50514240 ibn arabi

Union and Ibn 'Arabi Dictionaries give the meaning of a combination, an association, something of a collectivity, to union, like a Union of States, like the Workers' Union etc. and also that it has the meaning of unification of different but similar elements, a unifying principle, in short, which unites into one body that which is several or separate.

None of these meanings apply to what Muhyiddin Ibn 'Arabi understands from Union, nor does it apply to what any of the esoteric ways mean by union. Though the word "union" may mean "unification".

In Ibn 'Arabi's case, or for that matter in all Sufi esoteric lore, Union is understood to equate in meaning to the word Tawhid. Tawhid actually does mean "unification", or "making into one". But what Tawhid is meant to mean is not "unification" of several things, nor is it meant to mean "making into one" of many things. However, in the idea of "making into one" there is a possibility of delving into the "mystery" of the word Tawhid which means "unifying" into One. This "mystery", if it is a mystery, lies in the prerequisite knowledge ofTawhid or "making into One". That knowledge is that there is absolutely no other Being in existence than the One and Only, Self-Subsistent Being which is not "All" that there is, but that what seems to be "all" is no other than Itself, somewhat like the apparently different facets of the jewel are no other than the jewel itself or like the different colours refracted by the prism are no other than The Light which turns into various colours when passed through the prism.

Tawhid then comes to mean the recognition of plurality as no other than the fact that what seemingly appears as many or varied is in reality One and Only in Essence.

The meaning of the word Tawhid or Union as used by many like Ibn 'Arabi (and many that followed him) does not, however, end with its admitted esoteric vocabulary meaning. For Ibn 'Arabi and many that think like him, Tawhid or Union is not a matter of knowing what it means but the act of progression towards the fulfilment of that action and knowledge, to feel an irresistible desire to reach,

consciously, that state of being where one is in Union or in Tawhid - i.e. in the state of having formed a concept whereby there exists no other than the One and Only, the Unique Existent, Absolute, not like a monarch, but absolute in the sense that since it is all-inclusive it is not comparable or relatable to anything outside itself and therefore Complete and thereby Perfect. Yet the knowledge of all this is not per se enough to allow one to be in the State of Union or Tawhid. An example borrowed from Ibn 'Arabi clarifies what is meant by knowing about it and being it.

He says one might know what heroism is but that does not make one into a hero until one actually performs an act of Heroism. Then only is one a Hero.

So Tawhid or Union is a deliberate act of progression to being One. Not only is it an act which is deliberate, like any other deliberate action, but that action deliberately and consciously undertaken must, by its nature, be all exclusive, irresistible in its attraction, a passion induced by the supreme and all pervading Love of the State of Union or Tawhid. Ismail Hakki Bursevi, who was one of the great teachers of the Jelveti order, now closed, and who translated and commented upon the Fusรปs al-Hikam of Ibn 'Arabi in what may be called the definitive commentary on the Fusรปs up to now, has an inscription on his modest tomb in Bursa which proclaims that only he who has the Love of Tawhid branded upon his heart brings light to the tomb of Ismail Hakki Bursevi.

As we can gather, Union or Tawhid is both an act of progression and a State of Being to which the action of progression leads but does not stop in its action when once it is in Being.

That Tawhid is both a state of Being and an act of progression without end is due to at least four aspects of the Being Itself: First because the Being is Complete, Non-relative, therefore beyond relativity defined by time, space, distance. It is infinite. As Einstein says, everything is relative one to another ad infinitum, looking at it from one end of the telescope so to speak. Then that which is not defined by the requisite of the relative is infinite; and the Infinite is limitless, without boundaries in time. Consequently the ever progressive Union is ever, non-stop Continuous Being.

The second aspect derives from this very same non-conditional. That Being is, at all instants, in a different configuration, and different "business" or State of Being, (kulli anin fi she'nin = at every instant in a different state or "business", or at a "thing that is its private thing", which are of the shu'un-i dhatiye or "to do with 'things' of its own Ipseity"). Hence the Progression mentioned and the State of the Union is constantly varied at every instant to suit and conform to the State of the Configuration in which the Being happens to reveal Itself.

The third aspect of the non-stop progression and the State of Being is that it is irremediably and exclusively a matter of Love. Now, according to Ibn 'Arabi, Love is a sentiment with an aim to come into Tawhid or Union with Beauty. Hence it is the vehicle which transports the sentiment for Beauty to Beauty.

When Ibn 'Arabi speaks of sentiment he makes it very clearly understood that he is not talking of an emotion. Emotions are murky at best and Ibn 'Arabi's sentiment is crystal clear and definite, even to the degree of exclusivity. This sentiment is an active feeling which is only translatable with expressive Love which is equally its vehicle. Hence Love is the Love of Beauty to which it transports the Lover. The sentiment and its vehicle coinciding in action, in purpose, in reaching to, and, in the State of Being that which it reaches out towards, Beauty.

One has to be extremely careful in understanding this Beauty, not as something qualified by Beauty, even though we have no other means of expressing it except by a qualifying adjective. Yet we must come to know that Beauty not as qualified by the adjective of Beauty but as sheer Beauty, as Beauty Itself, far beyond anything by which it can be qualified - a Total Beauty, therefore a perfection which can never be qualified except by Its own Being such as It is. A qualifying statement comes as a Hadith in the words of the Prophet Mohammed: in-Allahu Jamilun wa yuhibb-ul Jamal - "In that God is extremely Beautiful and Loves Beauty".

The fourth aspect of the continuous act of progression and the State of Being is that it is Alive, Hayy. Ibn 'Arabi makes us definitely understand that Life is

movement. Water which is not in the motion of flowing, therefore not in movement, is stagnant. Stagnant water is "dead" water. Life being the quality of the Being, the State of Its Being is active and in movement. Consequently all action towards Union or Tawhid with that Being and the State of Being of that Being are in constant movement. This consideration takes us back to the third aspect mentioned above. If the Being is in constant movement then Beauty is equally in a state of constant movement. As the movement of Beauty is Love, then the Beauty is in constant Love and it is because of this Sentiment that the Love of Union or Tawhid is a constant progression towards Beauty, as at the same time being in the state of that Being is Beauty.

We have seen the constant movement of Beauty and that the movement of Beauty is Love. Yet Beauty is also in constant expression, as Beauty without expression is inconceivable when there is no one to appreciate that expression or to witness its presence. So the expression of Beauty is Love as well as it being vehicled by Love.

Ibn 'Arabi states that even in the other world as well as this, man is constantly in progress whether he is conscious of it or not. What we have seen here is that the progressive movement with Love towards Beauty is constant whether one knows about it or not or whether one is in this world or not. In the case of the two worlds the explanation is easy. Ibn 'Arabi sees "death" as such, leave alone as a finality, as not existing. He himself goes and comes to and fro to the other world, converses with the inhabitants of both worlds and advises them, and assumes that such a state is not a unique possibility accessible to him alone. Quite in concordance with the saying of the Prophet "Die before you die", Ibn 'Arabi expects all that follow his teachings to acquiesce and to accede as urgently and as possibly soon as each is capable of understanding what it means. He has no patience in this and will brook no reluctance. He says in his Treatise on Being (Risalat-ul Wujudiyya) that he has no converse with those who see illusion as reality since they are limited in their vision to the objects or "things" seen and are

veiled from Reality. They are not, therefore, ardently in Love and are not consequently intent on Union or Tawhid.

As regards man's progression towards Union or Tawhid, since Beauty is always in expression and Love is Its movement, then the expression which is always in movement cannot but reach man for whom that movement and that expression is meant. Whether man acknowledges this or not, he is subjected to that Love and Beauty.

And the effusion of Beauty is such that it covers the wary and the unwary recipient, the former consciously responding to it, the latter denying it through unawareness. But when he is in the other world, released from the veil of his relative identity, he will see the Reality of the situation necessarily and will comply and conform with the unavoidable Truth (Haqq) - eventually reaching a state which will be his state of unconscious but definite progress. This progress might be of many varieties and kinds but it is always a progress either through and to Divine Names or even further to the Essential Being and the Perfection of Being.

That will depend on many factors to do with his ability to receive the Divine Effusion and his appreciation of the Beauty. When Ibn 'Arabi says everyone progresses, he does not equally say everyone progresses in the same latitude nor in the same manner. This is possible because though the Divine Names are the source of relativity they are all the same absolute in their Essence emanating from the same Ipseity.

It is true that the way one goes, towards Union - Tawhid - or not, and which way, is a matter of Taste (dhawq). The Progress through Taste (dhawq) does not impair in any way the Expression of Beauty nor the Love.

In his Fusรปs al-Hikam, 'Arabi quotes a converse where David is told: "Oh David, it is I who desire them even more intensely" than they yearn for Him. So as we have seen Divine Love remains constant, only response to it is relative depending on many factors, one of which is ability to receive, then the inclination to respond and to return. Then acceptance or denial of Love depends on the individual's

desire to wake up to that Reality of Beauty or not. This is a complicated matter and that is why it is referred to as a mystery.

To "wake up" or not is, as we have seen, a matter of Taste (dhawq). It is related that Bayazid (also referred to as Abu Yazid) of Bastam in Iran, one of the greatest Saints of this line of thought, was met by some people going to the mosque for the pre-dawn prayer. Bayazid of Bastam was coming from a direction other than his house. Upon being questioned as to where he had been so early, Bayazid answered that it had been an especially lovely moonlit night and everyone was asleep, so he had decided, since God had been so bountiful in showing His Beauty, that at least he himself should devote his night to the witnessing of such loveliness, as no other servant of God seemed to wish to do, and had passed the night in wakeful adoration of Beauty, so that His Beauty did not pass unnoticed.

To be conscious or awake to Beauty is a matter of predilection in the servant. The servant of a master or Lord (Rabb) is necessarily advanced in the perfection of his function in the ratio of his self-identification with the Lord he serves.

Though service itself does in no way belong to the Lord, service of the Lord entails full identification with the Lord served, so as to serve in the best manner possible. This self-imposed humility to serve the Beloved has its side of dignity, which is the dignity of the knowledge that one is willingly serving the supreme Beauty. Elsewhere we have said (in the film called "Turning") that Love is a bondage willingly accepted by the free, and it is this willingness, this choice to serve that Beauty in Love, that is what imparts dignity to the office. Again Ibn 'Arabi says in the Tuesday recital of his Wird (a collection of daily recitals he wrote for his pupils) "and dress me in the cloak of Dearness and Receiving... and crown me with the crown of Generosity and Dignity".

So through service with dignity and seeing oneself from the point of view of God, not from the point of view of the self itself until one is Him and not oneself (Saturday recital of the Wird) and demanding to be clothed with the Cloak of Beauty and being crowned with the crown of Awe and Majesty (Friday Evening

recital), the servant finds identification with the Lord he serves. This is how "Tawhid is the Mystery of Servanthood" (Wird: Sunday recital).

As Ibn 'Arabi says in his "Kernel of the Kernel", when the servant has gathered in himself the five states of awareness, then he becomes a Sufi, a gnostic ('Arif).

After this state, Ibn 'Arabi says, "five other things happen, the explanation of which is not suitable here and to reveal this even is forbidden". Elsewhere there is a passage in the Kernel of the Kernel where is described what happens to the servant after he has reached Fanâ (the state of non-existence as oneself as mentioned in the Wird above: "... until there be You and not I") where after a while the servant is "painted with the Divine colour" and "God grants him an existence from His own existence". "Then God gives this man of knowledge a Divine Sight, Ear, Tongue...". A person's "real understanding and knowledge starts after this".

Nothing has happened. Simply, that he who was Essentially Him, came to realise, but not only intellectually, that he was no other than Him. As we have seen the prerequisite of this unceasing progression towards and finally Being is a predilection of those who have the good-Taste for it. As the French saying goes "Le bon-goĂťt s'apprend" (Good-Taste is learnt) and as the Prophet Mohammed said: "... give me Taste in vision", the crux of the matter of Union or Tawhid seems to lie in a taste for it. Dhawq (taste) has a connotation of "enjoyment" in it. There is "joy" in the enjoyment of it because it leads to appreciating fully, and then identifying with, Beauty.

The drunken Sufi poet of Iran wrote: Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough, A flask of Wine, a Book of Verse - and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness And Wilderness in Paradise now.

The Bread is the body of Knowledge. The Verse is the Praise of Beauty. The Wine is its intoxication and Thou art Thou. Beneath a bough is in this world, already

here, it is Paradise - if one has the predilection and the necessary intention to progress towards and Be no other than that which is unqualified Sheer Beauty - the Jamâl.

The Turkish poet wrote "Kande baksan ol güzel Allahi gör" - wherever you look see that Beautiful God! No other can see God. But those who have vision to see "no other" see God in all His effects everywhere. When one's vision has progressed to a vision of "noother", then one sees Him everywhere. From thence, as Ibn 'Arabi says in his poem: O marvel!... ... I follow the religion of Love: whatever way Love's mounts take, That is my religion and my faith.

This is seeing Him everywhere, whatever way Love transports, it is necessarily to Beauty and that is his religion and his faith.

Concerning the Universality of Ibn 'Arabi

There is only one Existence. That existence is, naturally, a state of Being. That being, then, is the One and Only, Infinite Being. It exists through its own existence irrespective of any other consideration. Naturally so, because there is no other premise than its own existence, therefore there is no other point of reference or relationship in respect of which it could be considered. When it is self-conscious it creates or constitutes its own consideration of itself. This bringing into consciousness of itself as a mentation of its own potential existence is when it "manifests" itself to itself. This is the only state of its own duality possible or imaginable where the duality is really no other than itself with its own image of itself. This self-consciousness of its own mentation of iis potentiality takes itself from its own singularity and uniqueness to its own duality of unique singularity only in its own consciousness. At this point of its singularity of duality it is necessary to give existence to all of its own potentialities since these potentialities are of the "fabric" of its own self-consciousness. These infinite number of potentialities which thus have come to and have acquired existence through the self-consciousness of the essentially self existing Unique, One and Only, Infinite Existence, then, are the only source of number and, consequently, of all possible plurality.

Universality presumes a locus or a multiplicity of areas, a plurality of loci. This plurality, in reference to the One and Only and Infinite Existence, must either deny it or allow a situation where plurality of the One is essentially a selfcorporate mode of a many-faceted existence where "each" individual existence is a consideration of accommodation for this global Uniqueness in expression.

Consequently, here the infinity of the one permeates the theoretically many facets of the global one. The result is One expressed manifoldly. Each of these manifoldly expressed facets of the One Infinite Existence are so many Universes all enclosed in the One and Unique Infinite Existent.

People who have been self-styled archi-erudites, motivated by a leaning towards a "byzantinism" and who have thus achieved a chair in the society of the cymini sectores, cannot coincide with Ibn 'Arabi's horizon which remains an unlimited, infinite universal vision simply because in Ibn 'Arabi universality is expressed by ihe infinity contained in the Essential Uniqueness. Here the word "contained" misrepresents a slate where nothing is "contained" since to "contain" requires a container which contains by the limits of its own structure. The Esseniial State has no such limits. Hence to qualify its own Infinity as being "contained" may lead to a misrepresentation of the Essential Stale of Being of the Uniqueness. This sui generis essentiality qualifies itself by Us Uniqueness which naturally presumes unlimited, therefore Infinite, possibilities which are impossible of number.

Incidentally, it could be said that Its numerality is only a conceptual consequence of the triplicity of its being Essential, Infinite, and Unique.

The juxtaposition of Uniqueness and Infinity are, somewhat, complementaries that form the Essentiality of its Latitude of Being. It is this Being which is expressed through its phase of Infinity that gives rise to our concept of a state of being universal. Then again Ibn 'Arabi underlines the infinite number of these universes ('awâlim) which according to him may be of ihe number of the grains of sand on the beach or more, and which, for convenience, he refers to as the Eighteen Thousand Universes.

This theocosmology, so to speak, of Ibn 'Arabi is in complete concordance with illumination received by him from the Qur'an, which Ibn 'Arabi follows assiduously, without ever deviating, even when scholars and "doctors" find divergence in the words of Ibn 'Arabi from the practice of the Mohammedan religion, thus "missing" the depth of the Mohammedian Way. A passage of the Qur'an which reflects the infinite plurality of the universes says "Lord of the Heavens and of the Earth, Lord of the Universes" (Rabb-as Samawâti wa-l ard Rabb-el 'Alemîn). The mention of the second Lordship is not only a poetical adornment in the sentence. It is a pointer to the fact that even though the "Heavens" (Samawâti) are mentioned in plural, there is still room to draw the

attention to the infinite existence of universes ('alemîn, 'awâlim) beyond our concept of the "Heavens". It is the infinity of Universes aspected with the Lordship and for every potentiality and possibility, beyond the concept of number as we understand it which qualifies the Esoteric Lordship represented in the Reality of Mohammed, the Reality of Realities or the Reality of the Mohammedian Way, by which is meant the esoteric reality of the Mohammedian meaning — a meaning that Ibn 'Arabi represents himself as the total heir and as the explicit and the implicit attributions of exposed and esoteric meanings involved in the divergent Unicity of the micro- and macro-cosmic Reality of Realities.

In that case the existence of Ibn 'Arabi himself is the attribution of Reality in the sense of the exposed meaning and the esoteric meaning hermeticized in the cosmos both as macro and micro where these two are inconsequentially equal before the Reality of Unique, Infinite, Essentiality.

This is the basis of the all-important "Universality" of Ibn 'Arabi.

A Question Posed by Bulent Rauf, and the answer he gave: What is the single most important point that must be understood by a person who wants to know?

It is that there is only One, Unique, absolute, infinite Existence. It must be more than an idea. One has to be so completely certain of it that one adopts it through reason and intuition as the basic unshakable fact of one's existence.

When it is like that in one's existence then every possible ramification that occurs to one is seen as not being outside The Existence, but as being an aspect of it.

Accept and completely adopt the idea that there is only the Unique, Absolute Existence, apart from which there is not. Then constantly, or as much as possible, keep it in mind. Then, as only He can adopt such an idea, you disappear in the face of the awareness of this idea (which is Him in any case who else could think of it?). Then your consciousness of this idea is your consciousness of His Existence; His consciousness of Himself. Then where are you? You never were.

He shows you He is yourself, then bit by bit He shows you how He is all that there is. These showings are His caprices, until all exterior existence is known as Him. He shows you He is you, then shows you (Himself) that all else is Him. ln the instant, all so called progress is annihilated in Him.

The Circle of Inclusion Each person who has stood in an open space, or sailed on the sea, or stood on a high mountain has experienced the circularity of the horizons, seen the direction of the sun rising in the east, reaching its zenith and then setting in the west, or felt the overarching night-sky studded with stars, and found themselves at the centre looking from a face they cannot see. This experience applies equally to everybody who stands in such a space and it is a wonderful example of how each person is right at the centre of what is happening. Similarly each of us has a direct connection to what is real, like the path of the sun that reaches us from across the waters. If the attention is then turned inwards towards the invisible centre of one's being – the heart – and what is happening there is observed, it is possible to establish a connection with the source of one's being, which is equally the ever-present dimensionless point of return.

In his Theophany on Perfection Ibn 'Arabī writes: Listen, O my beloved!

I am the essence ('ayn) that is sought in creation, The centre of the circle and its circumference, Its complexity and simplicity.

I am the order revealed between heaven and earth…[2] In Cordoba, 814 years ago in 1190, Ibn 'Arabī had a vision where he met all the prophets from Adam to Muhammad. It was only the prophet Hūd, whose wisdom in the Fusūs al-Hikam, is that of uniqueness (ahadiyya), who spoke to him on that occasion. Ibn Arabī tells us, Know that when the Real revealed to me and made me witness the essential realities of all His messengers and prophets, who are human beings, from Adam to Muhammad (may God bless them all and give them peace) in a vision in which I was made present in Cordoba in the year [AH] 586, the only one who spoke to me from that group was Hūd (SA) who told me the reason for their gathering.

[3] I saw him as a large man, a handsome figure, pleasant and subtle in

conversation, knowledgeable about things and having insight into them. The proof I had of this insight were his words, “There is no moving creature whom He [God] does not take hold of by the forelock. Indeed, my Lord is on the straight path.”[4] And what greater good news (bishāra) to creation is there than this?[5] Ibn 'Arabī's universality is immediately evident in the fact that all the prophets from Adam to Muhammad appeared to him, here in Cordoba. “The reason why it was that Hūd spoke”, the Ottoman commentator on the Fusūs al-Hikam informs us, “was because the ways and tastes of Hūd were most suitable in the ways of tawhīd, Unity in plurality”;[6] and the great good news referred to is that “Truth, God, is the Ipseity[7] of all things.”[8] God takes charge of all creatures, and whatever path they are moving along is in fact the straight path of their Lord.

Ultimately, God is the only one who moves in anything that moves; since He is the only one in existence, He is the only actor and all actions are His. In this sense, nobody has gone astray, since everything is included in the boundless Mercy of God[9] which overrides the divine anger.

In the poem at the beginning of the chapter on Hūd in the Fusūs al-Hikam Ibn 'Arabī writes: The Straight Path belongs to God (Allāh).

It is manifest in all, not hidden.

He is present in the small and the great, In those who are ignorant of how things are and those who know.

Because of this His mercy encompasses everything, No matter how base or magnificent.”[10] These lines emphasize the universality of the straight path of God upon which all things walk and which leads them all back to God.[11]In this chapter, Ibn 'Arabī emphasizes God's closeness to us, closer than life itself, closer than the jugular vein.[12] No particular kind of person is specified for this closeness, the knowing or ignorant, the blessed or damned, except that the very blessing is in being aware of this closeness which is sensed, and the sadness of distance is in being

unaware of it.[13] Everything is included in the divine grace and favour, but it is a question of whether we choose to be aware of this or not.

The path upon which all things walk is called “straight” even if it deviates for, as Ibn 'Arabī says in the Futūhāt al-Makkiyya, … curvature is straight in reality, like the curvature of a bow since the straightness which is desired from it is curvature … and all movement and rest in existence is divine because it is in the hand of the Real.[14] Everything emerges from God and everything is returned to Him but things do not go back by the path on which they emerged; rather, they return in a circular motion, for Ibn 'Arabī maintains that “Every affair and every existent thing is a circle that returns to that through which it had its beginning.”[15] If, therefore, every existent is on the straight path in any case, what was the point of sending prophets and messengers to call people to God? The Ottoman commentator on the Fusūs who posits this question, then answers it by adding, This one cannot say, because this invitation is the invitation from the Name Misleader (mudill) to the Name Guide (hādī) to Truth, and the invitation from the Name Compeller (jabbār) to the Name Just ('adl).

[16] Our happiness lies in the path of guidance to blessing and grace, not in the path which leads to misery, constriction and anger. Yet just as all actions belong to God, so do all names and qualities. To recognize the Guide we need to see how guidance is manifested in us and ask who it is that is guided? The same is true of the Name Just, and all other names and qualities. This involves knowledge of the self in discovering who we are.[17] In one sense we are all under the divine impulsion. Yet God is not unjust to his servants by compelling them to behave in a certain way – He simply allows them to be what they are. Ibn 'Arabī writes, “'God does not treat his servants unjustly',[18] for He only knows what the

objects of knowledge give to Him, since knowledge follows the object of knowledge.”[19] There was an apparent conflict for the prophets between calling the people to God according to the prescriptive command and the fact that everyone is in any case on the straight path of God. Ibn 'Arabī writes, The Messenger of God said, “Hūd and its sisters have made my hair go white,” that is (the Quranic sura of) Hūd and all the (Quranic) verses which mention going straight.[20] However, God's eternal knowledge of us does not determine what we will do because knowledge is dependent on the known and His knowledge of us is in accordance with what we show Him of ourselves, since knower, knowledge and the known are ultimately one.

The invitation is therefore to knowledge and to removing the constriction which our limited beliefs impose on us and on Truth. It is an invitation to discriminate between a lesser vision of reality and a greater one, to abandon a partial view for a more comprehensive and complete one, to progress through our own personal Lord to the Lord of Lords, the all-inclusive God who encompasses all names and qualities and where all opposites are united.

The whole of humanity is being invited to this universal perspective. If, from among the infinite possibilities, we have selected a limited belief structure and decided to serve that, then we are in a prison of our own making and have excluded ourselves from the boundless generosity of existence. Ibn 'Arabī writes, The people of God say “There are as many ways to God as the breaths of the creatures” and every breath emanates from the heart according to the belief the heart has of God.[21] However a person believes God to be, that is how God will appear to him.[22] By limiting God in a particular way, the holder of a particular belief limits himself. In the chapter on the prophet Hūd, in the Fusūs al-Hikam, Ibn 'Arabī writes,

Take care not to be tied by any particular belief ('aqd) while denying all others, for much good would escape you – in fact, knowledge of how things are would evade you. So be in yourself the “substance” of all forms of belief, for God the High is too vast and great to be confined to one belief rather than another. He [God] has said, “Wherever you turn, there is the face of God”,[23] without mentioning any particular orientation.[24] The complete Quranic verse referred to is as follows, “To God belong the east and the west. Wherever you turn, there is the face of God. God is all-encompassing, all-knowing.”[25] Whether east and west are understood as different parts of the globe, representing different cultural values, or whether they are understood as the place of the rising sun and the place of the setting sun and therefore as the visible and invisible worlds, God is in every direction that is turned to in both the exterior world and the interior. While acknowledging that God is the one who is worshipped in everything that is worshipped[26] and that He cannot be limited to any particular manifestation, we are exhorted to know that it is the “face” of God which is in every direction and orientation, that is to say, His Essence. This is the central point which we need to be constantly aware of in our heart, the sacred aspect to which we adhere and before which we bow in prayer.[27] Ibn 'Arabī's emphasis on the inclusion of all beliefs is of particular relevance to us today. Since it is God who appears in every form, without being limited to any particular form, He can be seen in all ways of worship and all forms of belief.

However, the ability to accept all beliefs without being tied to any one in particular requires giving up all of one's preconceived notions about reality. When Ibn 'Arabī exhorts us to be the “substance” of all beliefs, this is not so that we just take on another belief which is more inclusive. It is a matter of vision, of seeing that He, God, is the Essence of everything including ourselves, and that He is the One who appears in everything and takes on the forms of all beliefs, and can be recognized there.

On the matter of inner vision, Ibn 'Arabī follows the Prophet Muhammad, since he has inherited Muhammad's all-inclusiveness and brings out the interior meaning of Muhammad's prophecy. Muhammad called to God according to inner vision by which Reality is witnessed not merely conjectured, when he said, This is my Way. I invite to God according to clear insight (basīra), I and whoever follows me, and praise and glory to God, I am not of those who associate (anything else with God).[28] It is an appeal to those with a receptive heart, because truth which is directly perceived by inner vision constitutes direct knowledge which cannot be grasped by thought.

Just as the divine mercy encompasses everything, so does the divine knowledge.

[29] For Ibn 'Arabī, the seat of this kind of direct knowledge is the heart, which alone is able to perceive that the Divine Self is the identity both of everything that is revealed and of everyone who receives the revelation. In the chapter on Shu'ayb in the Fusūs al-Hikam, Ibn 'Arabī writes, “In that there is a reminder for the one who has a heart”,[30] due to (the heart's) ability to vary according to different kinds of images and qualities. He (God) does not say for the one who has an intellect because the intellect conditions and fixes the order to one particular qualification and the Reality refuses such limitation. It is not a reminder to those of the intellect who are people of formal beliefs, who accuse each other of unbelief and condemn one another.[31] Here, Ibn 'Arabī is referring to those who interpret the news given of Reality according to their own limited understanding rather than perceiving it directly and accepting it in their heart.

Since God appears differently at each moment, the human being needs to be able to adapt and respond appropriately, according to wisdom. This only comes about by serving as a mirror to the Real. Such service cannot be conditioned by any

personal goal, not even the pursuit of happiness, even though our true happiness may be consequent to such service.

Ibn 'Arabī calls those who mirror the Real most perfectly the Muhammadians.

They have nothing of their own and are not defined by any particular divine Name or attribute. They bring together all the different standpoints or stations on the spiritual path and go beyond them to “no station”.[32] Ibn 'Arabī writes, The divine properties differ all the time and (the Muhammadian) varies with their variation, for God is “Every day busy with some affair” and so is the Muhammadian. God said, “In this there is a reminder for the one who has a heart” and He did not say “intellect” because that would limit him. The heart (qalb – which literally means turning or changing) is only called that due to its variation in states and affairs continually with each breath.[33] The person whose heart is pure does not oblige Reality to conform to his own image of it, but his heart is able to receive and conform to Reality as it truly appears at that moment. Ibn 'Arabī writes, “The one who has a heart” knows the variation of the Real in images, by virtue of (the heart's) variability in modes. For he knows the (Real) Self from himself and his heart is no other than the Itselfness (huwiyya) of the Real. There is nothing existent in the world which is other than the Identity (huwiyya) of the Real – indeed it is the Identity itself.[34] This is the greatest perplexity in the mystery of God, seeing that He possesses all forms yet is confined to none. Ibn 'Arabī writes, The affair is a circle. It has no limit which can be seen and therefore stopped at. This is why the Muhammadians, who have an insight like this, are told “You have no station”, since the affair is circular, “so return!”[35]

Because this changeability pervades the whole world, every person undergoes variation in their state with every breath. What distinguishes the knower of God is their knowledge of this variation.[36] As we have seen, everyone is already, by their very existence, complete, encompassed by divine mercy and therefore on the straight path of their Lord, yet at the same time called to a perfection which defies limitation. Ibn 'Arabī writes, God “gives everything its creation”, thereby completing it, “then He guides” to the acquisition of perfection. So whoever is rightly guided becomes perfect but whoever has stopped with his completion has been deprived.[37] This call to perfection is a call to wholeness and peace where all qualities are integrated in total equilibrium.

All human beings are born with an unlimited potential for perfection where the entire spiritual and cosmic realities may be clearly reflected in them so that they become the place of manifestation for the totality of divine attributes. This possibility of further perfection for the sake of beauty heightens the value and meaning of human life. In closely adhering to God, there is guidance in the right way.[38]God responds to request and what more beautiful request is there than that He may bring about for us the aptitude for perfection.

Once it is known that we have no existence of our own, that only the Real exists, the intended revelation of beauty can take place. Ibn 'Arabī writes, “God is beautiful and loves beauty.” Certainly, God dresses the interior of (the) servant with beauty insofar as He only reveals Himself to him out of love when He manifests in him the special beauty which is bound to him and which can only appear in this particular place. Every place (of manifestation) has a beauty which is special to it which belongs to nothing else. God does not look at the world until after He has made it beautiful and arranged it harmoniously so that it receives what He

brings to it in His revelation according to the beauty of its aptitude. He dresses that revelation with beauty upon beauty so it is always in a new beauty in every revelation, just as it is always in a new creation in itself.

(The revelation) undergoes perpetual transformation in the interior and exterior for the person from whom God has removed the covering of his blindness from his inner vision (basīra).[39] For most people intense glimpses of beauty are rare, but we have numerous examples of the ability of the human spirit to transcend the most abominable suffering and hardship to keep faith with the witnessed reality of this vision. It is a vision based on an inner certainty of the essential oneness and generosity of being.

