Friday, November 30, 2012

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.


Thursday, November 29, 2012

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.



Sunday, November 25, 2012

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.

Saturday, November 24, 2012

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.