The Oneness of Being: A Review of Caravan of Souls by Zia Inayat-Khan

James Peacock

In the late 19th century, the Chicago World’s Fair was held as a celebration of the technological achievements of the West, which enabled it to dominate the globe. Nearby, the first Parliament of the World’s Religions was held, which resulted in the largest gathering in history of the representatives of the world religions. The event provided a unique opportunity for non-Christians to share their religions with the West, and resulted in memorable appearances by individuals such as Swami Vivekananda, representing Hinduism, Anagarika Dharmapala, representing Theravada Buddhism, and Soyen Shaku, representing Zen Buddhism. The enthusiastic response they received opened the door to a steady stream of representatives of Asian spirituality to the West. In 1910, Hazrat Inayat Khan, from India, would join them, bringing Sufism to the West, and reshaping it into a universalist philosophy and practice.

Caravan of Souls: An Introduction to the Sufi Path of Hazrat Inayat Khan, compiled and edited by his grandson Pir Zia Inayat-Khan, is a collection of short essays, most written by Inayat Khan, with contributions by Pir Zia and students of both teachers. The essays cover a wide range of topics: the guiding philosophy of Universal Sufism, the history of its founding and its founder, personal practices, group rituals, and organizational structure. Most of the essays are only 1-2 pages long, providing just enough information for an introduction, and the whole work provides a very readable overview of the people, practices, and history of Universal Sufism.

Sufism has a history dating back to early Arabian Islam, forming a sect that emphasized renunciation, contemplation, and love of the divine, and stood in opposition to the political power and literalism that came to characterize the growing religion of Islam. In time, the universal and mystical dimensions of Sufism resulted in persecution, and it went underground, even as its popularity grew. As Islam spread east, Sufism was further shaped by Persian and Indian culture, as Sufis freely interacted with members of different cultures and religions. It became a permanent part of the cultural and religious landscape of southern and central Asia. In 1882, Inayat Khan was born into a colorful, heterogeneous environment that included Islamic, Hindu, and Parsi influences. He grew up to become a famous musician and met his teacher, who initiated him into Sufism, and in 1910, sent him to the West with a mission to unite East and West with his music and spiritual teachings.

The first section of the book, “The Message,” is a summary of the guiding philosophy of Universal Sufism, and is an exemplar of universalist spirituality, reminding me of the Perennial Philosophy. Reading this section, I encountered ideas that were very familiar from readings in Vedanta, Zen, HaBaD Hasidism, and Christian mysticism. Every time I encounter these ideas, they seem to serve as a confirmation of the validity of the Perennial Philosophy, that such profound thoughts and experiences have been available to people from very different cultures and times. Of course, we have to be careful about finding patterns where they don’t actually exist, but the evidence in favor of a perennial philosophy/psychology/spirituality just seems to be growing. After all, we may come from different backgrounds, but we are all human beings, and the ideas of the Perennial Philosophy—that the world's religions have different exoteric dimensions (theology, beliefs, practices, etc.), but their esoteric/inner/contemplative dimensions form processes of transformation that eventually converge on the same non-dual point—seem to be rooted in our common human nature. “The Message” is my favorite part of the book, describing the following principles:

●      Humanity is one family, one body.

●      Sufism transcends religious differences and can be practiced by anyone.

●      It emphasizes wisdom, and love for God.and humanity.

●      Sufism is a process of purification, of returning to the natural state.

●      The aim is self-realization - realization of one’s true nature.

●      All scriptures are sacred, each a different interpretation of the one scripture of life, humanity, and nature.

●      A Sufi worships beauty and is guided by his own conscience.

●      Love is God, truth is the ultimate goal, and the result is happiness and peace (reminding me of a quote from Ramana Maharshi, “the true Self is imperishable; therefore, when a man finds it, he finds a happiness which does not come to an end.”[1])

●      The practice is the presence of God and realizing the oneness of being.[2]

The next section, “Ten Sufi Thoughts,” takes the themes from the previous section and treats each of them in greater detail, while continuing the universalist theme and emphasizing the theme of unity or oneness: God is the Only Being, in all forms and beyond all forms, a description of panentheism; One Guiding Spirit, with different names (Shiva, Buddha, Muhammad, etc.); nature as the source of all scriptures (Vedas, Bible, Qur’an, etc.); and so on, to the One Truth, that knowing oneself is knowing God; and the One Path, the annihilation of the false ego. The use of so many names and terms from diverse sources is evidence of Inayat Khan’s inclusive, comprehensive vision.

The next section traces the history of Sufi lineages from the Prophet Muhammad all the way down to Inayat Khan, who was initiated into all four of the traditional Sufi schools. It is interesting that the universalist theme is so prominent throughout the book, that there are almost no references to Islam, and no details at all about Islamic theology and practice. Except for the Arabic names and terms, one might forget that there was any connection at all. There is a short biography of Inayat’s murshid, or teacher, who is described as “an ascetic within, but a man of the world without,”[3] who wore gold-embroidered shoes as a reminder that “The wealth of this earth is only worth being at my feet.”[4] The biography of Inayat Khan himself describes his early life in a multi-religious environment, his achievements in music, his growing interest in spirituality, and the deaths of his parents and a brother, which had a significant effect on him, and which seems to be a common theme in the biographies of mystics (Buddha, Dogen, etc.). It also describes him meeting his murshid, his mission to bring Sufism to the West, his marriage, the growth of his movement, and his eventual return to India, where he died in 1927.