To summarize, the Muhammadian vision provided by Ibn 'Arabī gives an overview which is not tied to any particular belief, or property, or attribute. Essentially the self is unbounded. If we impose our own limitations and constraints on it, we are prevented from fully receiving each new revelation. We need to empty ourselves of our own limitation so we are ready to respond in accordance with the needs of the moment, freed from the burden of fixed beliefs. For, as Ibn 'Arabī says, “The Essence is unknown and not bound by any fixed qualification.”[40] The importance of Ibn 'Arabī in our time is what is timeless in his writings. For the current moment, “now”, is the gateway to what lies beyond temporal and spatial considerations. It includes that which is timeless and universal as well as all the particular ramifications which are configured according to time and place. In our present age, spiritual knowledge is becoming more accessible as there is a greater urgency to recognize the true value and potential of human beings.

However many human beings are born, humanity is never divided but remains a single reality, expressing itself in numberless different ways, each as an individuation of the One Real Self. No one is excluded from the possibility of coming to know themselves and therefore to know God the Real.

Ibn 'Arabī's writings illuminate the various aspects of reconciling the inner reality and the outer reality, God and creation, the invisible and visible worlds. He constantly refers back to the source of the revealed words of the Quran rather than relying on subsequent interpretations of Islam. In this way he brings out the true meaning of the religion, emphasizing the universality of the Muhammadian Way which shows the uniqueness of the single reality of Being and its infinite possibilities expressed in endlessly changing forms and images. The all-inclusive, absolute God appears in all things yet remains unconfined by the limitations of anything. Ibn 'Arabī frequently quotes the Quranic verse, “We shall show them Our signs on the horizons and in themselves until it is clear to them that it is the Real.”[41] Throughout his work, Ibn 'Arabī emphasizes the need to be aware of those aspects of reality which transcend particular circumstances, as well as paying attention to how that reality manifests in the world, for he maintains that the movement of the world from non-existence into existence is a movement of love.

[42] The world is itself nothing other than the One and Only Reality manifesting itself in infinitely varied forms and states, which are already present within it in potential. From this point of view, the signs manifested in the world should not be dismissed or ignored, especially for those who are embarked on a spiritual journey whose aim is union, integration and completeness.

What is it, then, that speaks in Ibn 'Arabī's words with a voice that goes beyond the confines of his particular context, evoking a response that can be universally recognized? Whilst respecting the diversity of viewpoints, the purpose of our coming together for this conference is not to dwell on the determining factors which set people apart, but to focus on their underlying unity; not to dwell on what makes Ibn 'Arabī's teachings distant from us and inaccessible, but to focus on what makes them close to us in opening a door to an all-inclusive spiritual perspective. Such a universal perspective necessarily includes the totality of perspectives, not by focusing on the detail of each, but by concentrating on the point from which all perspectives arise and consequently encompasses them all.

This is the still point at the centre of the circle, the point about which the universes turn.

Notes 1. This paper was originally presented at the conference entitled “Between East and West, the spiritual journey: the significance and implications of Ibn 'Arabī's teaching in today's world”, held in Cordoba at the Biblioteca Viva Al-Andalus, Roger Garaudy Foundation, 24–26 September 2004.

2. Ibn 'Arabī, al-Tajalliyāt al-ilāhiyya, ed. O. Yahya (Tehran, 1988), Theophany 81, p. 460.

3. In his Rūh al-quds, Ibn 'Arabī gives one reason for the assembly: Hūd informed him that all the messengers and prophets had come to visit Abu Muhammad Makhlūf al-Qabā'ilī in his sickness before he died. See Ibn 'Arabī, Sufis of Andalusia, trans. R.W.J. Austin (London, 1971), p. 124. However, another reason for the assembly is given by Jandī, a disciple of Ibn 'Arabī's spiritual heir, Sadr alDīn Qūnawī: it was to congratulate Ibn 'Arabī on becoming the Seal of Saints, and heir to the Seal of the Prophets. On the Great Vision at Cordoba and the Seal of Muhammadian Sainthood, see C. Addas, Quest for the Red Sulphur (Cambridge, 1993), pp. 74–81; S. Hirtenstein, The Unlimited Mercifier (Oxford, 1999), pp. 85– 6; C. Gilis, Le livre des chatons des sagesses (Beirut, 1997), vol. I, pp. 282–3.

4. Q. 11: 56.

5. Ibn 'Arabī, Fusūs al-Hikam, ed. A. 'Afīfī (Beirut, 1946), p. 110. See also Ibn al-'Arabī, The Bezels of Wisdom, trans. R.W.J. Austin (New York, 1980), pp. 133– 4.

6. Ismail Hakki Bursevi's translation of and commentary on Fusūs al-Hikam by Muhyiddin Ibn 'Arabī, rendered into English by B. Rauf, 4 vols. (Oxford, 1986–91), p. 570. This Ottoman commentary on the Fusūs al-Hikam is usually attributed to Abdullah Bosnevi. To avoid confusion, I refer to the “Ottoman commentator”.

7. Identity, itselfness – huwiyya.

8. Ibid., p. 564.

9. Cf. Q. 7: 156, frequently quoted by Ibn 'Arabī.

10. Fusūs, 'Afīfī, p. 106. See Bezels, pp. 129–30.

11. See al-Futūhāt al-makkiyya (Cairo, 1911; reprinted Beirut, n.d.), vol. III, p.

410, beginning line 24 (III.410.24). See also W. Chittick,The Sufi Path of Knowledge (Albany, NY, 1989), pp. 301–3.

12. Cf. Fusūs, 'Afīfī, p. 108; see Bezels, p. 132.

13. See Thursday Morning Prayer: “In Your hand is the compulsive power holding sway over hearts and forelocks. 'To You the whole affair is returned', irrespective of obedience or disobedience.” Ibn 'Arabī, Wird (London, 1979), p. 39. See also, The Seven Days of the Heart, trans. P. Beneito and S. Hirtenstein (Oxford, 2000), p. 104.

14. Fut. II.563.23.

15. Fut. I.255.18. See also W. Chittick, The Self-Disclosure of God (Albany, NY, 1998), p. 224.

16. Bursevi Fusūs, p. 564. See also Sufi Path, pp. 297, 300.

17. See Fusūs, 'Afīfī, p. 109; Bezels, p. 132.

18. Q.3: 182.

19. Fut. IV.182.12.

20. Fut. IV.182.11. Hūd is the sura within which “Go straight as you have been commanded” (Q. 11: 112) is revealed. See also Sufi Path, p. 300 and the end of the chapter on Jacob, Fusūs, 'Afīfī, pp. 98–9; Bezels, pp. 117–18. In the epilogue to his Mashāhid al-asrār, Ibn 'Arabī affirms that “The straight path is finer than a hair and sharper than a sword; no one can adhere to it except the people under God's special care.” See Ibn 'Arabī, Contemplation of the Holy Mysteries, trans. C. Twinch and P. Beneito (Oxford, 2001), p. 120.

21. Fut. III.411.22.

22. “Whoever believes that (God) is like such and such, He appears to him in the form of his belief.” Fut. III.411.26. Cf. also Fusūs, 'Afīfī, p. 124; Bezels, p.

152; Sufi Path pp. 302–3.

23. Q. 2: 115.

24. Fusūs, 'Afīfī, p. 113.

25. Q. 2: 115.

26. Fusūs, 'Afīfī, p. 72. See Bezels, p. 78.

27. See Fusūs, 'Afīfī, p. 114; Bezels, p. 138.

28. Q. 12: 108.

29. Cf.Q. 40: 7 often quoted by Ibn 'Arabī. See, for example, Self-Disclosure, p.

329.

30. Q. 50: 37.

31. Fusūs, 'Afīfī, p. 122. See Bezels, p. 150; Bursevi Fusūs, p. 607.

32. Cf. Fut. III.506.30. See Sufi Path, pp. 375–81.

33. Fut. IV.76.35.

34. Fusūs, 'Afīfī, p. 122. See Bezels, p. 151.

35. Fut. IV.14.13. See also Self-Disclosure, p. 226.

36. Cf. Fut. IV.77.3.

37. Fut. III. 405.4. Cf. Q. 20: 50 and Sufi Path, p. 297.

38. Cf. Q. 3: 101; Saturday Morning Prayer, Wird, p. 52; Seven Days, p. 135.

39. Fut. IV.146.5. With reference to “the ruling (hukm) which makes the hair of a youth go white”, in this context see also Self-Disclosure, p. 80.

40. Fut. IV.40.1.

41. Q. 41: 53.

42. Fusūs, 'Afīfī, p. 203. See also the Wisdom of Moses in Bezels, p. 257.

The Degrees of the Station of No-Station Regarding the End of the Journey "Say: Lord, increase me in knowledge" (Qur'an,XX: 114) "Those who believe have a stronger love for God" (Qur'an, II: 165) The notion of station (maqām) in Sufism ought not to be very difficult to understand. We know what a position, a grade, a rank and an office are within a political, military or administrative hierarchy. We are also familiar with the different stages of education which, through a series of examinations and tests, lead to a diploma. There is a recognised difference, however: if Sufism is also regarded as an education – for the relationship is that of master and pupil – then its school, although open to all men and women, only comprises those students who continually seek more (murīd), who agree to submit to the spiritual authority of their master, and to obey him, for it is a question of replicating a relationship that originated with the prophets, and the saints who teach by example.

It should not therefore be difficult to imagine what a spiritual station is, and to what it can be compared. Even if modern psychology does not know what a spiritual station is, it knows about psychological states (emotions, joy, feeling depressed, feeling desperate, seeing the light at the end of the tunnel) and psychological types which, even if they cannot be compared to these stations, can serve to illustrate them.

The expression maqām (spiritual station) is part of the technical vocabulary of Sufi literature. It does not refer to an office in the initiatory hierarchy but to a degree, or rank. This means that a person can have attained this station without necessarily being invested with any active power or authority.

But in our attempt to understand the notion of station, it must be said straightaway that any description of it, or any definition that could be given of it in an objective fashion, that is to say by drawing on the Sufi texts, could never be wholly adequate. These writings are often themselves descriptive, analytical and impersonal, revealing the internal structure of Sufism, but never disclosing how

this psychological evolution takes place at an individual level in relation to a particular disciple, how little by little this disciple will learn to react in a different way, and follow a path that will lead him far beyond the ordinary perception of the world. That is something that is the province of autobiographical account. But such accounts are quite rare among Sufis, who are very reticent, particularly since each experience is in many respects personal, incommunicable and unique.

The stations, and especially the station of no-station (maqām Id maqām), pertain to spiritual experience. As a notion, the station of no-station appears very frequently in the writings of the masters under different names (mawqifmā warā al-mawāqif, maqām al-maqāmāt, maqām al-tawhīd, maqām al-qurba, etc.). But as an expression, it appears very rarely. Ibn 'Arabī used it in the Futūhāt alMakkiyya[2] in a technical sense, crediting Abū Yazīd al-Bastāmī and others with having attained it, as though he wanted to suggest the rarity and also the measure of it. In the Jawāb al-mustaqīm,[3] to the brief list of those who have known this station (which he calls here the station of Virtue, maqām al-ihsān), he adds Sahl ibn 'Abd Allah al-Tustarī, who is his favourite, and with whom he links himself in a poem in one of the chapters of the Fusūs al-Hikam.[4] Since Ibn 'Arabī only allowed himself to speak about what he knew from experience, it must be assumed that he himself had also known the station of no-station. The numerous expressions employed to describe a final station certainly convey many subtle, and difficult to grasp, differences in meaning. They also suggest the unique and personal character of each experience.

For Ibn 'Arabī, the idea of personal experience nevertheless fits into the categorisation that he established in the Fusūs al-Hikam. On the one hand, the viator, or traveller, puts in the effort, while on the other hand it is God who creates the path that the viator will take. He will be in "the footsteps" ('alā qadam) of this or that prophet. The paths are already marked out.

There is also the sense that a mystical journey which does not end in no-station is very much a journey that is incomplete, which raises the question of the destiny of the soul that does not become perfect, or close to perfection. Each and every

one of our efforts to reach other new stations are repeated attempts to break out of the strait jacket that keeps us in this world and prevents us from being born in the other world.

Every rank attained which does not open directly into no-station is but a false door. This is why Bayāzid said: "Each time I thought I had reached the end of the Way, I was told that this was the beginning of it."[5] Only one door will open onto the divine void, the divine Ocean, and it is this door that the viator searches for.

Sometimes he has to take the longest way round, trying all the doors and only coming across the right one last of all. Others are lucky enough to see it opening at the first attempt.

The Way is also a relentless struggle for survival. The station of no-station practises natural selection; only those who reach it survive. Sufis are the Darwinians of metaphysics.

Since this does not apply to us, we can only talk about it by reference to a mental representation based upon the written teachings of Sufism. To make such a representation for ourselves, a broad knowledge of Sufism is therefore necessary.

For this reason, it is necessary to distinguish, on the one hand, between the logical degrees and on the other the degrees that are expounded in well-known Sufi texts, such as Ansāri's Manāzil al-sā'irīn or the Mawāqif of al-Niffarī (d. ca 354 ah)[6] or the chapters of the Futūhāt al-Makkiyya by Ibn 'Arabī, which are psychological and metaphysical degrees, that is to say psychological states and pitfalls that the disciple encounters, as well as the metaphysical knowledge that is revealed to him as he advances through the different stages. In Sufi writing, these degrees are presented in a structured way, categorised, and ordered in a didactic fashion.

From a logical perspective, an uninitiated reader would have difficulty in understanding for example what lies behind the sudden shifts in meaning that occur in the works of al-Ansārī and similar authors, or again how a verse of the Qur'an is suddenly given an unexpected interpretation in a context which the reader not used to the allusive style of the Sufi masters would not be able to

understand a priori, or perhaps even accept. In his letter to Kāshānī, Semnānī writes: "What does logic matter, once the objective has been achieved?"[7] LOGICAL DEGREES (1) We have here an expression that a priori does not make sense according to formal logic. How can that which is not a station be called a station? Surely this is a contradiction of the principle of non-contradiction (A is A, A is not not-A), a paradoxical statement?

Or is it simply that it was defined in the negative as a way of giving a provisional name to something that follows on from a state of affairs in which the stations succeed each other in a normal manner until there appears a state of affairs which seems to be unlike anything that has come before? A simple matter of denomination, or is the substance itself anti-station? Should lā maqām therefore be translated as anti-station, that against which the stations lean and rest, in the sense of an opposite (anti-matter) or in the geographical sense (anticline, antiatlas)?

(2) If the station of no-station means the moment when one has not yet attained any degree or any merit, it would then be the zero degree before the first maqām.

(3) In circular representations of the initiatic way, this station would be the one where the two extremes meet, where the serpent bites its own tail.

(4) Should the station of no-station be taken to mean a station beyond which there is no other station? By implication this would be in Arabic maqām lā maqāma ba'dahu (a station beyond which there is no other station). It would therefore be the absolute station.

In other words, the station of no-station would be the terminus, a central station at which all the trains coming from all the stations would arrive. It would be a kind of metropolis, the sole and final destination for all the trains.

(5) Or else, is it another station, called no-station, which is not to be confused with the last of the stations as described in the Manāzil al-sā'irīn? It would thus be a station only in name. If this station called no-station is not to be confused with the last of the stations, then presumably it can be reached by different routes from those of the one hundred waystations, since it is not connected to them. It could suddenly sweep over us at any moment, since clearly it is not governed by the same rules that mark out the "tourist route" of the mystical journey (siyāha).[8] The station of no-station would be a station situated outside the circuit (represented by a circle on which there are points marking the stations). Each station would thus have its parallel, invisible, station, in which the traveller could unwittingly find himself, and which would be the station of nostation (represented by two concentric circles).

"Go to and fro freely in the world... "[9] But on this "trip" towards God, you are advised not to allow yourself to be captivated by the beauty of the landscape. You must constantly remember that beauty is unique, and that it is the beauty of God. If you gaze upon something of exceptional beauty without returning it to God, you are wasting your time!

Ey dūst shekar khoshtar yā anke shekar sāzad My friend, is it the sugar that is sweeter or he who makes the sugar?

[10] (Rūmī) Can every station give access to the no-station? Or is it necessary to travel through all the stations in order to be able to reach the station of no-station, even if the latter is not locatable in space?

(6) If every station gives access to the station of no-station, does this mean that these stations of no-station are necessarily relative, and that the station of nostation arrived at after having passed through all the requisite stages is the only true one?

(7) There is another possible meaning: station (in the next world) and nonstation (in this world). It is a station, but it is no longer categorised as a station of this world. It is the first station of the next world, perhaps the one where the initiate enters the imagi- nal world ('훮lam al-mith훮l) or even the one where he begins his journey in the Essence. For some texts imply that the station of nostation is situated rather in an epiphany of the Divine Essence, and thus beyond the imaginal world. It would therefore be the station of "perhaps even closer still... " (aw adn훮),[11] the one that is beyond the epiphany of the Names, where Gabriel risked burning his wings if he ventured there.

(8) Every station is called no-station until a new, undreamt-of station looms ahead, like a new peak suddenly rising up in front of the mountaineer who thought his troubles were over. The station of no-station thus signifies the station that is pending, provisional, transitional.

(9) A station is called a station because one can discern one's position there: there is an above and a below. The height is evidence of the station. It is said of a king that he occupies the highest rank (maq훮m), because he also occupies the highest part of the throne or tribune.

The station of no-station would thus be the station where one no longer perceives that which is lower as such, where everything is levelled by reference to what is higher, and where it is revealed to us that all the stations are perfect at whatever degree they might be situated. The degrees disappear. The miracle is to see that God is to be found in His totality at all the degrees, at all the stations where He manifests, in all the degrees of manifestation, from the most radiant to the most obscure. "And the earth shall shine with the light of its Lord... "[12] All of these questions are of a logical order; they are all tenable in reality.

LITERATURE AND ART Fiction and literary narratives in general provide us likewise with similar examples and descriptions of these states because their heroes are not described abstractly, with a view to illustrating a thesis. They live like real characters in everyday life,

encountering experiences that can be likened to those that spiritual disciples go through. Writers of fiction depict their heroes as passing through and being transformed by a series of condensed stages on their journey through the pages of the book, and as living a "Romantic" life, a life full of adventures. These heroes experience despair, they eventually see the light at the end of the tunnel, they come out into the light, they attain their goal, they experience pain and joy, and they mature. Many of these accounts can be regarded as descriptions of quasistations, which can be compared to spiritual experience.

The station of no-station can be glimpsed in blazes, or flashes, like being able to witness heroic exploits through a pane of glass, without oneself having the necessary qualifications for taking part in the action. Or, as if on a TV screen, we are able to watch scenes unfolding far away from where we ourselves are. The images convey emotions to us which involve us in the ordeals of the heroes.

In dreams, this state presents itself to us in the form of premonitory images of what the future holds for us. In Sufism, there is always anticipation: what one sees at the beginning is what will be realised in the future. These visions prepare the traveller for what will later become, if he reaches it, his final station.

The artist passes through periods, phases in the evolution of his art, during which his art acquires gradually more and more maturity, more and more precision. He tends towards absolute art. Thus, as Coomaraswamy[13] would say, the best artist is the one who could represent a landscape, a still life, a portrait, such as it would be in the mind of God, as it is in God. Such is the artist who practises painting beyond painting, which seeks and perceives a form beyond form and colour.

From this point of view, Sufism is an art. It is what explains why almost all Sufi masters are poets. They have acquired the art of concise expression, the art of speaking like God, inspired to say things aesthetically and in truth. This is why many Sufis are good calligraphers, poets, etc.

THE STATION OF NO-STATION IN HISTORY History and legend also reserve a special degree for certain individuals, who become timeless and never leave the stage of sacred or mythical history, hundreds or even thousands of years after their death. This is true of the prophets, characters from the Bible and legend and characters from Greco-Roman mythology (The Argonauts), or from Indian mythology, etc.

They are "undeposable": they are thus in the degree of no-station. Only he who is in a station can lose it. The wave of the history of time only carries away in its flow those who stand in its path.

A station is restrictive. It imposes constraints on the one in whose care it is and requires him to obey certain rules, failing which he will fall and lose the quality of it. As with every quality, honorary or real, it is subject to etiquette. Noblesse oblige.

The station of no-station would thus be something that would apply to a "liberated" being, free from constraints – such as themalāmatiyya, the heroes of Greek mythology, Jason and the Argonauts, Ulysses, Hercules, and other demigods. In Persian, they are called "kings" (Shāh), Shāh Ni'matollāh Valī, Safī 'AlīShāh, etc. perhaps because they have arrived at the Divine Throne ('Arsh).

Switching into symbolic mode, the epics of Homer or Virgil can be regarded as a record of the great events that lead exceptional men to a station of no-station, since they make their heroes go through adventures and trials that make them worthy of attaining their goal, and this takes place beneath the beneficent gaze of the gods.

This applies also to Ferdowsi's Iranian epic Shāh-nāmeh (The Book of the Kings), and other mythical epics of an initiatic nature.

We could paraphrase Paul Valéry and assert that all literature implies (and is generally unaware that it implies) a certain idea of man, and even a view on the destiny of the species, a whole metaphysic that ranges from the rawest sensualism to the boldest mysticism.[14]

Formally everything is maqām; the whole of life presents only maqāms. It is by virtue of their content that the stations differ from one another, and that the initiatic maqām is higher. Otherwise, a man who had succeeded in making his fortune by becoming a multimillionaire, or a man who had won the heart of the most beautiful woman in his village, or a man who had succeeded in getting elected mayor of his town – all would have reasons to think that they had attained a high maqām, as a reward for their efforts. This formal resemblance is, moreover, the foundation of Sufi parables and metaphors: the higher is explained by reference to the lower, which is an image of it.

Everyone is on the Way. But not everyone is aware of it.

Each one of us is able to turn back towards our past and measure not only the progress we have made in life, the obstacles that we have overcome (that which does not kill you, makes you stronger), and the degree of maturity gained; but also the flaws that are innate in us, the transgressions for which we cannot forgive ourselves... ..

Man is thus on a path, although he does not know it, even if he comes to realise that his life has not been merely an adding up of minutes, or the passing of time.

The station of no-station would therefore have as its first meaning the place where one does not yet know what a station is, where one does not yet have any station. When that is realised at the end of the mystical journey, one discovers that what was true at the beginning of the journey is confirmed at the end. But this confirmation is a reward: the person learns that in fact he or she has no maqām.

The conscious entry into the Way thus marks the beginning of the path. It is the moment when the path makes its appearance, as an indistinct, hazy form emerging beneath our feet. It is the Way that comes to us, like a path that we were following without knowing it, covered in dust that the wind of Providence comes and sweeps before us.

In practice, this entry begins through meeting with a master, through being fascinated by beauty, by love.

Che daārad dar del ān khwāje Ke mītābad ze rokhsārash What does that gentleman have in his heart That is shining in his face?

(Rūmī) Spiritual masters are able to discern those who have the potential for following the way of light, those who are ready for service. For, Dar rah-e manzel-e leylī ke khatarhāst dar ān Shart-e avval qadam ān ast ke majnūn bāshī Many are the dangers along the path that leads to the dwelling of Leylī The condition for taking the first step along it is that you have to be mad.[15] (Hāfiz) But the advantage of the Way is that it teaches shortcuts, it enables you to save time, and to discern more quickly any technical difficulty that will hold you up.

This entry into the Way, the first step, the first condition of which we have just seen in a verse by Hāfiz, comes down to pure, genuine love – for the state of Majnūn means nothing other here than an attitude that challenges any faith in the rational mind and in the selfish motives of passion.

Hīlat rahā kon asheqā! Dīvāne sho dīvāne sho!

Lovers, abandon guile, be crazy, be crazy! (Rūmī) The entry into the Way could justify an entire symposium devoted to it. All the stations that are passed through will only deepen this first perception of a hidden world, of the conviction that it is worth exploring. He who has tasted the sweetness of something can no longer contain himself!

In this connection, there is a story about a sheikh of the 'alawiyya tariqa, the Sheikh al-Madanī, who approached a group of young thieves.[16] He offers them some easy but well-paid work. They agree to follow him. When they arrive at his

house, the 'alawī sheikh arranges them in a circle and asks them to recite zikr for one hour. When they have finished, he pays them a sum of money with which they are more than satisfied. Naturally, they ask for more. They come back the following day. At the end of a few days, the louts become the murīds of the sheikh, and decide to enter the Way. The 'alawī master had discerned in them the inclination towards spiritual matters. All they needed was a taste of the pleasure of zikr to be convinced.

It is possible therefore to have done the mystical journey, to be so far advanced, to have got so close to the goal, without even realising it. A single spark, or a nudge, would be enough to become fully realised.[17] Everybody knows the story of the brigands who were the first disciples of 'Abdulqādir al-Gilānī.[18] There is such a truth in this that for many the beginning is often confused with the end of the mystical journey. They reach the goal the same day that they become aware of the path. Others with less inclination will not take another step, for the first taste is enough for them. They have achieved their measure, their relative perfection. They did not need to drain the cup to its dregs; sniffing the cork was enough to make them inebriated.

But then there is a rule which I shall explain through the Algerian proverb: ellī sabqak b'lila, sabqak bi-hīla: he who is born one night before you is one trick ahead of you. It applies also in Sufism. Besides, it is surely of Sufi origin: he who is one night ahead of you on the Way, is one (Sufi) trick ahead of you.

In order to be a master – that is to have the ability to guide another person – it is necessary to be at least one stage ahead. For one can only lead and guide toward what one knows. Hence the necessity for an initiatic chain.

But perfect masters treat their disciples, and others in general, as though they were already what they have been called upon to become, precisely in order to help them to become what they are capable of becoming. The most accomplished master can only lead you to your own perfection, for perfection is relative.

METAPHYSICAL DEGREES Some preliminary comments on the theory of knowledge in Sufism: Intellectual Sufism, particularly with Ibn 'Arabī, effected a definitive break with the deus ex machina. There is no god but Allah. This is interpreted as an immanent function in the world, which is inseparable from the Creator because, quite simply, the creation is a mirror of God, a constant divine effusion. There is no discontinuity, no gap between God, the Uncreated, and the created world.

In place of a theology in which the Divine Essence is contemplated from a theoretical point of view and where care is taken to rid it of everything that would be contrary to its perfection, which is the essential precept, we have a theosophy or rather a practical discipline that makes Man the central focus of knowledge rather than God. It is in Man that knowledge occurs and it is Man who must be rid of his imperfections in order to gain awareness of this active presence in the world that we call God. It is therefore a matter that is entirely the domain of Man. To know God is to realise that the world is His manifestation; it is to realise oneself, to realise what it is to be a human being.

The goal of Sufism is real knowledge, not theoretical knowledge.

There is no God apart from the Manifestation; there is no access to the Essence (because it is unknowable and that is all that is known). Man in his turn realises that his essence does not exist except as something provisional, with the potential to become a cosmic function; he is the province of knowledge, the medium for the Divine Names. The created beings (al-insān al-makhlūq)[19] are animals, as Aristotle says, and endorsed by Ibn 'Arabī, for whom Man denotes first of all Perfect Man. When the divine form leaves the human body, then shall the trumpet sound heralding the end of the world.

We do not know God; we know al-ulūha, the divine function, in so far as it is manifest. We pass through the various levels or planes of the divine manifestation (Acts, Names, Essence). At each level, we transmute, we shed a skin. There is a

constant relationship between us and the way in which we array ourselves in the Divine Names and Attributes. Man 'arafa nafsahu fa qad 'arafa rabbahu... ..

If the Torah is written on the "skin" of God, as the Kabbalists allege, then God sheds a "skin" each time our level of understanding of the Torah changes, for it is in the "skin" of God that we are reading.

There are three moments in Sufi metaphysics: precreation | creation | de-creation In concrete terms, these three moments correspond (1) to the moment when God wanted, desired to be known, or lover (muhibb), (2) to the creation or manifestation or hubb, love, and (3) to the return, or beloved (mahbūb).

Lover | Love | Beloved One can continue in this fashion with triads such as 'ārif, ma'rifa, ma'rūf / murīd, iradat, murād, etc.

At each of these moments the immutable essence ('ayn thābita) follows God and obeys Him. As God desired it, it too loves to be known; it contemplates the beauty of creation when it is itself brought into existence, and it finds itself the object of the love and attention of God, when it returns to the Essence. God loves it with the same love that He feels towards Himself. It becomes a murād.

The ascent to the station of no-station is nothing other than an attempt at bringing together, jam', and then the unification of the metaphysical principle.

The mystical journey is in God. Finally, the station of no-station is a way of going beyond the contradiction of the opposites.

Instead of giving it a specific name, Ibn 'Arabī has kept the expression maqām lāmaqām as a whole because it conveys this special state of the junction of two worlds. It is a station on the human side, and a non-station on the divine side.

The station belongs to Man and the relative indetermination of no-station belongs

to Him. It is an expression that makes allowances: to the created, that which is his due; to the Uncreated, Its language.

Immanence on the human side, and transcendence on the divine side.

It is the station of no-station because it is a station in which one cannot remain, an untenable station, that has to be quickly relinquished, for it would be a conceit to aspire to stay there. The sālik must retrace his steps, for he is reminded that he is but an empty shell, an impotent creature. The maqām is an illusion for Man. The maqām is God's alone. The sālik understands that he is a cosmic and ontological function, predetermined in his attributes since the beginning of time.

The sole purpose of the mystical ascent was to reveal this to him. Moses has been Moses since the beginning of time and Muhammad has been Muhammad since the beginning of time. The people of the lā-maqām are pure servants ('abd mahz). Thus the station of no-station seems to be the boundary where Man reaches the borders of the divinity, and where he must necessarily realise and affirm his essential servanthood ('ubūda).

This should be related to the famous Qur'anic verse VIII: 17 ("It was not you who threw when you threw: it was God who threw") and to what Khidr reveals to Moses: "In all of that I did not act on my own initiative" (Qur'an, XVIII: 82).

A station is something of which one becomes aware, but to become aware of a station is to go beyond it. This is explained by the fact that knowledge is dependent upon the station, and the station always corresponds to a level of knowledge. We are what we know. To be is to know. Intensification of the act of being depends on intensification of knowledge and vice versa. But the Qur'an, which links the two (knowledge and station), in its promise, seems to accord ontological primacy and the motive role to the pursuit of knowledge. The Prophet was ordered to ask for an increase in knowledge – "Say: Lord increase me in knowledge"[20] - and God promises him an increase in station: "It may be that your Lord will exalt you to a praiseworthy station (maqām)".[21] It is knowledge that must be sought, not the station. It is God who bestows the

station as a reward for the degree of knowledge. But here station has an honorary meaning(makÄ na).

Mysticism implies the search for a secret. Sufism teaches that the secret is not something external, like that sought by MI6 or the CIA. It is not outside us. It is not something other than us. We are the secret. This implies that the world of ordinary everyday appearance conceals something that transcends it, but which enhances its value and refines it. The Sufi quest is not an asceticism that consists in casting off the world. It consists in wearing the world inside out, or rather turning it the right way round. The veil that presents the world as something essentially negative must be lifted so that the light that it hides can be contemplated. Thus the Sufi is not a destroyer of the world. Quite the opposite.

He is not an ascetic. He is a man who seeks happiness, Life. He endows the world with life and with light. He renders the world to God, in accordance with the shath of Jesus: "render unto God that which belongs to God and to Caesar that which is Caesar's" (Matthew). When everything that belongs to God has been rendered unto Him, where then will Caesar be, what will remain of Caesar?

