In an earlier post, we began to look at the recommendations offered to his students by Pir-o-Murshid Inayat Khan, since the westerners who came to him often lacked the necessary preparation. They may have been deeply sincere, and perhaps also blessed with a mystical inclination, but lacking the cultural background of the east, their Murshid had to take considerable pains to tune them well before their journey could properly begin.

The first point Hazrat Inayat recommended was to faithfully do one’s personal practices. In another lecture, he used a very worldly illustration, saying that if a mureed knew that by going every day to the bank she or he would receive a sum of money, they would never fail to make that journey; bad weather and other commitments would not deter them. He then explained that doing one’s spiritual exercises also brings a benefit every day, although we may not always perceive it.

The second point is that the mureed should reflect upon the exercises through the day, so that the effect has the opportunity to permeate our consciousness. To travel the spiritual path implies many changes, and by thinking about our exercises, prayers and concentrations, we start to assimilate them so that they may live in us and through us.

The third suggestion Pir-o-Murshid Inayat offers is to think of our responsibility toward fellow mureeds. This is a challenge to the very common assumption that being a mureed is all about ‘me’; it asks us to put into practice in our outer life whatever we have glimpsed of the Sufi teachings. Although we all may have been drawn to the same perfumed flower of truth, and circle around it intoxicated by its beauty, we do not always find a rapport with the other students flying past; there is interpersonal friction in our Sufi groups just as there is in any other collection of humans. The weeds and thorns of prejudice, competition, selfishness and jealousy will grow whenever we fail to diligently root them out, But when we do this patient cleaning in the garden there are two benefits. One is relief, for it is not comfortable to live in a bed of thorns. We complain of the sharpness of others, but our own bristling attitudes also make us restless and uneasy; it is much happier to feel appreciative than resentful. By clearing away our pre-conceptions and self-assertions, we allow ourselves to discover peace.

The other benefit that comes from this gardener’s work is that we permit the Sufi message to shine forth. If we cannot show harmony and tolerance in our Sufi family, then any attempt to preach the Message of love, harmony and beauty will be most unconvincing.

This urging to care for each other is not new; the 12th c. Persian scholar Imam al Ghazali said the same thing when he wrote a book on the duties of brotherhood. He said that he once came to a company of dervishes and asked them if, when they were in need, they simply put their hand in their fellow Sufi’s pocket and helped themselves. Horrified, the group all denied that they would do such a thing, and al Ghazali then declared, “Then you are not true brothers.”

No doubt in our age, when our ways of living are different, and possessions are so important to us, most of us would miserably fail this test, but we can appreciate the kernel of truth, that we should strive to treat our Sufi group as our family. A biological family can be a happy and loving one, although it is not always so, but how much more happy and harmonious can be a spiritual family, conscious of our unity in the One loving Creator!

To be continued…