There are fascinating stories about Inayat Khan, exemplifying his role as intermediary between the visible and invisible worlds, such as his changing appearances in response to tragedies; suddenly walking out on the sand dunes of Holland and establishing the Mount of Blessings, while reminding his disciples of the prophet Elijah; initiation by a whirlwind in a forest; and an encounter with police that ended with him blessing them. There are also stories about the brothers who accompanied him to the West; the four women, and the only students, he authorized to teach, yet another sign of his inclusiveness and modern thinking; his daughter, who died while serving as a spy for the allies during WWII; and his son, Vilayat Khan, who eventually created his own organization, integrated Sufism with Buddhism, yoga, and biology, and whose death was noted even by the Dalai Lama.

The next two sections were extremely interesting to me. “The Path” describes the process and stages of transformation that the Sufi experiences over time, beginning with the initiation (bayat), through which the individual becomes a mureed, one committed to the murshid. The article, “Shaikh, Rasul, and Allah,” reminded me of the Hindu notion of Guru, Self, and God/Brahman, who are ultimately one. The process of practice, concentration, contemplation, meditation, and realization, resulting in the forgetting of one’s limited self and experiencing everything as God, have their parallels in yoga and Buddhism. By coincidence, on my desk is a bookmark that I picked up when Swami Asokananda, from Swami Satchidananda’s lineage of universalist Vedanta/yoga, gave a talk in Boulder. The quote on it ends with “this leads to purity of mind and that pure mind can experience that the individual is not doing anything; it is the Divine Consciousness that moves everything.” There are the five stages of knowing God, beginning with idealization and self-realization, and ending in perfection and annihilation in non-duality; the understanding that our true nature is that which cannot die; and the Light of Guidance, which is the reflection of God, is within us.

The section entitled “Methods and Practices” was interesting because anyone with a background in yoga will recognize its influence and integration into this lineage of Sufism. Sufism itself emphasizes the bhakti, or devotional, path of practice. Practices for controlling the body and mind, for purification and annihilation are popular themes in Indian spirituality. Inayat Khan describes the classic sitting postures, including the lotus posture; the two currents in the body and the breath connected to it; kundalini; and the subtle centers (chakras) of the body. In a discussion of the five planes, he mentions Vedanta and Christianity, and he recommends breathing exercises to work with prana. The remaining sections of the book include sayings which embody the universal, non-dual, devotional, service-oriented perspective of Sufism (“The closer one approaches reality, the nearer one comes to unity,” “What limits God? His name,” “The best way to love is to serve”[5]); songs and music; the structure of worship and healing services; and organizational issues.

I was hoping that this book would provide a good overview of Universal Sufism, but it really exceeded my expectations in all regards. It was extremely readable, providing relevant details in short, focused articles. The Sufi path it describes is also extremely relatable to me, as it embodies values that I have encountered elsewhere and have adopted myself - universalism, non-dualism, pragmatism, inclusiveness, tolerance, and supreme optimism. I highly recommend it to anyone who shares those values, and I’m happy to add Caravan of Souls to my library.

* James Peacock has a lifelong interest in spirituality, psychology, and meditation, and lives in Boulder, Colorado.

Notes:

1.     https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Ramana_Maharshi

2.     Inayat-Khan, Caravan of Souls, 7-9

3.     Ibid., 37

4.     Ibid., 38

5.     Ibid., 145-149

The Source of Beauty*

Netanel Miles-Yépez

Long ago, in a forgotten sultanate of the east, there was a group of young men who used to hang out in the suq, in the open market near the gates of the palace. These were young men who hadn’t yet found their way—some of them not even sure that they wanted to find a way—so they hung out in the suq, gambling and joking around with each other, and when necessary, getting an odd job to earn enough to buy a little food and gamble with later that night. 

One day, as they were sitting near the gates of the palace, a little bored with the usual fare, and with each other, one of them who was most bored, noticed a sedan chair—the kind used for carrying the women of the court through the marketplace—approaching the gates. He got up to see if he could get a better look. Then he saw a sight such as he had never seen before. It was a young woman, but not like the young women he knew. She was not like the ordinary girls of the suq. She seemed to him a rare pearl, smooth and radiant, almost not of this world, at least not of the squalid world he knew.

Obviously, it was the princess. She stepped down from the sedan with the greatest elegance and quickly entered the gate. But not before the young man had gotten a good look at her beautiful countenance and gentle form. Utterly captivated, he was chained to the spot on which he was standing, looking at the closed gate, still seeing the image of her in his mind’s eye. Moments later, he was awakened from his reverie by the laughter of his friends. Realizing they were laughing at him, he spoke up in the crude terms they were used to, saying, “What I wouldn’t give for two hours alone with her!” His friends laughed again, but this time with him. For that was how they thought of women. And the truth was, he wasn’t much different. But even as they walked away, laughing, he found himself looking back over his shoulder.