The world has a Sufi future. When the world is finally perceived in its reality as a manifestation of God, the Sufi will be revealed as one of the cogs in this wonderful divine machine. Thus his aim is to preserve the world. He participates in the perpetual creation of the world. This is what the station of no-station is.

This is evidenced again in Islamic mysticism, when compared with Plotinian mysticism for example, by the fact that it considers that the world and its source, the soul and the body, are not completely separate in a Manichaean manner, the one being good and the other evil. There is always an intermediate world, not only at the macrocosmic level but also at the level of the smallest particle, an intermediate level where the two aspects touch each other and constitute an indissociable and indivisible unity. An ignorance of the imaginal world is what transformed all the earlier schools of mysticism into ascetic systems, aimed at freeing the soul from the body.

There are several forms of ascent that are differentiated from each other according to the method followed. Each one ends in a kind of knowledge. In this connection, you may like to read the excellent contribution to a recent conference in Rabat by my friend Stephen Hirtenstein on Ibn 'Arabī's Brotherhood of Milk.

[22] IMAGES OF THE REAL Sufism teaches through anecdote, metaphor and image. Let us look at some illustrations of this point: Image A: An alif with an infinity sign modified by plus or minus signs (+ or -) at each end. This alif is the Way. When it reveals itself it contains in reality the Tree of Being. Alef-e qāmat-e dūst (the alif which is the shape of the Beloved)! It is the alif that it would be more accurate to depict in a horizontal position, like the bā'.

In any event this alif, which extends from pre-eternity to post-eternity, is the location of the mystical journey. At which station does one reach it? God alone knows.

Hāfiz said: Az azal tā be abad forsat-e darvīshān ast The time of the dervishes stretches from pre-eternity to post-eternity.

In theory it can be reached at any moment. The letter alif is thus the only letter that exists. All the other letters are contained in it. Hāfiz has also said: Nist bar lowh-e delam joz alef-e qāmat-e dūst Che konam harf-e degar yād na-dād ostādam There is no other letter on the tablet of my heart, except the alif, the shape of the Beloved What is to be done? The master has not taught me any other letter except that one!

Image B: Since the location of the mystical journey is a long path, let us content ourselves with examining an enlargement of a segment of the Tree of Being magnified a billion times through a metaphysical microscope.

We see a vertical segment indented alternately on either side (like an ear of wheat, or the Tree that it was forbidden to touch for it causes vertigo, or like DNA). This is the "distance" covered in a lifetime by a sālik who has attained the maqām lā-maqām. The alif isserrated on all sides because the chance to climb it is offered to everyone, and via every route. In fact, there is only one path for each person, and no path encroaches on another.

"If the ephemeral were compared to the Eternal... " Image C: This is the technical aspect of the passage from one station to another, represented by a spring, which signifies that once a station has been traversed, it already affords a view of the next station, and is preparing one for it. But for a moment, this station is taken for the final station, as we have seen in the quotation from Abū Yazid al-Bistāmī. What is one step by man in relation to infinity? From this perspective, the Way is doomed to be nothing but an eternal beginning.

This feeling of not moving forward, of always being at the starting point, indicates to the traveller that the stations all come down to a single station that one must take the time to examine from every angle. The impression of advancing, of moving from one station to another, is engendered by an increase in "knowledge", of a mastery of the Way, of the certainty that this effort generates.

This state should undoubtedly be related to the distinction which Ibn 'Arabī makes between the makān (place) and the makāna (rank or position). While he is in the station, the sālik is in a place that he explores gradually. When he has come to know all the corners and nooks and crannies, he is transported, as a reward, to a "place" that is no longer a place (lā-makān) but a rank (makāna).

From this perspective, the lā-maqām would then be the unique moment when the sālik abandons the cycle, the eternal beginning again, to fall like a ripe fruit,

against his own free will, into a new state, a state of perplexity. This would be the station of no-station.

The man who has been made perfect (al-mukammal) no longer has a harbour in which to drop his anchor. No station can contain him (can hold him) in existence (al-kawn).[23] Like a fully inflated balloon, he is wrenched from the ground to rise up into the sky! This can be likened to a suitcase on a carousel at an airport. As long as no passenger comes to pick it up, it will go round and come past again several times waiting for the hand of its Owner to grab hold of it and take it off the carousel.

Image D: A set of mirrors multiplying an increasingly faint image... ... from the first vertiginous fall of creation, from mirror to mirror, reducing in intensity until the final level from where one has to go back up again. The word "fall" should not be understood in a negative way, for the manifestation results from God's desire to be known, to let Himself be known outside the Hidden Treasure (al-kanz al-makhfī). It is an explosion of joy, of light, the metaphysical big-bang. The immutable essences (a'yān thābita) do nothing other than follow the will of God and imitate Him by multiplying. They too, also wanted to see themselves, to make themselves known. They are affected by every decision of God. Dar azal partov-e hosnat ze tajallī dam zad 'eshq peydā shod o ātash be hame 'ālam zad In pre-eternity, the ray of your beauty decided to manifest itself Love therefore appeared and set the whole world on fire. (Hāfiz) The being which is in the first mirror sees God and sees itself in the second mirror (in imitation of God). It is thus the most recent manifestation of God, the one that is the closest to Him on the line of "descent".

On the line of ascent, it is the last stage; the being has accumulated so much experience that it feels a very powerful energy (himmat)drawing it towards the Divine Eye. It has discarded created forms and strives with all its strength to return to the Source.

Rūmī says that human beings go from mineral to vegetable, and from vegetable to animal, before passing into the human state. And Ibn 'Arabī adds that the human form is not adequate to define Man.[24] On the line of ascent, as the sālik proceeds to climb the stages, he goes back up from mirror to mirror, reducing the number of mirrors that separate him from God. He measures his progress in terms of the spiritual energy (himmat) acquired at each stage that he passes through. He senses that his act of being (wujūd) is gaining in intensity, as Mollā Sadrā would say.

The station of no-station is the final moment when he emerges from the mirror to discover himself as a divine thought.

During the stages of the ascent, the sālik is constantly in motion. He moves progressively through the sequences of the film. He goes through them one by one, until THE END. When he arrives at the station of no-station, he comes to a halt. The film is now projected before him. All the sequences are unfolded in front of him; he sees them all spread out together for him to review, still and lifeless. It was his own movement (of hayrat) that gave the impression of life, of moving images. In God there is no movement at all. Now he knows the sequence that is to come, and watches the frames of the film unwinding before his eyes. He has become a perfect master.

The film reveals that this destiny, this scenario, has existed since the beginning of time. God knew all the sequences of it. Having returned to God, he is allowed to see the world as God sees it. Thus, he will be able to say, like Hāfiz: Sālhā del talab-e jām-e Jam az mā mī kard Vānche khod dāsht ze bīgāne tamannā mī kard

For years on end, the heart asked us for the cup of Jamshid [cup of immortality] In vain did it ask the stranger for what it already had.

This is what Abū al-Hasan al-Kharaqānī had in mind when he said: the Sufi is not created (al-sūfi ghayr makhlūq).[25] He has de-created himself, as Chodkiewicz would say.[26] He has returned to the state of 'ayn thābita, as an Akbarian would say. The Way leads us towards what we have been since the beginning of time.

No doubt it was after having entered into this state that 'Ab-dulqādir al-Gilānī made his famous declaration: "This foot of mine here is on the neck of every saint of God" (qadamī hādhihi 'alā raqabati kulli waliyy Allāh).[27]

According to the question that was asked of Qūnawī: "From where (have you come?) and to where (are you going?), and what happens between the two?" (min ayn ilā ayn, fa mā al-hāsil fī l-bayn?),[28] he gave an impromptu answer giving the question a metaphysical significance: "(We have come) from (divine) knowledge (and we are going) towards the Essence. What happens in between is the renewal of a relationship that unites the two extremes and appears through both determinations."

His reply can be illustrated by saying: we come from the origin of the manifestation of the stations and we return to no-station. The line that separates these two domains represents the real location of the Way, that which occurs between the two extremes, where the divine knowledge returns to the Essence,

where the knowledge of men is re-united with (the ignorance of) the immutable essences.

In the ascent, the world was an illusion within an illusion (khayāl fī khayāl). In his perfection, the master sees the world undeniably as the manifestation of God (Haqq).

Innamā al-kawnu khayāl Wa huwa haqqun fī l-haqīqā Walladhī yafhamu hādhā Hāza asrār al-tarīqa The universe is an illusion But it is true in reality Whosoever understands this Has grasped the secrets of the Way[29] The secrets of the tariqa only allow themselves to be known by he who has travelled in both directions. *

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SOCIOLOGICAL AND HISTORICAL DEGREES For Plato, it is the thumos that is the origin of this spiritual aspiration, of this intuition that it is possible to attain a better state than the one in which one is currently, of this sorrow of the soul that longs to return to its source, that is to say to pass from the lower level where the stations are attained to the upper level where one leaves them behind.

This thumos gives Man the capacity for ambition, for righteous anger, and for indignation. Whereas reason on its own – as can be observed in the neutral stance of modern science – contents itself with saying things, with describing them, the thumos is the ana-gogic faculty that enables one to make a value judgment about things, and which aspires to go beyond them. It maintains what

is otherwise known as social constraint, the fact that men have a desire to change a situation that is shocking and unacceptable. It manifests at an individual level, as in the example given by Plato of the person who, having succeeded in getting out of the cave, has no wish to return to it. But this example is equally valid for society since, according to Plato, the soul of the Republic is the algebraic sum of the individual souls of its members.

But this aspiration encounters stumbling blocks that can bring it to a halt, or lead it on by a longer route, or into an impasse. Man does not have the intuition of spiritual aspiration from the outset. The ambition of spiritual realisation is not always the conscious driving force, and it may be that he is unable to see beyond perfection of a material kind, or the attainment of some position or other in this world. In the latter case, this is somebody who has realised his relative perfection, even if he himself is unaware that that is its measure in relation to the criteria of the Way. Herein lies the trap. But this aspiration can be interpreted as an obstacle to a divine name. For example, he who seeks power does not succeed in mastering the divine name the Powerful. Hence De Gaulle said: "I am the majesty of the French people!". Someone who attains the degree of representation of a people can identify himself with it and speak in its name, well or ill, like Pharaoh saying: "I am your lord!".

Every prophet fulfils his mission as a guide whilst at the same time seeking his own personal realisation. He has one side turned towards God (Haqq), and one side turned towards his people (Khalq). He is a saint in so far as he is turned towards his Lord. In the case of the Prophet of Islam, al-isrā' (the Night-Journey), takes place when he is already preaching his message. On his return from his nocturnal journey, the Prophet returns with the Law (the prayer). It is the same for Moses (SA): the maqām al-qurba occurs for him after the ten years spent with Shu'ayb, according to Sulamī quoting Ibn 'Ata, interpreting the verb ānastu nāran.[30] On his return from the mountain, Moses returns with the tablets.

In both cases these are journeys that have a collective and communal effect. It can be concluded from this that the station of no-station is a prophetic station, whereas the qurbā, jam', and jam' al-jam', are stations of sainthood.

This thumos is without doubt what in Sufism is called al-irāda, or active will. It is something that motivates the movement that is otherwise known as love. It is a desire to search for one's origins, to go back to the source, to rise above the insouciance of the masses, to gain degrees, promotions.

Who is it that keeps this aspiration, this fire of God, burning? There is the ambiguity. In shi'ta qulta wa in shi't qulta. One can say that it is man who aspires. One can say that it is God. What is essential is to understand that this irāda is the epiphany of the Divine Jealousy(ghayrah), for God Himself is implicated in the world, in order to defend His honour.[31] Wa mā qadaru Allaha haqq qadrihi... [32] "They have not measured (considered) God with His true measure... " It is a question that has been summed up by a certain Sufi[33] in this ecstatic statement (shat-h): "The difference between my Lord and me is that I was the first to prostrate myself."

In any event, it is the exhaustion of this irāda that will characterise and be the cause of the end of History according to Ibn 'Arabī. The Hour will rise over men reduced to the animal state, satisfying their worldly desires. The divine call will hear no answering echo from such men. For Sufism, the driving force of history, its raison d'etre, is precisely the irāda. As the Tradition teaches, God will maintain the world as long as there is at least one man to say: Allah, Allah, Allah!

Sufi initiation consists in making sure of leaving the ship before it founders in the end of history. It is thus a doctrine of perfect salvation (soteriology).

Among the historians too, there is also this perception that history has a direction, a movement towards perfection. Toynbee sees challenge as being at the root of civilisation, without seeing that the challenge itself is underpinned by the idea of salvation.[34] All the efforts of the men of a particular civilisation are only

the consequence of this desire to ensure their salvation, and of this spiritual aspiration, its fruits.

Every civilisation will be a manifestation of a divine form. The twenty-seven prophets of the Fusūs each symbolise a way of entering the station of no-station.

Today the phenomenon of globalisation can be regarded as the prefiguration of the realisation of a kind of total manifestation of all the names, as a kind of Insān kāmil in action. In the time of Ibn 'Arabī too, they were attracted by this political tawhīd. Muslims were all seeking unity, but they could not see exactly of what it might consist. Some sought it in political unity, others in philosophy (the absolute Unity of Ibn Sab'īn). It was no coincidence that the dynasty which was in power at the time of Ibn 'Arabī called itself Almohads (al-muwahhidūn: that is to say the ones that unify). But the perception of their leader Ibn Tūmert (who died in 524/1130) was, rather, of an artificial unity brought about by political force, which could only give rise to a monolithism.

That the station of no-station could concern an entire community, as a society – and not just an individual – is implicit in the Qur'anic verse[35] from which the expression originates. It is as though God wanted to say to them: "O people of Yathrib, you are not yet (as a community) ready for the station of no-station, for the complete manifestation will only come later. Return home. You are not the community that will unify the world, and in any event the world will not be unified in your time."

This verse could also be interpreted thus, if one wants to round this off in a positive sense: "It is you who will serve as the model for future society. You will be the ideal city in the eyes of the men of the future." Having attained the station of no-station, they are called upon to "return" (f-arji'ū) and to wait for the time to arrive when they will serve as guides to others. Because, as Ibn 'Arabī emphasises, "the process is circular and eternal".[36] For the perfection of perfection is to be in the station of no-station whilst at the same time being corporeally in this world. These "men of return" are the ones who keep the flame of active will burning.

This sociological or, if you like, socio-sophic interpretation of the verse is justified by the fact that the verse calls not upon an individual but a population, a human group consisting of the inhabitants of Yathrib (Medina). By extension, this can concern all of humankind.

In any event, the context of Yathrib allows Ibn 'Arabī to draw the conclusion that this station of no-station is specific to the Muhammadan saints. He writes: The highest category (of the saints) is that of no-station, and the reason for this is that the stations govern those that reside there.

Now there is no doubt that the highest category is the one that holds authority, not the one who is subject to authority... And that belongs to the Muhammadans alone, by a divine solicitude already given to them, as the Most-High has said: "As for those those whom we have already rewarded with splendour, they will be kept far from Gehenna."[37] [38] The stations are therefore likened to a degree of Gehenna.

It is a station specific to Muhammadans for it is the station of praise (maqām almahmūd). Now, the standard of praise (liwā' al-hamd) is in the hands of the Prophet whose three names Ahmad, Muhammad and Mahmūd derive from the same root.

The station of no-station is where the destiny of the individual will determine the destiny of the community, where destinies become a single destiny. Aeneas having become the symbol of Rome, lā-maqām signifies in relation to him that he is omni-present, in every Roman, in the sense that every Roman owes something to him, so that he has become a sort of psychological or even metaphysical universal.

Hence the insistence of all the commentators on the fact that the maqām almahmūd is characterised above all by the power of universal intercession that is recognised as belonging to the Prophet. Muhammad will intercede for all those

who have recognised themselves in him and for all those (men and women) that he will recognise as his.

And so it is the case of Moses fighting with the strength of all the children of Israel who had died for him, because they were all potentially a Moses, individualities of Moses, the metaphysical universal.

Every society carries the "mark", the imprint of its prophet, the mark that guides it in the right direction, or leads it astray. The guide may be faithfully imitated by his people. But he may also be vainly imitated by those whose faith is insincere: while Moses is on the mountain with the Lord, his people have a rendezvous with the golden calf.

In the work of Ibn 'ArabÄŤ, the perspective of one world (globalisation), the sociological tawhÄŤd, the universal manifestation in action, could not occur in History before occurring in spirit. If in its infrastructure the world is already one, it will only find stability in this unity if it is unified also in its superstructure.

The universal function of sealing belongs to the saints, and not to the Prophets.

The end of the world will come when the last man destined to pass through the station of no-station has succeeded in leaping into the divine absconditus. Those who have attained realisation, those who have already passed behind the curtain, are waiting for this saint of the final days.

When the last part of Perfect Man has crossed the Bridge, the world will collapse because it will no longer have any pillar to hold it up. And God will invert the hourglass of time again, ready for another beginning that will not be the same: "We turned (the earth) upside down... " (Qur'an, XI: 82 or XV: 72). "On the Day when the earth is changed into other than the earth, and likewise the heavens, and they will be laid out before God the One, the Implacable" (Qur'an, XIV: 48).

Finally it should be noted that this sociological interpretation has already attracted many of the early Akbarians, especially those descended from the Kubrawiyya, up

until the initiation of the Kabbalistic revolution (horūfiyya), by Fazlullāh Astarābādī.

It is also in a socio-sophic sense that Qaysarī interprets the verse: "Abraham was an Umma,"[39] by saying that Abraham contained all the communities that were to spring from him.[40] Likewise, Kāshānī made a connection between the substance of the prophecies and the dispositions of the peoples concerned by the teaching of the prophets.[41] There is a permanent connection between communities and their guides, but this connection is not one of necessity: Moses did not need his people. The higher does not need the lower.

CONCLUSION All we have done is say things. We have not attained the station of no-station at all. Studying Sufism does not make one a Sufi. Spiritual experience cannot be summed up in words. Awhad al-Dīn Kermānī, who was a friend of Ibn 'Arabī, uttered this quatrain: The mysteries of the path cannot be solved by asking nor by throwing away dignity and wealth.

Unless your heart and eyes shed blood for fifty years, You will not be shown the way from words to states.[42] If we must come to a conclusion, then the point that should be emphasised is that the stations all correspond to the degrees of acquisition of divine knowledge, from the lowest degree where the person knows nothing, but where he believes that he knows something, right up to the highest degree where the person has learnt much, but finally realises that he knows nothing. For this reason it is right to say, following Ibn 'Arabī and those who followed him, that the lā-maqām is that of nescience, not knowing (maqām al-jahl, nā-dānī). But it is learned ignorance.

To recognise one's ignorance of God is the highest station that one can attain.[43]

For Ibn 'Arabī, perfect knowledge of God is only possible through the affirmation of opposites as simultaneous truths. God is the First and the Last, the Apparent and the Hidden, and similarly the Knowing and the "Ignorant".

Having returned to the state of 'ayn thābita, in the "night" of the divine absconditus, it is evident that man is "unknown" as such; in thewujūd alHaqq, the immutable essences are completely unknown, and even more so unknowing. This is no doubt what the Greek philosophers sensed when they claimed that God did not know individuals. But they did not suspect that this was only true from the perspective of the Essence envisaged as absolutely indeterminate.

A Qur'anic verse speaks of the creation and the resurrection as a moment that lasts no longer than the blinking of an eye.[44] When God opens his eye, He creates. When He closes it, He returns back to Himself. At every second, we make the return journey from God to God. Thus we can understand why, in order to speak of the end, it was enough for us to speak of the beginning.

Translated from the French by Karen Holding Notes 1. This paper was originally presented at the twenty-first annual symposium of the Muhyiddin Ibn 'Arabi Society, entitled "The Station of No Station", held in Oxford, 15-16 May 2004.

2. Ibn 'Arabī, al-Futūhāt al-Makkiyya, Vol. I, p. 223: "or a person who having gathered together the stations then emerges from them into no-station like Abū Yazīd (al-Bistāmī) and his kind." I am using the Cairo edition of Futūhāt alMakkiyya, 4 vols, 1 329 ah.

3. Al-Tirmidhī, Kitāb khatm al-awliyā, ed. Othmān I. Yahyā (Beirut, 1965), p.143.

4. Fusūs al-Hikam, Chapter 6 on Isaac. I am using the edition by Abū al-'Alā' 'Afīfī (Beyrouth, 1946; repr. Tehran, n.d.).

5. Eric Geoffroy, Initiation au soufisme (Fayard, Paris, 2003), p. 22.

6. The Mawāqif and Mukhātabāt of Muhammad ibn Abdi' l Jabbār al-Niffarī, A.J. Arberry edn (E.J.W. Gibb Memorial, London, 1932; repr. 1978).

7. 'Abd al-Rahmān Jāmī, Nafahāt al-Uns, Persian edn by Mahmud Abedī (Tehran, 1 370). The text of the letter to Kāshānīis on p. 490.

8. Siyāha is the word used today in Arab countries to translate the word tourism.

9. Qur'an, IX: 2.

10. All the quotations of Rūmī are from his Kulliyyāt-e Shams (Tabrizī), also called Divān-e Kabīr, ed. Badī'uzzamān Foruzanfar (Tehran, 1336 AHsh./1 377 ah), 10vols.

11. Qur'an, LIII: 9.

12. Qur'an, XXXIX: 69.

13. Ananda K. Coomaraswamy, The Transformation of Nature in Art (New York, 1934).

14. Paul Valéry, Regards sur le monde actuel (Librairie Stock, Paris, 1933), pp.

53-4. Valéry was writing about politics.

15. All the quotations of the great Iranian poet, Shamsuddin Hāfez Shīrāzī, are from his Dīvān, edited many times in Iran, the best edition being the one by Qazwīni and Qāsim-Ghanī. I am using a CD reproducing that edition.

16. This story was related to me by my friend Daniel Abd al-Haqq Roussange, in Paris.

17. Maybe this is what the Prophet meant when He said: "The best ones among you in Jahiliyya (before Islam) are the best ones in Islam."

18. Nafahāt al-Uns, n.521, pp. 507-10.

19. Futūhāt, Vol. III, p. 108.

20. Qur'an, XX: 114.

21. Qur'an, XVII: 78.

22. Paper delivered at the University of Rabat, Morocco in October 2002 which appears as an article in JMIAS, XXXIII, pp. 1-21.

23. Futūhāt, Vol.III, verse at the beginning of Chapter 351, p. 216. Alternative translation: his "non-maqām" holds him in the universe.

24. See, for instance, Fusūs al-Hikam, Chapter on Noah, or Futūhāt, Vol. II, p.

499.

25. See Kharaqānī, Paroles d'un Soufi, intro. and trans. by Christiane Tortel (Éditions du Seuil, Paris, 1998). See at the end of the book, my French translation of a short commentary of this saying by Najm al-Dīn Dāya in Arabic, from MS 760-5 (fos. 57a-61 b).

26. Michel Chodkiewicz, Le Sceau des saints (Gallimard, Paris, 1986), p. 210.

27. See Nafahāt al-Uns, p. 511.

28. Anecdote told by Jāmī at the end of the note that he devotes to Qūnawī, n.

544, p. 554 of the new edn of the Nafahāt al-Uns. 29. Fusūs al-Hikam, Chapter on Solomon.

30. Qur'an, XX: 10. In this verse, Moses is thinking first of the interest of his family, and mentions personal guidance second.

31. See Futūhāt, Vol. II, p. 10, where Ibn 'Arabī talks of the jealousy (their jealousy is that of God) of the immutable essences in so far as they are immutable.

32. Qur'an, VI: 91.

33. Unfortunately for the moment I am unable to find a reference in my library for this well-known saying.

34. I am using a French translation of the summary made by D.C. Somer- vell of Vols.I-VI of A Study of History by Arnold J. Toynbee, trans. into French by

Elisabeth Julia (Gallimard, Paris, 1951), under the title L'Histoire, Un essai d'interprétation; see mainly Chapter 5.

35. Qur'an, XXXIII: 13. The interpretation of this verse given by Ibn 'Arabī is surprising. He relates this verse to the verse at XVII: 78-79, which is about the station of praise (maqām al-mahmūd) dedicated to the Prophet.

36. Futūhāt, Vol. IV, p. 14, "li-kawn al-amr dawriyan".

37. Qur'an, XXI: 101.

38. Futūhāt, Vol.III, p. 106.

39. Qur'an, XVI: 120.

40. Dāwūd b. Muhammad al-Qaysarī, commenting on the Chapter on Moses, Vol. II, p. 402, in his Sharh Fusūs al-Hikam, 2 vols. (?Beyrouth, 1416).

41. Fusūs al-Hikam, Chapter on Noah in which Kāshānī comments that the Word of Noah corrected (through tanzīh) the excesses brought about by the Word of Idris (tasbīh).

42. Trans. by W.C. Chittickin Faith and Practice of Islam, Three Thirteenthcentury Sufi Texts (SUNY, 1992), p. 70.

43. Futūhāt, Vol.1, p. 108.

44. Qur'an, LIV: 50. "Our commandment is but one (with its object), like the blink of an eye."

Presence with God For the past twenty years or so, I have been struggling to express Ibn al-'Arabi's technical terminology in an English idiom that will preserve the sense carried by his writings in their original context. With this end in view, I have attempted to establish a repertoire of technical terms in English - words that can be more or less adequate, once redefined for the purposes of the discussion, to carry over the meaning of the original Arabic. One of the terms that I have given up trying to translate is wujûd, which is, I presume, what the organizers of this conference had in mind by the term "Being".(1) The first problem we face in using the word "Being" is its notorious vagueness, a problem that is also present with the word "existence", which is more often used to translate wujûd. A more serious problem is on the Arabic side, where wujûd means literally "finding" and "to be found". Ibn al-'Arabi highlights this side of the meaning in such expressions as ahl al-kashf wa'l-wujûd, "the folk of unveiling and finding", or ahl al-shuhud wa'l-wujûd, "the folk of witnessing and finding". These are the gnostics, the highest of the Folk of God, and what they find, of course, is God. An extremely important implication of the word wujûd that comes out when we translate it as "finding" is that wujûd is not simply something that is there to be found. Wujûd also finds, which is to say that awareness and consciousness are among its essential attributes. Hence wujûd is not simply "to exist" or "to be", it is also "to be alive" and "to be aware". Ibn al-'Arabi frequently reminds us of this fact, as in the many passages where he comments on Qur'anic verses such as "Everything in the heavens and the earth glorifies God" (57:1). "Being" and "existence" in English obviously do not have this connotation and, even when we apply the word Being to God, we know that God has knowledge and awareness because we say so, not because the very word demands it.

One of the problems that come up when we think in terms of "being" and "existence" becomes obvious when we glance at the history of Western thought, where we find scientists, philosophers, and even some theologians who look upon

consciousness as an epiphenomenon of existence or as a latecomer on the cosmic scene. By and large, modern people are comfortable thinking that "existence" came before consciousness, or that living things gradually evolved from dead and inanimate being. But for Ibn al-'Arabi and much of Islamic theological thinking, no universe is thinkable without the omnipresence of life and awareness. The very word that is employed to refer to the underlying stuff of the universe - wujûd - is understood by them to express this.

On a practical level, the most important problem in attempting to translate wujûd is that of consistency. When Ibn al-'Arabi employs it, he means the same thing in each case, though, of course, he may be emphasizing one nuance rather than another. In Arabic, the word applies to everything. God has wujûd, or rather, God is wujûd, and everything else also has wujûd in one mode or another, failing which, we could not discuss it. In English, one cannot use the same word for every mode of wujûd without causing all sorts of confusion.

Often people resort to capitalization to indicate that in one place the wujûd of God is meant, but in another place the wujûd of something else is meant. The problem here is that Ibn al-'Arabi often does not specify which wujûd he has in mind, because he is discussing it generically. If we use capital letters in English, we will think that he means God's wujûd and, if we use small letters, we will think that he does not mean God's wujûd. In fact he may mean neither, or he may mean both.

Enough has been said to indicate why I am not happy with the word "Being", so from here on I will use the term wujûd.

As for the word "presence", this has its own special problems. If one wants to translate the English term back into Arabic, the two most obvious choices are hadra and hudûr, two words from the same root. However, the meanings of the two terms are significantly different, and I suspect that Ibn al-'Arabi would only use the first along with wujûd, whereas it is the second that is implied in the title of the conference. Hence, if I am correct, a fundamental misreading of the Shaykh's position on wujûd is implied in this title. Nonetheless, it is a propitious

misreading, since it brings out important issues and can be used to illustrate some of Ibn al-'Arabi's key teachings.

The basic distinction between the terms hadra and hudûr is that the first is used typically to designate the presence of God or some divine reality, whereas the second is used to designate our experience of the presence of God. These two are not the same thing. Ibn al-'Arabi often explains the distinction by commenting on the Qur'anic verse, "He is with you wherever you are" (Q. 57:4). Our whole problem is that God is with us, but we are not with Him. The fact that He is with us may be expressed with the term hadra, but our achievement of the vision of God's presence can only be expressed with the term hudûr, not hadra. But this is rough and schematic, so I want to look more closely at exactly how Ibn al-'Arabi uses the two terms.

For Ibn al-'Arabi and his followers, hadra is roughly synonymous with English "domain" and is almost always used along with some attribute or quality. Ibn al-'Arabi himself uses the term most commonly in conjunction with various divine names. For example, Chapter 558 of the Futûhât, one of the longest chapters in the work, is dedicated to explicating the meaning of the divine names, and each name is dealt with in a subsection that is headed by the title, "the presence of."

Thus we have, hadrat al-khalq, "the presence of creation", and the topic is the divine name Creator. So also we have the presence of mercifulness, the presence of peace, the presence of exaltation, the presence of form-giving, and so on. In each case, the topic is the relevant divine name. What the use of the term hadra implies here is that, in each case, a divine name has a domain or a sphere of influence. This seems to be what Ibn al-'Arabi means when he says, "As for each divine name, that is a presence" (wa kull ism ilâhî fa-huwa hadra).(2) Although Ibn al-'Arabi himself uses hadra to refer to the presence of each and every divine name, his followers picked up on one particular expression, and in later times this became by far the most common usage of the term. This is alhadrat al-ilâhiyya, "the divine presence", that is, the sphere of influence of the name God, that is, Allah. This name God is the "all-comprehensive name" (al-ism

al-jami'), because all the other divine names refer back to it. In Ibn al-'Arabi's terms, "the divine presence" is the domain in which the name God exercises its influence, and that domain is wujĂťd and all its concomitants, or, in other terms, God and the whole universe. Then the "divine presences" - in the plural - are all the domains in which the divine names exercise their effects and, since the divine names are, from one point of view, innumerable if not infinite, the Shaykh writes.

"The divine presences can hardly be counted".(3) When Ibn al-'Arabi uses the term al-hadra without an accompanying attribute, he seems to have the Divine Presence in mind. Thus, in one passage, he defines "the Presence" in terms of a standard theological hierarchy that is typically used to refer to God and to the whole domain of His influence. He writes, "The Presence in the common usage of the Tribe is the Essence, the attributes, and the acts".(4) Sadr al-Din Qunawi, Ibn al-'Arabi's most influential disciple, seems to have coined the expression "the five divine presences", referring to the five domains in which the name God exercises its influence in a global fashion. In Qunawi's terms, the first presence is the divine knowledge, which "embraces all things" (Q. 40:7).

