The Garden of Truth: Knowledge, Love, and Action

INTRODUCTION

The present book is the result of over fifty years of both scholarly study of and existential participation in Sufism. Providence has made it possible for me to visit many Sufi sites from the Atlantic to the Pacific, to encounter numerous Sufi masters, to participate in almost countless Sufi gatherings, and to read and study many Sufi works and scholarly writings about Sufism by scholars of both East and West. My goal in this book, however, is not to present a history of Sufism or just an academic work on the subject, although I have sought to be scholarly to the best of my ability. My aim is rather to present to the reader a Sufi text written in English and using contemporary language. In purely academic works, one relies only on written sources or field reports based on external observation, whereas this book, while using written historical sources, issues from the lived reality of Sufism, the experience of Sufi spirituality, the all-important centuries-old oral tradition, and truths that are metahistorical. I felt obliged to write this book because I believe that after some two centuries of study of Sufism in the West, with the appearance of many translations, analyses, histories, and some profound expositions of Sufi metaphysics, and given an ever greater interest in Sufism by certain Westerners, it is necessary to write, not just another book about Sufism, but a Sufi book. It is necessary to present the reality of Sufism as did the authorities of old but in a manner accessible to the present-day serious Western seeker or Western-educated Muslim seeker, even if such a person has no previous knowledge of the subject. In this book I have dealt with universal truths of interest to those attracted to the life of the Spirit and in light of the human condition in general, presenting them from within the spiritual and intellectual universe of Sufism while providing a means of access to that universe and revealing some of its riches.

Until a few decades ago a few fine studies of Sufism as well as competent translations of Sufi works were available in European languages, but no introductions to the subject written from within the Sufi tradition. During the last few decades some outstanding works dealing with the heart of Sufism and written from its perspective have appeared, such as Sufism: Veil and Quintessence by Frithjof Schuon, An Introduction to Sufism by Titus Burckhardt, and What Is Sufism? by Martin Lings. All of these exceptional, masterly works presume, however, some knowledge of Sufism as well as of traditional metaphysics. William Chittick’s Sufism: A Brief Introduction, also written from the Sufi point of view, is more of an introduction but couched in scholarly language, being more about Sufism rather than being a Sufi treatise. Then there are works of Western Islamicists, sympathetic to Sufism but not participants in its practices. Of this genre the well-known book Mystical Dimensions of Islam by Annemarie Schimmel stands out, and more recently there has appeared The Shambhala Guide to Sufism by Carl Ernst. By contrast, the present book seeks to introduce the reader to the inner teachings of Sufism in the manner of classical Sufi works but in a contemporary language.

Like classical Sufi texts, this work is interspersed with Quranic citations, sayings ( adīths) of the Prophet of Islam, and poetry. Where not indicated otherwise, the translation of these quotations is my own. The verses of the Quran are of course indicated, but since I learned the adīths and many of the poems through oral tradition, no references are given for most of them. Still, to guide the reader to the major scholarly and poetic sources, references are provided for some of the quotations. My hope, however, is that the text will be read by those seeking to study Sufism from within or with a teacher as well as by those drawn to spirituality in general, and not considered simply as a scholarly work. That is also why the spiritual teachings in this book are addressed directly to the seeker without hiding behind the garb of scholarship.

The title of this book, The Garden of Truth, is drawn from the traditional Islamic symbolism of the garden. The traditional Islamic garden is an earthly reflection of Paradise, and the word paradise itself comes from the Middle Persian word pardīs, meaning garden, and is also the origin of the Arabīc word firdaws, meaning paradise and garden. Using the symbol of the garden, the Quran refers to Paradise itself as the Garden. Moreover, the Sacred Text speaks of levels of Paradise. The Sufis have drawn from this symbolism and speak of the Garden as designating not only the various levels of paradisal realities but also the Divine Reality beyond Paradise as usually understood. The highest Garden is associated with the absolute Truth, which is one of the Names of the Divine Essence. Hence, we can speak of the Garden of Truth as that reality wherein all the spiritual realities are gathered. The Sufis also speak of the Gardener as God in His absolute and infinite Reality, and of jannat al-Dhāt, or Garden of the Divine Essence. I therefore also make occasional use of this symbolism in the pages that follow.