That night, he lay awake thinking of her. And yes, in the way young men usually do; but there was also something else, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. The next day, instead of going to hang out with his friends, as he had always done, he made a different choice and went back to the gates of the palace alone. He hoped again to catch a glimpse of the beautiful princess. But she didn’t come. He was disappointed. And yet, so strong was his desire to see her that he continued to loiter at the gate.

As the days passed, he occasionally thought of other things he might be doing—all the things he used to do with his friends—but they just didn’t seem to have the same allure for him anymore. He couldn’t conceive of hanging out and gambling if it meant missing the opportunity of seeing the princess again. The old pleasures paled before the possibility of encountering her beauty. Over time, even food began to lose its flavor, and soon, he became somewhat melancholy and wondered what was wrong with him. Maybe, he thought, I should try to rid myself of her image? So, as he had in the past, he went out with his friends, drinking and gambling (though the Qur’an al-Karim wisely warns about the danger of these activities). Clearly, he was hoping to quench his desires with them. He even pursued other young women, far easier to catch than the princess. But nothing worked. Nothing sated his desire for the princess. So, again, he took himself back to the gate, and every day waited near the entrance, hoping to catch a glimpse of the rare and beautiful young woman. He only wanted to see her again and proclaim his love. He was a simple young man, after all, and thoughtless of the almost insurmountable obstacles involved with loving a princess.

After weeks of waiting—what seemed an eternity—he again caught sight of the same sedan chair coming toward the gate. She must have come out at some point while he was sleeping, or trying to lose himself in other pursuits. But here she was again, finally. Overwhelmed by his great passion, he did the unthinkable, or at least something very unwise . . . Before the guards could stop him, he leapt toward the sedan as the princess was stepping out, and just in time, reached her, throwing himself at her feet, kissing the hem of her dress and saying, “My princess, my love, when can we be together?!”

The princess, of course, was taken aback. But maintaining her royal cool, she took one look at the brash young man, dressed in his rags, and said with polite disdain, “In the cemetery.” Meaning, of course—‘Not in this lifetime, buddy!’ She then pulled away and entered the gate as the guards grabbed the young man and threw him aside roughly.

Nevertheless, the young man was ecstatic! You see, for him, there was only his love and the object of his love. He thought, All that is necessary is to proclaim my love ! He could not even conceive that she might not share it. He assumed that the depth of his desire implied her own. Poor, simple young man that he was, with no experience of the subtleties of the educated, he took her seriously and headed straight for the cemetery.

“Yes!” He said to himself, “No one will see us there! We can be alone! The dead have no eyes! My beloved is smart as well as beautiful!”

On the outskirts of the city, he entered the cemetery and began to look around for the best place for their ‘encounter.’ I mean, the most romantic and advantageous spot in the cemetery for love-making! But no sooner did he find one than he gave it up in favor of another. Nothing seemed quite good enough. Finally, by every measure he could conceive, he found the most ideal spot and sat down to wait for her.

As the hours passed, he thought, Well, I suppose it's not so easy for a princess to get away from the palace. The sultan probably watches her like a hawk. And didn’t I have to wait weeks to see her again at the gate? It may be that’ll I’ll have to wait as long here. But it will be worth it! Here at least we can be together, alone!

So he waited, imaging the beautiful face of his beloved and their reunion.

As the days passed, he got by doing a little begging, and sometimes spent his days walking around, looking at the gravestones. He saw that this man lived to be very old, while this woman died very young. This woman was rich, and this man was poor. This man died in an accident, while this woman died of old age. Naturally, he started to ponder these matters, wondering what it was all about. And these thoughts sometimes joined with the thoughts of his beloved and her beauty (to which he always returned, so he wouldn't forget why he was there in the first place).

Weeks and months passed. People came to the cemetery to bury their loved ones, to visit graves, and he sees them crying and hears things like, “She was so pretty when she was young,” or “He was such a handsome man,” and he begins to think about such comments.

One day he asks himself, “What is it that I have fallen in love with in the princess? Is it is her physical beauty? That is wonderful, but it will change? She will get old and her beauty will fade, and finally, she will end up here . . . just bones. But many people come and bury their loved ones who are no longer beautiful, and their love remains. Will I continue to love the princess when she is no longer beautiful?” So he began to think about the nature of beauty. Eventually, he realizes that beauty comes in many forms, not all of them physical, and he wonders aloud, “Is there a beauty that does not change, that one may love forever? Indeed, what is the source of beauty?”

In time, he realizes that the source of beauty must be God. Then he starts thinking how beautiful God must be, and all the visions of beauty he can conceive pass before his mind’s eye until they create a vision of the totality of being, the beautiful unity of all being, and he passes out in utter bliss.

