Rediscovering Who We Really Are
with the Persian Sufi Poets
by David Fideler
Today we often think of poetry as a form of self-expression,
so it might seem strange to learn that Rumi and the other Persian
Sufi poets used it to communicate a shared body of teachings in an
often-rigorous way. But the idea that poetry is well suited to communicating
a deeper vision of life is not surprising at all. Poetry has always
been favored as a way of speaking in deeper ways. Our actual experience
of the world is not dry, abstract, and linear; in many cases, music
and poetry can capture living experience with far greater immediacy
than some type of academic lecture.
According to the Sufis, our original self is fully open to the beauty
and depths of creation; it exists in a natural state of harmony with
the divine. As we mature and the ego crystallizes, we gain an important
sense of self, but something else is lost at the same time. The real
problem occurs when the ego starts responding to others and to life’s
situations in ways that are automatic, compulsive, and even obsessive.
When this happens, we identify with an artificially constructed or
false self, losing the sense of our original, deeper nature. In the
end, much of the work of spiritual growth that everyone faces involves
a balancing act: finding a way to reconcile the demands of our inner,
essential nature with the outer demands of human society. Sufism, like other spiritual traditions, gives us methods and tools
to rediscover a deeper glimpse of who we are — and one of these
tools is poetry. While some Sufi poems are beautiful expressions
of devotion and longing, and others are teaching works, the most
remarkable works — at least for me — are the genuinely
mystic poems that transport the reader into another way of seeing.
By using an element of surprise, the mystic poems can subtly short-circuit
our habitual perceptions and expectations. The impact they carry
can nudge the conditioned self out of its ingrained ways of seeing
the world, at least for a moment, and offer a living sense of reality’s
deeper, spiritual dimension, which the conscious mind often filters
out. Such a sense of depth and mystery is conveyed by the poem “Invisible
Caravans,” which is only four lines in the original Persian:
Love’s concert is calling, but the flute can’t been seen.
The drunks are in sight, but the wine can’t be seen.
Hundreds of caravans have passed this very way —
Don’t be surprised if their trace can’t be seen.
Many of the best mystic poems convey an almost overwhelming sense that there
is a deeper, timeless dimension that is just on the very edge of human perception — and
only slightly out of reach. If we can change the way we look at things just a
tiny bit, this deeper dimension of life suddenly comes into focus.
The Sufi emphasis on love also takes the reader outside of the habitual,
conditioned self, to experience the depths of the world and human
nature in a more tangible and profound way. The remarkable thing
about love is that it leads us to go beyond our own selves and value
another person more highly than any other “thing” in
the world. For better or worse, in true love, one is no longer in
control; the ego or personal self surrenders to another. The importance
of the “I” melts away, no longer acting as the central
focus of self-concern.
In the experience of love, the Sufi poets discovered an opening in
which they and their readers could most deeply taste the kind of
selflessness that is the goal of the mystic — the goal of the
spiritually mature human being. As one poet wrote, “when I
went beyond myself, the pathway finally opened.” As another
writes, “that which frees you from your tiny self is love.” The
Sufis sought a level of intimacy with God — the Beloved — that
only the language of love is capable of capturing. Rather than worshipping
a God who is a distant idea or abstraction, for the Sufi, a sustained,
intimate relationship with the divine is possible:
The distance to the Beloved is only one step —
Why not, then, take that step?
Another poet, ‘Abd al-Wasi’ Jabali,
celebrates the freedom from the false self that genuine love can
inspire:
My head was full, overflowing with conceit —
I was staggering, drunk —
wasted on the wine
of my imagined greatness.
But your love made me low —
it brought humility.
It made me free
from having
to worship
myself.
Above all, the Sufi poets celebrate a central paradox of human
nature: when, in the end, we go beyond the self, we discover a
deeper vision of who and what we really are. In what first seems
like emptiness or even ruin, there is an unexpected depth of experience;
in the experience of loss and sacrifice, freedom and gain may be
found.
David Fideler with his wife Sabrineh is the
translator of Love’s
Alchemy: Poems from the Sufi Tradition, published by New World Library.
In addition to making translations, David and Sabrineh perform Sufi
poetry in Persian and English with musical accompaniment. Their website
is located at www.sufipoetry.com.
Sufism, like other spiritual traditions, gives us methods and tools
to rediscover a deeper glimpse of who we are — and one of these
tools is poetry. While some Sufi poems are beautiful expressions
of devotion and longing, and others are teaching works, the most
remarkable works — at least for me — are the genuinely
mystic poems that transport the reader into another way of seeing.
By using an element of surprise, the mystic poems can subtly short-circuit
our habitual perceptions and expectations. The impact they carry
can nudge the conditioned self out of its ingrained ways of seeing
the world, at least for a moment, and offer a living sense of reality’s
deeper, spiritual dimension, which the conscious mind often filters
out. Such a sense of depth and mystery is conveyed by the poem “Invisible
Caravans,” which is only four lines in the original Persian: