Eastern Techniques (I)

The ' Tincture Technique*

RICHARD DROBUTT

THE SHEIKHS OF the Suhrawardi Order of Sufis, as well as

sundry Christian clerics of the Armenian and Coptic Churches,

follow this technique. Briefly it is based on the belief that something

taught to a sample group out of a whole community will

improve the community as a whole, the teaching spreading telepathically

from the 'treated' group to the rest. In Istanbul

Mehmet Shevki, preceptor of the Nurbakhsi School, emphasised

that this doctrine was the basis of the Ottoman practice of

collecting slaves, trainees and recruits from all parts of their

Empire, and even beyond it. This is said to be a very ancient

belief; according to the Romanian priest Epifaniu, this process

(called by him 'dilution') is an essential part of the human

learning-process, and has also been observed in animals. He

continued that it was reputedly discovered and applied many

thousands of years ago in Babylon. All believers in this technique

agreed that it is reduced in efficiency by the mental activity of

the attempt to pass on all teaching by speech or writing. I have

not read or heard of this doctrine before.

RICHARD DROBUTT has specialised in the study

of Balkan, Caucasian and Turkish mystical methods.

He is a member of the Nurbakhshi Order of Sufis, and

wrote I Spy for the Empire.

Eastern Techniques (II)

Teaching Techniques

WILLIAM FOSTER

THE COMMON DENOMINATOR which I have again and again

noted during over forty years of living among and studying the

beliefs of people of the East (particularly India, the Khyber,

Kashmir and Turkey) has been one which probably effectively

prevents the European from studying efficiently under such a

person. There are exceptions, of course, but the concept is so

strange that I can only call it 'Inconsistency'. The typical

Murshid (Sufis) Guru (Hindus), even Eastern Orthodox

monkish preceptor will seem to be, at different times, impatient,

vacillatory, inconsistent, lacking in foresight. His Western

disciples will regularly try to ignore or explain away these

techniques (for techniques they undoubtedly are) and in doing

so will miss the intended point. In the West, we cannot bear

untidiness, lack of answers to questions, absence of a system

which we try to find and to cause to work. These things work

admirably in ordinary organisation, but according to the observed

workings of mystical schools, they are a hindrance. There is an

additional barrier. If the alternation of mood, change in circumstances

and so on applied by the mentor so powerfully affects

the learner that in his ordinary life he ceases to be efficient, he

has failed.

From the psychological point of view it might be

said that the indolent or confusing behaviour of the teachers is

a means of testing; but it would seem to me that it is intended

to reflect the habits of mind of the students, so that they may

learn from them, as much as anything else. There is no doubt

in my mind that it works; for I have not yet met a distinguished

teacher in this field who has not been through the hands of

one or more of such teachers. Another outstanding characteristic

of Eastern teaching strange to us is the habit of teachers from

one persuasion passing disciples on to representatives of another.

There is little sign of the conflict or exclusiveness that we have

learned to expect in Europe from the followers of mystical cults.

The policy of suspending studies, so that the tyro is for long or

short periods without any stimulus from the school, is another

which rarely fails to annoy, and generally shed, the Westerntrained

would-be student.

WILLIAM FOSTER has made a special study of

the secret training system of the descendants of

Mohammed the Arabian Prophet. An extract from his

researches, carried out through his friendships with

various Saiyeds of this clan, was published under the 
title of The Family of Hashim. He is currently working 
on a full-scale study of teachership as actually
practiced in the East.

Known and Unknown

The Known and Unknown in Studies

JOHN GRANT

THE PERENNIAL RUMOUR that a secret path to inner knowledge

lingers in the East, if it has any truth in it at all, seems to be

connected with psychological attitudes common to the East

which in our culture can find no place. This is not to say that

such ways of thinking should not become possible for us; indeed,

were not possible to our forebears. The chief among these in

my experience is the role of the individual as an instrument

rather than as a name. Some of the most important individuals

in Eastern history are practically unknown as personalities.

