: ' Even now your Sufi is thinking about his beard. He thought of nothing else while praying, and is even more attached to it while he is tearing it out!'

O you who think you have ceased to be pre-occupied with your beard, you are plunged in an ocean of affliction. When you can regard it with detachment you will have a right to sail across this ocean. But if you plunge in with your beard you will have difficulty in getting out.

A lover was once admitted to the presence of his mistress, but, instead of embracing her, he pulled out a paper of sonnets and read them to her, describing her perfections and charms and his own love towards her at length. His mistress said to him, "You are now in my presence, and these lover's sighs and invocations are a waste of time. It is not the part of a true lover to waste his time in this way. It shows that I am not the real object of your affection, but that what you really love is your own effusions and ecstatic raptures. I see, as it were, the water which I have longed for before me, and yet you withhold it. I am, as it were, in Bulgaria, and the object of your love is in Cathay. One who is really loved is the single object of her lover, the Alpha and Omega of his desires. As for you, you are wrapped up in your own amorous raptures, depending on the varying states of your own feelings, instead of being wrapped up in me." The true mystic must not stop at mere subjective religious emotions, but seek absolute union with God.

(5) Shaikh Mahnah was in a state of great perplexity, his heart broken in two, when he saw in the distance an old villager of pious appearance, walking leisurely, while from his body emanated a bright light. The shaikh saluted him and then

told him about the sad state he was in. The old villager listened, and after thinking a little said: 'O Bu Sa'id, if they were to fill with millet, not once but a hundred times, the space from lowest earth to the throne of God, and if a bird took one grain of millet in a thousand years, and then flew a hundred times round the world, even in all that time your soul would have no news of the celestial court and Bu Sa'id would still be far off.'

Great patience is necessary for those who suffer; but no one is patient. When the quest is diverted from the inner to the outer, even if it should extend over the universe, in the end it will be unsatisfying. He who is not engaged in the quest of the inner life is no more than an animal - what shall I say? He does not even exist, he is a non-entity, a form without a soul.

(4) A Sufi woke one night and said to himself: 'It seems to me that the world is like a chest in which we are put and the lid shut down, and we give ourselves up to foolishness. When death lifts the lid, he who has acquired wings, soars away to eternity, but he who has not, stays in the chest a prey to a thousand tribulations. Make sure then that the bird of ambition acquires wings of aspiration, and give to your heart and reason the ecstasy of the soul. Before the lid of the chest is opened become a bird of the Spirit, ready to spread your wings.'

(1) Another bird asked the Hoopoe: 'O you whose motives are without guile, tell me how I can be sincere on this path to God. Since I cannot give up the longing of my heart I spend all that I have to achieve my aim. What I had I lost; what I kept has turned to scorpions in my hands. I am bound by no ties and have cast off all shackles and impediments. I wish to be sincere in the spiritual Way in the hope of one day seeing the object of my worship face to face.'

The Hoopoe replied: 'The Way is not open to everyone; only the upright may tread it. He who strives in this Way must do so tranquilly and with a whole heart. When you have burnt all that you possess gather the ashes together and seat yourself upon them. Until you die to all the things of this world, one by one, you will not be free. And seeing that you will not be long in the prison of the world detach yourself from everything. When death comes, can the things that now enslave you turn him aside? To travel this road, selfsincerity is necessary - and to be sincere with oneself is more difficult than you think.'

ALLEGORICAL SAYING OF TARMAZ!

The saint of Turkestan said one day to himself: H love two things, my son and my piebald horse. If I should hear that my son had died I would surrender my horse as a thanksgiving, for these two things are as idols to my soul.'

K

Set light to your faults, your resentments, and your vanities. Burn them and do not flatter yourself that you are more sincere than others. He who prides himself on his sincerity should strive to see himself as he is.