There must be as many reasons to start on the spiritual path as there are seekers: each one will have their own story about what propelled them into the perplexities of this journey. But what will be common to many is that when we take our first steps, the path seems pleasant and inviting. Like Aladdin in one version of the tale, as he begins to travel with his guide in search of the ever-burning lamp, we find that nature is ever more vivid and beautiful, and spirituality seems like a stroll in the park.

And why should it not be so? We are awakening from confusion to a sense of purpose and hope, and we no longer face life alone. We discover someone who appears to know the way, and we meet like-minded companions with whom to voyage. It can seem like being reborn.

Later, though, we begin to experience something different, a discomfort which is in fact a kind of growing pain (although to be honest we are never really certain we are growing). Life becomes more and more difficult, and, to the extent that our heart does soften as it is supposed to, we feel the thorns and pinpricks of life more keenly. As Hazrat Inayat Khan explains in this post, “For us who have chosen the path of truth, our struggles are greater because we feel more deeply. Difficulties can weigh upon us more heavily than upon those who have no interest for spiritual things, for we become sensitive when treading the spiritual path.”

Even harder to bear is that, as our sense of justice develops, we become more and more aware of our own shortcomings. We are conscious not only of errors in the present moment, but of mistakes perhaps many years in the past that, when we recall them, can make us squirm with embarrassment. It is a sort of adolescent misery: awkward and dissatisfied, we don’t know what to do with ourselves. We long to go forward into heaven but it seems the past is inescapable, especially when Hazrat Inayat Khan tells us in this post,”No one can do, say, or think anything for one moment which will become non-existent.”

But as our Master also tells us, the past IS past–no amount of fretting or agonising will undo what has been done (or said, or thought). Yes, the vibrations once set in motion cannot be erased or altered, but we can learn from them. That is the only way to redeem our mistakes. By learning from the past, we can use the present to prepare for the future; we can, one might say, turn lead into gold. In the Gayan, Gamakas, we find this: “I have learned more by my faults than by my virtues; if I had always acted aright, I could not be human.“

What is needed, therefore is courage to look with a clear and honest eye at what we have been, and if it does not fit with our present ideal, to learn whatever lessons we can, so that we will not repeat the mistakes. Nor should we expect immediate results; sometimes it takes a prolonged and patient effort–perhaps a whole lifetime of struggle.

In other words, the spiritual life is not the picnic we might once have thought it to be; it is a battle, and we must be willing to fight–first of all, with our own small self, and then with the circumstances of life. That is the way that all the illuminated souls have travelled, and we may tread the same path as they, so long as we don’t lose heart and turn back. Facing the challenge, we can take guidance and hope from this saying from the Vadan, Alapas:
Let courage be thy sword
and patience be thy shield, my soldier.