What has been considered important is their message. In many

cases we do not know where they were born, where they were

buried, what they were like. We only know what they tried to do.

The same phenomenon is strong in certain spiritual schools

today. Among the Sufis, it may be the least significant-looking

person who is the teacher: even the youngest. Books and other

teaching materials which circulate, sometimes couched in the

greatest poetry of Arabic, Persian and' other languages, are

anonymous. Works of art are rarely signed. There is not a

single authentic portrait known of any of the spiritual teachers

of most of Asia before the nineteenth century European influence

and interest in personality. Then there is the interchangeability

of teacher and pupil; something unknown to our thinking. In

some dervish schools, senior members are taught certain things

and then sent to complete or improve personal and group

characteristics by acting in a lowly capacity in another school.

Such an attitude seems almost grotesque to us, who believe,

unconsciously, that a man must be distinguished in all ways if

he is accepted as of a certain standard in one. That such

techniques and attitudes may reflect an ancient knowledge forgotten

by us is perhaps borne out by the claim that ideas of a

Western kind have been known for thousands of years in Asia.

Not long ago I was talking about modern public-opinion testing

methods used in the West, and also referring to the trials of new

drugs which were made by giving some to patients and having

'control groups' who were not given anything, and also groups

who were given inert substances—placebos—to see whether

there was a psychological effect. The Sheikh of the Qalandars of

Delhi said that this system of testing the 'ripeness' of a population

for a spiritual teaching had been in use for centuries. 'We

often,' he said, 'have sent out teachers with whole ranges of

ideas which were useless, just to see which people would be

attracted to them. This not only helped us to choose promising

students, but also kept busy the people who would be useless,

since they would be occupied believing the "truths" of the

concocted cult.'

I have been privileged to see this technique in operation. In

its modern form it has given rise to some of the 'Eastern' teachings

taken to Europe and America by well-meaning but selfdeceived

foreigners who have been unwitting subjects tested by

this method.

 

DR JOHN GRANT, in addition to spending over a

quarter of a century in private studies of Babylonian

belief and tradition, has published three semi-autobiographical

books in English: Fighting Through, Lion of the Frontier

and Through the Garden of Allah.

His knowledge of Sanskrit, Hindi and Urdu have

enabled him to live in India and Pakistan, collecting

unpublished records of beliefs and practices.

Meditation

Meditation Method

MIR S. KHAN

AFTER FOLLOWING INDICATIONS of the theoretical dynamic behind

traditionalistic meditation activity, it was when I was studying

with Gulbaz Khan of Kalat (Baluchistan) that I came

across what might be termed a developed theory of pupilteacher

meditation. This is attributed to the remotest antiquity;

though why it should be claimed that it was practised by 'Noah,

Joseph, Jesus, Elias and Salman the Persian' especially, I cannot

say.

 In summary, the theory holds that there is a certain

element in the human being which strives towards perfection.

This element (Nafs-i-Haqiqa = the True Being) will attach itself

to anything—men, objects, ideas—in the hope of finding some

conductor which will bring it to 'maturity' (Pukhtagi). When it

comes into contact with a correct source of conduction—a

teacher, it feeds itself for a time on his knowledge. This is the

phase of attachment to a teacher. If the teacher accepts the

pupil, he will first of all teach interchange concentration exercises.

In these the mutual bond is strengthened.

The next step is for the teacher to induce the students

to interchange with one another, which they do by meeting regularly

and all taking an interest in some common theme. They may think

that they are learning something from that theme. In fact, they are

becoming attuned to one another.

Next comes the phase in which the

pupils are able to spend some time, at will, interchanging with

the teacher and with one another. When this stage has been

reached, they have attained a form of directing capacity over

their spiritual life. The next form of meditation is when different

subjects of meditation are given to each student. Now each has

three types of practice. After that comes the succession of

meditation. The whole community following signals from the

teacher or his deputy (Khalifa) first collect themselves, then

meditate upon themselves, then upon the teacher, then upon

an object or idea, then upon the private objects or ideas. In this

way, it is believed by the mystics of the Chishti, Qadiri and other

schools, the human capacity for connection with superior

cognition is practised and brought to fruition.

