Idries Shah’s The Hundred Tales of Wisdom comprises tales and anecdotes purportedly used in Sufi schools for the development of insights beyond ordinary perceptions.[1] Many of them are from Jalaludin Rumi’s teachings, together with stories reported in his works, traditionally known under the title of Shah’s book. Among the tales, there is one entitled “The Lovers,” which immediately caught my attention:

The Caliph said to Laila: “How can Majnun be distracted with you, since you are not more beautiful than many other women?” “Hold your tongue,” she said, “for you are not Majnun.” The more wakeful a man is to the things which surround him, the more asleep is he, and his waking is worse than his sleep.[2]

Which caliph among caliphs? Who is Laila? And who is Majnun? The absence of the mighty caliph’s name and the presence of those of the humble lovers suggest Rumi’s hand, though. And so does the moral of the story. It is only the lovers who see clearly, as any Sufi would understand at once. It is the wakeful man that is forever lost in the clarity of his vision. Ah, Rumi is present here, to be sure. And so is Shah in his wise rendering of the ancient story, which goes back a millennium or so.

Addendum (December 9, 2012)

As I was putting the finishing touches on this piece, my beloved sat down next to me and started leafing through the book lying next to me. She stopped to read a tale every now and then. When I was finished at last, I told her that I was quite pleased with my achievement, and I showed her what I had written. Having read it, she told me that she liked it. But then she asked me whether I had read another tale in the same book, which is entitled “The Love Poems”:

A lover visiting his beloved brought out the poems he had written for her, and read them at length. The verses dealt with what he thought of her, and how he felt about her attraction and beauty. The lady said to him: “Here you are, with me and able to perceive my qualities directly; but you insist upon expressing emotions which represent yourself, not me. I am not your object: it is you who are the object of your own affections. It is you who stand between yourself and me.”[3]

“Touché!” I said, for I had read the tale already. The lady in the story is perhaps a bit too harsh toward her lover, but my lady was certainly not. Her reprimand was on the nearly imperceptible side, too. But Rumi shines through the tale of love poems one more time. Who knows, perhaps it is not only a true story, but also a story about himself. Who knows, once again, perhaps it is not only a story about his love for the one on high, but also a story about a lady who caught his imagination when he least expected it.

Footnotes

1. London: The Octagon Press, 1989 (first published in 1978).

2. Op. cit., p. 138.

3. Op. cit., p. 156.