Hence the divine knowledge, by embracing everything, whether divine or created, delineates the total sphere of influence of the name God. However, this is on the level of God Himself, within His own non-manifest knowledge. The second presence is the spiritual world, which manifests the full range of the properties of the name God in the appropriate spiritual modes of existence. The third and fourth presences are the imaginal and corporeal worlds, and the fifth presence is the perfect human being, who is the "all-comprehensive engendered thing" (alkawn al-jâmi'). The divine presence specific to the perfect human being is the whole of reality on every level, which is to say that he experiences simultaneously the first four levels in their fullness and total integration. After Qunawi, "the five divine presences" becomes a standard discussion among Sufi theoreticians, though a wide variety of schemes are offered to explain exactly what it signifies.

(5)

I said that Ibn al-'Arabi typically uses the term hadra in conjunction with an attribute, most commonly, but not always, a divine attribute. One of the places where he uses the term in conjunction with other sorts of attributes is in discussions of cosmology, where he often refers to the "three presences", meaning the three worlds, and this, of course, is one source for Qunawi's elaboration of the presences into five.(6) Thus, employing basic Qur'anic terminology, Ibn al-'Arabi refers to the two fundamental presences as those of the unseen and the visible, or, more literally, the "absent" and the "witnessed", and he refers to the presence of imagination as the place where the two come together. He writes: The cosmos is two worlds and the presence is two presences, though a third presence is born between the two from their having come together. The first presence is the presence of the absent, and it possesses a world called the "world of the absent". The second presence is the presence of sense perception and the witnessed; its world is called "the world of the witnessed" and is perceived by eyesight [basar], while the world of the absent is perceived by insight [basîra]. That which is born from the coming together of the two is a presence and a world. The presence is the presence of imagination, and the world is the world of imagination.(7) It is plausible that by "In the Presence of Being" the organizers of the conference had in mind the Arabic expression, fi hadrat al-wujûd. I have not noted this particular expression in Ibn al-'Arabi's writings, but he does, on one occasion that I know of, refer to al-hadrat al-wujûdiyya, "the wujûdi presence", employing the adjective derived from wujûd. On several occasions he also employs the same expression in the plural, and in these cases he is referring to the worlds of the universe.(8) On the one occasion that I have found where he uses the expression in the singular, he means everything that exists in the cosmos. In the passage, he is referring to his doctrine of Nondelimited Imagination (al-khayâl al-mutlaq), or the fact that the whole universe is nothing but imagination, which is to say that it stands halfway between wujûd and utter nonexistence. The universe is an image

of wujûd in a nonexistent domain. It follows that, even though we divide what we perceive into sensory and imaginal, in fact everything is imaginal. Ibn al-'Arabi writes: The whole cosmos takes the forms of raised-up images, for the Wujûdi Presence is only the Presence of Imagination. Then the forms that you see become divided into "sensory" and "imaginalized", but all are imaginalized.(9) Although Ibn al-'Arabi uses the expression the "wujûdi presence" here, in this sense of the term, "In the Presence of Being" is precisely where everything is, without any exceptions, because absolutely everything, wherever it may be, is found or exists. And this Presence ofwujûd is no different from the Divine Presence. As the Shaykh writes, "There is nothing save the Divine Presence, and it consists of the Essence, the attributes, and the acts".(10) Or again, "There is nothing in wujûd save the Divine Presence, which is His Essence, His attributes, and His acts".(11) Even without the subtitle announced for the conference - "Preparation and Practice according to Ibn 'Arabi" - everyone will have understood that what is meant by "presence" is a presence with God that is to be achieved in some way or another, a presence that presumably we do not now have. After all, it is possible to recognize that everything dwells in the Divine Presence without this making any practical difference in one's life. The Qur'an itself, as mentioned, makes the point when it says, "He is with you wherever you are" (Q. 57: 4). But to say that God is present with us is not the same as saving that we are present with Him. Presence with God needs to be achieved. It is the object of the spiritual quest. The whole problem is that people are not present with the God who is present with them.

The second Arabic term commonly translated as "presence" is hudûr. The first thing that one needs to know about this word is that it is the opposite of "absence" (ghayba) and cannot be understood without reference to it. The word "presence" here is one of two correlatives and, like all correlatives in Ibn al-'Arabi's universe, it demands its own correlative. The two terms must be

understood together for them to have any sense. In every case, to be present with one thing is to be absent from something else. These are issues in the spiritual journey because people are absent from God as long as they are present with creation. The goal is to be present with God and absent from creation. But let me look more closely at the term "absence" and what it implies.

Once this is clear, the fact that presence with God needs to be established should be self-evident.

First, it should be kept in mind that ghayba or absence means basically the same as the Qur'anic term ghayb, which is commonly translated as "unseen" or "invisible", but which can better be translated as "absent". The absent is contrasted with shahada, which is usually translated in this context as "visible", but which in other contexts is usually translated as "witnessing" or "witnessed".

The universe, in Qur'anic terms, has two basic worlds or presences (that is, hadra) - the absent and the witnessed. God is "Knower of the absent and the witnessed" ('âlim al-ghayb wa'l-shahâda), whereas human beings know only the witnessed. As for the "absent", human beings must have "faith" (îmân) in it, as the Qur'an asserts repeatedly. The later tradition usually differentiates between two sorts of absent domain. One is the spiritual world, created by God, and the other is God Himself, often called "the absent of the absent" (ghayb al-ghayb) or the "absolutely Absent" (al-ghayb al-mutlaq).

In short, the spiritual world and God Himself are absent from the perception of human beings. The goal is for people to perceive them as present. This vision of the absent things can be called hudûr or presence, and the only way to achieve it is by way of "faith in the absent" (al-îmân bi'l-ghayb), which is the sine qua non of everything Islamic. I will not, however, investigate the issue of faith here, since that would lead us too far afield.(12) In the usual Sufi technical terminology, "absence" refers not to absence from God, but to absence from created things. To become absent from creation is to become present with God, since there is nothing other than these two, God and creation. Thus presence and absence are understood in terms of awareness and

lack of it. Ibn al-'Arabi employs the term "witnessing" (mushâhada or shuhûd) to refer to the state of presence, because the person who is present witnesses that with which he is present. Notice that this term comes from the same Arabic root that gives us the term "witnessed" in the expression "absent and witnessed". Ibn al-'Arabi frequently uses this term "witnessing" to refer not only to seeing with the eyes, but also to seeing with the heart, which is unveiling (kashf). Thus it is not surprising that he refers, on occasion, to the "folk of unveiling and presence" (hudûr),(13) meaning the gnostics or the highest among the Folk of God. These are the same as the already mentioned "folk of unveiling and finding" (wujûd), who are also called "the folk of witnessing and finding".(14)In this respect, wujûd is synonymous with hudûr (and also with shuhûd). In his short chapter on absence in the Futûhât, Ibn al- "Arabi defines the term as follows: "Absence" for the Sufis is the heart's absence from the states that occur to the creatures because of the heart's occupation with what arrives to it. If this is the case, absence derives only from a divine self-disclosure. As the Sufis define it, it is not correct for it to derive from a created arriver [wârid], for the absent person is occupied [with the arriver] and absent from the states of creation. It is through this that this group is dif�ferentiated from other groups. After all, the property of absence is found in all groups. But the absence of this group is through the Real from creation, so it is ascribed to them in respect of eminence and praise. (15) Here the Shaykh tells us that the typical Sufi definition of the word makes absence refer to occupation with a divine self-disclosure while one is cut off from witnessing created things. Although absence from the senses and the world occurs to everyone - through sleep, disease, chemical intervention, and so on only in this specific definition can absence be considered an eminent and praiseworthy state, since only here does it demand a presence with God. In continuing his chapter on absence, the Shaykh describes various levels of absence among the spiritual travellers in keeping with the degree to which they

have realized the Real. His descriptions are so short that I will quote them, though a thorough explanation would take a good deal of space: In absence, the Folk of God are ranked in stages, even though they possess all these stages through the Real.

The absence of the gnostics is an absence through the Real from the Real.

The absence of those of the Folk of God below them is an absence through the Real from creation.

The absence of the great knowers through God is an absence through creation from creation. After all, such knowers have come to know that wujรปd is nothing but God in the forms of the immutable, possible entities. Nothing becomes absent from him but the form of an entity's property in a Real Wujรปd. Thus he becomes absent by the property of another entity's form, which gives within wujรปd something that is not given by the first. The entities and their properties are creation. Hence this knower becomes absent only through creation from creation in a Real Wujรปd.(16) Ibn al-'Arabi concludes the chapter on absence by addressing not the specific Sufi sense of the term, but the more general issue of absence and presence as attributes of created things. Everything other than God, he tells us, is by necessity both absent from God and present with Him, because everything other than God is barred from God Himself by the utter inaccessibility of the Divine Essence, but, at the same time, immersed in wujรปd, the Divine Presence, because there is nothing else. This is the Shaykh's most fundamental perspective on everything in the universe - each thing is an image. Each is God/not God, He/not He. He writes: There is no entity among all the entities whose property is to witness everything, such that it might not be described by absence. Since there is no entity that possesses the description of encompassing everything through presence with everything - for that is one of the specific characteristics of God - there is no escape in the cosmos from both absence and presence.(17)

Thus ends the chapter on absence. In the next chapter -which, at eleven lines, is probably the shortest in the Futûhât - the Shaykh provides a brief explanation of what the Sufis understand by the term hudûr. He explains first that they mean "presence with God along with absence",(18) that is, absence from creation.

Then, after three lines of poetry, he speaks about the impossibility of being completely absent or completely present. No matter what the situation of any created thing may be, it is both absent from God and present with Him. The basic reason for this should be obvious - only God is God, and everything other than God, even the greatest of the prophets, must be absent from God in precisely the degree of the otherness. There can be no absolute presence with God, since that would demand absolute absence from the universe. Nothing can be absolutely absent from the universe save that which has no wujûd of its own in any mode whatsoever, but there can be no such thing.

You should know that there is no absence without presence, so your absence is from that with which you are present, because of the ruling authority of the witnessing. In a similar way, the ruling authority of subsistence annihilates you, because it is the master of the moment and the property.

As for the details in [the degrees of] the folk of presence, it is exactly like what we mentioned concerning absence.

Everyone absent is present and everyone present is absent, because presence with the totality is inconceivable. Rather, "presence" is presence with the units of the totality [âhâd al-majmû']. This is because the properties of the [divine] names and the entities are diverse, and the ruling property belongs to that which is present. If someone were present with the totality, the properties would counterbalance each other, and this would mean that they would impede each other. Then the whole situation would be corrupted.

Hence presence with the totality is not correct, whether for those who see their presence through the Real or those who see it through creation. After all, the property of the entities is like the property of the names in counterbalancement, diversity, and manifestation of ruling authority. So ponder what we have said! You will find knowledge, God willing.(19)

Ibn al-'Arabi is telling us here that it is impossible to be present with God Himself, because none is present with God but God. In other terms, he is telling us that no one can be present with wujรปd as such, or with "Being". When people do gain what is called "presence with God" (not "presence with wujรปd"), in fact they gain awareness of God's self-disclosure, and God's self-disclosure to them is nothing but themselves. It follows that no one is ever present with God as God, which is to say that no one is ever present with anything but himself. In The Sufi Path of Knowledge (p. 105), I quoted a passage in which Ibn al-'Arabi explains this point using the term "presence". Here, let me cite another passage on the same topic.

However, here he explains the point while discussing the issue of "intimacy" (uns)with God, which is the opposite of "alienation" (wahsha). For our purposes, it would not be misleading to replace "intimacy and alienation" with "presence and absence", since the same argument applies in both cases. He writes: The Qur'an calls God "Independent of the worlds" (Q. 3:97]. We make Him independent of signifying. It is as if He is saying, "I did not bring the cosmos into existence to signify Me, nor did I make it manifest as a mark of My wujรปd. I made it manifest so that the properties of the realities of My names would become manifest. There is no mark of Me other than Myself. When I disclose Myself, I am known through the self-disclosure itself. The cosmos is a mark of the realities of the names, not of Me. It is also a mark that I am its support, nothing else."

Hence the whole cosmos has an intimacy with God. However, parts of it are not aware that the intimacy they have is with God. Each part of the cosmos must find an intimacy with something, whether constantly, or by way of transferral to an intimacy that it finds with something else. However, nothing other than God among the engendered things has any properties. Hence, a thing's intimacy can only be with God, even if it does not know this. When the servant sees his intimacy with something, that thing is one of the forms of God's self-disclosure. The servant may recognize this, or he may deny it. So the servant can feel repelled by the same thing with which he is intimate, but he is not aware, because of the diversity of the forms. Hence, no

one lacks intimacy with God, and no one is alienated from any but God. Intimacy is an expansiveness, while alienation is a contraction.

The intimacy of the knowers of God is an intimacy with themselves, not with God, for they have come to know that they see nothing of God but the form of what they are. They have no intimacy with anything but what they see. Those who are not gnostics see intimacy only with the other, so they are overcome by alienation when they are alone with themselves.(20) In various other passages of the Futûhât, Ibn al-'Arabi mentions presence with God and suggests some of what it implies. He associates it not only with witnessing, but also with remembrance (dhikr). Hence, he identifies the blameworthy absence, that is, the opposite of presence, with "heedlessness" (ghafla)(21) , certainly the most fundamental human shortcoming in Qur'anic terms.

In one passage Ibn al-'Arabi speaks of the astonishment of the angels when they descend upon the gnostic with something from God, for they find that he is already "clothed in the robes of courtesy, divine presence [al-hudûr al-ilâhi] in taking from Him, light, and splendour".(22) "Courtesy" is for Ibn al-'Arabi an especially important technical term, and he discusses it far more often than he mentions presence. It is to do everything in the proper manner, which means acting in a way that always pleases God. The least actualization of courtesy is found in careful observance of the Shari'a. As the traveller advances, he remains firmly rooted in all the details of the Prophet's Sunna as set down in the Shari'a, but he also actualizes the vast range of inner qualities that the outer activities demand. These inner qualities can lead eventually to "divine presence", that is, presence with God and, as the Shaykh mentions in the just-cited passage, it can also lead to "taking from Him", which is to say that the gnostic takes everything he has directly from God. Finally, as the passage says, the gnostic also becomes manifest with "light" (nur) and "splendour" (bahâ'), terms that allude to his having assumed all of God's character traits (al-takhalluq bi akhlâq Allâh).

The fact that presence has to do with God's character traits is brought out in a passage from Chapter 380 of the Futûhât, which is dedicated to explaining the meaning of the prophetic saying, "The 'ulamâ' are the inheritors of the prophets."

As we know from the studies of Michel Chodkiewicz and others, "inheritance" is one of Ibn al-'Arabi's key terms for expressing the special status of the Folk of God. In the chapter, he talks about two basic types of inheritance, sensory and suprasensory. The sensory inheritance pertains to words, activities, and everything that becomes manifest through states - that is, all the signs and marks given to the spiritual travellers when they experience the absent domains.

In contrast, the suprasensory inheritance has to do with assuming the character traits of God and thereby gaining presence with God. Ibn al-'Arabi writes: As for the suprasensory inheritance, it pertains to the non- manifest side of the states, such as purifying the soul of blameworthy character traits and adorning it with noble character traits. It also pertains to the remembrance of his Lord that the Prophet possessed in all his moments. This is nothing but presence [hudûr] and watchfulness [muraqaba] over God's traces in your heart and in the cosmos. Thus nothing falls to your eye, nothing occurs to your hearing, and nothing attaches itself to any of your faculties, unless you have, through it, a divine consideration and viewpoint [nazar wa i'tibâr ilâhî]. Through this you come to know the divine wisdom in that. Such was the state of God's Messenger.(23) Given that there is no such thing as pure presence or pure absence, it should be obvious that there are degrees of presence and absence, or degrees of prophetic inheritance. It is here that the travellers meet dangers on the path to God. No one can ever be safe from God's deception (makr), not even the prophets. As the Qur'an itself says, "No one feels secure against God's deception save the people who have lost" (7:99). Ibn al-'Arabi often discusses the dangers of deception on the path, and his repeated advice to the travellers is that nothing can preserve them from error save careful observance of the Sunna and the Shari'a. As he writes in one passage, "If anyone desires that God give him good and preserve

him from the calamities of deception, let him never let the Scale of the Shari'a drop from his hand!"(24) In another passage of similar import, the Shaykh suggests that one of the major errors of the travellers, even the "Folk of Presence", is their failure to observe God's commands and prohibitions. The chapter is dedicated to explicating the meaning of the term waqt, which means "moment" or "present moment". The term is found in the famous aphorism, al-sufi ibn al-waqt, "The Sufi is the son of the moment". However, this aphorism implies a certain passivity on the part of the traveller, and in this chapter the Shaykh explains that the Sufi should rather be sâhib al-waqt, "the owner of the moment". At the beginning of the chapter, he defines waqt in terms of the standard understanding as "That through which and upon which you are in the time of the state"(25). Here by "state" (hâl) he means the situation at the moment, the actual situation of the thing at the time in question, which is this instant. In other words, the "moment" is what comes to you from God and defines your own situation at any given time. We could paraphrase this by saying that the "moment" is that which is present with you and with which you are present at the instant that divides the past from the future.

Toward the end of the chapter, Ibn al-'Arabi explains that the best of all the moments that people can have is for God to give them the observance of the rulings of the Shari'a. He explains why this should be so as follows: The intelligent person among the Folk of God is he who sees that all the good that pertains to the servant is found in what the Real has required through that which He has laid down as Shari'a for His servants and sent with His Messenger. When God employs someone in the Truth laid down as Shari'a, there is no solicitude of God toward him beyond this - for those who understand from God. The "moment" that is known from the side of the Real is identical with that with which the Shari'a addresses you in the state. So, be in keeping with the words of the Lawgiver in every state! Then you will be an Owner of the Moment, and this is a mark that you are one of the felicitous with God.

This, however, is rare in existence among the Folk of God. It belongs to certain individuals among them, those who are the folk of watchfulness. They are never heedless of God's ruling in the things.

Among the folk of presence with God in each thing [ahl al-hudûr ma'a Allâh fî kull shay'], it is here that the feet of one group slip. They are not heedless of God for the blink of an eye, but they are heedless of God's ruling in the things, or in some of them, or in most of them.

He who is not heedless of God's ruling in the things is not heedless of God. He is the one who brings presence with God together with His ruling. Such as these have greater knowledge and a more tremendous felicity. These are the owners of the moment that bestows felicity.(26) Notice the importance that Ibn al-'Arabi places on "felicity" (sa'âda) here. Felicity, as you know, is the Qur'anic term for the happiness that is achieved by the people of paradise. It is the opposite of "wretchedness" (shaqâ'), which is the state of the people of hell. In Islamic terms, felicity is the goal of religion. Some Sufis, especially poets, have taken a rather dismis�sive attitude toward paradise, suggesting that Sufis do not desire the Garden, but rather the Gardener. Although some passages in the Shaykh's writings might be read in these terms, for the most part he keeps a cool head and does not allow hyperbole to get the better of him. Hence he states explicitly and repeatedly that the goal of the Sufi path is not, as some people imagine, "reaching God", since, in the final analysis, God cannot be reached. What the Sufis are really out to achieve is not oneness with God, but felicity.

I can summarize by saying that the expression "in the presence of Being" can be understood in Ibn al-'Arabi's terms in one of two ways. If we mean fî hadrat alwujûd, then we have not said anything, because everything is already there. If we mean fi hudûr al-wujûd, this is either the inescapable situation of everything (if take hudûr and wujûd in loose senses), or it is impossible to achieve (if we mean the terms strictly, in which case God alone is present with His own wujûd). Nevertheless, there are degrees of hudûr and, in each case, the

traveler is present with God's self-disclosures, not with God Himself. In other words, if we follow Ibn al-'Arabi's own terminology, we cannot move toward the "Presence of Being", because we are already there. What we are really striving for is presence with specific self-disclosures of God in ourselves, self-disclosures that derive from divine names such as Guide, Compassionate, Forgiving, and Pardoning. Thus, the goal of the Sufi path cannot be to achieve the "Presence of Being". It is rather to achieve permanent happiness through following the guidance brought by the prophets.

I will conclude my paper by quoting a section from the penultimate chapter of the FutÝhât. In this chapter, Ibn al-'Arabi summarizes the "realities and mysteries" of all the 558 chapters that preceded it. Many of these short epitomes are notoriously difficult to decipher, and the English translation that follows will suggest some of the obscurities of the text. Nevertheless, the Shaykh's message here is straightforward enough, and it does not deviate from what he teaches on these matters elsewhere. He is saying that the Folk of God have not, in fact, been striving to achieve "the Presence of God" since they know that they are already in His Presence.

Therefore they have exerted effort only to achieve the goal of life, which is to actualize permanent felicity through awareness of God's Presence in the appropriate modes - modes that cannot be discerned and achieved without prophetic guidance.

He who is certain of emergence will never seek ascent Since you have no escape from returning to Him, you should know that you are at Him from the first step, which is the first breath. So do not weary yourself by seeking ascent to Him, for that is nothing but your emerging from your desire such that you do not witness it. For "He is with you wherever you are" [Q. 57:4], so your eyes will fall on none but Him. However, it remains for you to recognize Him. Were you to distinguish and recognize Him, you would not seek ascent to Him, for you have not lost Him.

When you see those who are seeking Him, you will see that they are seeking their felicity in their path. Their felicity is the repulsion of pains from them, nothing else, wherever they may be.

The one who is completely ignorant is he who seeks what is already there, so no one is more ignorant than he who seeks God. If you have faith in His words, "He is with you wherever you are", and His words, "Wherever you turn, there is the face of God" [Q. 2:115], you will recognize that no one seeks God. People seek only their felicity so that they will be safe from what they detest.(27) Notes 1. Presented at "In the Presence of Being", the ninth annual symposium of the Muhyiddin Ibn 'Arabi Society in the USA, University of California, Berkeley, 28-29 October 1995.

2. FutÝhât al-makkiyya, Bulaq, 1911, IV, 318.18. (Reference numbers refer to volume, page and line, respectively.)

3. Ibid., 318.16.

4. Ibid., 407. 32. For more on the Divine Presence, see Chittick, The Sufi Path of Knowledge, Albany, NY, 1989, Ch. 1, and passim.

5. For some of the most important early examples, see Chittick, "The Five Divine Presences: From al-Qonawi to al-Qaysari", The Muslim World, 72(1982), pp. 10728.

6. In another context, Ibn al-'Arabi writes of various presences that God has made known to His servants so that they may come to know Him in a variety of modalities, such as witnessing, conversing, listening, teaching, and engendering (Fut., II, 601. 18; partly translated in Sufi Path, p.226).

7. Fut., Ill, 42.5.

8. Su'ad al-Hakim refers to five instances (once without the definite articles, and three times in the plural) - Fut., III, S25.25, IV, 203.18, 24, 27, Mawaqi alnujum, p. 18 (p. 17 in the Muhammad 'All Sabih edition of 1965) (al-Hakim, Ibn

'Arabi wa mawadd lugha jadid, Beirut, 1991, pp. 108, 154). One can add to these instances Fut., II, 241.10 (plural); this passage, translated in Sufi Path, p. 223 (with the expression rendered as "ontological presences") is a good example of how the Shaykh uses the term.

9. Fut., III,525.25.

10. Ibid., II, 173.33.

11. Ibid., 114.14.

12. See Sufi Path, pp. 193ff.; Chittick, Faith and Practice of Islam, Albany, NY, 1992, pp. 6-9 and passim; Sachiko Murata and Chittick, The Vision of Islam, New York, 1994, Part II. 13. Fut., II, 479.17, 20.

14. Ibid., 389.22; III, 120.32-3.

15. Ibid., II, 543.22.

16. Ibid., 543.25.

17. Ibid., 543.30.

18. Ibid., 543.34.

19. Ibid., 544.3.

20. Ibid., 541.12.

21. Ibid., Ml, 540.22.

22. Ibid., 31.4. 28 23. Ibid., 502.11.

24. Ibid., II, 5303. For the passage in context, see Sufi Path, pp. 267-8.

25. Fut., 11,538.35. 30 26. Ibid., 539.25.

27. Ibid., IV, 424.15.

Fulfilling our Potential: Ibn 'Arabi's understanding of man in a contemporary context This talk has specific points of inspiration in two quotations which I heard whilst I was thinking about a title for it. One of them came from a speech by the head of the British Jewish community, Jonathan Sachs, on the occasion of the first Holocaust Remembrance Day on January 27th as his 'wish' for racial tolerance in the third millennium he said: "May we come to know that we are all in the image of God, even though we may not be in the image of each other."

The second quotation I took as the title, and came from an interview with a government spokes-person on the launch of their new educational initiative, but it could just as well have come from the prospectus of any school in the country.

For whenever anyone is asked about the purpose of education; the reply is always - that every child should fulfill their full potential. And more; if one were to ask the adult population in general what the aim of their life is, then I suspect that in this era of prosperity and therapy, etc. one would receive an answer very much along these lines. We all want to fulfill our potential.

What struck me about these two quotations whilst I was thinking about having to talk under this title 'Man in the image of God', is that they both refer to ideas and concepts which we find in the work of Ibn 'Arabi, and which in fact have a long history, going back the ancient world of Greek philosophy and the classical age of the first millennium AD. So they are ideas which are common to the three Semitic traditions - Judaism, Christianity, Islam - as well as the Greek pagan tradition from which the modern scientific enterprise developed. This suggested that although one thinks immediately, faced with this title, that we in the modern, scientifically dominated western world no longer have this concept of man being in the image of God - which certainly we don't as far as our contemporary theories of cosmology, evolution or even psychology are concerned - when we come to express our human aspirations, our hopes for ourselves and the world,

then we still think in terms of unreconstituted concepts. After all, no-one would ask for billions of pounds of public money for an educational programme in order that we should know better that we are meaningless epi-phenomena, progressing only by chance and random selection;we are not so foolish, and secretly we know that human life is more than that, and that progress and fulfilment are possible for us. To this extent, we have never ceased to share in the vision of the great philosophers and the 'knowing' mystics like Ibn 'Arabi. Of course there are also great differences in the way we see things now, and this talk is an exploration of the common ground and the difference.

I should perhaps say at the very beginning that the point is not to consider whether or not Ibn 'Arabi is correct in what he says; many years of study have brought about the conclusion that Ibn 'Arabi's is almost certainly the most complete exposition of human nature which has ever been set out. If it were not, and one could obtain the same degree of understanding elsewhere, for instance from within the western Christian tradition, then those of us who read Ibn 'Arabi not as medievalists pursuing an academic study, but in search of spiritual help and guidance, would be sensible to avoid the task of struggling with these extremely complex texts, written in a difficult foreign language, and full of cultural references which were probably abstruse even in their own time. But we cannot, for there is nobody elselike him. The task of bridging the cultural gap which we therefore undertake, would be not only impossible but also fruitless in any real sense, if it were not for the fact that what Ibn 'Arabi is saying may be dressed in the clothing of his time and in terms of the issues and controversies which engaged his contemporaries, but its meaning transcends those limits and speaks to the eternal human condition.

In fact, the penetration of the outer forms of things to perceive their reality and inner meaning is precisely what he aims to effect in his work. As Jim Morris has explained in a really excellent recent paper, which I hope will soon gain wide circulation,it can be very hard, in a historical sense, to find and categorise the followers of the Shaykh al-akbar, because the very characteristic of successful

followers is that they are able to penetrate to the heart of the matter, and reexpress it in the manner and language of their own time - that is, not in the manner and language of Ibn 'Arabi's time in an imitative way, but in a creative, contemporary way. I hope this talk will also explore something of this.

These terms 'potential' and 'fulfilment' - or we could say 'actualisation' or 'completion' - are of course originally from Aristotle (d. 322BC), formulated nearly three centuries before Christ. He based his physics upon the notion that any movement is a translation of a potentiality into an actuality; so a football lying on the ground has the potential of movement which is only actualised when it is kicked; a block of marble has the potential to be a statue which is actualised by the sculptor. When it is actualised, it reaches a state of entelechy (from the same root as telos, meaning perfection)which has connotations of reaching its intended state, its final condition, a state of completion; in the Arabic, this word entelechy became translated - as a kind of technical term - as kâmil, as in al-insân al-kâmil, the perfect or completed man.

When Aristotle moved from the considerations of physics to psychology in his de Anima, he applied the same model to the soul, saying: 'the soul is the first entelechy of a living organism with organs'. He saw that each of the faculties of the soul, such as sight, hearing, etc. is in the state of its first entelechy at the moment of creation, but it reaches a further, second state of entelechy when it performs its function. So the faculty of sight is in a certainstate of completion when the physical eye comes into being, but it only reaches its final state of completion in the act of seeing, i.e. when the eye actually sees. For Aristotle, the highest of the faculties was the intellect - 'aql in Arabic -which is present only in man, whereas all the others are shared by animals or plants. This too is in a state of its first entelechy when the man is born, but it reaches its final state ofcompletion when its function is actualised, i.e. when it actually intelligises.

Aristotle extended these ideas in his ethical work 'The Nicomachean Ethics' where he asked the question; what is the final end - or 'happiness' -of man? And his answer was, that it must consist of the fulfilment or completion (the final

entelechy)of that faculty which distinguishes man from all other creatures, and which therefore embodies hisspecial function. So whilst the other faculties and the fulfilment of physical needs are clearly important, it is only through the completion of the intellectual faculty that man reaches his greatest happiness (sa'ada in Arabic, eudaimonia in Greek). As to how this happens, Aristotle developed the idea of 'virtue' - i.e. preferring and cultivating the good and the good qualities - as the means by which man can perfect himself; and philosophy, in the ancient traditions, was precisely the method by which this could come about.

The ideas of the ancient Greeks - Aristotle and Plato - expressed something so obviously true, that they were hugely influential on later generations, and they provided terminologies and conceptual tools by which the monotheistic traditions, even hundreds of years later, refined and articulated their understanding of man as it was given in the revealed books of the Torah, the Bible and the Qur'ân. Thus we find in every one of the semitic traditions people who attempted an integration between Greek ideas and their religion - between faith and reason; such as, in Christian tradition, the early fathers like Gregory of Nyssa (d.395) and later, contemporaneous with Ibn 'Arabi, Albertus Magnus (d.1280) and Thomas Aquinas (d. 1274); in the Jewish tradition Maimonides (d.1204) also a contemporary, and also from Andalusia; these latter both drew from the ground-work done by Arab translators and thinkers such as Ibn SÎna (d.1037) and Ibn Rushd (d.1198) in the 10th-12th centuries which were rendered into Latin primarily by Jewish translators in the school at Toledo - also in Andalusia. But they did not draw from the work of Ibn 'Arabi who was just a little later, and it is perhaps only today that we have the opportunity to learn from the further insights that he brought to bear.