 

MIR S. KHAN is of nomadic extraction, and has

written and broadcast on a wide variety of subjects.

He has made sociological studies of the Berbers and

the Afghan Kochis, and his despatches have been

published in The Times of London, used by the British

Broadcasting Corporation, and appeared widely in the

general press in many countries. He is a member of

several Sufi Orders.

The Current of Knowledge

Learning by Contact

RUSTAM KHAN-URFF

THE BEKTASHI OF ALBANIA, as well as the Mahaguru of

Ladakh, preserve a belief in learning by contact. This is based

upon the theory that a 'current' of knowledge must run through

all parts of an organisation set up by a teacher or holy man. He

starts with the immediate circle of disciples, each of whom will

become to a greater or lesser degree imbued with his sanctity.

They, in turn, will communicate it to their trainees or to the

people with whom they come into contact. There could be an

argument for claiming that this knowledge behaves like such a

force as electricity, even if only because it is enunciated that, for

optimum transmission effectiveness of the knowledge, it has to

be exerted upon carefully chosen people, and the people themselves

must be collected around a certain 'Point of concentration'—

a place, a series of prayers, etc. In this sense the teacher

and the people whom he has influenced may be likened to an

organism which has come into being for a purpose, and which

derives its nourishment from a total action which radiates from

a centre and suffuses the whole. It may be this doctrine which

underlies the belief that the mere act of induction or initiation

conveys a power or capacity for development which can continue

in the person regardless of whether he is constantly carrying

out the rituals of the cult or not. There are distinct traces in the

above-mentioned and other cults of a belief in the presence of

a 'divine current' in men and women associated by means of

special routines. The terminology used, however, is not scientific

in our modern sense, and it is possible that this has obscured

the doctrine as far as we are concerned.

RUSTAM KHAN-URFF was born in Bokhara and

educated at Mire-Arab College, where he became

Custodian of Manuscripts, as well as being Turkic

expert of the Arg (Palace) Library. He settled in

Albania in 1936, having lived and studied in India,

Kashmir and Yemen. He has published one book in

English, The Diary of a Slave.

Studying Literature

Study and Literature

PARIS LARBY

THE OUTSTANDING DEFECT in the general approach to mystical

literature in the areas known by me is profound. This approach,

having no means whereby to analyse such literature, yet continues

to study, translate and quote it, sometimes with grotesque

results.

As an example: Dervish literature contains several different

meanings. Sometimes these are contradictory. When this is the

case the reason is that the piece is designed partly to stimulate,,

through 'shock', the human mind. But the intellectual, finding

inconsistencies in this literature, automatically assumes that it is

defective in some way.

Second: what is on the surface poetry or dramatic prose, or

even history, may contain, when interpreted in a certain manner

all sorts of exercises, theories and doctrines below the surface.

But the orientalist and the conventional Eastern student, simply

has no idea of that. For these reasons almost all of the mystical

literature available is in reality incomprehensible to the current

student, of East or West.

Third: literature is given to people to study for a reason. It

has been chosen and given out in order to help the individual's

training. But, again in East or West, if someone is given a

book to read, he will not only gallop through that one, but will

search indefatiguably for everything and anything connected

with its theme, by the same person, or mentioned in the text.

From the point of view of efficient study (if not from that of

academic tradition) such a process is a grotesque of the intended

effect.

Without a teacher to give out suitable exercise-literature,

without a course of study which will lead somewhere, omniverous

reading will cause satiety—and worse. The Sufis say: 'Man

likes what is bad for him, and dislikes what is good for him.'

If I have learned anything at all, it is that this teaching is

clearly evidenced as correct in the situation where man

approaches special literature in such a wholly distressing frame

of mind as to imagine that he can teach himself better than a

teacher. It indicates a man who is not really a student, though

he may think he is one. A student is one who either follows a

teacher, or who has the capacity to understand what he is doing.