Sufism is a vast reality that provides the means for those who follow its tenets to reach the Garden of Truth. It is the path to the Garden and, on the highest level and in its inner reality, the content of the Garden as well as the means of reaching the Presence of the Gardener. The Sufi tradition contains a vast metaphysical and cosmological set of doctrines elaborated over a long period by Sufi teachers and masters of gnosis. It contains methods of spiritual realization that address nearly all the different spiritual possibilities on the levels of action, love, and knowledge. It has preserved over many centuries and going back to the Prophet a regular chain of transmission of initiatic power (walāyah/wilāyah) and the grace (al-barakah) necessary for the spiritual journey. And above all, it can enable men and women to reach the state of sanctity.

Sufism has manifested itself in vast expanses of time and space, from the first century of Islamic history, that is, the seventh century, to now, and from Senegal and Morocco to Indonesia and China. Sufi orders are found in all Islamic lands as well as in India, China, Russia, non-Muslim Africa, and since the twentieth century in many Western countries. Sufism has also produced in several languages some of the greatest mystical poetry ever written and has created some of the most interiorizing music ever heard. Within the Islamic world it has influenced ethics and social behavior, philosophy, theology, some of the natural sciences, and nearly all the arts from calligraphy and miniature painting to architecture and urban design. It has, moreover, played a crucial role in the encounter and dialogue between Islam and other religions and cultures.

Although attacked since the nineteenth century by both modernists and puritanical reformists in the Islamic world, Sufism is still very much alive in most Muslim countries. Although denatured, diluted, and distorted in certain circles in the West, it is now also present in a serious form in many parts of America and Europe. In both the Islamic world and the West, Sufism will continue to play an important role in bringing about understanding across religious borders, in addition to its central role in providing an authentic spiritual path for those who seek to reach in this life the Garden of Truth and ultimately the Gardener. In the Islamic world Sufism is the most powerful antidote to the religious radicalism called fundamentalism as well as the most important source for responding to the challenges posed for Islam by modernism. In the West it is the most accessible means for understanding Islam in its essential reality. Sufism constitutes also a central link between the spiritual traditions of Islam and the West.

In this book, however, I am concerned not so much with the cultural and civilizational role of Sufism as with the souls of men and women in quest of the Truth. I therefore seek to present the realities of Sufism while keeping in mind the concrete spiritual and intellectual needs of contemporary men and women in both East and West. May the book be a humble guide for those who seek.

In conclusion, I wish to thank the Radius Foundation and Katherine O’Brien for making possible the preparation of the manuscript of this book for publication, and to Eric Brandt, Laurie Dunne, and others at HarperOne who have made its publication possible.

Seyyed Hossein Nasr

Bethesda, Maryland

May 14, 2007

Part One

One

WHAT IT MEANS TO BE HUMAN

Who Are We and What Are We Doing Here?

Am I not Your Lord? They said, Yea, verily we bear witness.

Quran 7:172

After extinction I came out, and I

Eternal now am, though not as I.

And who am I, O I, but I.¹

‘Alī Shushtarī

THE UNAVOIDABLE QUESTION

Wherever we are and in whatever time we happen to live, we cannot avoid asking the basic questions of who we are, where we came from, what we are doing here, and where we are going. In everyone’s life, especially when one is young, these basic questions arise in the mind, often with force, and demand answers from us. Many simply push them aside or remain satisfied with established answers provided by others in their family or community. In traditional societies such answers always came from the teachings of religion, and to a great extent they still do for the majority of people in many parts of the world. But there have always been and still are today the few who take the question who am I? seriously and existentially and who are not satisfied with answers provided by others. Rather, they seek to find the answers by themselves, trying with their whole being to delve into the inner meaning of religion and wisdom. They continue until they reach the goal and receive a response that provides for them certitude and removes from them the clouds of doubt. In any case, how we choose to live in this world—how we act and think and how we develop the latent possibilities within us—depends totally on the answer we provide for ourselves to this basic question of who we are, for human beings live and act for the most part according to the image they have of themselves.

Sufism addresses the few who yearn for an answer on the deepest level to the question of who they are and in a manner that would touch and transform their whole being. The Sufi path is the means within the Islamic tradition of finding the ultimate answer to this basic question and of discovering our real identity. Throughout the ages religions have sought to teach us who we are and through their inner teachings to provide the means of becoming our True Self. Islam is certainly no exception. It unveils the complete doctrine of our true nature and also the nature of the levels of reality issuing from the One, who alone is ultimately Real, and provides teachings that, if put into practice, lead us back to the One through a path of spiritual effort combined with joy and felicity. The Quran asserts majestically, Verily we come from God and to Him is our returning (2:156). The One is of course that Supreme Source and End of all things whom Abraham, Moses, and Christ addressed as the One God and whom the Quran calls by His Name in Arabīc, Allāh.