Now, for a long time, people had noticed that this young man was always in the cemetery. At first, they thought he must being doing some sort of penance, and so they offered him a little food. But later, when they saw he never left the cemetery and seemed more and more absorbed in his meditation, they thought, “This must be a holy man, a saint.” So they began to bring him food on a regular basis, and even to ask him for advice and blessings. Though, for all he knew, he was just waiting for the princess and puzzling over a question.

But by now, he had become a thoughtful person, a contemplative person. So when someone asked his advice, he would tell them what he thought or say, “I'll think about it. Come back and we’ll talk later.” And when people asked him for blessings, and he looked at their sorrow and their needs, he would simply speak the wish of his heart, “May there be help for you.” And the blessing seemed to work.

Many years passed this way, and the princess did what princesses do. She married a prince in a marriage of diplomacy. It was a happy enough marriage for her, except for one thing. She didn’t become pregnant. Or when she did, she didn’t carry to term. And this was the great pain of her life. She tried every doctor, every herb, every charm from every local healer, but nothing worked. Finally, one of her servants said: “Mistress, I know it is not my place to suggest anything, but when the people of this city need help, they go to the holy man in the cemetery for a blessing. Perhaps you could visit him and ask a blessing for children.” Without any other hope, the princess borrows the clothes of her servant and goes disguised to the cemetery in the late hours when no one else is about.

Seeing the saint, she speaks to him, saying, “Mawla,” master.

Though many years have passed, the saint of the cemetery looks up from his meditation and recognizes the princess immediately. “Princess,” the saint says in response, “after these many years, you have kept your promise to me.”

Taken aback, the princess says, “How could you possibly know who I am?”

“Because I was the young man at the gate; the one you said you would meet ‘in the cemetery.’ All this time, your face has been before me, and I want to thank you. It was your beauty and your guidance that sent me here, where I have gotten to know many great things, and have discovered the source of beauty and the source of my love. So, thank you. But, princess, no one comes to me in joy. They all come in sorrow. Tell me, what is your sorrow?”

The princess then unburdened herself to the saint, and asked for a blessing that she might have children.

“If there is any merit in anything I have done in this lifetime,” the saint declared, “I want that merit to be transformed into a child for you.” And this is how he blessed her. He then turned inward again, to gaze upon the source of beauty.

Sometime later, people noticed that he was deeper in meditation than usual and didn’t disturb him. But when a few days had passed, and still he didn't come out of his meditation, and his food had not been touched and had begun to rot, they became concerned. They checked and found that he was no longer breathing. He had died in the cemetery, gazing at the source of beauty.

Nevertheless, his final blessing had worked. The princess became pregnant, and the pregnancy held. After the baby was safely delivered, she took the child to see the saint. But she found that he had since died, and she mourned him sincerely. Years later, when her son was old enough to understand, she brought him the grave of the saint, and taught him about the love that had made his birth possible.

* The original of this story is found in the classic Jewish mystical text, Reishit Hokhmah, though it is obviously a Sufi story. This version is based on that of my own teacher, Rabbi Zalman Schachter-Shalomi, z”l, and that of his wife, Eve Ilsen. It was written up for a talk given to participants in the “Season of the Rose” Sufi camp at the Abode of the Message in July of 2015. 

I’ve Become an Ocean of Love

Netanel Miles-Yépez

After a Sufi Love Song by Yunus Emre

i’ve become an ocean of love

and an untold sea of suffering

all the ocean is now in my drop

and i wait hopeless for it to break

because it suffers love for love’s sake

there is no heart my heart cannot touch

no suffering world my hand cannot reach

nor any true healing for me in this world

the prophet isa was born upon a star

that broke on the blue eastern horizon

descending with mercy and compassion

to heal a broken world with his death

what waits for me in this trouble with love

a trouble that heals a need and yet breaks

my heart and your heart again and again

and leaves a body like rubble at ground zero

does a sacrifice for love accomplish its end

does a death for love heal the wound of love

does a broken heart mean anything sacred

does it carry a body to a heaven of fulfillment

i have become nothing in this ocean of love

no person to be admired nor any to be reviled

these seas as my witness i declare my self a fool

drowning in an ocean of tears suffering sacred

to know a human love as the holy absolute

to know the loneliness that only god can know

because god does not have a god to love her

nor any being to discover her except her own child

                                                      a broken human being in love

Livelihood and the Spiritual Journey

An Interview with Pir Netanel Miles-Yépez

By Roland Cohen

Pir Netanel Mu‘in ad-Din Miles-Yépez is the current head of the Inayati-Maimuni lineage of Sufism. He studied History of Religions at Michigan State University and Contemplative Religion at the Naropa Institute before pursuing traditional studies in both Sufism and Hasidism with Zalman Schachter-Shalomi and various other teachers. He has been deeply involved in ecumenical dialogue and is considered a leading thinker in the InterSpiritual movement. He is the co-author of two critically acclaimed commentaries on Hasidic spirituality, A Heart Afire: Stories and Teachings of the Early Hasidic Masters (2009) and A Hidden Light: Stories and Teachings of Early HaBaD and Bratzlav Hasidism (2011), the editor of various works on InterSpirituality, including The Common Heart: An Experience of Interreligious Dialogue (2006) and Meditations for InterSpiritual Practice (2012), and the editor of a new series of the works of the Sufi master, Hazrat Inayat Khan, annotated and adapted into modern English. He currently teaches in the Department of Religious Studies at Naropa University.