FARIS LARBY is a Moroccan who has made a special

study of the use of literature among the mystical

fraternities of the Maghrib (North-West Africa) and

in Persia.

KAIF

The KAIF* System

MORAG MURRAY (1968)

(*Note: Kaif is pronounced "Kife").

KAIF is the effect which a person, idea, event, object, etc., has

upon one. But it is distinct from aesthetic pleasure or any

familiarly labelled experience.

When an experience which was trivial or routine gives

one a sense of uplift—this may be Kaif.

New experiences may or may not have Kaif.

Repeated

experiences yielding pleasure or attractive

sensations do not have Kaif.

Eating, drinking, dancing, meeting people, visiting, travel,

reading, seeing, feeling, hearing, thinking—may have Kaif.

The term for something which has Kaif is

Kaifdar—

'Kaif-holding'.

A person who can provoke the sensation of Kaif in an individual

or a number of people is called the Kaiyyaf (rhymes

with 'I laugh'). The instructor in Kaif is called the Sahib el-

Kaif (Kaifmaster).

Also used is the term Kaifiat—which means something like

'Howness'.

The Kaifmaster Barik Ali said: 'Kaif is the determining ingredient

in an enjoyment. If it is not there, true enjoyment is

not there. If it is not there, people may divert themselves with

happiness - this is not Kaifiat.'

The Kaifmaster Ankabut said: 'Kaif is imparted into a thing.

It may be imparted by anyone or anything. When it leaves only

the shell is left. People eat shells when they cannot get nuts.'

The Kaifshinas is the Kaif-knower. He can appreciate Kaif.

He may not be able to induce it. His house may be untidy. But

it will be full of Kaif.

Kaifju means a Seeker of Kaif. He starts by seeing other

people appreciating Kaif, and tries to find it wherever it manifests

itself.

Kaif is used either as an indulgence on its own, or in order

to provoke higher states of consciousness, known as 'the secrets'

(Asrar).

Kaif may be found in any community, at any time, under any

circumstances. It is not bound by language, history, geography.

Certain professions are held to be Kaifdar. They include

those of chief of state, builder, artizan, poet and

designers of all kinds.

Few professions are bereft of Kaif. Certain places are more

difficult for Kaifshinasi.

The very term Kaif has become cheapened, so that people

use it to mean 'This is something I like', or 'I enjoy that', or

'He has presence', or 'This is satisfying, attractive, stimulating'.

You must beware of yourself using this term, and also of those

who use it, so that the coin may not be debased.

Kaif is defeated very easily. It is defeated in its attempted

manifestations by false ideas, by self-esteem, by hypocrisy of

any kind.

There is a danger in Kaif. People who perceive it and

do not respect or honour those who have Kaif, or

respect Kaifdar situations, places, and so on, become

'inverted to themselves'. This is a state in which a

person's bad characteristics become stronger, and

where his self-control becomes less, and where his

hidden unpleasantnesses undermine his very being.

Kaif is in shape and in form, as well as in shapelessness and

formlessness. It lies dormant in places and among people where

it is not perceived for a long time. Then only the introduction

of a conscious Kaifshinas will activate it again in that community

so that it may take its place to help mankind.

Kaif is not confined to humanity, but can be perceived by all

living organisms.

Something which is aesthetically adequate, or emotionally

stimulating can at the same time be devoid of Kaif.

Certain exercises, which vary in accordance with the person,

place and the general situation of his community, enhance

Kaifshinasi.

Kaifmasters subject their students to experiences, related

incidents, objects and other matter which have Kaif, or can

provoke it.

Kaif has a 'moment', called the Dumm-i-Kaif

(Breathspan of Kaif) during which it may be, as it

were, 'inhaled'. The Kaifshinas strengthens and makes

permanent his perception of it by the exercises which

apply to this 'moment'.

