Human nature has probably not changed much since the beginning of history. The forms have mutated through different cultures, but there have always been qualities such as nobility, generosity, the love of beauty and a thirst for truth, just as there has been the perpetual tendency to seek the quick fix and the easy way. This applies not only to culture, domestic affairs and business, but also to religion and spirituality. If there is anything that marks our present age as distinct in this connection, it is that intense materialism and high-adrenalin online marketing now loudly encourage us to purchase our short-cut to bliss, happiness, health, illumination and all the rest of it. But despite the breathless text, the multi-star reviews and the lurid packaging, this is not new; it is only a new expression of what we have always been.
The 16th. c. Buddhist monk Han Shan Te Ching addressed this point when he wrote in one of his maxims: People are always looking for the easy way. The hard way – the way learned by difficult experience and painful realizations – doesn’t interest them. They want a short-cut. True Dharma seekers are afraid of short-cuts. They know better. They know that without effort, there’s no sense of accomplishment. It’s that sense that keeps them going.
People who don’t appreciate the struggles of climbing lack understanding of where they’ve been, awareness of who they are, and determination to continue climbing. That’s why they never attain the Dharma.
Master Han Shan’s maxim makes the important point that if we expend no effort in our spiritual journey, there will be no sense of accomplishment, which is a feeling that we need to keep us going to the end. In the spiritual search, the accomplishment that the seeker feels at any little victory gives hope, and that is what is needed to keep us climbing the mountain. What is more, Han Shan tells us, the struggles help shape our understanding of where we have come from, and who we are. This is precious knowledge, for perhaps the greatest sorrow in the world is that people do not know who they are. Although we are all children of God, yet many live in ignorance of their heritage, and that is worse than material poverty.
Some might say, if we were meant to become God-conscious, then why did our Creator make it so difficult? No doubt for God anything is possible, even instant awareness, but if He has given us a difficult road, it must be for some purpose. In other words, the difficulty has a meaning, which is what Han Shan is saying.
We can never really measure our own spiritual ‘rank’ or progress, but if we honesty consider our self, and compare our present condition with what we were before, we may gain some idea. When Hazrat Inayat Khan began to study with his Murshid, he assumed that he was not learning any Sufism because for the first six months his Master only spoke to him about things of the world, such as flowers and vegetables and music. But when Inayat thought about this more deeply, he realised that he was indeed different to what he had been before, that he was advancing.
One can find no better mirror in which to examine oneself than to study how we look at others. In Gayan Talas, we find : He who says, “I cannot tolerate,” shows his smallness; he who says, “I cannot endure,” shows his weakness; he who says, “I cannot associate,” shows his limitation;
he who says, “I cannot forgive,” shows his imperfection. And in Vadan Boulas, there is this related thought: Perfection forgives, and limitation judges. Therefore, one who has struggled to subdue the tendency to judge and condemn others, and has, even to some small degree, gained mastery over the selfish self, can certainly feel hopeful that they are moving in the right direction, and the peak of the mountain is attainable.
Doubtless more difficulties lie ahead – but the sincere seeker, perhaps encouraged by Master Han Shan, will be ready to appreciate them and take advantage of them.
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This message was very helpful for me. It came when I just had a weak, doubtful moment. Thank you Pir Nawab!
Thank you for writing, dear Nuria