Roland Cohen is a senior meditation instructor in Shambhala. He has served as Resident Senior Teacher for the Shambhala Centers in New Zealand, and as Resident Director of Shambhala Training in Boulder, Colorado. Mr. Cohen is currently adjunct faculty at Naropa University and teaches throughout the U.S., Australia and New Zealand. He conducted this interview in preparation for the “Livelihood and the Spiritual Journey” dialogue, which was itself part of the 2014 Awake in the World Conference.

Roland Cohen: What role does work or livelihood play on the spiritual path, other than purely being the means of one’s survival? 

Pir Netanel Miles-Yépez: I like to say it like this, ‘We train for the race.’ A runner gets up everyday, goes out on the road—every day, every week, every month—putting in the miles, so that just two or three times a year, on the day of the race or the marathon, they’ll be able to perform at the peak of their ability. In the same way, we do our spiritual practices—daily, weekly, monthly—so that on those occasions when we really need them, they work for us . . . helping us to be less reactive and more compassionate. We do these spiritual practices to transform our lives, so that in our lives—at home, and at work—we might make different choices, better choices that produce better results.

You know, outside of weekends, I see my wife for a little while in the morning while she’s getting ready for work, and for a few hours in the evening before bed. But from eight to five, for the greater part of the week, she’s at work with other people. This is where most of us spend the greater part of our lives today. And because we spend so much time there, it is also where we see many of the ‘cracks in our armor,’ the flaws in our character. We just can’t spend any significant amount of time with people without revealing some of our flaws. But this also means that work is a place where we can make a significant difference in the world. We can see it as a testing-ground for spiritual transformation, a place to apply the teachings we have learned. So, in many ways, work is one of the most important ‘races’ for which we train.

Roland: Many people feel that they are trapped in jobs that are not ‘making a difference’—helping others or benefiting the world—and, in fact, may be doing harm in one way or another. Is there a way to reconcile the need to make a living, even through unsatisfying jobs, with pursuing a spiritual path?

Pir Netanel: I don’t care for the easy rhetoric which claims that everyone can have the job of their dreams, that you can just quit your unsatisfying job and start making coasters with pictures of your dog on them to sell on Etsy and you’ll make a million dollars. If you love making such coasters, by all means, do it. But do it for the love of it. Not to make a million dollars.

We have the power to make a noble effort, but not to guarantee results. If you need to make a change in your work-life or your career, make it. But accept all the consequences when you do so. Because, to have the career you’ll really love might also require a major sacrifice, perhaps a radical scaling-down of your current lifestyle. If you can’t, or find yourself unwilling to accept those requirements or sacrifices, then perhaps you should stay where you are, because it’s likely that you are already getting something that you need or want from it. And for that, one should be grateful.

Obviously, you don’t want to be doing any harm in your work; but people have to make difficult choices too. I’m certainly not going to criticize a single mother who’s struggled to find work for taking a job at a Monsanto chemical plant. I would only hope that once she’s improved her family’s circumstances, she’ll use it as a springboard to do something else, or use her position to help others in some way. But, whatever the circumstances, the spiritual path and one’s practices, are there to help one know what to change, how to change, when to change, or how to improve what cannot be changed easily. They are what we apply to all circumstances, and those circumstances are themselves our teachers.

Roland: In some work environments, people are expected to behave in an aggressive or competitive manner, putting productivity, profit or success before other considerations. How would you counsel someone who feels trapped by such expectations?

Pir Netanel: As we’ve already discussed, if these things run contrary to your values, this may be the wrong job for you. But if circumstances do have you feeling trapped, there are a couple of ways you might approach the problem: one is to make a ‘get-away’ plan that can be pursued slowly, step-by-step, until it is fairly safe for you to make the transition out of the job; the other is to take it as a challenge, finding better ways to be successful in the environment, transforming the values from the inside. But, whether you simply quit or make a slow transition, or attempt a quiet revolution there, the decision will require enormous resolve and commitment to doing whatever it takes. This is what is most critical.

Roland: For many people, work is all-consuming and takes-up most of their time and energy. Often, it seems, there is no time or energy left for meditation or other spiritual practices. What would you recommend for such people?

Pir Netanel: I want to say that sincerity is what counts. Sincere intention or dedication to one’s spiritual path and practice are as important as the practice itself.