In religious, musical and even social ceremonials, a Kaifdar

is present. One of his activities is to 'infuse' Kaif into the

proceedings at a time when uninformed onlookers might assume

that the people are doing nothing, or else are engaged in an

activity (such as a recitation) which is only the vehicle for the

application of the Kaif.

Special Kaif-chambers exist, in which an individual

with the correct preparation may concentrate and

accumulate Kaif, and study it in its manifestations.

In degenerated usage, such Kaif-chambers continue to be used,

sometimes as devotional buildings. More often they are thought

to be tombs, have fallen into ruin because there was no apparent

use for them, or seem to have other applications, such as

kitchens or bath-houses.

There is a well-known watchword: Inna el-Kaii, hadha

el-Saif (Assuredly the Kaif is a Sword).

Hence the word SWORD is often used as a password and

even as a synonym of the working of Kaif.

Objects charged with a certain portion of Kaif are

given, lent and carried by many people who know.

These, like Kaif-chambers, are generally disguised as

something functional, or else are ordinary objects

which have been endowed with Kaif. The vulgar often

confuse this with talismans or charms.

The saying: 'Kaif-alaik!' is a sort of blessing. It means:

'May you have Kaif.'

In Turkey the Kaif-Agha was the individual entrusted

with the royal Kaif. He was a Kaifdar, and generally

assigned a court function as well.

Because its smokers have appropriated the term Kaif to

describe (inaccurately) their sensations, Hashish has become

known as Keef, a mispronunciation of Kaif. There is no real

connexion, of course.


 

MORAG MURRAY was born in Scotland. She has

lived and travelled in Central Asia, Tibet, India and

the Far East. Her autobiography, My Khyber Marriage, 
starting from her marriage to an Afghan chieftain,
established her literary reputation. It was

translated and widely serialised.

Emulation

Emulation and Cycles of Study 
ALI SULTAN

(1968)

THE TRADITION

The Bukharan spiritual teachers of the Nakshibendi, Hajegan

and Chistiya Schools have for long emphasised the importance

of emulation in teaching. To emulate the outward behaviour of

a teacher, however, as is customary in virtually all Eastern

systems, is regarded by them as the lowest form of practice.

The true form of emulation can come, it is believed, only through

being involved in activities of almost any kind, initiated by a

teacher.

INTERPRETATION AND USE OF TECHNIQUE

There is a sharp contrast between Bukharan and European

behaviour in the interpretation of emulation and example by the

different schools. In the tradition being studied, slavish imitation

of a master is regarded as the mark of an unpromising student.,

and just as bad as criticism. The teacher makes an actual

exercise of associating with him, from time to time, all of his

pupils in some of the affairs of everyday life. In this way, they

learn by observation and by co-operation with 'something

greater'—this something greater being believed to be an objective

force operating within the teacher himself. In this way, it is

stated, the teacher and the students constitute together a pattern.

The teacher is in contact with a cosmic intention. That intention

informs him; he, in turn, relates the pupils with it by allowing

them to take a part in his activity. It is said to be for this reason

that teachers sometimes encourage one student, sometimes avoid

him: he is when he does this thought to be attaching the

student to the operation of the 'Greater Plan', and detaching

him from it when it is in a period of suspension. This emphasises

another important Central Asian dogma: that the operation of

the 'Great Plan' is cyclic and discontinuous. 'To continue

activity when the Great Plan is quiescent (for its own reasons)',

says Ahmed Yasavi, 'is harmful to the pupil. He must be told

this, otherwise he thinks that the teacher has abandoned him.'

ALI SULTAN has travelled and studied extensively

in Turkistan, Khorasan and India, publishing some

experiences in his English book And They Died.

Breaking Habits

Habit-Breaking Methods

N. AWAB ZADA
(1968)

THE DOCTRINE.