Thus there is a great hinterland of history and experience in common between all these traditions, and even today, as I have mentioned, we continue to share, albeit unconsciously, many of these ideas. But there are also great differences in the way the concepts have been interpreted. In the Christian west, there was a

further influx of Greek ideas during the Renaissance when translators went back to pre-Arab sources, and this resulted in a crisis between faith and reason that has resolved itself largely in terms of reason; so today, we have a generally rationalist society in which the findings of speculative intellect in the particular form of modern science are considered to be more 'true' - much more true - than accounts of, say, events in the Bible, or, to come even closer to our subject, than the realities of our subjective experience such as the fact that the sun rotates around the earth and therefore 'rises' on the horizon each morning. Reason for us, as for Aristotle, is the highest faculty, and we continue to believe that in order to bring it to itshighest level of fulfilment, we have to undergo development in the form of education - education being a Latin word meaning literally 'leading forth'- e-ducere -whose use makes a clear reference to these Aristotelian origins.

In Arabic, they used the verb kharaja meaning 'to go out', or 'to emerge from', in the same sense for the transformation from potentiality to actuality.

In the Islamic world, by contrast, the theologians and the mystics largely triumphed over the rationalists, and the place of reason at the top of the faculty hierarchy was challenged. For the theologians, reason had to conform to the requirements of the religion and the religious law. For the Sufis, the Islamic mystics - amongst them Ibn 'Arabi - it came to be understood that the highest knowledge is attained not by reason and effort, but by revelation from God. Man therefore has a faculty which is superior to reason, which they referred to as the 'heart' (qalb); this is a receptive 'place'- in inverted commas because this is not really a physical place - in which God reveals Himself to man - which 'turns' (taqallaba) or changes in response to the Divine revelation (tajalli). In contrast to the philosophical conception of effort and virtue, this knowledge can only be attained through submission and purification, through Divine guidance, and ultimately through man coming to know that he is 'no other' than God. It is referred to as dhawq (taste or intuition) and kashf (unveiling), and is what might be called now 'mystical intuition'.

The distinction between the knowledge of the intellect and knowledge of the heart, however, is not completely clear-cut; as is well illustrated by Ibn 'Arabi in his description in the Futûhât of the encounters he had with the Andalusian philosopher Ibn Rushd. Ibn Rushd was not just any old philosopher, but one of the great interpreters of Aristotle whose life-work - and that of his protégé Ibn Tufayl who wrote the famous 'Hayy Ibn Yaqzan' - was to demonstrate that what the philosophers discover by use of their reason is the same truth as is given to the prophets in revelation. It should perhaps be said here, that the Islamic rationalists never had a secular understanding of the intellect such as we have today; for them, the final entelechy was always contemplation of God and union - ittisâl, or ittihâd - with the Divine Intellect. Thus, in their first encounter, Ibn Rushd asks Ibn 'Arabi, as I am sure you all remember: “What kind of solution have you found through divine unveiling and illumination? Is it identical with what you have found through speculative thought? " and Ibn 'Arabi replies: "Yes - No. Between the yes and the no, spirits take wing from their matter and necks are separated from their bodies'.

This answer embodies the great mercy that Ibn 'Arabi is to us. On the one hand, he indicates that reason alone cannot encompass the highest truth; on the other, he does not entirely exclude it. No-one who has tried to read Ibn 'Arabi could ever think that he wishes to exclude intellect from the process of realisation; he was an intellectual genius, and, as Souad Hakim has said: ...it is the heart which is the place and instrument of knowledge...[yet Ibn 'Arabi] makes no separation between the heart and the intellect...

[For] if the Sufi does not state his knowledge in intelligible form then the intellect will not accept it, and no-one will pay any attention to what he says... He will be unable to state his knowledge in intelligible form insofar as he has not brought his knowledge across from the heart to the intellect, or else receives an understanding developed in the image of reasoned theory, as did Ibn 'Arabi... The heart is drunkenness (sukr), the intellect is lucidity (sahw) [and]... the 'knowing' Sufi, although he

has tasted all states of knowledge, does not omit to return to the sensory in order to give a line of conduct to disciples.

In fact, when the heart is orientated invariably towards God, and its potential fully realised, then, for Ibn 'Arabi, every one of man's faculties can become a means and a channel for the knowledge of God - so it flows through the imagination and the senses as well as through intellect and intuition, because all the faculties are, in reality, instruments of the heart. Therefore it has been said, that Ibn 'Arabi has 'an all-inclusive point of view',i.e. his exposition includes all kinds of perception and knowledge, all points of view, and he avoids the dichotomies which have bedevilled so many western attempts to discuss knowledge and perfectibility reason versus revelation, reason versus empiricism, imagination versus science, etc. The heart is a supra-rational rather than an anti-rational faculty, and in his work, Ibn 'Arabi gives a comprehensive account of the way in which all the different faculties - dhawq, imagination, reason and sensory perception - operate and inter-relate. This is perhaps especially valuable to us in the present day, when secular rationalism has become so prevalent that it sometimes seems as if our capacity for mystical insight and creative imagination has been forgotten, or if remembered, not afforded validity. He gives us a map to a lost land, which is the complete human potential.

What then does Ibn 'Arabi mean by this potential? For him, as for all the Semitic traditions, man's potential is the greatest conceivable, i.e.that he is made in the image of God. This is the real, intrinsic nature of every human being, but it also has to be actualised, and this actualisation, as we have said, takes place primarily through the establishment of the heart, which is the locus of Divine knowledge and remembrance in man. Ibn 'Arabi of course discusses the perfectibility of man within the overall context of the unity of being; for him, there is only One Reality, which is God, and there is nothing in existence but Him. The world, then, and everything in it, including ourselves, is not a separate thing from God, but His Self-revelation, an imaging. This is set out perfectly in the first sentence of

the Fusûs al-Hikam where Ibn 'Arabi describes the creation of the primordial man, in the form of Adam.

God (al-haqq) wanted to see the essences of His most perfect Names whose number is infinite - and if you like, you can equally well say, God wanted to see His own Essence in one global object which having been blessed with existence, summarised the Divine order so that there he could manifest His mystery to Himself. For the vision that a being has of himself and in himself is not the same as another reality procures for him, and which he uses for himself as a mirror; (in this, he manifests himself to his self in the form which results from the 'place' of the vision...) So the Divine order required the clarification of the mirror of the world, and Adam became the light itself of this mirror and the spirit of this form.

Amongst the very many things that can be drawn from this passage, is a further difference between Ibn 'Arabi's understanding of man and that of the philosophers. For Ibn 'Arabi, theultimateaim is not for man to attain union with God; it is that he becomes the place of God's self-revelation to Himself, according to another closely related tradition, in which God says "I was a hidden treasure and I loved to be known, so I created the world that I might be known". It is in the human being - and specifically in the human heart - that this complete 'imagining' and knowing can take place, and when thisis fully realised, then not only is man in his final state of entelechy - al-insân al-kâmil - but also, the whole purpose of creation is fulfilled.

The actual phrase - man in the image of God - does not occur in the Qur'ân. It is a hadîth of the Prophet: “God created man in His own image",or 'form' because the word used here, sura, can mean both image and form. This was a controversial hadîth, some people arguing thatit meansthatGod created man is his (man's) form; but there is no doubt that Ibn 'Arabi reads the 'his' as referring to God. One way of understanding what ismeant by 'God's form', as is clear from the

quote from Adam, is the universe or cosmos, which is the place in which God reveals Himself first. Ibn 'Arabi says in the FutÝhât: ...the Prophet reported that God created Adam in His form, and the human being is the place where the whole cosmos is brought together.

God's knowledge of the cosmos is none other than the knowledge of Himself, since there is nothing in existence but Him. So inevitably, the cosmos is in His Form.

In this sense, 'in the image of God' is a reference to the ancient idea that man and the universe are reflections of each other; man is microcosm and the universe macrocosm, and the same reality is manifest in each. This again, is common to both the pagan and monotheistic traditions, as can be seen by just a quick quote from a 4th century text written by Nemesius of Emesa, a Greek thinker who turned Christian in later life and whose work was one of the earliest, and therefore most influential, treatise on man to be translated into Arabic; Nemesius says: "When we consider [the] facts about man, how can we exaggerate the dignity of his place in creation? In his own person, man joins mortal creatures with the immortals, and brings the rational beings into contact with the [those that are not] rational. He bears about in his proper nature a reflex [a reflection] of the whole creation, and is therefore rightly called 'the world in little' (mikros kosmos in the Greek). He is the creature whom God thought worthy of such special providence that, for his sake, all creatures have their being ... he converses with the angels and with God Himself... He explores the nature of every kind of being.

He busies himself with the knowing of God and is God's house and temple.

We should remember that cosmos or universe here did not mean merely the physical world; the spheres of the planets were also spirits, or angels, and aspects of the Divine intellect; so cosmos includes the world of imagination and

the world of thought; in the Islamic tradition, it came to explicitly include the Divine degrees of the First Intellect (the Pen), the Guarded Tablet, the Throne, etc. It meant 'everything that there is'. And the use of the term cosmos was a reference, from the time of Plato, to the fact that it was a single, ordered entity, with one soul.

For Ibn 'Arabi, writing in the context of the unity of being, the principle of the macrocosm/microcosm means, that there is complete correspondence between knowledge of the cosmos and knowledge ofGod, because there is nothing but God. And also, as both man and the cosmos are both in the image of God, then in knowing the cosmos, man is coming to know himself. Thus, there is no such thing as knowledge of 'external' things; there is only knowledge of the self. Hence our own self is the most direct means by which we can come to know God, as in the tradition - again a prophetic hadîth - “He who knows himself knows his Lord".

This is so closely linked in Ibn 'Arabi's work that it is virtually identical in meaning to the Qur'ânic verse: "We shall show them our signs (ayât) to the horizons and in themselves, until it is clear to them that it is God, the Real". (Q 41:53)Ibn 'Arabi says, in the K. 'Anqa Mughrib, one of his earliest works which is a detailed and complex exposition on cosmology and the degrees and historic development of sainthood: ...whenever I discourse on such recondite matters as [the mahdî and the Seal], I speak in terms of the two worlds [that is the microcosm and the macrocosm] in order to clarify the issue for the listener by referring to the greater [i.e. external] world which he knows and comprehends, after which I draw comparisons between that outer world and its secret deposited in man - who yet denies it and does not comprehend it. For my purpose in everything I write is never the gnosis which appears in phenomenal existence, but rather the purpose is ever the gnosis which is found in this human essence and Adamite substance.

As to this matter of man 'denying and not knowing'what is deposited in himself, this is precisely the matter of actualising the already-existing potential, which Ibn

'Arabi likens to coming to read a book which is written within ourselves but which we cannot yet decipher, or to polishing a tarnished mirror so that the image can be seen clearly. To do this, we need instruction, as Ibn 'Arabi indicates a little further on: Were [man's] understanding capable of arriving at this secret without my having to make mention of it, I would not have regarded its external aspect at all, nor ever paused for a moment over its inner meaning.

Thus, for Ibn 'Arabi the important thing about our knowledge of the external world - the only important thing - is that it is an indicator of something in ourselves. He says: He made you a sign (or a demonstration) (dalĂŽl) [of your Lord]. That is, he made your knowledge of your self a 'sign' (dalĂŽl) to your knowledge of Him. This is either by way of the fact that He describes you with the same essence and attributes with which he describes Himself, and He made you His vice-regent and deputy upon the earth. Or it is that you have poverty and need for Him in your existence, or it is the two affairs together... ...He mentioned the horizons... lest you imagine that something remains in the horizons giving a knowledge of God that is not given by yourself. Hence he turned you over to the horizons...[Then he] turned you over to yourself alone, because he knew that the Real would be your faculties and that you would know Him through Him, not through other than Him... When you know Him and you attain to Him no-one will have known and attained to Him save Himself... for the door to knowledge of Him is shut, unless it comes from Him. This 'turning us over to ourselves' is a reference to the practice of retreat, khalwa, which,whether understood literally as a practice or metaphorically as an interior state, was, and is, an intrinsic part of all esoteric training; we know that Ibn 'Arabi himself underwent periods of seclusion

throughout his life. In his understanding, the point is not to exclude the world because it is 'other than God' - there is nothing other than God - but simply to concentrate for a time upon the interior aspect - to the signs 'within themselves'; in the same passage, he tells us: The Real turned us over to the horizons which is everything outside of us, and to ourselves which is everything that we are upon and in. When we come to understand these two affairs together, we come to know Him, and that 'it is God, the Real'. Thus the signifying of God is more complete.

This principle of 'self-knowledge' embodies an epistemology - a way of knowing that would seem to be completely opposite to the way that we understand 'knowledge' inthe contemporary context. Scientific methodology gives real existence to the external world and seeks 'objective' knowledge of it by attempting to eliminate from the investigator all subjective input and experience; and the resulting knowledge is understood to be the knowledge of the 'external' things, not of ourselves. As already mentioned, such an approach comes up with a view of the universe which, hardly surprisingly considering its initial premises, designates no function orcoherent meaning at all to man in the universe. Hence the subtle difference between answering 'yes' rather than 'yes-no' to Averroes' question, results in a gross difference in our understanding of ourselves, and the meaning of our lives.

Ibn 'Arabi of course wrote within an intellectual context in which this correspondence between the macrocosm and the microcosm was at the heart of both physics, metaphysics and religious expression. The sun and the planets rotating around the earth were easily seen to be symbolic of man the microcosm at the centre of the universe; the spheres of the physical bodies were enclosed by those of the spirits, and at the outer edge, was the First Cause, Aquinas' 'Prime Mover' - God as the creator and maintainer of the universe. The universe we inhabit now is a much more mysterious and perplexing place - a much less personal place.

But this difference in cultural context cannot be a barrier, ultimately, to realising the truth to which Ibn 'Arabi refers in ourselves. For the principle of the unity of existence, and the consequent principle of self-knowledge, is an essential one, to do with the eternal reality of man, and is not dependent upon any particular cultural environment. The difference in context may make it hard sometimes to understand the real meaning to which Ibn 'Arabi is pointing, but this is not insuperable. For one thing, the difference between our worlds is only a cultural one. Whilst Ibn 'Arabi would agree, I think, with those more aware philosophers and psychologists of our own time who have noticed that what we see - even in the case of physical vision - is often deeply influenced by what we believe, itis still the case that we live in the same universe as Ibn 'Arabi; the earth has not actually moved in relation to the planets; we still see the sun rise on the horizon, the night still falls. For Ibn 'Arabi, such every-day experiences are the very nittygritty of God's constant revelation to us; as he says in the Futûhât: God has placed His 'signs' (ayât) in the cosmos as 'habitual' and 'nonhabitual'. Only the people who have understanding from God in a special way take the habitual [signs] into account, and the rest of the people do not know what God intends by them.

God has filled the Qur'ân with [mention of these] habitual signs - such as the alternation of day and night, rain falling, plants emerging from the ground, ships running at sea, the diversity of tongues and colours, there being sleep at night and the seeking of bounty during the day ... the non-habitual signs are [things]... such as earthquakes and tremblers, eclipses, the rational speech of animals, walking on water, passing through the sky, {announcing events in the future that happen exactly as announced}, ... etc. Such things are taken into account only by the common people.

And: Nothing walks in the cosmos without walking as a messenger (rasûl) with a message. This is a high knowledge. Even the worms, in their

movements, are rushing with a message to those who can understand it.

Such passages make it clear that the problem is not to do with culture, but with moving the organ of our perception from the intellect to the heart, so that we actually witness the revelation that is constantly given to us, and understand what it is 'indicating', what 'sign' it is making, about our own reality. Ibn 'Arabi gives us many examples from his own life of such things; for example, the experience he had on his journey East (1201AD), when he saw himself as united in marriage to all the stars and the letters of the alphabet and understood all their meanings. Most spectacularly, we havehis own accounts, in the K. al-Isra and the Futûhât, of his spiritual ascension or mirâj, in which, mirroring the nightjourney of the prophet Muhammed, he was taken horizontally across the earth from Mecca to Jerusalem, then vertically through all the degrees of existence, from the realm of the minerals to the highest heaven - a journey in which as Stephen Hirtenstein has remarked: "physical geography metamorphoses into spiritual topography". Ibn 'Arabi remarks; “My journey took place only in me, and my pointing was only to me".

If this can happen with the physical world, then it is possible that we can come to understand that the same principle occurs also at a cultural level. So, for example, at the level of the imagination, it is clear that the images of our contemporary world can become the raw material by which meaning is conveyed to us in dreams; so that we now find ourselves flying in airplanes or microlites rather than on wingéd steeds, but the meaning of flying, or elevation, is still the same as it was at the time of Muhammed. By the same token, it is possible that at the level of reason, the discoveries of modern science can also provide us with images and concepts that reveal meanings to us. A famous example is the findings of quantum mechanics which, as Frithjof Capra, amongst others, has pointed out in his famous Tao of Physics,bear a marked resemblance to mystical expositions of reality. I came across an example myself whilst thinking about this talk, and Jonathan Sachs' statements about us all ' being in the image of God'.

Just a few weeks later, the findings of the human genome project were published, revealing that the genetic differences between people are so small that we are to all intents and purposes the same; so Craig Venter who was one of the chief scientists on the American project was moved to say; 'Really, we are just identical twins'. And of course, it is hard to ignore the wonderful symbolism that DNA research reveals, i.e. that at the core of our make-up is the principle of selfreplication, which is just another way of saying 'imaging'.

That science can come up with these images, although it starts from such different premises, is in itself a sign to the unity of existence - to the fact that there is really no-where else to go but the One Reality - and is a pointer to the great mystery to which Ibn 'Arabi alludes in his Yes-no, and what liesbetween them.

We can find ourselves especially at one with the scientists when it comes to appreciating the wonder and beauty of the universe, for there is no doubt that modern technology such as the Hubble telescope which turns our sights towards the outer reaches of time and space, or time-lapse photography which shows us the intricacies of the micro-world of nature, is now revealing to us new aspects of what Ibn 'Arabi calls in the Wednesday morning prayer of his Wird:“raqâ'iq aldaqâ'iq" - “the subtle threads of the intricacies, which arespread through existence". Ibn 'Arabi sees beauty as a fundamental attribute of the universe; saying in the Futûhât: "Since God made the cosmos manifest as the same as Himself, it was His own self-revelation, so He saw nothing within it but His own beauty, and He loved [its] beauty. Thus the cosmos is God's beauty, and He is [both] the beautiful and the lover of beauty. Anyone who loves the cosmos with this contemplation has loved it with God's love, and has loved nothing but God's beauty, for the beauty of [excellent] craftsmanship is not ascribed to itself; it is rather ascribed to the craftsman who made it. Hence the beauty of the cosmos is God's beauty."

There is not time in this short talk to go into the further levels of symbolism through which Ibn 'Arabidiscusses this matter of human potential. But given that

this is really the first symposium of the new millennium, and a time when so many questions about the nature of our time and era have been raised, then I feel that something of it should at least be mentioned. For Ibn 'Arabi, the knowledge which is revealed both in the totality of the cosmos and in the interior of man, is brought together in 'summary' form in the figures of the prophets and saints, so that, he says for instance, of the station of Muhammed, that“in this is found the knowledge of the messages scattered throughout the [entire] cosmos."These gatherings and summaries of the 'signs' of the universe provide a quicker and easier way for us to come to knowledge, and therefore, in his Fusûs al-Hikam, as we all know,he represents the matter of the realised man, al-insân al-kâmil, in the form of the wisdom of 27 prophets, beginning with Adam and ending with Muhammed. In making this representation, he introduces into the matter the further dimension of the unfolding of man's potential in time; and elsewhere, as we have already mentioned briefly, in works like K. 'Anqa Mughrib and in the Futûhât, he discusses in detail the evolution of human history, and the meanings of figures like the Seal of the Saints, the Mahdi, and the Seal of the Children who will end this emergence of man. What this would add to the discussion of this paper, would be that for Ibn 'Arabi God's revelation appears also in the form of the 'time', of the 'era'. For those who would know God in the way we have discussed, then this also is a 'sign' to their own reality and potential.

But as there is no time to go into this in the detail it would demand, I would like to finish by exploring the related question of whether man's potential is fixed, with some kind ofdefinite limit or expected end, or whether it is open-ended. And I think that one has to say that the tendency of Ibn 'Arabi's thought is towards open-endedness, and constant expansion into new forms of expression. Man is in the image of God, and God is Infinite, Single, beyond being expressed in form; He is ultimately unknowable. So although He reveals Himself constantly, this does not exhaust His possibilities such that the revelation will ever come to an end.

Therefore, for Ibn 'Arabi, as for the Sufi tradition in general, the characteristic of the heart which is the locus of the Divine Revelation, is that it is not fixed in one form, but changes, or turns - the root of the Arabic word for heart, qalb, means

'to turn' - with the revelation of God. It is an important principle for Ibn 'Arabi, that in fact, the revelation is never repeated, and he quotes from his predecessor, Abû Tâlib al-Makki: He never reveals Himself in the same form twice to a single individual, nor to two individuals in one form Whereas the one who relies on intellectual knowledge tries to confine the revelation to one form or other, and to make generalisations, the one who has a heart acknowledges Him in all forms; Ibn 'Arabi says in the chapter on Shu'ayb in the Fusûs al- Hikam: The forms of revelation do not have a point of termination where they could stop. In the same way, knowledge of God has no limit in the one who knows Him where it could stop. Rather, the one who knows Him is the one who at every moment seeks to increase knowledge of Him, asking: Lord increase me in knowledge, Lord increase me in knowledge, Lord increase me in knowledge. The matter has no end from both sides [i.e., either from the side of God or the side of man].

From this point of view, the challenge for each new generation is to come to know God, by knowing themselves, in the new form of revelation that each era and indeed, each moment, brings. I have mentioned science because this is what I know best, but, as Jim Morris has pointed out,this also applies to music, poetry, filmand new forms of social structure; new forms of spirituality, all of which can be ways in which God is known and praised. To end with a quote from the Futûhât which seems to me to sum up the matter of human potential very well: The self is an ocean which has no shore. There is no end to the contemplation of it in this world or the next, for it is the closest sign (or demonstration) (dalîl) [of your Lord]. The more [you] contemplate [it], the more [your] knowledge of it increases, and the more [your]

knowledge of it increases, the more [your] knowledge of your Lord increases.

Jane Clark, 29/3/2001

The Time of Science and the Sufi Science of Time Physics used to teach us that space is a kind of absolute container, separate from the flow of time. In this classical or Newtonian conception, objects traveled through or remained stationary in space, which itself was not subject to change or to internal variations. The three dimensions of space were the same, always and everywhere. Galileo's observation of the moons of Jupiter would eventually lead to the fundamental assertion, so damaging to the prevailing Christian or traditional cosmology of the time, that in fact the laws down here on earth and the laws up there in the heavens are the very same. Our "space" as we experience it on earth, according to its inviolable coordinates of width, height, and depth, or the famous x, y, and z of the Cartesian coordinate system exists uniformly throughout the universe and is governed by the same rules. With the dismissal of the ether (the fifth element the celestial spheres were thought to be made of) and the adoption of an atomist theory, the physical vision of the universe was one of billiard balls colliding in a uniform and static vacuum, with things like electromagnetism and thermal energy thrown into the mix.

In this conception, time was a measure and nothing more, and was itself assumed to be constant and unchanging. One used time in frequency and velocity values, but time itself had nothing essentially to do with the nature of space and certainly nothing to do with physical objects themselves. The great paradigm shift in physics came with Einstein's special theory of relativity, which was later to be expanded upon in his general theory of relativity. In addition to showing that there is no absolute frame of reference for physical measurements, the theory also demonstrated mathematically that what we ordinarily think of as space and time are actually intertwining realities – or two aspects of the same reality. How we move through space changes how we move through time, at least depending on the point of observation. If I travel from Earth for a period of time near the speed of light and then return, a much longer period of time will have elapsed from Earth's frame of reference than will have elapsed from my own frame of reference, in some sort of space vehicle for example. Time also changes

depending on how close I am to a strong gravitational field. A clock in orbit high above the earth, for example, will run slightly slower than an identical clock on the surface of the earth.

Now, many books have been written in the last few decades claiming that the teachings of Eastern religions such as Buddhism and the finding of modern physics, specifically quantum mechanics and relativity theory, are really the same, and much is made of the spiritual significance of this new physics. 2 Though it is a topic for another forum, I believe that the perceived intersection of physics and mysticism or religion results from a sublimation of certain hypothetical assumptions of physical data on the one hand, and a denaturing of the spiritual doctrines on the other. That is to say, certain interpretations of the physical data, such as the idea that the observer influences the state vector collapse, and the notion of multiple universes arising out of the actualization of the wave function of particles, are nothing more than philosophical struggles on the part of physicists and laymen to come to grips with the data. They are not demanded by the data themselves, which is why many physicists who agree on the same data have sometimes wildly different models for accounting for those data. 3 On the religious side, one comes across pat explanations of spiritual doctrines taken out of their traditional context, and Buddhism is reduced to a group of clever insights about our mind and the nature of the world.

Thus I want to be careful of including the findings of physics in a paper on the experience of time and non-time at a conference on Ibn al-'ArabÄŤ. I may joyously proclaim that Ibn al-'ArabÄŤ told us in the thirteenth century what physicists claim to have discovered only a few decades ago, but what happens when the scientists change their minds? After all, despite what the popular literature and movies tell us, there are enormous lacunae in physics, and for all we know the spatiotemporal conception ushered in by Einstein may one day itself be overturned by something as radically different. To give you some examples, quantum mechanics works for very small things, and relativity works for very big things, but at a certain point in between, for medium sized things, the theories become

incompatible. This was the problem with Newtonian or classical physics: for many purposes the theory worked just fine, but physicists were puzzled because it did not work for all observed phenomena. Thus Newtonian equations will correctly predict how a baseball will travel through space, but it took relativity to correctly account for the orbit of the planet Mercury. Our present idea of gravity and the mass of the universe should have the universe flying apart, but since it does not actually do so, physicists posit dark matter, which accounts for 98 percent of the mass of the universe. The problem is since we cannot see or measure this dark matter, we do not know what it is, or really if it is there.

So why start a discussion of time at an Ibn 'ArabÄŤ Society gathering with physics?

Firstly, despite the fact that classical physics is part of history as far as scientists are concerned, its world view still dominates the consciousness of the age. It is what is most typically taught in high school textbooks, and its assumptions are built into popular language about the subject. The next time you hear someone say "fundamental building blocks of matter" know that such a notion is completely classical in its origin. All our notions of mass, force, and energy are usually classical conceptions, that is to say conceptions beginning from the bifurcation of the world into measurable and subjective knowledge by Descartes, then Galileo's uniformity of the universal laws, and finally Newton's brilliant synthesis. Moreover, these ideas, together with the advent of the heliocentric model, was a major force, perhaps the most important force, in sidelining Christianity in the Western world. First the Church abdicated its claim to having knowledge of the natural world, and while it spent the next few centuries in the domain of moral and spiritual questions, scientists gradually reduced the world to physical bits, reduced man to a hyper developed animal, reduced animals to complex arrangements of atoms, and reduced consciousness to complex patterns of synaptic activity in the brain. Meanwhile the philosophers and pseudophilosophers of scientism were busy trying to convince themselves and everyone else that truth was provided only by quantitative measurement. The rest was quality, which fell on the side of subjective feeling, and as we all were supposed to know, feelings are really just complex instincts, which somehow result from the

structure of the brain, resulting from the structure of DNA, resulting from the happenstance arrangement of atoms.

Relativity theory and quantum mechanics overturned classical mechanics, which had itself overturned Christian cosmology. The paradigm shift ushered in by such figures as Einstein, Max Planck, and Neils Bohr is important because it destroyed the destroyer. Heliocentrism was erased, because from the point of view of relativity it is nonsense to say that the earth "goes round" the sun, as it is to say that the sun goes round the earth, because there is no fixed frame of reference to say which is going around which. The sun's gravitational field is stronger than the earth's, but the earth does pull on the sun, and because there is no absolute frame of reference anymore, then certainly it is correct to say the sun goes around the earth. Geocentrism actually comes out slightly ahead, since it at least corresponds to our experience from our frame of reference. From the point of view of science, however, we have lost both geocentrism and heliocentrism.

As for universal laws, we find that things do not behave the same everywhere.

For example a clock seems to run at a different speed high above the earth. Light does not always travel in a straight line, but seems to bend from different points of reference, because space itself seems to bend and take on all sorts of shapes depending on the objects in it.

Then we discover that atoms are not mere little balls. Rather, it seems the only way we can properly describe what seems to be happening on very small scales is through various kinds of mathematical form, very unlike a little ball. The only reason scientists talk about wave-particle duality is because the measurements they get look sometimes like a particle, sometimes like a wave, but they never have nor ever will see what causes those measurements. The relationships between the "atoms" is mathematically incredibly complex and is more like threads in a tapestry than balls flying through space, but of course they are neither. The problem is further complicated by Bell's theorem, which shows entities like electrons to be connected, as far as we can tell, instantaneously even at distances too great for a light-speed communication to take place. This is

important because relativity theory states that nothing can travel faster than the speed of light.

Thus the momentousness of heliocentrism, atomist theory, uniformity of spatial laws and time was shown to be not so momentous after all, but this is lost on popular thinking. Einstein certainly earned his own fame but did not manage to steal all of Newton's thunder. The most usual understanding of the natural world is still a classical one.

But I already cautioned myself about too great an enthusiasm for what the new physics teaches. Indeed it may be that the current paradigm is overturned, but it seems well-nigh impossible that any such a revolution will bring us closer to the classical conception that destroyed traditional cosmology in the West. We have already pushed the limits of what we can actually observe with our own senses, which is to say anything else we observe will be the effects of experiments together with the mathematical models based on the data of those experiments.

Physicists' eyes are not more powerful than our own; their insight comes through the mathematical form they derive from the data. Such mathematical models are the very stuff of physical theory.

The significance of this is not that it elevates one theoretical model above another, but that it throws into sharp focus the fact that any model of what happens beyond the perceptible world is as good as any other from the point of view of science, so long as it correctly predicts the data. The problem with superstring theory, hidden variable theory, many-universe theory, is that they are all mathematical models based upon the exact same body of data, and they all predict the data equally well. These models are sometimes so wildly different that any pretense to some one great scientific conception of the universe must be seen as philosophical hubris. The precision of the data themselves and the success of the accompanying mathematics in predicting the behavior of the physical world on small and large scales – indeed the most successful scientific theory to date – paradoxically serves to undercut the assumption that the only real knowledge we can have of things is through scientific measurement. What we

are measuring are things we can never perceive without a measurement.

Classical mechanics usually dealt with ordinary scale objects. If the real knowledge we have of a baseball is the measurements we can make of it, we are still left with an object that at least corresponds to an object we actually experience, even if that experience is merely subjective or even meaningless from the point of view of science. An electron is an entity no one has, can, or ever will experience. Even if we never perceive a unicorn in fact, we could in principle.

The key reversal at play is the following: we measure quantum entities, but our knowledge of them is mediated completely by our ordinary experience of the world, by our pointer-readings, as Wittgenstein once remarked. I said that the new physics paradoxically undercuts classical bifurcation because it leaves us with the troubling proposition that our true scientific knowledge depends for its very survival upon the offices of our subjective, non-scientific experience. Actually, this was the case in classical mechanics as well, but the fact that quantum entities are wholly unlike ordinary entities makes the rigid bifurcation into a subjective world of quality and an objective world of quantity all the more absurd. 4 The situation we are left with is this. The revolution of classical mechanics suffered a counter-revolution, the new physics, which neutralized the sting delivered by the heliocentric model, uniform space and time, and the classical atomist theory. Though this counter-revolution did not put traditional cosmology back in its place, it robbed the scientist of his ability to make absolute statements about what we can know. A man might be lulled into a kind of complacency about the baseball; perhaps the knowledge provided by scientific measurement is more true and reliable than his mere experience of the thing. This may not hold up to philosophical scrutiny, but overlap between the measured baseball and a baseball as one sees it gives the whole affair an air of respectability. But when the scientist tells us that true knowledge is measuring things that we cannot see, and that the scientist cannot see either, it begins to sound too strange to be believed. And of course, it is.