It is no accident that the Sacred Law of Islam is called the Sharī‘ah, which means road. It is a road that all Muslims are obliged to travel if they are to die in a blessed state. For most, however, the journey on this road is limited to the plane of action, the performance of good acts, and faith in the reality of God. Few wish to take a step further to discover the ultimate nature of who they are and carry self-knowledge to its end. Sufism, which is the inner or esoteric dimension of Islam, while beginning with the Sharī‘ah as the basis of the religious life, seeks to take a further step toward that Truth ( aqīqah), which is also the source of the Sharī‘ah. Sufism, which is also called the arīqah, or the spiritual path, is the divinely ordained means of providing an answer to that ultimate question and leading us to the Truth or aqīqah contained within that answer. The Sharī‘ah is the circumference of a circle whose radii are the uruq (plural of arīqah) and whose Center is the aqīqah or Truth, that is, the Source of both the Law and Way as well as the Center for one who begins on the circumference, journeys along one of the radii, and finally reaches the Center, which is also his or her own center. To reach the Center means not only being in a blessed state but also reaching the state to which various mysticisms refer as union with God.

The Prophet of Islam said, Whosoever knows his self, knows his Lord; that is, self-knowledge leads to knowledge of the Divine. Sufism takes this saying ( adīth) very seriously and also puts it into practice. It provides, within the spiritual universe of the Islamic tradition, the light necessary to illuminate the dark corners of our soul and the keys to open the doors to the hidden recesses of our being so that we can journey within and know ourselves, this knowledge leading ultimately to the knowledge of God, who resides in our heart/center.

Not only were we created by God, but we have the root of our existence here and now in Him. When we bore witness to His Lordship as mentioned in the Quranic verse, Am I not your Lord? the world and all that is in it were not as yet created. Even now we have our pre-eternal existence in the Divine Presence, and we have made an eternal covenant with God, which remains valid beyond the contingencies of our earthly life and beyond the realm of space and time in which we now find ourselves.

The answer to the question who are we? is related in a principial manner to our ultimate reality in God, a reality that we have now forgotten as a result of the fall from our original and primordial state and the subsequent decay in the human condition caused by the downward flow of time. We have become forgetful beings, no longer knowing who we are and therefore what our purpose is in this life. But our reality in God, who resides at the depth of our being, is still there. We need to awaken to this reality and to realize our true identity, that is, to know who we really are.

Not everyone wants to awaken from that daydreaming we call ordinary life, but there are those who do. These men and women deeply yearn to discover their true identity, which means not only to discover the reality of God but also to journey on a path that leads to His embrace. Sufism is meant for such a person, and if you are such a person, then it has a message for you, for it is a path of return to your reality in God and indeed to God Himself. It provides the means to awaken us from the dream of forgetfulness of who we are and allow us to enter into and remain in the remembrance of the Divine Reality, which is also the heart of our selves, the Self of all selves. The Sufi path leads from the desert of outwardness, forgetfulness, selfishness, and falsehood to the Garden of Truth, wherein alone we can realize our true identity and come to know who we are. The message of Sufism is perennial because human nature is always human nature, beyond accidental changes of historical epochs and fashions of the day, and also because as long as we are human, the question that each individual faces is who am I? The response of Sufism to this perennial question resonates today as it has always done for those whose ears are sensitive to its call and who yearn for illuminative knowledge.

LIFE IS A JOURNEY

According to Sufi metaphysics, and in fact other metaphysical traditions in general, all that exists comes from that Reality which is at once Beyond-Being and Being, and ultimately all things return to that Source. In the language of Islamic thought, including both philosophy and Sufism, the first part of this journey of all beings from the Source is called the arc of descent and the second part back to the Source the arc of ascent. Within this vast cosmic wayfaring we find ourselves here and now on earth as human beings. Moreover, our life here in this world is a journey within that greater cosmic journey of all existents back to the Source of all existence. We are born, we move through time, and we die. For most of us, without knowing who we really are, we move between two great mysteries and unknowns, namely, where we were before we came into this world and where we shall go after death. The answer of materialists and nihilists is that we came from nowhere and we go nowhere; we had no reality before coming into this world, and nothing of our consciousness survives our death. They reduce our existence to simply the physical and terrestrial level and believe that we are merely animals (themselves considered as complicated machines) who have ascended from below, not spiritual beings who have descended from above. But if we are honest with ourselves, we realize that even the concept of matter or corporeality is contained in our consciousness and that therefore when we ask ourselves who we are, we are acting as conscious beings and have to begin with our consciousness. If we are intellectually awake, we realize that we cannot reduce consciousness to that which is itself contained in our consciousness.