The breaking of habits when they are automatically applied,

or rather misapplied, by being attached to higher aims, has

found a promising field in India. The doctrine underlying this

approach, familiar to all Eastern mystics, is that while man is

mechanical and trained in routines in ordinary ('secular') life,

—and should allow himself to operate in this manner for social

survival—he should develop another part of his being to work

beyond this. It is stated by the Sufis and advanced yogins alike

that habits must be broken. Some go so far as to inculcate

habits only in order to break them, to illustrate in the disciple's

own life experience how undesirable for higher consciousness

such habits can be.

METHOD.

The method is well-established and documented, though its

use would seem so astonishing to routine thinkers of the Western

tradition that they have generally misinterpreted it, thinking

that habit-breaking guides are heretics or irrational. In the West,

unification is generally thought to be the finding of common

denominators in faith or action. In the habit-breaking methods,

the first step is to state that unity underlies diversity, and

diversity must be exposed as secondary and unessential before

the unity can be found. In other words, it has to be claimed and

if possible demonstrated that, say, vedanti, fakiri and other

systematised practises are merely cloaks or frames by means of

which something is achieved. Prince Dara Shikoh was a noted

exponent of this iconoclastic method, as was Sarmad. 'Unless

and until man can see that all ritual, all observance, all idols

are useful for some things and useless in another sense,' said

the latter, 'he will remain in chains—even if they are golden

chains, made out of gold coins spent by his ancestors.' The

method could be summarised as 'shock'. Students are expected

to abandon completely their religious or psychological framework,

dogma or system, changing it entirely for another one, so

that they can develop cognitions of a far higher order than those

which they get from repeating actions laid down in the past.

N. AWAB ZADA lived for thirty years before Indian

independence in many of the semi-independent Indian

States, and studied under teachers attached to

maharajahs' courts. His major study of the problems

and development of these states is Indian India,

published in England.

The Mulla Nasrudin Tales

In a Naqshbandi Circle

RAOUL SIMAC

(1967)

IT HAS TRULY been said that ancient traditional teachings which

we—for want of a better term—call religious, especially in the

East, can be projected in forms which many people would not

recognize as 'religious' in our present-day sense at all.

Psychology, self-development, social adjustments, the cultivation

of certain arts and modes of thinking: these all form parts

of the Order of the Naqshbandi, whose members are found

throughout the Arabic, Persian, Turkish, Indian and Malayan

worlds. The Order was founded in the fourteenth century in

Bukhara, and its chief centres have generally been in Central Asia

since that time.

While the Sufis, or Dervishes, are generally regarded as

religious enthusiasts on the pattern of Western monastic communities, or else as individual poets or wanderers, this seems to

be because only certain forms of their activities have become

generally known.

I recently spent three months with a Naqshbandi circle in

Pakistan, whose members refused to have any ideological contact

with the overtly religious clerics, and entry to whose private

deliberations and exercises was difficult.

An important part of the studies was the consideration of the

Mullah-Nasreddin corpus of literature, generally regarded by

people in Pakistan as a series of jokes.

The use to which the tales of Nasreddin are put in Sufi circles,

however, shows that the intention of the teachers is to develop

in students a form of thinking which is different from customary

patterns. The emphasis upon faith, discipline and ritual, generally

regarded as essential in religious formulation in the world of

Islam, 'is the concern of other specialists'. I was most impressed

by these techniques. Whether or not they have any spiritual

validity as a part of a way to universal truth, the application of

this study-system has undeniable effects upon those taking part.

They seem to suffer from little sectarian bias, and in fact insist

that different religions are external shapes within which, from

time to time, eternal truths have been preached and 'made to

work within man'.

This outline is intended to describe some of the stories used

in this system, and the interpretation put upon them by the

teachers.

The first story is when Nasreddin falls from his roof on to a

man in the street. The man's neck is broken, but the Mullah is

not hurt. The teaching is: 'This goes against expected cause

and effect. Similarly, there is a system of understanding in the

world which you can attach yourself to when you can realize

that cause and effect need not enter into it.'

In the second story of the series, Nasreddin is made to say:

'I never tell the truth'. The explanations include: 'If this is true,

he is lying, if it is untrue, he does tell the truth. Note that by

wordplay we can arrive at anything, but this can never be truth'.

