Seeing with the Right Eyes: Review of Idries Shah Remembered

★★★★★ Tahir Shah (Ed), Idries Shah Remembered.

An Afterword to my own Reading

Like the Sufi mystical tradition that Idries Shah represents, champions, and exemplifies, Shah himself is so multi-faceted that he cannot simply be categorised or pigeon-holed, and perhaps dismissed. There's a tale in the book, containing an idea that crops up again and again, and which applies here: that of the elephant in the dark, an ancient tale that the Sufi Rumi reinterpreted. In this teaching tale, either several blind men are led into the presence of an elephant or sighted people are led to an elephant in the dark, a creature that they know nothing about. One feels its tusk and declares that it is a spear; another touches its ear and declares it a fan; a third is adamant that the tail is a rope; another that its belly is a barrel; and yet another that its sturdy legs are pillars. None of these men “see the whole picture”, the reality. This task of recognition is perhaps made all the more difficult because the externals of the Sufi teachings have throughout history been adapted to suit the current time, place, people, and circumstances, and the tradition's proponents have correspondingly adapted their methods in the face of necessity. Additionally, in Shah's own case, he went to some lengths to strip away cultural accretions around the precious gem or kernel that is Sufism, to the consternation of numerous Orientalists, religionists, and those wedded to exoteric tradition.

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 ...”

The legend of the stone soup

Once upon a time, not so very long ago, and in a land not a million miles from here, there were two hungry dervishes, who are seekers, people of the 'poor'. 

One evening in their travels, they came across a small village and decided to stay for the night. There was an inn there, just by the side of the village green. But because they had no money, the two dervishes could not afford to stay there. Sometimes the pair would take out their musical instruments and play and entertain the inhabitants with jokes and news, in exchange for a few coppers for food and lodgings. But not tonight, for it had been a long haul up into the foothills of the mountains that day, and they were both too dog-tired to play, or even raise a smile. 

So it was that the two dervishes set their scant belongings down by the side of the village green, right in front of the inn. While one of them set about stacking up the sticks of wood he had scavenged along the way, the other arranged the stones which he'd collected in his travels, into a small circle around the wood.