So unlike many of the popular ideas linking the new physics to traditional metaphysics, my assertion here is simply that science has exposed the fallacy of Cartesian bifurcation and the alleged supremacy of quantitative knowledge.

Science has turned on itself, or more correctly, the data has betrayed philosophical scientism and exposed its limitations. We have quite literally come back to our senses.

If we actually pay attention to the difference between quantitative data and physical theory, we see that science has altogether lost the destructive power to make us denigrate our senses and the ideas we form from sensory experience.

We know that what the scientist says about time is a model based on observations of the world, and that any number of such models possess equal validity, and all of them are subservient to the real experience of the human subject. Choosing one model above another is not a scientific decision, but a philosophical one.

Time, like space, is one of the most concrete aspects of our experience of the world. It is not an abstract entity such as an electron, but a reality so close and intimate that we stumble in defining it owing to its sheer obviousness. It is a mystery that baffles due to its clarity, not its obscurity. If a physicist says that time is not what we think but is actually this or that, we can agree in part and acknowledge that the reality may have aspects of which we are not aware.

However, we always possess the powerful rejoinder that no matter what the data or theory, it has been formed on the basis of the physicist's ordinary human experience of time and observations taking place within that experience.

Logically, it is impossible to negate the qualitative time of our own experience without undercutting the basis of the quantitative time derived through measurement, since no observation is possible without ordinary time and ordinary space. "Reification" is the problem we get when we put our theories of quantitative time above qualitative time in our hierarchy of knowledge. I may give a mathematical description of time utilizing perhaps a symbolic or allegorical use of geometric shapes, but then become trapped in my own provisional model.

Even the word "linear" in linear time is a model. We make an analogy of some property of our experience of time to the properties of a physical line in space, i.e., being continuous and existing in two directions. But time is not a line, a line is a line. Having used the image of a line to enable us to talk about time in a scientifically useful way, we get trapped by an image which has taken on a life of its own, so to speak. Then anything other than linear time begins to seem absurd, a violation of time the way a loop is a violation of a line.

The Cartesian bifurcation which elevates quantitative measurement and theory while denigrating the real experience of qualities is ultimately absurd, because no model can repudiate the model-maker and continue to remain meaningful. It would mean that the model-maker's knowledge of what he is making a model of is dependent upon the knowledge provided by that very model itself. A bifurcationist physicist discerns a mathematical form in the data of the world, then says that this mathematical form is more true than the very perception he used to discern that mathematical form. If by this he meant that the world manifests laws present in the Intellect or Great Spirit, we could agree, since we perceive those laws by virtue of participating in that same intellect. But that is not an idea the philosophers of scientism would be willing to entertain.

Let me now leave off the space-time continuum of physics and come to the soul's qualitative and lived experience of these realities we call space and time. Space and time appear to us to be two modes of extension, or in simpler terms two ways in which things are spread out in relationship to each other. Spatially things are here and there, and temporally things are before and after. In another essay I discussed at length this notion of space and time as extension, and I do not wish to duplicate that discussion here.5 My purpose here is to establish a link between space and time that is not at all based on relativity theory, but arises from our living experience. Although in the classical conception which so often dominates our minds space and time are seen as two separate and unlike things, the truth is

that time is impossible without space, and space is impossible without time. I do not make this assertion from the point of view of physical science, but from within the world of the metaphysics of Ibn al-'ArabÄŤ and similar metaphysical systems.

Let us first ask what the world would be like if there were only space, but no time. The first thing that we would notice is that change would become impossible. Think of a group of objects existing in space, and then think of them existing in a different arrangement. In order for them to go from the first arrangement to the second one, something has to happen. They have to at the very least traverse the distances necessary to arrive at the second arrangement, but how can they do that if there is only space and no time? Something has to ontologically link the two arrangements. Even if somehow they do not traverse the distance in between, the objects are still the same objects, and the only thing allowing us to call them the same objects in the two different arrangements is a reality that allows the objects to change but retain some kind of continuity. This connecting dimension is time.

Let us then ask what the world would be like if there were time but no space.

Since there would be no spatial extension to observe, we would somehow have to measure time with our subjective experience in the absence of height, width, and depth. How would we know that there even was a course of time? Feelings have no dimension perhaps, but what about the rest of the soul? The images in our imagination, never mind the objects of the objective world, all have spatial extension, so we would have to disallow them in a world without space. That is to say, time implies a kind of inward space in the soul – a different kind of space to be sure – that makes it meaningful to speak of before and after, a referent that is constant in the face of change.

Let us as an exercise try to erase the words "space" and "time" from our minds and come back at the question. We notice that in life there are things that change and things that stay the same, and often the very same things seem to change and stay the same but in different respects. The baseball is the same baseball, both in the hand of the pitcher and in the glove of the catcher, but it is not wholly

the same because some things about it are different, such as its location and its relationship to the things around it. We can talk about things that are constant and changing, or static and dynamic. (In Arabic the relevant terms are qÄ rr and ghayr al-qÄ rr.)

But I do not wish to encumber myself from the beginning with technical language.

For now I simply have the "constant" and the "changing". I, too, am constant and changing. I am the same person but I am always becoming this or that, experiencing all sorts of colors and sounds and shapes in addition to my emotions, and yet the constant identity abides. In the statement, "I was sad, then I found my true love, and then I was happy," the then does not split the I into parts. It does not erase the identity.

Such paradoxes of the many in the one, and the one in the many, really form the basis of Ibn al-'ArabÄŤ's metaphysics, and make a good point of departure for an analysis of time and non-time. At the highest level, the mystery of the many and the one is the identity between the Ultimate Reality and the many things we usually think of as being real in and of themselves. The ontological status of things in relation to the ultimate reality is a question for metaphysics, but the mystery of the many and one also plays out in cosmology, meaning the study of the world in which the puzzles of constancy and change arise.

At the highest level of Akbarian thought, the manyness of the divine qualities is resolved in the unity of the supreme Self. This is not a unity of "before" and "after", where I might say that all qualities are happening right now; nor is it a unity of "here" and "there", where I might say that all qualities are in one place.

Rather it is a unity of being, of identity. The Creator is not another being than the Just or the All-Merciful. They are unified in what they truly are, and mysteriously the world's illusory reality disappears in the face of this essential unity.

Now, Akbarians do not throw away manyness, but put it in its place, and from our point of view in the world the many divine qualities and their relationships to one another are of the greatest significance. The manyness of the qualities is unreal only for the supreme Self, but for us this manyness is as real as we are, so to

speak. In fact, we depend on this manyness for whatever illusory reality we possess, because it is by virtue of the divine names and qualities and their relationships that the world comes to be. How, then, does this one in the many, many in the one, play out in the world?

There is no shortage of ideas that Ibn al-'Arab카 and his school use to describe how the divine qualities give rise to the world. Some of the most important are emanation (fayd), self-disclosure (tajall카), identification (ta'ayyun). For this talk I want to use the symbolism of light, and the divine name "Light" or al-N큰r. Mystics and philosophers have often started with light, and its symbolism is so powerful because light is both what we see and what we see by. Light is both a means and an end. If we apply the symbolism of light to all knowledge, light is both what we know and how we know. It is, moreover, a symbol that Ibn al-'Arab카 and his school often used as a metaphysical basis, the same way they could use the concepts of mercy and existence.

The Quran says, God is the Light of the heavens and the earth (24:35). The heavens and the earth are the realm of the constant and the changing, so let us say that God is the light of the constant and the changing, making God what we know the constant and the changing by. This leaves us to ask what the constant and the changing are. Each and every thing is, ultimately, a manifestation of a name of God. God knows His endless names, and this knowledge is the realm of the immutable identities, the al-a'yan al-thabitah. Each immutable identity is a special way in which God knows God, but God's knowledge of Himself is neither before and after nor here or there. It introduces neither distance nor duration between His names.

But if the identities are essences or forms in the knowledge of God that are separated neither by distances nor durations, how do we get to the situation where these identities, when they are in the world, do get separated by distance and duration? In God's knowledge the identities are immutable, but in the world they are what we are calling constant and changing. They are here and there, and they are before and after. The baseball is here, not over there. Or, the baseball is

here now, but it was not here earlier. This does not happen in God's knowledge.

The immutable identities are different but not apart. There is an immutable identity for the pitcher and an immutable identity for the catcher, but they exist eternally in God's act of knowing, fused but not confused, to borrow Meister Eckhart's language.

Akbarian cosmogenesis is a two-tiered emanation, or self-disclosure which first gives rise to the immutable identities in God's knowledge, and then externalizes or existentiates them in the world. There is a way in which these two identities, one manifest and the other unmanifest, are two different things, and another way in which they are simply the same thing viewed from two different points of view.

When God's light illuminates the immutable identities – which we can reword and say when God as the Light meets with God as the Knower – the result is the world. In a sense the immutable identities are dark, because as independent beings they are nothing. They are only God's knowledge of Himself. The divine light is a gift that illuminates the identities and gives them their own reality. This light allows there to be something "other than God", this phrase "other than God" being Ibn al-'Arabč's definition of the world, because by being illuminated the identities can see each other, and see themselves, and by "see" I mean "know".

Now, in the world this light by which we are illuminated to each other is none other than the very realities of duration and distance. What we give the name "space" is a state of affairs where the forms of things exist in a kind of relationality to each other, separated and yet existing in the same domain and thus connected in a kind of continuum. What we give the name "time" is a state of affairs where forms exist in a different kind of relationality, where even a single given thing is able to be separated from its previous state and yet still be connected to those states by virtue of its being a single thing. Thus its states also exist in a kind of continuum. God's light in static mode is space, and His light in dynamic mode is time. The identities themselves are not space and time, for the identities are pure forms in the knowledge of God, but when God casts His light upon them they enter into the dance of spatial and temporal interaction we call

the world. This light enables the realities of sound, color, shape, smell, feeling, number, mass, and energy to connect and manifest the forms. Light is the vessel, both in static and dynamic mode, upon which the identities journey in between the plenary darkness of God's knowledge on the one hand and the uninhabitable darkness of pure nothingness on the other.

This is one possible understanding of the divine saying where God says, "Do not curse time, for I am time." By cursing time, we are in reality cursing the light of God, which is identical with Himself. It is by God giving of Himself, of His light, that our existence as beings going through changing states is even possible. But it then follows that one could also say that God is space. Islamic metaphysics does not have, to my knowledge, a classification of space as it does of time. As I am sure will be widely discussed in this conference, there is a distinction made between sarmad, dahr, and zamÄ n, or eternity, sempiternity, and ordinary time.

But if what I am saying about the divine light is true, is it not equally true to say that God is space?

In the bodily world the divine light shines in a certain mode, far short of all the possibilities of divine illumination. The light is relatively dim, and though I see myself and others, I cannot see much, and the wholeness and connectedness of things is largely hidden in a darkness that is yet to be illuminated. The possibilities of this world are basically limited, at least in our ordinary experience, to the usual dimensions of space and time. Akbarian metaphysics teaches that the imaginational world, the world ontologically superior to the world of bodies, is more illuminated. In that world, the rules governing the constant and the changing, or distance and duration, are not the same. Remember that the imaginational world, like the world of bodies, is still a world of extension, which is to say that it is a world of manifested forms – of shapes, colors, duration, changing states. But because it is so luminous, the possibilities for the interaction of the constant and the changing are much greater. The forms in the imaginational world are indeed not limited by bodily space and time, though there is an imaginational space and an imaginational time. Recall the saying that the

bodily world in relation to the imaginational world is like a ring tossed into a vast wilderness. Rūmī declares that there is a window between hearts, meaning that we are connected to each other at the level of our souls, both across space and across time. True believers can have dreams foretelling the future, and great saints can meet in spirit if not in body. These wonders do not take place by virtue of bodily existence, but by virtue of the imaginational world, the world of souls.

Not only do the conditions of space and time change from bodily to imaginational existence, but they change from this world to the next, from the dunyā to the ākhirah. This is what Dāwūd al-Qaysarī means when he says that there are some divine names whose governance of the world lasts for a certain duration.

That is to say, there is a certain way in which the divine light manifests the forms in our ordinary earthly life, but at the end of the world the cycle of that kind of light, of that particular divine name, will come to a close. The hereafter will then be governed by another divine name, another kind of divine light. That which is impossible here will be possible there because the divine light will illuminate ever more possibilities for the interplay of forms and identities. Space itself will be greater and more infinite, time itself will be infused with greater barakah and potential for realizing the self-disclosures of God.

Thus far I have been discussing the ontological status of time together with space, because I think the two are inseparable insofar as they are two modes of the divine light as far as worldly existence is concerned. But what does the reality of time mean for the spiritual journey of the soul?

If we take Ibn al-'Arabī's metaphysics and cosmology to their logical conclusion, I believe we can say the following. God created us as a freely given gift, simply so that we who were not could be, that we who were nothing could be living beings.

But at the same time God experiences all of our pains and our joys, our stupidity and our wisdom, our fear and our courage with us in a mysterious way. Recall thehadīth where God says, "I was sick, and you did not visit Me," (Muslim 4661)

and the Quranic verse "Those who hurt God and His Messenger ‌" (33:57). Yet for God there is no pain, stupidity, or fear, because God is not confined to the moment of suffering. He knows the whole life. God does not move down the line with us as we do, although He lives what we live. God could never suffer as we suffer because for God there is no despair, no hopelessness. Hopelessness is the most human of sufferings.

For God, the pain is like the pain of separation we feel at the very moment we are running to meet our beloved. We are in fact separated, and the effect of running and the distance between us is a kind of suffering, but that suffering is totally redeemed by the hope we have, the certitude, that we have in the meeting with our beloved. The pain that God experiences with us is like the pain we experience while running to our beloved. It is not really a pain at all; it is a part of the fullness of the moment. God sees in our life, when we cannot, the abundance and perfection of our destiny in a way so perfectly complete that the so-called suffering is ever blessed and redeemed in the final reunion. We are not God, though, and so for us the experience of pain is not the same, but it is what it must be for a being God created for joy. When we become more like God, we suffer more in the way God "suffers", so to speak. We gradually experience and taste how death is just a flavor of life.

In us, God is always running to the beloved, He lives the separation in the total light of (re)union, death in the light of life, pain in the light of total bliss. We may think that we are just stamping our feet, out of breath, running to a horizon that never seems to come closer, but we are growing still.

To turn a nothing into a something like God is going to have to hurt sometimes, ripping open nothingness and pulling out a god-like being strand by strand, sinew by sinew, love by love, pain by pain, stupidity by stupidity ‌ into bliss, wisdom, wholeness, and ever greater life.

Think of a pebble in the shoe of the running lover. If that lover had placed all his hope in a perfect shoe, a perfect foot to go in that perfect shoe with a perfect sock, all to create a perfect fit. If he longed for it and made it his great hope, a

pebble in his shoe while he was running would crush him, reduce him to anger, despair, agony, humiliation.

But what does a true lover care about a pebble in his shoe? Does he even feel it?

Would he care? Perhaps it would make for an even fonder memory of the reunion.

The Quran promises that "‌ in Paradise the believers shall neither fear nor grieve" (2:62), meaning that the light of God will so illuminate us that we shall see the beauty of all things past and of what may come. It is in the darkness and opacity of the past, the inability to grasp the greater harmony of what happens to us, that causes the pain of grief. In grief, we suffer from the past. In fear, we suffer from the future. When God's light shows us the way, we suffer from neither. The Quran does not deny the passage of time in Paradise, only the difficulties we experience on account of it in this world. Our memory is illuminated and causes us no more trouble, and our imagination, that faculty capable of reaching out to the future, can conceive of no cause for despair or hopelessness.

The ignorance built into the darkness of the world simply cannot exist in the full light of God in Paradise. It is thus that the soul transcends time, not by leaving it but by conquering it.

Our destiny in this world is both static and dynamic, which is to say that we are a harmony of parts and of experiences, of aspects and states. We can understand easily that beauty in the spatial sense is the presence of unity in multiplicity, which is to say, of harmony in all its forms. Music is the classic example of dynamic harmony, of a harmony that not only exists statically in a chord for example, but also dynamically, in a progression of counterpoint and in the movements of a melody.

If the soul can conquer time and live in it in Paradise, what about here in this world? What enables us to wake up to the harmony of our destiny in this world

and the next? Surely we must acknowledge that an awakening is called for, because we do grieve and fear, groping about in the dark while falling prey to unhappiness and despair. How can we become like God and experience reunion in separation? The Sufis indeed speak of taking on the divine qualities (al-ittisāf bisifātillāh), and this is done through the remembrance of God, the dhikr, in all its forms. It is through the dhikr that the light of God shines brighter and brighter upon the soul, transforming and purifying it. A Sufi shaykh has said that when the traveler looks back upon his life, he will see that dhikr as a kind of golden chain passing through all its states and experiences. This means that through the remembrance, practiced faithfully, the Sufi overcomes the vicissitudes of time.

And this brings us finally to the dimension of non-time, which from man's point of view, both in the spiritual life and in the hereafter, is the spirit, or the heart, or the intellect. The heart or spirit or intellect is the point in man where the divine light resides and can shine down into the soul. It is the mysterious divine spark, both created and uncreated, or as some would say, neither. The spiritual life is the wedding of the soul to the spirit, not the elimination of the soul. Remember that by virtue of being made in the image of God we all possess an intrinsic dimension of light ourselves. The illumination we receive is truly just an aspect of our own nature, as Ibn al-'Arabī says so clearly in the Fusūs. In the spiritual life, in the remembrance of God, the spirit or heart acts upon the soul, illuminating it, transforming it, untying its knots, turning it clear where it was once opaque. From the point of view of time, progress is made in tying together our temporal selves with our non-temporal selves so that the former can be transfigured by the latter.

When the non-time or eternity of the spirit enters fully into the soul, the Sufi becomes ibn al-waqt, newly born in each moment. Wa Allāhu a'lam.

Notes 1. For a good general introduction to both special relativity and quantum mechanics, see Gary Zukav's The Dancing Wu Li Masters (New York, 2001).

2. Among the most popular of such books is Fritjof Capra's The Tao of Physics (Boston, 1999). Other titles include David Darling, Zen Physics: The

Science of Death, the Logic of Reincarnation (San Francisco, 1996); Alan Wallace (ed.) Buddhism and Science: Breaking New Ground (New York, 2003); Matthieu Ricard and Trinh Xuan Thuan, The Quantum and the Lotus: A Journey to the Frontiers Where Science and Buddhism Meet (New York, 2001).

3. For example, the physicist David Bohm interpreted the data of physics as being consistent with a deeper level of reality, and in fact argued that a more profound wholeness is actually implied by the data. See for example his Wholeness and the Implicate Order (New York, 1980).

4. This point is argued fully in Wolfgang Smith's The Quantum Enigma: Finding the Hidden Key (Hillsdale, NY, 2005). A collection of essays also dealing with the new physics can be found in his The Wisdom of Ancient Cosmology (Oakton, VA, 2003), which touches on a wide assortment of questions relating to science and philosophy.

5. "On Beginning a New System of Islamic Philosophy," The Muslim World, 94:1 (January, 2004).

The Way of Walâya (Sainthood or Friendship of God) Prologue Glory be to God who created all creatures equal in relation to Him. Everybody is His servant and carries His Divine secret, the secret of creation and manifestation. And every creature enjoys a particular aspect and a special relationship with God the Real (al-Haqq) that no one else shares and without a third coming between. The source and evidence of this special aspect coincide with the moment of creation, the moment when the will of the Real decided to create this creature, and so he becomes.[1] Muhyiddin Ibn 'Arabi makes us understand the possibility of establishing this particular creature-creator relationship by using geometric symbolism. He chooses the design of the circle and elaborates on the relationship between its centre and every point on the circumference. In a circle each radiation emitted from the centre is connected to a corresponding point on the circumference.

Thus, in our sensible world there is the possibility of the One in essence coinciding with many different numbers without the One becoming multiple or the relations becoming confused.

Among all these creatures, analogous to the grains of sand spread like oceans without shores or harbours, a distinguished few appear in the circle of vision. The Great Shaykh does not restrict this appearance to the human species since the Real creates what He wants, then selects from within each species.

God, Glory to Him, selected the word 'Allâh' from among the Beautiful Names, and from among people, the messengers; from men, Muhammad (SA); from women, Mary and Asyah; from the servants, the angels; from the angels, the Spirit (Gabriel); from elements, water; from months, Ramadan; from methods of worship, fasting; from centuries, the century of the Prophet; from weekdays, Friday; from nights, the Night of Qadr; from actions, the religious duties; from Qur'anic suras, the sura of Yâ Sîn; from the Qur'anic verses, theÂyat al-Kursî; from colours, white; from the human being, the heart; from proofs, the proofs of

existence; from lights, the lights accompanied by vision; from among desires, intentionality, since it discriminates in accepting an action or rejecting it; and so on. Therefore, despite the original equality of things, everything in itself allows for selection.[2]This Divine selection plays a major role since the Sufis, due to their knowledge of this selection, divided their works according to time and place and consequently selected their invocation and their way and its steps.

The topic of this paper, the way of walâya, is an attempt to approach certain people selected by God from among millions of others to be His friends, His 'walîs', hoping that this proximity will benefit us in a way that can be adopted easily, or even with difficulty. So we follow, or at least we try. If one manages to eliminate the obstacles of separation, one will be united and cross from the shadows, illusions and assumptions to substance, action and influence. One crosses from being for oneself, with one's limited abilities, to being for God with an opening to unlimited and unexpected abilities that arise as a result of this new state.

Ibn 'Arabi focuses on the words 'walî' and 'li' in order to establish a comparison.

He says that the significance of 'walî' is present in the word 'li', meaning 'for me or mine'.[3]The walî is the one who is selected by God to be for Him. Ibn 'Arabi remarks on what was said in the holy Hadith: 'I shall declare war on whoever makes an enemy of My (lî) walî.' The Hadith did not say: 'I shall declare war on whoever makes an enemy of the walî.' It included the word 'li' (My) to emphasize that this human was selected by God to be from among His chosen ones, from among those on whom He bestows His care and friendship. Consequently, this position brings privileges and requires special efforts and endeavours.

Now that the great benefit of the human project that aims towards the distinction of the selected friends from the unknown common people has been clarified, we ask the following: what is the way to walâya? Does the walî present himself to the Real or does the Real, Glory to Him, select His walî in the first place without any intervention from the human side?

Challenges When I chose to write about the way of walâya, I knew I was going to face two major challenges.

The first challenge is that the arrival of the walî at union is similar to the nonrepetition of 'chemical elements': a mixture of preparation, effort and gifts that form a whole which is impossible to duplicate. The result is that the ways become as many as the walîs, each of whom reaches their end in their own individual way in realizing their own reality. So will this study be able to discover one or more clearly defined ways that gather together this unlimited multiplicity of ways?

The second challenge is that a lot of research and many books are concerned with the study of the Sufi way as being the one that leads to walâya. There is almost a consensus on the effectiveness of physical effort and psychological exertion on the human's part in return for the Divine gift to the human. Walâya, according to the Sufis even before Ibn 'Arabi, is a Divine gift to the human being, without neglecting the roles of work and exercise in preparation and education.

The Futûhât al-Makkiyya, together with other books by Ibn 'Arabi, includes directions that push the follower of the way towards effort and exertion and to the way based on the four external principles: hunger, wakefulness, silence and solitude; and on the five internal principles: veracity, trust, patience, resolution and certainty. All nine are included in the Sufi way.[4]In addition, I have personally conducted studies that revealed to me the ways to arrive at the Holy Presence outlined by Ibn 'Arabi in his books. The most important are: 1. The way of invocation, explained in the study 'Invocation and Illumination'.[5] 2. The way of 'correspondence of attributes' based on changing the states of the self and its attributes, starting from conduct (sulûk).

3. The way of following the Prophet (SA) and imitating his states, his sayings and his works, which leads to an opening into his world and his inheritance.

Ibn 'Arabi's writings are saturated with gifts received by the heir, especially the ascensions and addresses outlined in his Futûhât andKitâb al-Isrâ'.

So will this study be able to offer anything deeper than some of the current approaches?

Foundations Before clarifying the different types of walîs and the means of their arrival, let us consider three points which need to be agreed upon from the beginning: 1. Knowledge and Work It may be noticed, through studying Sufi experiences, that Sufism can be classified according to two aspects. The first is represented by outstanding luminaries like Abu Talib al-Makki, al-Qushairi, al-Tusi, Suhrawardi and finally, in its perfection, by Ghazali. It is a safe course based on conduct, and considers the Sufi experience to be an exercise for the fulfilment of a ladder of ranks that are already known and determined. This course selects from all knowledge the knowledge of conduct. Indeed, the purpose of knowledge is work as we observe with Ghazali, who divided Sufi knowledge into the knowledge of conduct and the knowledge of unveiling, and based his book Ihyâ' Ulûm al-Dîn on the knowledge of conduct, leaving out that of unveiling because the latter is a specific bestowal and includes no work.

The second aspect is represented by individuals like Abu Yazid al-Bistami, Shibli, Junayd, Hallaj and finally, in its perfection, by Muhyiddin Ibn 'Arabi. It is a course that involves risk, based on spiritual states and witnessing of the heart. It views the Sufi experience as being the return of the human being to his original truth, to non-existence and extinction or pure susceptibility and a place for receiving Divine revelations. This course does not view the Sufi way as comprising predesigned stations but instead sees the Sufi as the one who throws himself into the sea of non-existence, hoping to come out with existence on the second shore, where real existence and certain knowledge are found. This certainty is based on vision and witnessing and not on intellectual thought and speculation.

2. The Law of Causality Ibn 'Arabi divides the Divine bestowal into two major parts: reward and gift. The reward follows positive work whereas the gift is a pure Divine giving without any known reason.[6]Although there are only a few texts by Ibn 'Arabi about this, they reveal a great deal. We will consider two passages in particular: the first informs us that the actor, through physical effort and self-exertion, will inevitably receive from these actions an unveiling, which he calls the unveiling due to exertion. Once the souls are purified from the sadness of preoccupation with habit and are elevated above their physical condition, they become associated with their appropriate world, learn what the high spirits know from the knowledge of the Divine Kingdom and its secrets, and the meanings of the world are inscribed upon them.[7] Do these words of Ibn 'Arabi lead us to the distinction between the Sufi and the one in the way of the Sufi on the one hand and the walîs on the other, since the unveiling here is a result of purity, rather than being brought near and walâya? Or shall we stay with what the Great Shaykh mentioned in the Futûhât where he linked Sufis with the walîs, specifically the 'men of ranks'? [8] In the second passage, Ibn 'Arabi instructs the seeking servants on how to relate the degree of their opening to the degree of their state. He teaches them the appropriate relationship between the opening and the state. He tells them to beware if the opening is found to be equal to the state because the world is not a place of recompense, but if the opening gives refinement and elevation then it is through the Divine care for His servant and is not deception.[9] These two positions make it clear that Ibn 'Arabi respects the law of causality in the action of the actors since for every action there is a result. At the same time he has not restricted the Divine bestowal to a law that governs it, which is the law of justice and recompense, but has opened an unlimited door suitable to the Divine side and cleared a place for graciousness and gifts originating from God for those whom He selects from amongst his servants.

3. Will and Spiritual Aspiration (himma) One may say that every system of thought takes a part of the human being as the essence and the key to understanding the whole. In the same way the Sufis considered that the essence of the human being is the will (irâda).

The human being wills and his value is the strength of this will. The strength of this will results from its sincerity and the purity of its facing, its collectedness, and its focusing on a specific matter. Many passages give an account of the ascension of the hearts to God and what obstructs their way in the form of pressure on the will to deviate from what it seeks, by tempting it, thwarting it and pulling it back from its goal. The one who arrives is tried again and again in order to test the sincerity of his will and the strength of its facing towards God and not towards any kind of bestowal. Veracity of facing brings about the reunion.

The Sufis highlighted the term 'himma', meaning spiritual aspiration. Himma is an active force of the Greatest Name of God (Man). Ibn 'Arabi emphasized that the himma is a pure force in the human being and is found in the origin of his creation and nature, or else it is acquired later.[10]From the point of view of it being a force, it is capable of attachment and is therefore attached in accordance with the will of its owner. If one attaches one's himma to the world, one achieves riches and position; if one attaches it to worship, one achieves stations and inspirations; and if it belongs to God, praise be to Him, all attachments fall away and the aspiration becomes one. This is the action of the himma in the arena of its attachment,[11]which shows the importance of relating the himma to the will on the one hand and the will being sincere in its facing to God on the other. He who has no spiritual aspiration or sincere will in seeking God in gratitude or in love cannot have an ambition to follow the path of Sufi walâya.

Conclusions of the Preface Now that the general framework of our subject has been identified through this introduction we shall divide the rest of the paper into two parts: the first will examine the different types of walâya according to Ibn 'Arabi; the second will

clarify the characteristics of these types. We shall conclude by examining the results of this two-part study.

In the following sections we have relied on analytical readings of the second section of the Futûhât.

The Walâya is two Walâyas Having been, since childhood, a member of a circle that studies Sufism and the Sufi experience as part of a thorough study of Islam, I managed through this association to become exposed to several unpublished statements by the founder of the circle, the great walî, Muhammad al-Dandarawi.[12]The words of the walîs usually serve to explain each other, and I found references that assisted me in understanding the writings of the Great Shaykh concerning the walâya. Al-Sultan al-Dandarawi divides the walâya into two: the walâya of a walî of whom God takes charge (tawalî) and the walâya of a walî who is put in charge by God (tawliya).

Based on this dual division of the walâya, I went back to the writings of the Shaykh, who considers the walâya to be the surrounding orbit (of all attainment).

Through contemplation of the words of the text, I discovered that Ibn 'Arabi uses the expressions 'tawalî' and 'tawliya', which suggest a distinction between the two types of walâya: walâya of the tawalî and walâya of the tawliya. For example, he says about the walâya of tawalî: 'From amongst them are the righteous ones whom God takes charge of through the attribute of righteousness, and amongst them are the witnesses whom God takes charge of through witnessing, and amongst them are the virtuous ones whom God takes charge of through virtuousness, and amongst them are the people of submission whom God takes charge of through submission...', and similarly with the obedient ones, the truthful ones, the patient ones, and the humble ones, each according to the attribute proper to him or her.[13]Ibn 'Arabi says about the walâya of tawliya, 'He entrusts them [that is, God entrusts humankind] with the rank of command and prohibition.'[14]Or he says: 'And these two attributes [forgiving, compassionate

- ghafûr, rahîm] are only in the hands of the one with rule, command and prohibition. This supports the fact that He, the Most High, desired the succession of sovereignty and dominion in His words, praise be to Him: 'He made you vicegerents on earth.' This is the Divine tawliya. Its greatest effect is action through the himma.' [15] This makes it clear that Ibn 'Arabi also viewed the walâya as of two kinds: the walâya where God takes charge of the servant whom He provides with an attribute in which He stations the servant, and the walâya of tawliya where God makes the servant His vicegerent and prescribes the way for him after He has given into his hand rule, command and prohibition. In Chapter 73 of the Futûhât, where he discusses 'the men of God', that is, the walîs, we can easily discern the two aspects of the walâya.[16] The Way is two Careful reading of the second volume of the Futûhât allows us to deduce that Ibn 'Arabi establishes two ways for the walâya, one higher than the other. The first is the way of conduct and the second, higher one, is the way of witnessing.

