The Divine Emanations

For as long as he could remember, a man had been convinced that he was privy to divine emanations, but he could never quite pin down what they were or where they came from. They just seemed to arise as if from nowhere or arrive on the wind. And so obsessed did this man become, that he left his family and his job and set out one day to find the source of the emanations, travelling far into the mystical East.

He went from one wise man or woman to another and sat in their presence and enjoyed their rich hospitality for countless hours and from time to time he'd sense the divine emanations as they arose and say: “There you are! Did you, such a wise man, not notice that? That's what I was trying to explain to you: the Divine Emanations! That is what I seek.” But time and time again, the wise men and women would merely shrug their shoulders and shake their heads, apologizing that they could not be of assistance to the man in this matter, and he would leave their company to carry on his noble quest.

And then one day, this man came to the door of a Sufi – indeed the door of the Teacher of the Age. And no sooner had he finished the particularly rich and spicy meal that his host offered him and had begun to explain to him his great desire to sit in the presence of the source of the Divine Emanations, than he let out a whoop of joy. “There! That is what I mean! That is what I have dedicated my whole life to seeking. The Source of the Divine Emanations! Surely, you must sense it too? Could it be that after all these years of selfless devotion to my quest I have finally been rewarded by being allowed into the presence of the Source?”

The Teacher of the Age looked the man straight in the eye and shook his head. “Divine Emanations, my friend? Yes, there are indeed divine emanations, emanations so potent that merely spending time in the presence of the elect is sufficient to transform a man or woman.”

“But, listen carefully to me ...”

“I knew it!” the man whooped with joy. “At long last! God be praised!”

“... But,” continued the Teacher of the Age. “This is not what you have been seeking all these years. You may find it hard to stomach, my friend, but the divine emanations of which you talk so much, and have dedicated your life to, are in fact nothing more mystical or divine than the smell of your own farts, drifting through the air. This is nothing more than a symptom of your own chronic flatulence. It is only through people's good manners, and the hope that you would eventually learn this for yourself and come to your senses, that this connection has not until now been pointed out to you.”

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Image: TipuSultan1790 / Anonymous Indian artist / Wikimedia Commons / Public domain.

Image description: Portrait of Tipu Sultan by an anonymous Indian artist in Mysore, ca. 1790–1800.