When we sit down to meditate, we hope to be able to hold a particular ‘object’ of meditation. But, often, we spend the entire period trying to wrest our attention away from random thoughts, feelings, and sensations. And often, people think of these as ‘bad’ meditation sessions. But they are not at all ‘bad.’ Even if you spend the entire period trying to bring your attention back to the original object, you have done your work. You have, as St. Paul says, “fought the good fight.” (2 Timothy 4:7) You have followed through with sincere intention and dedication to the practice of meditation for that given period. Now, if we think of our entire life as sincerely dedicated to the spiritual path and practice, then no matter how many things get in the way, and no matter how many times we have to return our attention to it, if we do so, we are successfully following a spiritual path.

On the other hand, the busyness of our lives today requires that we “increase the yield” of our spiritual practices, as my teacher used to say. We have to understand the ‘technology’ of the practices better, understand our own contribution to them better, so that they can be more effective for us in a shorter amount of time.

Roland: Does the Sufi tradition have a general definition of what is “right” or an appropriate “livelihood”?

Pir Netanel: Yes, that which is ‘pure’ or ‘permissible’ (halal). As one hadith, or tradition of the Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him, puts it, “People! Allah is pure, and only accepts that which is pure!” (Sahih Muslim) From this, Muslims in general, and Sufis in particular, see it as necessary to try to live by means that are in accord with Muslim and Sufi definitions of purity and permissibility. For instance, Muslim jurisprudence tends to frown on earning money from things that are haram, or ‘forbidden’ in Islam, such as alcohol or gambling, etc. So keeping a tavern or selling liquor in general would not be looked upon with favor by most Muslims. Likewise, if a business or profession is deemed harmful to society in general, affecting its morals or honor, then that would be considered an inappropriate livelihood for a Muslim or Sufi. It goes without saying that one is not supposed to derive one’s livelihood or sustenance (rizq) from crime or deceit. (Ibn Majah)

Since Meccan society in the time of the Prophet was primarily a society of merchants, many of the Prophet’s ahadith or ‘traditions’ reflect this reality, saying things like: “Those who hold back grain in order to sell at higher prices are sinners” (Sahih Muslim); “May Allah have mercy on those who are generous when they buy, sell, or ask their due” (Sahih Bukhari); and “An honest and trustworthy merchant will be with the martyrs on the Day of Resurrection.” (Al-Hakim)

Moreover, in Islam, one is not supposed to beg or receive the charity of others if one already has enough, or is able bodied enough to take care of one’s family and their needs. (Ahmad)

Roland: What is a healthy balance between work and formal spiritual practice (meditation, prayer, contemplation, etc.) in one’s everyday life?

Pir Netanel: I’m reluctant to prescribe for people in general. I would rather continue to challenge the notion of a separation between the two. As it says in another hadith (related to the others just mentioned), “Neither merchandise nor selling divert these people from the remembrance of Allah.” (Sahih Bukhari) That is to say, for the true lovers of God, the formal practice of dhikr, or ‘rembrance’ of God, flows into and is not lost during the workday.

On the other hand, the Sufi manuals of adab, or ‘etiquette,’ do make suggestions with regard to balancing work and formal spiritual practice. They say: “Sufis may participate in business to support their families. But this should not keep them from their spiritual work. One should not see this as a means of earning one’s livelihood, but of supporting one’s spiritual work, one’s family, and supporting the faithful. The Sufi should arrange the work to suit spiritual work, or if that is not possible, to adjust one’s life-patterns to accommodate the spiritual work.” (Suhrawardi)

Roland: New technologies have brought a lot of speed and a greater quantity of information into our current workplaces; how can one find and maintain one’s equanimity in the midst of such speed and this overload of information?

Pir Netanel: It’s a difficult question to answer. I am reminded of a time when I witnessed the head of the Aikido lineage in which I trained demonstrating techniques for a group of us. He was in his 70s at the time, and the partners with whom he was training were young men and women moving at high speed. Though they attacked fast, his response was neither frantic nor hurried. In fact, he seemed to be moving slowly, with a gentle ease and elegance. I was amazed, because his movements, though small and unhurried, were profoundly effective.

Later, while talking to my own Aikido teacher outside, I described what I had just seen. He said, “Yes, he calls it ‘zero speed.’ ” Zero speed. That is to say that the master existed in a world of calm, centered efficiency that allowed him to meet the attack without losing his own equanimity. His centeredness allowed for a precision and profoundly effective economy of effort. Thus, there was no need for him to try and match the speed and energy output of the younger attackers.

Witnessing this demonstration, I learned that it is possible to be effective in a fast-moving situation without necessarily taking-on the hurried and frantic mind of one who is usually caught up in the speed and stress of such situations. I’m not always successful at it, but I know it is possible.

Roland: How is the accumulation of wealth generally viewed in the Sufi tradition? Is it ever considered an obstacle to the spiritual life?

Pir Netanel: Early Sufism was very ascetic and would certainly have considered it an obstacle. With Isa al-Masih (Jesus), they would say, “it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of the needle than for the rich to enter the kingdom of God.” (Matthew 19:24) And though this view still generally prevails, there are also exceptions to the rule.