1. The Way of Conduct, Human Action In this path the role of human endeavour in gaining the stations of Proximity is evident. Ibn 'Arabi does not delineate a path with prescribed steps where each step leads to another, as we find, for example, in the Risâlat al-Qushairiyya where the seeker begins with the station of repentance then proceeds from it to patience and contentment. Rather, for him every station is an independent world that the seeker enters as a result of undertaking a specific action. This station may be the first or the last in relation to the seeker. He enters it and reaches through it to the station of his walâya.

Ibn 'Arabi deduced the stations of his path not from the experience of earlier Sufis but from his study of God's prescription (taklîf). Divine prescription is divided between command and prohibition. It is for this that every command which issues

from the Divine side to creation benefits the one addressed, as when the command is fulfilled the station is gained.

Ibn 'Arabi says 'Everything commanded is a station to be gained.'[17]We can take an example from the Futûhât where the Great Shaykh speaks of the station of devoutness. In His Qur'an God has commanded His servants to be devout.

Therefore devoutness becomes a station for the servant, but the rule of devoutness in the human being is divided into two because the Divine command for devoutness is divided into two. One part of the command is to revere God as He deserves and the other part is to revere Him according to ability,[18]and so on in every station. Therefore, one can enter the presence of Proximity through the endeavour to fulfil a Divine command.

Page after page in the Futûhât describes the numerous possibilities for man. The general rule is that every command results in a spiritual station. Ibn 'Arabi points out many of these stations, like repentance, spiritual exertion, intimacy, flight, devoutness, piety, abstinence, silence, wakefulness, fear, hope, grief, hunger, humility, self-denial, contentment, trust, gratitude, certainty, patience, servanthood, devotion, veracity, diffidence, freedom, remembrance, meditation, chivalry, poverty, decency, wisdom, companionship, walâya[help of God], unification, knowledge and love.[19]From another aspect, Ibn 'Arabi does not restrict spiritual stations to what he describes but leaves the door open for the seeker so that he can enter through any order of authority in the Qur'an or the Hadith that can be obeyed.[20]Wherever the seeker finds a command to act, he knows that an attainable spiritual station can be gained.

Having established that work is one of the ways to gain walâya, we return to the facets of walâya and find out which one is achieved through work, which one we reach through our human exertion. We can understand the different forms of action which Ibn 'Arabi employs in his description of the men of ranks, and we notice that the texts are full of actions whose subject is mankind, without reference to God who acts in the human being. He says of the Sufis, the men of ranks, that they have dropped the possessive adjective (ya) three times, so they

do not say 'for me', 'I have' or 'my possessions' (lî, 'indî, matâ'î). The verb 'drop' requires specific actors - the Sufis - and he does not speak of an example where it is God, praise be to Him, who purified the Sufis from the need to add anything to themselves.[21] When he describes the servants of God in general, all the verbs he uses emphasize that man is the subject. He relates about his uncle Abu MuslimKhawlani, who is one of the servants, that he stays up at night and when tiredness overtakes him he hits his legs with rods and says to them: 'You deserve beating more than my mount. Do the companions of Muhammad (SA) think that they can have him all to themselves? By God, I will compete with them.' This story emphasizes the role of human action and the spiritual aspiration of the human will, the role of exertion in action in the context of outdoing and competition for a station.

If we return to the passages that speak of the men of ranks, the friends of God of whom God has taken charge, we will find that they are full of human action.

However, this action is only the beginning of the way; it is as if the human being, when he practises a particular action continuously, is carried by an unceasing himma. This is not to say that this action becomes a character trait and a habit without effort or without prescription and without going beyond the known boundaries. However, the texts reveal that if the person continues at all times to carry out a specific action (such as repentance, patience or abstinence), God takes charge of him through the quality of that action in the interior. Good tidings follow for that servant who has traversed the valleys of contradictions, and he becomes safe from lapses, turning back and change, however circumstances and states may alter.

Therefore, human action, transformed through Divine command, is one of the ways to gain the walâya of God. This is one manner in which one becomes available for the Divine selection described earlier. That is, that God selects some from every kind, looks at the actors, each according to the arena of his action,

and selects from each type those whom He takes charge of through the quality of their action.

Ibn 'Arabi emphasizes the role of action and gain, taking into account the causality of causes, and goes beyond causes to the will of the Real, which favours one actor over another. So the desirer becomes desired by the Divine selection, the sought becomes the seeker and so on. There is human exertion and Divine selection, causality and no causality at the same time.

In conclusion, these friends of God who have arrived through actions are the carriers of the Divine prescriptive command and the guardians of its execution.

There is no time on earth devoid of people whom God chooses to be His friends.

Each executes a Divine command directed towards the people, because no command issuing from the Real remains without effect. The men of rank are the friends who carry out the prescriptive command.

2. The Way of Witnessing: Refraining from Action We now arrive at the creativity of Ibn 'Arabi and the specificity of his experience.

Everything he has said up to now is characterized by universality, breadth of understanding and education, and proximity to the walâya of others. But here he allows us to enter the vast expanse of his personal walâya, the expanse of knowledge which is the nub of walâya and its resolution.

We will start by delineating this way from its first premisses, from the appearance of the Divine prescription with its two facets, command and prohibition. He the most High said to Iblis (Satan), 'Prostrate to Adam', and command manifested.

He the most High said to Adam and Eve, 'Do not go near this tree', and prohibition manifested. Ibn 'Arabi makes a connection between the prescriptions

by God for man and his reality. He sees that the prescription that God has specified for Adam and Eve is not a practical prescription because it contains a command of Not Being: 'do not do'. It is of the reality of man, the possible existent, that he does not act. It is as if it has been said to him, 'Do not depart from your origin.' However, the prescription to Satan contained a command of

Being: 'do'. It is as if he was told to depart from his origin. The 'command' is harder on the soul than the 'prohibition' because it is an obligation to depart from the origin.[22] From the beginning of Divine prescription, according to Ibn 'Arabi, prohibition, in what it has of refraining from action, is in harmony with the reality of man, as it is established in non-existence and in not having smelt the breath of existence. It is as if man, when he refrains from action, returns to his reality, in which he becomes realized, and becomes conscious of it. And whoever is conscious of his reality without a doubt enters the whole in its integrated harmony, where every reality forms a part carrying the whole.

How does Ibn 'Arabi justify this path, built on refraining from action, logically and according to religious law? How does he justify man going outside the Divine command that he considered the entry to the walâya in the last section? If the repentant one is a walÎ, how can the one who refrains from repentance be a walÎ, and so on in every station?

We start with a simple text that shows the divergence of the path, according to Ibn 'Arabi, into two, the second of which is higher than the first. He says about seclusion that its origin in law is from the holy Hadith: 'He who remembers Me in himself, I remember him in Myself', which is the highest station.[23] He then goes on to contradict this by saying that seclusion is only appropriate for the veiled one. For the people of unveiling, seclusion is never appropriate because they witness the high spirits and the spirits of fire, and see the creation being eloquent.

Unveiling forbids seclusion because the servant, when he is unveiled, knows that he is not in seclusion. The Divine Names the First and the Hidden request seclusion, while the Last and the Manifest request refraining from seclusion, because the Real is the Manifest in the essences of the world and there is no other than He.[24]

He says about abstinence that it is one of the stations that accompanies the servant as long as there has been no unveiling. If the veil is lifted from the essence of his heart, he stops abstaining and must not abstain. According to what he says, if you see the Real you do not abstain because God does not abstain in creation. One cannot assume the character traits of God except through God, so which character traits do you assume in abstinence? [25] As for wakefulness and refraining from it, the station of wakefulness is called the station of self-subsistence and that wakefulness is one of the four supports upon which the dwelling of the substitutes (abdâl) is based: wakefulness, hunger, silence and solitude. The ultimate one stationed in this station is the Pole of the time (who is 'awake to preserve the creation') and in spite of the height of the station of wakefulness, Ibn 'Arabi makes sleep higher than it. He says that sleep is a state which transports the servant from witnessing in the world of the senses to witnessing in the in-between world (barzakh) that is the presence of meanings.

This is a more perfect world because it is the origin of the world; it has real existence and rules in all matters.

So through these three simple examples it is clearly shown that the reason for refraining from action, according to the Great Shaykh, is the occurrence of unveiling and specific witnessing. The actor acts, until he is surprised by an unveiling or witnessing that changes the course of his life and transports him from doing and exertion to refraining from doing: 'the contemplation of God in his creation'.[26]His view of the creation changes, a change that he cannot prevent or formulate rationally to others. The servant, according to the Shaykh, 'cannot repulse the revelation from himself if it is a reality, for he is ruled by it',[27]and as he says in another passage, if 'they receive the unveiling they are unable to ignore what they know'.[28] Accordingly, the removal of the veil from the heart changes what is known and consolidated in the books on conduct and establishes a new path based on the witnessing of 'the Reality'. He says, regarding the one who is unveiled in refraining from repentance (tawbah): 'when they have acquired knowledge to this

extent, then repentance is not appropriate for them... and this is a determination that pervades all the actions of the servant'.[29] Many questions arise here: does the seeker reach unveiling and witnessing through specific actions, and does this unveiling that leads to the state of refraining from action differ from one person to another, where two cannot share in one unveiling and one knowledge? If there is for every seeker a witnessing that is special to him, how can Ibn 'Arabi build a path based on what is personal and has no common principles in it? Is the passage from action to non-action a negative passivity with regard to the material world where we do not intervene to improve its course? Before considering these, we must add that the unveiling on which Ibn 'Arabi builds this path of refraining from action is not a partial unveiling but an unveiling that is a radical change in the knowledge of the one unveiled.

Because according to this, the person gazes upon the 'Face of the Real' in everything. Suddenly, the person looks at things and does not see them but sees the face of the Real in them.[30] This unveiling makes known to the seeker the relationship between humankind and divinity, the relationship between the giver of existence and the existent, the One who is apparent and the appearance, and so on. He sees that everything is a manifestation of the Real and a mirror. Everything becomes equal to him and the Real appears in everything, both in action and refraining from action. Only this unveiling can transport the seeker from the path of conduct to the path of witnessing, from action to refraining from action. We have to say that this unveiling is a condition for this transportation.

This is how we enter into the unity of existence, according to Ibn 'Arabi, into the Divine Names which require the creature to be attached to them so that they can manifest their sovereignty in him.[31]We stay with the Divine Names, where the person has pity on himself because of the appearance of their sovereignty in him, which is inevitable so that the Divine predications do not cease. Ibn 'Arabi recounts that a friend of his met one of the Substitutes (abdâl) and complained to him about the state of people and their wickedness. The Substitute became angry

and said to him, 'Do not interfere between the master and his servant. Do you want the Divinity to cease its sovereignty? ' [32] If all creatures desired the manifestation of the effects of the names of Mercy and Beneficence in them, on whom will fall the revelation of the names of Taking and Anger and Revenge? Is the unveiling of the walî a recurrence of the knowledge that was given during the time when Adam was made vicegerent and when the Real taught him all the Names?

In summary: these friends of God who have arrived through the way of unveiling are in a manner of speaking the carriers of the Divine creative command, the carriers of the effects of the Divine Names that require manifestation in creation.

There is no time on earth devoid of people who each carry the effect of a Divine Name (the servant of the Gracious, the servant of the Forgiver, the servant of the Avenger), such that no Name remains without authority.

Conclusion We reach the conclusion, from re-reading Ibn 'Arabi's Futûhât, that there are two paths for the walâya: the path of action and the path of witnessing. The end of both is almost the same. According to Ibn 'Arabi the path of action leads the seeker to unification (tawhîd) and the path of witnessing begins with unification.

Ibn 'Arabi indicates this in what he promises the seeker after following the nine actions in the interior and the exterior, and before meeting with the right teacher.

He says, 'He has to adhere to the nine things and if he works on these things he will have a firm footing in unification.' [33] Without a doubt, the unification indicated here is the unification of the people of walâya according to its first aspect. We can also say that it is a unification of the witnessings of the existential unity; witnessings of the unity in the many and the many in the unity; witnessings of the relationship of the Divine Names with their appearance in creation; and this unification is the very same as the unification of thewalî of the people of walâya in its second aspect.

We onlookers on these worlds benefit from the work of Ibn 'Arabi, though not in trying to gain the power of the saints, as described in the stories of their miracles; modern science today enables people to achieve this power, and sometimes more. We are not doing it because of this but because we benefit from their knowledge. We are inspired by the existential unity of Ibn 'Arabi and we train ourselves to see the many in the unity and the unity in the many. We practise the acceptance of others in their variety, but not as an introduction to transforming them into people like us. Every other is the One in one of His selfrevelations, in one appearance from the appearances of His many opposite and opposing names. Every other is joined with the One and proceeds from Him. We can apply this knowledge in our human world and look at the 'One' as man, from whom proceeds these educational and cultural manifestations that we witness in our world today. The acceptance of the other and of plurality eradicates any condescension on account of race or culture. We are transported beyond the dilemma of merely outward and diplomatic recognition of the other, a dilemma that leads to duplicity.

We gain from the walâya of the saints of Ibn 'Arabi a logical solution to our present-day difficulties; we learn to apply the unity of existence in the human world; we learn to protect the universality of human beings as well as to preserve the actual variety of their appearances. We gain the power to see the One in the manifestations of His different states.

Notes [1] It is equally so if creation is from prior non-existence or existence, or creation with His two hands, or through the creative order. And equally, if it is like the creation of Adam from mud without parents, or the creation of Eve from Adam, or the creation of Jesus from Mary, or the creation of humankind from fathers and mothers, and so on.

[2] Futûhât al-Makkiyya, Beirut edition, II, 169.

[3] Futûhât, IV, 376.

[4] Futûhât, critical edn by Osman Yahia, IV, § 342.

[5]See Souad Hakim, 'Invocation and Illumination According to Ibn 'Arabi', in Prayer and Contemplation, ed. S. Hirtenstein, Oxford, 1993, pp.18-41.

[6] Al-Mu'jam al-Sûfî, Souad Hakim, Beirut, 1981, 'al-minna wa al-istihqâq'.

[7] Futûhât, II, 21; Yahia edn, IV, § 441 and V, § 142.

[8] Futûhât, II, 17.'“Rijâl” (men) denotes human kind, whether male or female' (IV, 10).

[9] Futûhât, II, 505.

[10] Mawâqi' al-Nujûm, Cairo, 1965, p. 84.

[11] Al-Mu'jam al-Sûfî, 'himma'.

[12]'Awdat al-Wâsil (The Return after Arrival), Souad Hakim, Beirut, 1994.

[13] Futûhât, II, 23-39.

[14] Futûhât, Yahia edn, IV, § 232.

[15] Futûhât, II, 68.

[16] Futûhât, II, 23-39, where Ibn 'Arabi discusses the levels of the walîs and the way in which God takes charge of them according to the appropriate attribute.

Also pp. 6-22, where he discusses the states of the walîs whom God has put in charge and authorized like thequtbs, the imâms, the awtâd, the abdâl, the nuqabâ' and many others.

[17] Futûhât, II, 157.

[18] Futûhât, II, 157.

[19] Futûhât, II, 139-372.

[20] Futûhât, I, 191-3. [The two feet of the seeker are his exterior and interior.

The Book and the Sunna.]

[21] Futûhât, II, 17.

[22] Futûhât, I, 231.

[23] Futûhât, II, 150.

[24] Futûhât, II, 151-2.

[25] Futûhât, II, 178.

[26] Futûhât, IV, 182.

[27] Futûhât, II, 177.

[28] Futûhât, II, 20.

[29] Futûhât, II, 144. The Shaykh al-Akbar is not limiting himself to equating goodness and badness for the one who witnesses the reality of creation, but goes even further. He says, regarding the second principle of repentance, which concerns feeling regret for what is past: 'some regret having missed out seeking forgiveness after each misdeed � some regret having missed out obedience at the time of disobedience, and some regret having missed out great deeds at the time of disobedience, for they witness the exchanging of every bad deed for their equivalent in good deeds' (II, 140). Ibn 'Arabi sees that it is our view of an action that qualifies it: actions are essentially good, and badness is only incidental - and all that is incidental vanishes. If man witnesses his action as being due to God, he will see it as good, while if he sees it as coming from himself, bad manifests.

According to Ibn 'Arabi, the essence of action is one while its attributes are variable. Actions can be changed, and the bad transformed into good, just as He the Most High says in the Qu'ran: 'He changes their bad deeds into good deeds.'

[30] Futûhât, II, 177. He also says, at II, 156: 'The perfected one from amongst us witnesses Him in every 'ayn, but some a'yân may be more preferable than others to some people.'

[31] Futûhât, II, 156.

[32] Futûhât, II, 177.

[33] Futûhât, Yahia edn, IV,§ 342.

Unity of Being in Ibn 'Arabî - A Humanist Perspective Introduction 1. To Know Being is a Human Right For as long as man has been thinking and putting his ideas and visions into writing, a three- dimensional structure of knowledge has been evident. The passing of time has proved that this tripartite knowledge expresses an original and living human need, the need for a healthy and just life. This structure includes individual self-knowledge, knowledge of the surrounding world and knowledge of what is beyond the visible world.

In modern societies, these three dimensions have become a human right, which is claimed and safeguarded. Whoever conceals information about one of these dimensions has some explaining to do to humanity, whether such information is in the field of medicine, social science, politics, economics or scientific discovery.

If we look at the human inheritance of explaining Being in its three aspects, we see two great currents: A dualist current which professes multiple essences different from each other by their being. This current is represented in Greek thought by Aristotle (384–322 BC), in Islamic thought by Averroes (1126–98) and in Western Christian thought

by Descartes (1596–1650) and St. Thomas Aquinas (1225–74).

A monist current, which reduces Being, its aspects and concrete manifestations, to a single principle or essence. It is around this current, which professes the Unity of Being, that we shall locate our search.

2. "Unity of Being" in the plural: religious and philosophical theories The monist current mentioned above does not go back to any single school or source, but is manifested in different forms, in many places and across a variety of philosophies and religions. This allows us to say that we have known the Unity of Being in the plural and not in the singular.

The multiple images of the Unity of Being may be classified into two lines, parallel in their principles and instruments, and overlapping in their teachings, partially if not wholly. These two groupings are (a) religion, and (b) philosophy.

Contemplative religious thought and positivist philosophical meditation developed in parallel, and sometimes arrived at similar, if not identical, results. We shall briefly mention some headings concerning the Unity of Being, common to the two lines. We hope that these will reflect a global view of the theory, and its flowering in time and space, up to the time of Ibn 'ArabĂŽ. (a) The first religious formula of the Unity of Being comes to us from the Far East, in the Upanishads, which contain the teachings of the Hindu Brahmins. This pantheistic Monism filtered into the theories of the Unity of Being which came after it, to the point where the Hindu theory was considered as the basis, reference point and criterion, but above all as an instrument from which the reader understands all Unitive theories of Being.

Since many people consider this Unity as foundational and the point of reference, we can see that this is the reason behind the legal and dogmatic polemic around the teachings of Ibn 'ArabĂŽ. Because of this we shall present it here in brief: the Hindu theory of the Unity of Being on the one hand regards the essence of man not as his body or his intellect, nor yet his individuality, but as pure being, which it calls Atman. Atman is not born, does not decline and does not die, for it is a part of Brahman, Divinity. On the other hand, Divinity is the essence of all created things which appear. Thus Atman and Brahman have one and the same nature.

Man, according to this teaching, designs an undertaking and embarks on a path, intending to unify himself with the Divinity in a natural union. In the same way that a drop of water returns to the ocean and unites with it because it is of the same nature as it, so do multiplicity and diversity fall and the repetition of births ceases, so that the part, Atman, may rejoin the whole, Brahman, and unite with it.

In the context of religious formulae of the Unity of Being, there arose a Chinese Taoist Monism which proclaims that all the things in the world were created by the action of a single principle, the Dao, which is the origin of all and which embraces all. In the same context, Japanese Zen Buddhist Unity sees the Buddha Nature as present in all creatures, and states that thought frees itself from the influences of the exterior world by contemplation, allowing the Buddha Nature to manifest in man.

From Brahmin, Taoist and Buddhist theories came romantic and literary formulae of the Unity of Being. We first find them in the literature of the Far East, and their influence has affected the poetic experience of recent times, seducing them with the idea of union with nature, and with the divinisation of all things. (b) The first philosophical formula of the Unity of Being comes to us from Pre-Socratic Greece. We find it in the first positivist intellectual attempts to explain the universe, especially regarding the constitutive element of all that is created. In answer to the philosophical question, "From what single substance are things made?", several solutions were given. For Thales it was water, for Anaximander, the Aperion, i.e. the unlimited and infinite, for Anaximenes, air, and for Heraclitus, fire. Then, with the Stoics and especially Zeno, we find the first clear statement that the world is God, the world being like the body, and God the breath which inhabits it. Last came Plotinus, who began his philosophy with a contemplation on Being, The One. And from that One there flows out a series of hierarchised emanations which formed the world.

3. Plan We shall pass over the perceptions of the Unity of Being which appeared in Islamic thought prior to Ibn 'Arabî, having already discussed that in an article entitled "Wahdat al-Wujûd" (The Unity of Being). Let us simply mention the role of the polemic concerning the Divine Essence (dhât) and the Attributes in juristical (fiqhî) and theological (kalamî) circles. We find these perceptions again

in Sufi circles, with the question of Divine Love and Extinction in Love (fanâ' fi'lhubb), in Râbi'a, Dhu'l-Nûn al-Misrî and Hallâj, and with extinction in the witnessing of Unity (fanâ' fi'l-tawhîd) in Junayd and Ghazzali. We shall therefore limit our account to Ibn 'Arabî's Unity of Being, and to our understanding of his monist formulation, with a look at his spiritual heritage, and if possible a reformulation of his theory from the standpoint of our present society. We divide our contribution into three parts: the first presents the Unity of Being according to Ibn 'Arabî in its totality; the second classifies the inheritance of Ibn 'Arabî in terms of schools or currents; and the third summarises Ibn 'Arabî's teaching and tries to bring it up to date.

I. The Unity of Being Ibn 'Arabî's vision of the Unity of Being revolves around a single idea, from which all others flow and diverge. We shall first speak about that principal, unique idea, and then we shall speak of the other ideas which are necessary in consequence of that one, or which derive from it.

1. Being (al-wujûd) is the Divine Essence Itself ('ayn al-dhât al-ilâhiyya) Ibn 'Arabî considers that only He who possesses Being in Himself (wujûd dhâtî) and whose Being is His very essence (wujûduhu 'ayn dhâtihi), merits the name of Being. Now only God can be like that. For the creatures, Being is a loan, which is not part of their essence. This means that a creature does not own its being, that it can never be independent in itself, and that it cannot for the blinking of an eye do without Him who lends it Being. Thus for Ibn 'Arabî, the created does not deserve the attribution of Being. Only God is Being, and all the rest is in reality a possibility (imkân), a relative, possible non-existence.

Thus Being is Divine Essence. Indeed, if the Being of God were an adjunct to His Essence, then Absolute Unity (wahdâniyya) would be done away with. Besides, for Ibn 'Arabî, since Being is the Divine Essence, if a creature claimed to possess Being, it would be claiming to share with God in His Divinity.

And if we ask ourselves about the nature of Being and Its meaning, we find that Ibn 'Arabî forbids us to think about it, for we are creatures who "have not smelled the perfume of Being". How then can we know His meaning? He writes: "God, exalted is He, […] is described as Absolute Being […] and to know Him means knowing His Being. And His Being is not other than His Essence. But His Essence cannot be known. Only His Attributes are knowable […] Knowledge of the Truth of His Essence is forbidden. It is known neither by proof nor by intellectual argument, and cannot be defined […] The Revealed Law (shar') forbids thinking about the Divine Essence."[2] Therefore, creatures cannot know the meaning of Being because, on the one hand, Being is the Divine Essence, and on the other hand, the creatures have not tasted the flavour of Being and "have not smelled its perfume", as Ibn 'Arabî puts it.

2. Creation The Divine Names turned towards the all-comprehensive (al-jâmi') Name "Allâh", asking of Him to see their effects in a created world. Their request was granted, creation began and the entities of the possibilities (al-a'yân al-mumkinât) left the immutable non-existence to become a place (locus) receiving the effects of the Names.

According to Ibn 'Arabî, the process of creation does not occur only once, in time or before time. For him, creation is always constantly unfurling – otherwise creatures would return to the non-existence in which they were immutable.

For Ibn 'Arabî, to create means to make appear (izhâr). God creates the creatures, i.e. He makes their entities apparent, bringing them out of their state of immutability into existence in the apparent world. And this act belongs to God alone, since no creature is capable by his own will of making immutable entities appear in the exterior world.

Ibn 'Arabî used the term "effusion" (fayd) to denote the act of creation. His writings contain expressions which show different stages of creation, a distinction

merely logical and not actual. The following gives details about his vision of creation in three stages: the Most Holy Effusion (al-fayd al-aqdas), the Holy Effusion (al-fayd al-muqaddas) and the Perpetual Effusion (al-fayd al-mustamirr). (a) The Most Holy Effusion (al-fayd al-aqdas) and the immutable entities (al-a'yân al-thâbita) The Most Holy Effusion is the theophany of the Divine Essence for Itself, in the images of all the immutable possibilities in the Divine Knowledge. It represents the first degree of manifestation of Absolute Being. These effusions are, however, of the domain of the intelligible, not existent in the exterior world. They are exclusively "receptacles of Being" (qawâbil lil-wujûd). These "receptacles" or possibilities of Being are what Ibn 'Arabî calls the "immutable entities" of the creatures.

Ibn 'Arabî was the first to use the expression "immutable entity" to mean the possible (al-mumkin), which exists only in the Divine Knowledge as quiddity (mâhiyya), in contrast to "concrete existence" (mawjûd), realised in time and space.

These eternal entities represent a stage between God in His absolute "unknowableness" (ghayb) and the concrete world. We may conceive of them as immutable "models" (muthûl) in the Divine Knowledge, being the origin of created things, albeit non-existent in the external world.

God created us in the world according to our eternal entity, immutable in His Knowledge. Ibn 'Arabî says: "It is certain that He fashioned us in actuality, not that He fashioned our models (mithâl) in Himself."[3] Thus God created us according to the immutable image that He has of us in His Knowledge. There is then no invention in the "models". There remains only fashioning in reality.

In the Futûhât (III.92), Ibn 'Arabî describes how God brings forth the things from – to us – an unknowable existence to a knowable existence. What the things have gained from accepting existence in the exterior world, is to be distinguished for themselves and for others. For God knows the things after existence, just as He

knew them when they were in the state of non-being and immutability, differentiating them by their entities and distinguishing them one from the other.

In this way, the departure of the things from immutability to the concrete changes our knowledge, but does not change anything of Divine Knowledge. (b) The Holy Effusion (al-fayd al-muqaddas) The Holy Effusion is the second degree of manifestation of Absolute Being (alwujûd al-mutlaq). It consists in the divine act of making the creatures appear in the external world, according to the model of their eternal entities, by the manifestation of His Divine Names in them. Ibn 'Arabî describes this, saying: "God, exalted is He, creates the creature according to that which the creature is in itself and in its entity. He only invests with existence by an act called ‘bringing into existence'(îjâd)."[4] The movement of creatures from immutability to existence is done according to a pre-established order, in accordance with the Will of God to be known and to see Himself in an entity which encompasses the realities (kawm jâmi'). Since the only reality which accepts the effects of all the Divine Names and which encompasses the realities of all the creatures is the entity ('ayn) of the perfect man, he was the first existent (mawjûd). Ibn 'Arabî says: "He (al-Huwa) wanted to see Himself with perfect vision (ru'ya kamâliyya) […] He looked at the eternal entities, but saw no entity capable of reflecting the I (al-anâna) except the entity of the perfect man. He compared it to Himself and placed it facing Him. Then it accepted [the image of the Huwa], with the exception of one reality, that of self-existence.

He then gave it existence. The two images [the image of the Divine Names and the image of the entity of the perfect man] coincided on all sides […] He called it man (insân) because it accepted and familiarised itself (anisa) with the degree of perfection."[5] This reality, which encompasses all the realities, those of the Divine Names and those of the cosmic Names, through its appearance in the universe became an isthmus (barzakh) between God and the world. With one of the two faces this

isthmus turns towards the Divine Names, and with the other towards the cosmic realities. (c) The Perpetual Effusion: continuous creation, renewed at each moment The creatures, in leaving the world of immutability for the world of existence, do not really leave their immutability, i.e. their possibility, because possibility is the reality of every creature. Thus the creatures have manifested themselves in the world, without by that possessing Being, remaining at every instant in need of Being (îjâd) in order to be able to continue to exist and not return to non-being.

Being is thus, for the creatures, a state and not a constant attribute.

God is permanently creating all the creatures, making them appear continually.

And the creatures are permanently returning to the state of non-being which is their essence. Their images disappear, and God replaces them continually with similar images, without a temporal caesura between the moment of the annihilation of the image and the moment of appearance of its new, similar one.

God, then, continues to be Creator and the possibilities in their state of non-being remain fitted to accept existence.[6] There is no Being other than God's, and the whole universe is the effect of the manifestation of His Names. If the perpetual theophany were to stop for the blinking of an eye, the whole universe would fall into non-being. Ibn 'Arabî, speaking of that non-existent existent (mawjûd ma'dûm), says, "God made me contemplate the light of existence, as the star of direct vision rose, and He asked me, ‘Who are you?' I replied, ‘Apparent non-existence.'"[7] 3. Perplexity (al-hayra) Ibn 'Arabî finds that the intellect is perplexed by the reality of creation and asks itself: "Have the eternal entities passed from the state of non-being to the state of Being, or are they still in the state of non-being, knowing each other in the mirror of the Being of God? At the time of the divine theophany in the entities which allowed them to know each other, did these entities really acquire

existence, or was it only the divine theophany which allowed them to see themselves, they being still in immutability?"[8] Elsewhere in the Futûhât (III.193), Ibn 'Arabî states that things do not leave the treasuries of their possibilities. Indeed, God has opened the doors of these treasuries. So we gaze upon them and they gaze upon us, and we are in them [the treasuries] and out of them.