In the third story, the Mullah illustrates that man tries to

improve on his knowledge, his techniques, his capacities in life,

but he may lack other basic knowledge without which he is in

fact doing harm. Nasreddin finds a hawk with a curved beak and

talons. He has only seen pigeons before, so he thinks that this

bird is deformed. He cuts its claws and beak until they are

straight. 'This', goes the moral, 'is what you try to do with

metaphysical teaching. You try to fit it into preconceptions. If

you realize this, you will truly start to learn'.

Certain levels of human understanding cannot be attained, it

is claimed, until the brain can work in more than one way. This

is the equivalent of the result of what is in some systems a

'mystical illumination' process; but the Naqshbandis appear to

hold that the brain is prepared by degrees without this illumination

being as violent an experience as in other methods.

The problem of time and of justice and injustice is illustrated

by the contention that, whereas ordinary man believes that

reward and punishment follow actions, these Sufis hold that

there is a different time-system at work concurrently. In other

words, something that seems to follow something else may in

fact precede it in another time-system which is in fact with us.

This principle is illustrated by the tale of the bath-house.

Mullah Nasreddin visits a bath-house, where the man in charge treats him badly, getting a gold piece for his pains. On the next visit, the man waits on the Mullah hand and foot; but he only gets a copper coin. 'This coin', says the Mullah, 'is for the treatment which you gave me the first time. You have already had the gold coin which was payment for the second visit'.

These dervishes believe very strongly in this dogma: a man

may be given great advantages, for instance, which he must

regard as 'payment for something which he has to do'. The

converse may also be true.

If the Naqshbandis seem to be projecting an image of a series

of experiences of an invisible world parallel to ours, they also

stress strongly the need to be aware of the real events in this

time-system. In the story of the cloak, Nasreddin is admitted to

a certain feast because the doorkeepers are impressed by the regal

garb which he has assumed for the purpose. He comments upon

this by feeding some of the food to his cloak: 'You got me in,

here is your share', he says to it. The teaching underlying this

is given thus: 'Make sure that you realize the true cause and

effect situation when you are in one. Do not mistake one thing

for another.'

Self-deception and unfounded assumptions are held by this

circle to prevent the attainment of higher knowledge. There is

a tale which is used to illustrate this. Nasreddin says: 'The king

addressed me'. Everyone is impressed, because they assume that

something important must have been said. In fact, however, the

king had only said: 'Get out of my way!' In this story the

assumption is laid bare. So is the self-deception, because the

listener deceives himself into thinking that something important

must have happened. In real life, man does not carry his thinking

through to a point where he will see that he deceives himself:

in this case by feeling interested that he knows someone who

has been spoken to by a king.

Things are actually happening in the world, and especially

among the human race, which cannot be explained and which

have to be experienced—so runs the Naqshbandi creed. One

day, Mullah Nasreddin saw some people approaching. Fearing

that they might be robbers, he ran away and lay down in an open

grave nearby. The travellers, their curiousity aroused by this

strange behaviour, crowded around him and asked him why he

was there. His answer illustrates the impossibility of answering

some questions: 'You are here because of me, and I am here

because of you."

But the Naqshbandis teach in many different ways, in addition

to this Nasreddin-joke system. Whom they teach, and by what

method, will depend upon factors which they say have to be

decided by the teacher. For this reason they are often accused

of not sticking to one formula: they have no dogmas, 'only

objectives', as one teacher put it.

When I enquired into this aspect of the teaching, which was

quite new to me, I was told this joke as an answer: Nasreddin

went into a shop. He said to the shopkeeper: 'Have you flour?'

'Yes'. 'And milk, and sugar, and honey?' 'Yes'. Then, for

Heaven's sake, why don't you make sweetmeats?'

The moral, of course, was that a man may have certain things

and may need certain other things. But what each man has and

what he needs will vary, according to his individuality and other

factors.