New ways of seeing, new ways of being

Many Sufi stories and poems try to show that the only real wealth a person can have is their knowledge and wisdom. The Sufi student seeks to have her or his eyes opened to truth in whatever form it arises. Sometimes for this, a self-evident truth needs to be questioned.

The way of the Sufi is not to get trapped into believing that one religion or philosophy is the truth but to develop an openness which frees you to be able to reconcile opposing and seemingly contradictory ideas. Often, rather than lectures driving home ‘a point’ stories such as this one were told to make us ‘open up’ to such a learning.

There once was king who had two sons.

As they grew up, the first prince helped the people by working for them in a manner they understood; he built good roads and bridges, he opened more schools. The second prince was considered the lazy prince; he was a dreamer, and did not seem to ‘do’ very much. The first son gained great popularity in the kingdom, while the second, who was known to have obtained a wooden horse from a humble carpenter that he sat astride it most of the time, was ignored and even ridiculed.

Actually, this horse was a magical one; it could carry the rider, if he was sincere, to his heart's desire. In search his heart's desire, the young prince suddenly disappeared one day on his horse. He was away for a long, long time. One day, he just as suddenly returned with a beautiful princess from the Country of Light, and his father was overjoyed at his safe return and listened carefully as he recounted is many adventures and the amazing story of the magic horse.

The horse was then made available to anyone in that country who wanted it. But the people preferred the more concrete benefits which the first prince provided for them; though they half-believed the king, the horse to them always looked like a plaything.

When the old king died, by his surprising decree, the prince ‘who played with toys' became the king. But people in the kingdom continued to resent him; they much preferred the discoveries and activities of the practical prince.

Many of these stories and poems teach us to be cautious of a world defined and separated by ‘this’ and ‘that’, specially by labels of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’. A translation of a poem by Jalaluddin Rumi goes:
Out,
beyond ideas of wrong-doing and right-doing,
there is a field.
I’ll meet you there.

Sufis have traditionally spoken of the development in a person of an organ of perception, which, once developed, allows a person to apply himself or herself more completely and effectively to life. And this development is often achieved through a "soaking" in story and poetry, that bypass our rational, give-me-the-one-right-answer mind, allowing our intuitive capacities to recognize the once-hidden but now revealed meanings within them. This might happen consciously or unconsciously, depending on the level of one's awakening.

In the form they are given, most such stories are perfectly suitable as children's stories, though young as well as older people like them. Most people stop there. Some go further, and appreciate their wry humor and entertainment value, perhaps seeing their neighbors or co-workers' behavior exemplified by some characters. Most of those stop there. Some are able to see their own behaviors and attitudes reflected in the stories. But these stories have far more to offer; they lead us to our True Self.

Sufi teaching recognizes that we have an essential nature that is spiritual, and that we are on an earthly journey in order to uncover this essential self. Stories act as powerful teachers on this journey.

Insight or recognition that is gifted to us by story can work to dislodge the comfortable structure that supports our habitual patterns of behavior, responses and comprehension, which often obscure insight into our True Nature. It is believed that the potential for transformation of the self is placed within us; however it is not usually accessible to us because of our limited perception and identification with our everyday and surface self.

Sufism tries to show us that what we think is important may be just a partial understanding of reality. A change in perception that some stories can open us to is often needed to shake us and awaken us to new ways of seeing, new ways of being. Through this, we are closer to becoming the 'completed' person who has seen the heart of truth, and from this vantage point is able to discern the vanities and blinkered vision of others, and more importantly, of oneself.

This is best revealed in the words of the mystic Bayazid Bastami:
I was a revolutionary when I was young, and all my prayer to God was: “Lord, give me the energy to change the world”. As I approached middle age and realized that half my life was gone without my changing a single soul, I changed my prayer to “Lord, give me the grace to change all those who come in contact with me. Just my family and friends, and I shall be content.” Now that I am an old man and my days are numbered, my one prayer is, “Lord, give me the grace to change myself". If I had prayed for this right from the start I would not have wasted my life.

May Story open you to your True Nature.
Marguerite Theophil

Doorway to the Interior

A story reveals its gifts only to those who enter it …
The key to learning from a story is to find
a doorway to its interior.
~ Michael Meade

How teaching stories really teach

Teaching stories in different Traditions are designed around certain assumptions. They may assume that we have a higher nature that we do not have regular access to, that we need to be made aware of doorways or gateways not in ordinary terms, but through metaphors, they even can assume that stories must be filtered through the heart before they can impact the mind.

Sufi teaching looks at the purpose, potential and meaning of life, and recognizes that we have an essential nature that is spiritual; we are on an earthly journey in order to uncover this essential self. Yet, though the potentiality for transformation of the self lies within us, it is not usually accessible because of our limited perception and our strong identification with our everyday, surface selves.

Sufis have traditionally spoken of the need to develop of an "organ of perception" which, once developed, allows a person to apply himself or herself more completely and effectively to life. One of the ways this development is best achieved is through Teaching Stories, a term used to describe those stories and anecdotes deliberately created as vehicles for the transmission of wisdom. While such stories are collected and transmitted in almost every Tradition, the way of the Sufis is particularly significant to any story-lover or story-worker.

Idries Shah, through whose collections and translations these stories have become most accessible to us, wrote that Sufi teaching stories are “”works of objective art” - used to transmit to us a Higher Knowledge.

Usually, we cannot perceive this Higher Knowledge because we are not really prepared for it. Our preparation can be helped by not only getting to know the stories, but also by re-visiting them and familiarizing ourselves with them; by “soaking in story” so as to be ready for their meanings to be revealed to us, slowly, as we become ready for deeper knowing.

In workshops designed around such stories, I find that most people want to ‘crack open’ the meaning of these stories; they are eager and in a hurry to get at the core meaning. It is hard for them to understand that with these kinds of stories, the timing is different for each of us, and that the stories give up the ‘higher level’ insights only after a patient engagement with them, through reflection and contemplation.

When we decide “Ah, this is the meaning,” we could end the chance of further, deeper impact of the story on our inner being. Allowing our logical mind to deal with teaching stories in a way which is customary to it, and imagining we have understood all there is to understand, we can find ourselves in a situation like the boy in the story who had dismembered a fly into its components and then wondered where the fly itself had gone.

As is often done these days, many Sufi stories and poems may be interpreted as being related to psychological processes. That is a valid consideration which is often useful for developing one’s understanding, but this does not mean that its meaning is fully drawn out by this method. It may contain a great deal more. We are too easily satisfied with surface answers, mainly because the more profound ones are often revealed slowly, over time.

Robert Ornstein, the renowned psychologist, says that teaching stories, with improbable events lead the reader's mind into new and unexplored venues, allowing her or him to develop more flexibility and to understand this complex world better. Psychologists have found that teaching-stories activate the right side of the brain. The left side of the brain we mostly use provides the 'text', or the component pieces of an event or experience; the right side provides 'context', the essential function of putting together the different components of this experience.

The poet Kahlil Gibran once said, "The real teacher leads you not to himself, but to the threshold of your own mind." Teaching Stories are known to act as these Real Teachers.

Knowledge passed through the heart
The Celtic peoples, for example,
insisted that only the poets could be teachers.
Why? I think it is because knowledge
that is not passed through the heart is dangerous:
it may lack wisdom; it may be a power trip;
it may squelch life out of the learners.
What if our educational systems were to insist
that teachers be poets and storytellers and artists?
What transformations would follow?
~ Matthew Fox