Now, no matter how we seek to go back to the origin of our consciousness, we cannot reach its beginning in time, and the question again arises what our consciousness, its origin, and its end are. The spiritual practices of every authentic path, including Sufism, enable those who follow and practice them earnestly and under the appropriate conditions to gain new levels of consciousness and ultimately to become aware that consciousness has no beginning in time (but only in God) because in the beginning was consciousness, and it has no temporal end because in the end is consciousness. Once we discover who we are in the spiritual sense, we gain an insight into the mystery of where we came from before the caravan of our earthly life began its journey here below and also into the mystery of where we shall go after the end of this terrestrial journey. Self-knowledge also pierces the veils that limit our ordinary consciousness and ultimately leads to those higher states of consciousness that stand above the world of becoming. We are then able to be aware of our human reality and our ultimate identity beyond the confines of time and space. Sufism makes possible the piercing of these veils as it leads the seeker on an inward journey within the journey on the road of the Sacred Law, or the Shari‘ah, which is itself a journey within the journey of life, while life itself is a journey within the journey of all beings in their return to the Source. The Sufi path is an inward journey whose goal is to know who we really are, from where we came, and where we shall go. Its aim is also to know ultimately the nature of Reality, which is also Truth as such.

WHO THEN ARE WE?

As we travel upon this road of self-knowledge with the help of the means provided by tradition—means without which such a journey is in fact impossible—we gain a new perspective concerning every kind of reality with which we had identified at the beginning of our journey. We come to realize that although we are male or female, that attribute does not really define us. There is a deeper reality, one might say an androgynic reality, transcending the male-female dichotomy so that our identity is not determined simply by our gender. Nor are we simply our body and the senses although we often identify ourselves with them. As we travel upon the Sufi path, it also becomes more and more evident that what we call I has its existence independent of sense perceptions and the body as a whole although the soul continues to have a consciousness of the body while being also aware through spiritual practice of the possibility of leaving it for higher realms.

Likewise, although we have emotions and psychological states with which we often identify, the spiritual path teaches us that they do not define and determine our identity in the deepest sense. In fact, often we say, I must control my temper, which demonstrates clearly that there is more than one psychological agent within human beings. As St. Thomas said, confirming Sufi teachings, "Duo sunt in homine (There are two in man). The part of us that seeks to control our temper must be distinct and not determined by the part of our soul that is angry and needs to be controlled. Yes, we do experience emotions, but we need not be defined by them. In the same manner, we have an imaginative faculty able to create images, and most of the time ordinary people live in the lower reaches of that world of imaginal forms. Again, we are not determined by those forms, and journeying upon the spiritual path is especially effective in transforming our inner imaginal landscape. As for the power of memory, it is for the most part the repository of images and forms related to earlier experiences of life. Metaphysically speaking, however, it is also related to our atemporal relation to our Source of Being and the intelligible world to which we belonged before our descent here to earth. That is why true knowledge according to Plato is recollection, and in Sufism the steps of the path are identified with stages of the remembrance of the Friend. Most people, however, consider these everyday remembered experiences as a major part of their identity. Yet again, the center of our consciousness, our I, cannot be identified with our ordinary memory. We can forget many things and remain the same human being. The spiritual life may in fact be defined as the practice of techniques that enable us to forget all that we remember about the world of separation and dispersion and to remember the most important thing, which this world has caused us to forget, namely, the one saving Truth," which is also our inner reality.

Many would say that if we are not determined by our gender, bodies, emotions, imaginative faculties, or memories, then surely we are what we think and are determined by our minds. Here we are reaching a more delicate realm. One can say with Aristotle that man is a rational animal, which means that it is in the nature of the human being to think. Even as great a Sufi figure as the thirteenth-century Persian master, Rūmī, says,

O Brother, thou art thought itself,

The rest of thy being is but sinew and bone.