Muhyiddin ibn al-Arabi, known as the sheikh al-akbar, or the ‘greatest sheikh’ in Sufism, told a story of two great Sufis he once met. While in Tunis, he met a poor fisherman living in seclusion in a marsh with whom he stayed for three days. The fisherman prayed both day and night, though every morning, he went fishing, catching always three fish. One he let go, one he gave to the poor, and one was his meal for the day.

When ibn al-Arabi was ready to depart, the fisherman asked him his destination.

“Egypt,” he replied.

Tears came into the fisherman’s eyes, and he said: “My master, my sheikh is in Egypt! Please give him my respects and ask him what I am to do in the world.”

Though the man seemed to need no guidance, Ibn al-Arabi agreed.

When Ibn al-Arabi reached Egypt, he found the sheikh living in a palace of wealth and luxury. He seemed merely to be a worldly man. But when Ibn al-Arabi told the sheikh the request of his student in Tunis, the sheikh said: “Tell him to take the love of this world out of his heart.”

This seemed an amazing statement coming from a man who lived in a palace. But when Ibn al-Arabi returned to Tunis and told this to the poor fisherman, the man began to sob and said: “For thirty years I have tried to take the love of the world out of my heart; and yet, I am still a worldly man! At the same time, my master lives amid riches, and hasn’t a drop of the world in his heart—neither the love of it, nor the fear of it. That is the difference between him and me!”

Roland: Is money, in itself, viewed as positive, negative or neutral in Sufism?

Pir Netanel: Money itself is neutral in Sufism. The question is, as the story suggests, do we have the love or fear of the world (or money) in our hearts?

Roland: For the layperson, how much is considered to be ‘enough’ in terms of comfort, wealth and security. At what point could it become a hindrance?

Pir Netanel: Too much cushion or buffer against the vicissitudes of life creates an artificial sense of security, and that becomes a hindrance. We can get into a place where we no longer feel alive and vital, and often, are no longer sensitive to those who are most vulnerable to those vicissitudes.

Roland: Is there a necessity for retreat practice (leaving the world) as part of the spiritual path in your tradition? Is there an appropriate balance between ‘retreat’ and ‘involvement in the world’ proposed for lay people?

Pir Netanel: Yes, Sufism has a long tradition of khalwah, ‘seclusion’ or retreat. These are periods of extended practice that anchor one in the tradition, and which cultivate an experience of inner realities. In one sense, any time we take out for “formal spiritual practice,” as you put it earlier, is khalwah. But it is perhaps most often associated with three-day, forty-day, and three-year retreats. The forty-day retreat however, became the ideal of the tradition, so much so that the Arabic and Farsi words for ‘forty,’ arba‘in and chilleh, acquired the connotation of an ‘ordeal,’ a sustained period of intensive spiritual practice. It breaks the rhythm of the worldly and sets the pattern of the spiritual. This is what’s really important.

A Turkish Muslim maker of sikkes, the traditional hats of the Mevlevi Sufis.

Roland: What are the benefits of being ‘in the world’ as opposed to ‘leaving the world’ (retreat or monasticism).  Is one of these considered superior to the other?

Pir Netanel: The world is where the work is. There’s a famous saying of the Prophet, “There is no monasticism (monkery) in Islam.” Muslims are encouraged to marry and have families, to be good citizens and contribute to the health of society. Because of this, formal monasticism did not develop in Sufism. Nevertheless—especially in the ascetic period—Sufis often put off marriage as long as possible, and many lived an extremely ascetic and solitary lifestyle even in the midst of married life. In later periods, however, Sufis put more emphasis on integration in the world and community, finding God in all places and all people. The ideal became one of service to the world. In retreat practice, Sufis believe that they are actually being made ready for the world.

Roland: Does the Sufi tradition propose gender specific roles regarding work and home?

Pir Netanel: Those are more historical and cultural issues. Even so, there were exceptions, like Rabi‘a al-Adawiyya, one of the greatest of all Sufi mystics, who lived a very unconventional life for a woman of her time. But, even within conventional roles, Sufis were still Sufis, whether men or women. I have seen examples of Sufi women in traditional societies, in rural towns, who sing their own dervish songs while making the bread together, and men who do the same at their work.

In the traditional environment, through most of Sufi history, Sufi men and women were mostly segregated. Women were led by sheikhas, women spiritual leaders, and men by men. But today, this is much less the case in many places. And in universalist Sufism, there are no such restrictions or divisions.

Roland: Is our ‘success’ or ‘failure’ at work connected with one’s spiritual development? Does success as motivation for one’s livelihood conflict with the spiritual path?

Pir Netanel: Everything is grist for the mill. It is impossible to say whether there is a conflict except in individual cases.

Roland: Let’s put it like this then . . . Do Muslims or Sufis believe that one would more likely experience conventional or worldly success if one is more spiritually devoted or more spiritually developed? It seems we tend to be judged by our successes and failures, both by ourselves and by others. 

Pir Netanel: I see . . . I’m sure there are Muslims who feel that worldly success is tied to personal piety or religious observance. There are always people who want to make a simple correspondence like this. But most of the exempla from the Islamic tradition that come to mind tend to support a view of ‘ultimate success’ or ‘reward,’ and not necessarily of worldly success. After all, though the Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him, is somewhat successful prior to the revelation of the Qur’an al-Karim, and is victorious over the enemies of Islam at the end of his lifetime, during the majority of his time as prophet—one might say, at the height of his spiritual development—he was almost continually besieged, plotted against, and persecuted.

I’m sure there are actually ayat (‘verses’) in the Qur’an or ahadith (‘traditions’) that seem to support the former view, but my sense is that the Qur’an is mostly attempting to bring about a true reckoning in one’s life, a true accounting of those things that matter most, beyond or beneath the surface successes and immediate rewards of life. The Qur’an is most often taking successful and worldly persons to task for having forgotten or having abused the widow, the orphan, and the poor. It is continually reminding them that death comes to us all, and there are always karmic consequences, i.e., a ‘reckoning’ for our actions. So we need to stop living for immediate rewards and look at the long-term consequences.

The Qur’an supports purity of motivation and truth in action, rather than notions of conventional success or failure. It does not seem to be against such success, but places more importance on the inner dimension of one’s life. I think the most we can say is that spiritual development can help us to live a more fulfilled life, or live more fully in the face of life’s difficulties, which might be a better measure of ‘success.’

Roland: Is there a divide in your tradition between the spiritual and the secular, the sacred and the profane?  

Pir Netanel: No. Sufis speak of wahdat al-wujud, the ‘unity of all being.’ As Hazrat Inayat Khan says, “There is one God, the Only Being, nothing else exists.” Sacred and profane are seen pragmatically. That which tends toward the greater unity is sacred, and what leads to greater separation is profane. Though, it must be said, that there are Sufi lineages, like the Chishti lineage, which shuns connections to politics and the powerful. But much of this is really a shunning of influence-seeking. One should not chase after ‘name and fame.’

Roland: Are there considered to be ‘seasons’ in a person’s life when particular activities are more appropriate than others? Are these spelled out in your tradition?

Pir Netanel: Only as defined by the necessities of age and circumstance. There is nothing like the ashramas, or life-stages of Hinduism, where one is supposed to seek the spiritual life in old age. It is incumbent upon one to do so throughout one’s life, in whatever way possible, no matter the life-stage or circumstance.

Roland: We've all heard of the syndrome of being a ‘burned out’ helper or giver—one who is always there for others, perhaps with no time or energy left for themselves and with little or no support. Is there a tendency for people to fall into this category in your tradition? Is there an antidote proposed?

Pir Netanel: The Sufi is by definition a servant. One’s first duty is to take care of one’s family. Burn-out is really an individual matter that hopefully finds some relief through family and communal support. I have not noticed it to be a particular issue in Sufism. Rather, it seems to be endemic to western society. Sufism and its communal structures are meant to be the ‘antidote’ to such situations.

Roland: There are situations which seem to demand that one should act hypocritically, such as sacrificing honesty in order protect a project, one’s leaders, or to gain advantage for oneself or one’s position. How would you advise someone to work with this?

Pir Netanel: Skillfully. Hazrat Inayat Khan makes a point of saying that the Sufi is not unworldly, and Jesus himself says it is a tough world and Christians should be, “Cunning as serpents and innocent as doves.” (Matthew 10:6) What does that mean? Honest and sincere, but skillful in their dealings with others who are not so. It is difficult not to lie. Indeed, one master famously said that it took him fourteen years to stop lying, and it broke nearly every bone in his body to do so. The trick is to learn to tell the truth that you can tell in the moment without sacrificing your integrity.

Roland: Are there standards of behavior, vows or moral codes regarding livelihood in Sufism?

Pir Netanel: The basic ethics of Sufism are drawn from Islam; but Sufis also have specific codes or manuals of behavior. These define adab, or the specific ‘etiquette’ for various situations.

Roland: Does Sufism teach that one should give a portion of their income to charity? If so, what are the virtues of this?

Pir Netanel: That too is defined by Islam for Muslim Sufis. The Muslim Sufi, in general, gives 1/40th (or about 2.5%) of their yearly income to charity. This is called, zakah. It can be higher, depending on the type of property one owns, and on which one needs to pay tax. But it is basically 1/40th. This is how Muslims re-distribute wealth to the poorer segments of society, those whose income is so low that they do not meet the minimum requirements for paying tax themselves. Among the world’s population, Muslims tend to give more to charity than any other group of people. For the Muslim, this is law, one of the pillars of Islam. But for the Sufi, this is seen as a duty, a part of one’s service in the world that also challenges us to reduce our attachment to our own comforts in favor of helping others. Thus, the Chishti lineage of Sufism in India is particularly well-known for its langars, or kitchens which serve the masses.

Roland: Does your community provide support for its members who are in need? Does it help members who are struggling or destitute find employment? 

Pir Netanel: My own community is very small, and very young. But that is the ideal we try to uphold, and I hope it will become the foundation of our community.