Mathnawī, 2:278

But by thought Rūmī did not mean simply everyday discursive thought, which skips from one concept to another without the whole being of the person who holds the thought participating in the concept (even if it be true), a thought that does not go beyond the level of mental play. Moreover, conceptual knowledge can be wrong and lead to error, and excessive cerebral activity can distract our consciousness from the center of our being. That is why mystics have also spoken of unknowing, and more specifically, Sufis have stated explicitly that in order to reach the Truth one has to tear the veil of thinking. In any case, while we have a mind, our true identity resides in an even deeper level of our being.

This deeper level is the heart/intellect, the heart being the center of the human microcosm and also the organ of unitive knowledge associated with the intellect (in the medieval sense of intellectus, or the Greek nous, not in its current sense of reason). The heart is also where the Divine Reality resides in men and women, for as the sacred adīth² asserts, The Heavens and the earth cannot contain Me, but the heart of my faithful servant does contain Me.

Here, at the very center of the heart where the Divine resides, is found the root of the I and the final answer to the question who am I? Sufism seeks to lead adepts to the heart, where they find both their true self and their Beloved, and for that reason Sufis are sometimes called the people of the heart (ahl-i dil in Persian). Of course, the phrase both their true self and their Beloved does not mean any ultimate duality, for as Rūmī also said, in the heart there is room for only one I, which is both the root of our true self and the Self as such. Who am I? I am the I that, having traversed all the stages of limited existence from the physical to the mental to the noumenal, has realized its own nonexistence and by virtue of this annihilation of the false self has returned to its roots in the Divine Reality and has become a star proximate to the Supernal Sun, which is ultimately the only I. Having passed through the door of nothingness and annihilation, I come to the realization that at the root of my consciousness, of what I call I, resides the only I that can ultimately say I and that ultimately alone is.

Neither this body am I, nor soul,

Nor these fleeting images passing by,

Nor concepts and thoughts, mental images,

Nor yet sentiments and the psyche’s labyrinth.

Who then am I? A consciousness without origin,

Not born in time, nor begotten here below.

I am that which was, is and ever shall be,

A jewel in the crown of the Divine Self,

A star in the firmament of the luminous One.

Being human, however, implies a second phase of discovery in light of the first. Having discovered his or her roots in the Divine through the teachings and practices of Sufism, the Sufi then returns to the lower levels of existence, which are again seen as parts of his or her identity but not as they were before. Rather, they are transformed so that each at its own level reflects something of that supernal Reality, which determines our ultimate identity. The heart, having been discovered and its hardened shell melted through spiritual practice, emanates a light that shines upon the mind, which then, rather than jumping aimlessly from one concept to another, becomes an illuminated instrument of the intellect, able to discern true knowledge and distinguish between truth and falsehood, substance and accidents, necessity and contingency, levels of existence, and, most of all, the Absolute and the relative. It becomes an aid in, rather than a detriment to, self-realization. The same is true of the imaginative faculty, which becomes transformed in such a way as to create imaginal forms reflecting higher rather than lower levels of reality and to facilitate the theophanic contemplation of sacred forms. As for the emotions, rather than being negative and dispersing one’s spiritual energies, they become completely transformed into positive energies dominated by love, charity, empathy, and so forth and controlled by virtues, which shall be mentioned later in chapter 5. Our memories are likewise transformed, becoming the treasure-house for the remembrance of the Friend rather than a bleak warehouse filled with trivial and opaque forms, concepts, and images.

We finally come to the body, which in most mystical schools in the West is looked upon primarily as an impediment to the freedom of the spirit. Of course this aspect of the body is real, but another aspect is also very significant and is emphasized strongly by many schools of Sufism. First of all, we have more than one body. We have levels of subtle bodies within us corresponding to all levels of cosmic reality going up to God. Sufism makes possible the awareness of these other bodies and makes clear their role in the spiritual life. Second, as the soul and the psyche become illuminated by the spirit and the real I begins to shed its light on the individualized self, the body also becomes transformed by this inner illumination and in fact often becomes itself illuminated. One need only recall in the Christian context the halo in the iconography of saints and the incorruptibility of their bodies; a new and at the same time primordial relation is established in them between spirit, soul, and body. In Sufism the body becomes an outward source of barakah, or grace, in the case of those men and women who have come to realize who they really are. The body also becomes a tangible and concrete external form that preserves and reflects the spirit within. It becomes the temple of the spirit.

To the question who are we? we can then answer finally that we are latent archetypes embedded in the Divine Reality, which is the ultimate root of every I, and that through that archetype, which has