4. "He Within Himself" (Huwa fî Huwa) and not "He is He" (Huwa Huwa) The expression "He is He" (Huwa Huwa) is widely used to denote the Unity of Being. It means that God and the creatures have a single essence, and such an expression is not in agreement with the Unity of Being in Ibn 'Arabî. It is for that reason that we have coined a new expression "He Within Himself" (Huwa fî Huwa). This expression respects the Lord-Servant duality, and translates the manifestation of God in every instant (mawjûd), not in Himself but through His Most Beautiful Names. We may here quote a text of Ibn 'Arabî which describes the manifestation of God in created things, in accordance with the expression "He Within Himself" (Huwa fî Huwa), "God is too Exalted and High to be known as He is In Himself (fî nafsihi). Yet He is known in created things […] Some see God in things while others see things and God in them."[9] 5. Man Ibn 'Arabî gives man a pivotal position. The following principles show how man is perceived in the work of the Shaykh al-Akbar. (i) Man is the goal (maqsûd) of the creation of the world. God, exalted is He, created the world only that He might be known and served. And man alone accomplishes the task, for he is capable of possessing perfect knowledge and accomplishing complete servanthood. He is the unique one who can receive the reality of the revelations of all the Divine Names. Man is the heart of the world and its spirit, because if man dies and passes to the world beyond, this world is extinguished and life is no longer renewed.[10]

(ii) Man is the isthmus (barzakh) between God and the creatures. The reality of man holds the created things so that they do not fall into non-being. He receives from God and gives to the creatures. He alone is creator and creature (haqq wa khalq), and all others are only creatures.[11] "When his humanity vanishes in his Lord, the things are created from him, and the things are only created by God. And when Lordship vanishes in his humanity, he takes pleasure in the things, and lives in ease and eats […] he is creaturecreator (khalq haqq)."[12] (iii) Man is the representative (khalîfa) of God on earth, occupying the post of divine deputy (niyâba ilâhiyya) in the universe … He is king of the universe and he appears in the world glorified by all the Divine Names. (iv) Man is a copy (nuskha) of both the realities of the Divine Names and the cosmic realities. He is made according to two images: his exterior image, his body, is a copy of the cosmic realities, while his interior image, his powers, is the image of the Divine Names. (v) Man is the most perfect place of contemplation (akmal mashhad). From the fact that God is perceived only in an image, in a thing [Huwa fî Huwa], man is the most perfect revelation of God and the most complete place.

Thus the status of man in the Unity of Being is defined in Ibn 'Arabî. He is the axis of existence, its meaning and the isthmus between it and God. 6. Double Mirror and Two Mirrors Ibn 'Arabî uses a number of comparisons to show the relation between God, the world and man, within the theory of the Single Being.

The first and best-known of these metaphors is that of the sun and its light. He says: "Things in being (mawjûdât) are all a light from the lights of the sun of Power (qudra). The light of the sun does not share with the sun the status of concomitance (ma'iyya), but the status of the candle (sham'iyya)."[13]

Secondly, he compares the Creator and the creatures to light and shadows. Light, Being, is one, and its shadows multiply according to the number of the things it illuminates.[14] He also uses the image of the rainbow, when sight deceives us and we see colours which in reality are only refractions of the colour white.[15] In the same way he compares the human spirit to the mirage in the desert, an image of water without there being any water, just as the human spirit is perceived (mashhûd) without being existent (mawjûd). He says: "If the covering is removed from [the spirit] and it looks, it realises that it is a mirage in the form of water. It [the spirit] sees in fact no existing thing capable of serving God as it owes it to itself to do, with the exception of the One who created the acts, that is to say, God. It [the human spirit] then finds that God is the same as what it imagined its own essence to be."[16] Finally, the most important metaphor used by Ibn 'Arabî to depict the relation between God, the world and man in particular, remains that of the mirror. Ibn 'Arabî did not invent the symbol of the mirror, but he resorted to it to clarify the nature of the relation between God and His creatures. A real mirror reflects the image of the person looking at it. In the same way, symbolically, a mirror reflects ideas. When we say, figuratively, that a poet is the mirror of his age, or that one person is the mirror of another, we mean by that, that the poet or the person has been able to capture the characteristic image of his age or of the other person, and show it to people. Perhaps if Ibn 'Arabî had lived in our time, he would have made use of the screen, and used it as a symbol. For the screen has an amazing ability to receive and transmit images. Within this framework, we may say [that]: (i) Man is a double mirror, being the isthmus between God and the world. One face is the mirror of the Divine Names, while the other is the mirror of the cosmic names. (ii) Man is the mirror of God, and God is the mirror of man. They are two mirrors, each reflecting the other. God is the mirror of man, with man seeing himself in

the Divine mirror. And man is the mirror of God because he reflects His Names back to Him.[17] The following are some of Ibn 'Arabî's texts which describe these two mirrors. (a) Man as mirror of God The texts of Ibn 'Arabî successively describe the world as a mirror, and the mirror means the place which accepts the image of a thing and not the thing itself. Thus, the mirror is at the same time a deception, for the image of a person in a mirror is the person himself, while being quite other. In the same way, there is in the mirror nothing of the reflected person. He says: "The world […] is the mirror of God. The people of Knowledge ('ârifûn) see there only the image of God."[18] He also says: "The Pole […] is the mirror of God and the place of manifestation of the sacred Attributes…"[19] The whole world is, however, an unpolished mirror, and the appearance of Adam polished the mirror of the world.[20] Finally, the best mirror, which reflects the most complete and exact image, is the image of the Prophet Muhammad.[21] (b) God as Mirror of the World The traveller exerts himself that his Lord may be unveiled to him, but at the end of his spiritual retreat, what is unveiled to him is his own truth, and he sees his own image in the mirror of God. This is reminiscent of the final arrival of Farîduddîn 'Attâr's birds and their vision of the Simurgh. Regarding the fact that God is the mirror of the world, Ibn 'Arabî says: "God is the mirror of the world.

They [the creatures] see in this mirror only their own images."

II. The School of Ibn 'ArabÎ and its diffusion 1. Polemical approach Ibn 'Arabî faced some very difficult situations in his life vis-à-vis other people, and he was attacked by the authorities under the influence of certain jurists and theologians. His texts were also subjected to horizontal readings without depth, incapable of unlocking their allusions and symbols. However, his presence in time, both material and spiritual, was very dominant, as if he were a mountain which

by its very height reduces to silence the boiling up of a volcano, forbidding it to erupt…

At the Shaykh's death, the volcano erupted and its lava spread out over the circles of jurists, Sufis and theologians. It became a public issue, everyone feeling free to give his opinion. Works were written attacking Ibn 'Arabî's books and putting readers on guard lest they became ensnared by his ideas. On the other hand, works tending to exculpate him were written, defending his theories and rehabilitating him.

The greatest opponents of Ibn 'Arabî are: Ibn Taymiyya al-Harrânî [661–729H/1262–1327] in his book Majmû' fatâwa Ibn Taymiyya Ibn al-Ahdal, one of the 'ulamâ' of Yemen [d.855H/1450] in his work Kashf alghitâ' 'an haqâ'iq al-tawhîd Muhammad ibn Nûr al-Dîn [d.825H/1421], who wrote a book in response to the Fusûs al-Hikam, showing the paradoxes of Ibn 'Arabî Ibrâhîm al-Biqâîî [d.885H/1479], who belonged to the line of Ibn Taymiyya, and who wrote two works in which he attacked Ibn 'Arabî, called Tanbîh al-ghabî 'alâ takfîr Ibn 'Arabî and Tahdhîr al-'ibâd min ahl al-'inâd bi-bid'at al-ittihâd Radî al-Dîn Ibn al-Khayyât [d.811H/1407], mentioned by Ibn al-Ahdal in his Kashf al-Ghitâî, whose words were preserved by Fayrûzâbâdî in a letter entitled Fatwa Ibn al-Khayyât Sharaf al-Dîn Ibn al-Muqri'[d.837H/1434], author of poems which condemn Ibn 'Arabî's ideas, mentioned by Ibn al-Ahdal in the Kashf al Ghitâî Ibrâhîm al-Halabî [d.956H/1549] who replied to Suyûtî in a work entitled Tafsîh al-ghabî fî tanzîh Ibn 'Arabî[22] Al-Dhahabî [d.748H/1346] and Ibn Khaldûn [d.808H/1404], whose pupil al-Fâsî mentioned his teacher's fatwas in his book, Al-'Iqd al-thamîn. One of these calls

for Ibn 'Arabî's books to be burned and washed in water to remove all trace of writing Taqî al-Dîn al-Fâsî [d.832H/1428] and his book Tahdhîr al-nabîh wa-l-ghabî min al-iftitân bi-Ibn 'Arabî Imâd al-Dîn al-Wâsitî [d.711H/1311], who wrote three booklets denigrating Ibn 'Arabî and his school, Al-Bayân al-mufîd fî'l-farq bayn al-ilhâd wa-ltawhîd, Lawâmi' al-istirshâd fî'l-farq bayn al-tawhîd wa-l-ilhâd, Ash'iat al-nusûs fî hatk astâr al-Fusûs Ibn Hajar al-'Asqalânî [d.852H/1447] Ibn al-Jazri [d.711H/1311] Badr al-Dîn Ibn Jamâ'a [d.733H/1332] 'Alâ'al-Dîn al-Bukhârî [d.841H/1436], pupil of Taftazânî, who wrote a letter entitled "Fâdihat al-mulhidîn wa nâsihat al-muwahhidîn" (Bakri Aladdin studied this letter in the introduction to his re-edited version of Nâbulusî's book "Al-Wujûd al-haqq wa-l-khitâb al-sidq" (Damascus, IFEAD, 1995) Athîr al-Dîn Abû Hayyân [d.729H/1329], Bukhârî's master Shams al-Dîn Ibn al-Naqqâsh [d.736H/1336] Lisân al-Dîn Ibn al-Khatîb [d.766H/1364] Zayn al-Dîn al-'Irâqî [d.806H/1403] Shams al-Dîn al-'Ayzarî [d.808H/1404] who wrote a book entitled Al-Fatâwa almuntashira Ibn 'Arabî's best-known supporters are: Muhammad ibn Ya'qûb al Fayrûzâbâdî [d.811H/1407] who wrote a letter by way of a reply to the opponents (unpublished manuscript) Sirâj al-Dîn al-Makhzûmî [d.885H/1479] in his book Kashf al- Ghitâ' 'an asrâr kalâm al-Shaykh Muhyîddîn

'Abdu-l-Wahhâb Al-Shaîrânî [d.973H/1564] in his books Al-Yawâqît wa-l-jawâhir fî bayân 'aqâîid al-akâbir, Lawâqih al-anwâr al-qudsiyya andAl-Kibrît al-ahmar fî bayân kalâm al-Shaykh al-Akbar Al-Qârî'al-Baghdâdî [8th century H] in a letter which he entitled Al-Durr al-thamîn fî manâqib al-Shaykh Muhyîddîn Salâh al-Dîn al-Safadî [d.764H/1362] Jalâl al-Dîn al-Suyûtî [d.911H/1504] in his book Tanbîh al-ghabî bi-tabirîat Ibn 'Arabî Sirâj al-Dîn Hindî, a great Hanafi judge in Egypt [d.764H/1363] who wrote Lawâîih al-anwâr fî-l-radd 'alâ man ankara 'alâ al-'ârifîn latâîif al-asrâr Abû Dharr al-'Ajamî [d.780H/1378] Badruddin Ibn al-Sâhib [d.788H/1386] who was an unflinching admirer of Ibn 'Arabî Shams al-Dîn, known by the name of Shaykh al-Wudû' [d.790H/1388] Abû 'Abdallâh al-Tawzarî al-Maghribî [d.800H/1396] who fought for Ibn 'Arabî's doctrine Shams al-Dîn Ibn Najm [d.801H/1397] Najm al-Dîn al-Bâhilî al-Hanbalî [d.802H/1398] Ismâîîl ibn Ibrâhîm al-Jabartî, master of 'Abd al-Karîm al-Jîlî. He taught his students the books of Ibn 'Arabî and helped in the development of Ibn 'Arabî's school in the Yemen Abû'l-Hasan Ibn Salâm al-Dimashqî al-Shâfi'î 'Alî ibn Maymûn ibn Abî Bakr al-Qurashî al-Maghribî [d.917H/1510] who wrote Tanzîh al-siddîq 'an wasf al-zindîq[23] Abû Kamâl Bâshâ al-Hanafî [d.940H/1532], grandson of one of the Ottoman princes, he pronounced a fatwa about Ibn 'Arabî, which said that the governor ought to oblige people to profess the Unity of Being[24]

We have quoted all these names to show that Ibn 'Arabî really did become a public issue, occupying every circle of knowledge in all Islamic regions. Indeed, those who took part in the polemic, belonged to different juridical schools and schools of knowledge, Shafi'is, Hanafis, linguists, philologists, theologians etc., and came from the four corners of the (Islamic) world, Damascus, the Maghreb, Mecca, Egypt etc.

In the list presented above, we have seen, on the one hand, the books and people who had a direct relationship with the polemic, replying and promulgating fatwas. On the other hand, we have reduced the list to the three centuries which followed Ibn 'Arabî, because it is during these centuries that the polemic was at its hottest and most prolonged at the level of the 'ulamâ'and the community in general. After these three centuries, Ibn 'Arabî and his ideas became confined to being a matter of Sufi theology, and were no longer a hot subject and a public issue debated in every language. It is, however, surprising that one person should have remained so contentious for a whole community for three hundred years.

2. The Schools of Ibn 'Arabî – not just a single school The intellectual and spiritual heritage of Ibn 'Arabî has permeated several groups with different aspirations, which allows us to say that we may distinguish schools founded on the texts of Ibn 'Arabî, and not just one single school. A look at the centuries which separate us from Ibn 'Arabî allows us to see four lines emerging out of his work and person, each line continuing on along its own route and carrying this immense heritage, using it and enlarging it, each one in the framework of its own interests and aspirations to knowledge. We shall briefly sketch the skeleton of these four great lines, without going into detail, for each representative of these lines has been the centre of interest of one or more researchers. (a) A school which was interested in Ibn 'Arabî's ideas We may count Sadr al-Dîn al-Qûnawî, son-in-law and disciple of Ibn 'Arabî, as founder of this school. Indeed, he worked to propagate the ideas of his master,

writing several works in which he explains the ideas of the Great Shaykh, the most important being Marâtib al-Wujûd. It is likely that Qûnawî was the first to use the expression Unity of Being (Wahdat al-Wujûd) to mean the concept of Being in Ibn 'Arabî.[25] Qûnawî had a widespread network of relationships in the Persian world, the most important being his relationship with Jalâluddîn Rûmî.

Through Rûmî, the influence or heritage which Qûnawî carried spread to a whole generation of Persian poets, such as Shabistarî [d.791] and Jâmî [d.899]. In the same way, the relationship and correspondence between Qûnawî and Nâsir al-Dîn at-Tûsî helped the propagation of Ibn 'Arabî's ideas in the Persian world. Also, the circles in which Qûnawî explained the ideas of Ibn 'Arabî to the great intellectuals and Sufis, played a large part. Indeed, Fakhruddîn 'Irâqî wrote his Lama'ât after one of these meetings.

In our view, the most important characteristic of this school is presentation, explanation and interpretation. It brings together the greatest commentators on Ibn 'Arabî, such as Qâshânî, Qaysarî, Bâlî Efendi and many others. (b) A school which was interested in Ibn 'Arabî's theology This school was born out of a full-scale war which was declared against Ibn 'Arabî.

Due to this war focusing above all on the theology of Ibn 'Arabî, accusing him of infidelity and atheism, this school put all its effort into defending the theological doctrine of the Shaykh al-Akbar. In our view, its most important characteristic is its attempt to demonstrate that the theory of the Unity of Being is based on the Attestation of Unity (shahâdat al-tawhîd), taking in Extinction in the Unity (fanâ'fî'l-tawhîd) among the Sufis. The most important representatives of this school are 'Abd al-Wahhâb al-Sha'rânî and after him, 'Abd al-Ghanî al-Nâbulusî.

Numerous researchers have worked on these two authors, and for that reason we shall confine ourselves to simply naming them. (c) A school which was interested in Ibn 'Arabî's Sufism The Sufi experience of Ibn 'Arabî, extremely rich in visions and unveilings, greatly interested later Sufis. This school may be divided into two currents.

The first current is represented by the entry of Ibn 'Arabî, as a Sufi who had attained the most elevated stations of perfection, into the world of the Sufi paths.

His inner experience filtered into the Naqshbandîs on the one hand, and to the Shâdhilîs on the other, to the extent that in our time we find no-one who belongs to one or other of these great Sufi ways who does not profess interiorly a doctrine usually reserved for the great ('aqîdat al-akâbir), while being in agreement with the theological doctrine of the masses. And there are many who understand the doctrine of Ibn 'Arabî on the basis that there are several levels of attestation of the Unity.

The second current is restricted in its representatives. We shall, however, reserve for it its own space, in the hope that the future will add supporters to it. Perhaps also, it is made up of people still unknown to us. This current is distinguished by the fact that its representatives fill themselves with the texts of Ibn 'Arabî, carry them around within themselves and continue the journey, pushing the experience of the Shaykh al-Akbar forwards. In our view, this current is represented by the great Sufi, 'Abd al-Karîm al-Jîlî. Jîlî had as his master al-Jabartî, who was in love with Ibn 'Arabî and propagated his teachings in Yemeni Sufi circles. The visions and unveilings of Ibn 'Arabî quickly shook Jîlî's conscience and experience, and opened to him the way to personal visions and unveilings which he set down in writing. We may thus conceive of his books as a link added to the chain of Ibn 'Arabî. In our view, Jîlî's unveilings are a continuation and extension of the experience and ideas of the Shaykh al-Akbar. We should like to draw attention to the fact that Ibn 'Arabî's last book,Fusûs al-Hikam, addresses the Perfect Man who sums up in himself all religious history. And as if Jîlî had taken over from there, the latter's experience and writings take the Perfect Man as their axis, addressing the subject in a different way.[26] (d) A school which was interested in adapting Ibn 'Arabî's ideas to the Persian world Following the penetration of Ibn 'Arabî's works into Persia through the efforts of Qûnawî and other commentators, some great gnostic personalities appeared. In

our view, the principal characteristic of that school is its attempt to bring together Ibn 'Arabî's Sufism and Shi'ite doctrine. From this arose the formation of a Shi'ite Sufi school ('irfâniyya) familiar with the thought of Ibn 'Arabî and his teaching.

Among the greatest figures in that school, we find Sadr al-Dîn al-Shîrâzî.[27] To conclude this glimpse of the schools which flowed from the work of Ibn 'Arabî, we should mention that there exists no separation among the schools, but each profits from the writings of the others. The schools do not oppose but complement each other, each one interested in an aspect of Ibn 'Arabî's work.

III. A New Link in the Chain of Ibn 'ArabÎ A Humanist reading of the Unity of Being It is possible that the most important of the four schools founded on the work of Ibn 'Arabî is the one which interests itself in his Sufism, whether at the level of ways (turuq), or at the level of people, because that school has put into action the teachings of the Shaykh al-Akbar. From this initiative have emerged new links in Ibn 'Arabî's chain which merit our attention.

We too would like to contribute by adding a new link to the chain left open by Ibn 'Arabî for the generations who were to follow him. We shall limit our contribution to some points of intersection between the Unity of Being of Ibn 'Arabî and our current contemporary life, noting that these points of intersection have as their axis man, his reality, and his knowledge of himself, the other and God. 1. Man is an isthmic creature (barzakhiyya) Many people are not aware of this Akbarian teaching, and consequently do not profit by their ‘isthmuseity'. The fact that our reality is ‘isthmic' means that we have the power to connect to two different worlds at the same time, from two sides.

In practical terms, man today could realise a temporal isthmuseity, by having one face turned to the present and another turned towards eternal time. He could gain greatly by this temporal isthmuseity, reconciling the past, present and future, but also in taking up the past again, not as the past, but in its present. We

could also gain by the isthmuseity of our intellect between reason and inspiration, receiving from one side the data of sense and reason, and from the other receiving the inspiration of the heart.

Thus we can open the possibilities of our existence and gain from our isthmuseity to realise our spiritual fullness on earth.

2. Hayy and Asal – the philosopher and the Sufi Whoever contemplates the history of humanity notices two tracks: a theoretical, philosophical track and a contemplative, religious track. These two courses intersect in their results and objectives in most cases (as we have mentioned in our introduction). Ibn Tufayl, in his philosophical account Hayy ibn Yazqan, expressed this intersecting of the two courses. When Hayy met Asal and they compared their respective knowledge, they discovered a great similarity. And when they decided to leave the island and convince others of the ability of faith to convey truth, they were disappointed and decided to return to their island. We believe that this story has been repeated in the course of time. Religious and philosophical thought do indeed agree about man, his elevated status, respect for his rights, his designation as the centre of the world, and his responsibility towards the other creatures. This similarity could, however, not be extended further than appearance. Ibn 'Arabî drew attention to that at the time of his meeting with Ibn Rushd/Averroës. Averroës asked him, "Is what you have found [by the heart] the same as that which we have found [by reason]?" Ibn 'Arabî answered, "Yes and no".

In any case, our isthmic reality can help us to write a new ending to Ibn Tufayl's account, because our isthmic reality is capable of seeing both the past and present and comparing them. If we compare the men of today to those of the Middle Ages, we notice the qualitative change which has taken place in man in general, his awakening, the way he relates to his presence in the world… This is caused by the change in the conditions of life. This new world – with its mass communications, opening up, globalisation – has created a new man at the level of the masses, everywhere in the world. Now, the ending we are hoping for,

according to Ibn Tufayl's account, bets on the masses, i.e. on the people of the whole world, for security and love to reign for every-one everywhere. From the fact of all these changes, we believe that in the twenty-first century, Hayy and Asal would not have returned to their island, but would have stayed among men.

3. Man, divine manifestation and the secret of predestination The Unity of Being restores man to his rightful position, through an open, living and renewed relationship between God and him. God manifests by one of His names in each man, and this divine manifestation is permanent and continuous.

Why do we not benefit from this knowledge of manifestation and from the continuous creation, in our public and civic lives, and only make use of it in our spiritual lives? We should be able to look within and around us, and unlock the effects of the Divine Names which manifest and act. If we find gifts and successes, for example, we should see that God has manifested by His Name The Generous (al-Karîm), The Enricher (al-Mughnî) and The Provider (al-Razzâq) and other Names which mean gift and generosity, and vice versa.

The question then arises: can man change his life and destiny with this knowledge? Can he leave the effect of one Divine Name to enter into the effect of another Name? Does this knowledge pierce the secret of destiny?

We can unlock one answer in the tradition (Hadîth) of the Prophet and the texts of Ibn 'Arabî. The Shaykh al-Akbar describes the Pole as the secret of predestination (sirr al-qadar).[28] Elsewhere, he says: "God responds only to the one who invokes Him, and He is invoked only by His Names."[29] We may deduce that he is alluding to the possibility of leaving the effect of one Name for the effect of another. The Prophet at a difficult time, fearing that the difficulties were a sign of Divine Anger against him, invoked God, saying, "Whether there is no Anger in You towards me, that is of no concern to me, for Your Pardon is more encompassing for me." Thus he invoked the Names of Beauty (asmâ'al-jamâl) to be relieved of the effect of the Names of Majesty (asmâ'al-jalâl). From this comes the importance of invocation, generally consisting of Divine Names which a man

repeats in a continuous fashion until there is a rapport between the man and the Name repeated. He hopes by that, that the Name invoked will respond and manifest its effects in him.

4. The creatures are the mirrors of God … universal brotherhood If we look at our world through Ibn 'Arabî's theory of the Unity of Being, we find that life flows into every corner, in men, animals, trees and stones – life renewed with every breath – and we see the Divine Names manifested in every thing.

And if we make that vision real, then how could we stretch out our hand to do harm to a creature?

For even if we cannot see God in it, at least we know that He is in it.

Translated from the French by James Lees Notes [1] This paper was originally presented at the twentieth annual symposium of the Society entitled "The Unity of Existence" held in Oxford on 3 and 4 May 2003.

[2] Futûhât I.118.

[3] Fut. I.91.

[4] Fut. IV.86.

[5] Fut. II.642–643. Here there is a play on words in the Arabic between man (insan) and familiarity (uns).

[6] See Fut. III.452.

[7] See Mashâhid al-Asrâr, First Contemplation (trans. C. Twinch and P. Beneito as Contemplation of the Holy Mysteries, Oxford, 2001, p. 23).

[8] Fut. IV.211.

[9] Fut. II.507–8.

[10] See Fusûs al-Hikam, chapter on Adam.

[11] Fut. II.397.

[12] Fut. II.441.

[13] al-Ajwîba al-lâîiqa, fo. 6b.

[14] Fut. IV.279.

[15] See S. Hakim, Al-Mu' jam al-Sûfî, Beirut, 1981, "Wahdat al-wujûd".

[16] Fut. II.339.

[17] Fusûs, p. 62 (ed. A. 'Afîfî, Cairo, 1946).

[18] Fut. IV.449.

[19] Fut. III.573.

[20] Bulghat al-Ghawwâs, fo. 12; Fusûs, ch.1.

[21] Fut. IV.203 and 433; Bulghat, fo. 21.

[22] The manuscript is in the Zâhiriyya library, No. 4394 Tasawwuf, fo. 3a.

[23] There is a manuscript copy in the Zâhiriyya library, No. 5916 Tawassuf.

[24] The entire text can be found in Bakri Aladdin' s introduction to his re-edited edition of the book Al-Wujûd al-haqq by Nâbulusî, p. 81.

[25] Chodkiewicz, Épitre sur l' unicité absolue, Paris, 1982, pp. 26–36.

[26] See his book The Perfect Man (Al-Insân al-Kâmil) and his poem Al-Qasîda 'Ayniyya.

[27] See the work of Henry Corbin in Iranian Islam.

[28] Fut. II.573.

[29] 29. Fut. IV.393.

The Dimensions of the Mystical Journey "You should know that man has been on the journey ever since God brought him out of non-being into being"[1] The Shaykh al-Akbar, Ibn 'Arabi, describes the state of being of the man on the journey in his Risâlat al-Anwâr and points out that it is only possible for man to cease journeying in the fifth abode (mawtin), namely in Paradise or in hell. The six mawatin (abodes)[2] are ordered as follows: • (a) alastu-birrabbikum ["Am I not your Lord?"]

• (b) the material world • (c) barzakh • (d) sâmirah [the Resurrection] • (e) Paradise or Hell • (f) kathîb [the Sand Dune beyond the Garden] This order summarises the phenomenology of the mystical journeys and also their ontology. If man has been on the journey since the Day of Alast and does not relinquish this state of travelling except in Paradise or in Hell, then he is ontologically a traveller, an existence that moves from one world to the other.

This is the first fact that must be known by the sâlik (traveller). It is also necessary for him to know that there is no security on the journey. Thirdly, the traveller may only seek at each mawtin that which is required of him by thatmawtin; thus he should not aim for fanâ' (annihilation) if he is not at the station of fanâ', and so on. Should he try to do so, the waqt – that is, the anchoring of his own being in his present state – will be broken. This is of the utmost importance for the Sufi, because he is said to be "the Son of his Time" (as-sufi ibn al-waqt). From a metaphysical viewpoint, the attainment of the reality of Union is through the conscious realisation of the intended vision, in other words that he sees his own non-being in the light of the One.[3]

The question now arises as to why a person, a Sufi, should choose deliberately to embark on the mystical journey when he is ontologically on that journey in any case. Such a question forms a paradox inasmuch as the solution to the mystery appears when both sides of the paradox are considered simultaneously,[4] a fact that at first sight appears confusing. The Shaykh al-Akbar stressed, however, that man must first become fully aware, in order that he may travel with his whole being. For the traveller to find out where he stands, he must also incorporate a further journey within the ontological journey. The Shaykh made it clear, furthermore, that the mystery can be penetrated only by addressing the paradox, not merely by thought, but rather with all of one’s actions and interactions. The end of the conscious and intentional journey is the degree of baqâ' (subsistence), and this is attained after "re-emerging".[5] In this article we will briefly examine the various forms of the mystical journey.

The forms of the journey may be divided into the following fundamental types: tartîb (the way of Levels) and wasâ'it (by means of an intermediary), which are both also known as tarîq â'm (the general way), and the form of the special aspects, tarîq wujûhi khâs. There is a further form, qâb qausayn au adnâ' , which will be included together with the form of the special aspects. It should be mentioned that the ways of tartîb and wasâ'it are based in principle on the guidance of a shaykh, whereas that of the special aspects may also be undertaken alone, such that the seeker is plunged into a metaphysical space by means of sudden and immediate contact with the a'yân-ath-thâbitah (the fixed entities or archetypes). The degree, intensity and depth of perception within that world determine the seeker’s future station.

1. The mystical journey through Tartîb (the way of the Levels/degrees) This form of the journey moves through various marâtib (levels or degrees), and the traveller must recognise and pass beyond certain veils of light and darkness, one after another, until he comes to a degree appropriate to his own excellence.

The level that befits each person is to be found in the sûr (trumpet /horn), and

the basis of this is stated in the Qur'an as follows: "None of us there is but has a known station".[6] It should be remembered that the levels are ontological, which is to say that being and non-being form two poles, and it is between these that the Divine is mirrored (huwa lâ huwa). The identification of each seeker with one of these levels is equally his respective state of consciousness of the level or station where he currently stands, if it is possible to speak of "standing" in this sense at all – given that the seeker cannot and must not stand still.[7] Seen from without, the sâlik is at a particular maqâm. From within he identifies himself with the level of being that is completed by certain of the Divine Names. This level then forms his consciousness, his identity, his being.

The Risâlat al-Anwâr describes a type of journey that is not identical with the traditional way as described by Abû Nasr al-Sarrâj Tûsi or Qushairy, nor is it based on the relationship of a shaykh and a student. Nonetheless, I consider such a journey to be a way through themarâtib (levels). The seeker progresses step by step; he examines each step, without obtaining a direct and immediate relationship to his 'ayn ath-thâbitah. Ibn 'Arabî classifies this journey under khalwa (retreat) and describes how the seeker first unveils the world of the senses. The next degree is the unveiling of the imaginary world (khayâl), so that the world of meanings (ma'nâ) becomes visible. Later he sees how life spreads through the bodies. In the following stages he reaches a state from which he may be informed of his ownmartabah (level/degree). After this he comes to see the forms of all mankind, then he arrives before the Throne of the All-Compassionate (sarîr). From this point on he knows all things according to Reality and not as the ordinary person sees them. Then he is himself unveiled; he is invisible to himself, his self is nowhere to be found, there is no trace of being in him (fanâ'). The next principal stage is his returning to himself and his remaining (baqâ') in that which he is. He is brought back to the world of the senses.

When reading this text, one notices that it is a description of the way into the sûr (horn) whose form is a reversal of that of the emanation of all things from the Divine. The wide part of the horn contains the amâ' (the Cloud) and the

narrow part the earth. The forms of all things are contained in the sûr, as the word suwar (forms, images) implies. It should be remembered that the horn is called al-barzakh as-sûrî (the intermediate world of the forms).[8] The fact that, after finding himself before the Throne of the All-Compassionate, the sâlik is given knowledge of all things and then becomes hidden from himself, shows that his human consciousness has been lost at this degree. He no longer finds and feels himself, since his own consciousness was that of a person, an observer, whereas here there is no longer any observing, no more considerations of duality.

His consciousness/existence is now, rather, identical to the forms that are manifested in the sûr. Consequently there remains "no trace of being in him", and this clearly refers to worldly being in the sense that we normally experience it.

For how can a person re-emerge if there is no longer any trace of being in him?

This is in turn a paradox.

When the traveller reaches the Throne of the All-Compassionate he has arrived at the first bodily form that encompasses the entire universe. He witnesses here the full extent of the Divine Compassion in the form of effusion, that is to say that "everything that you have seen up to now you will see all the more in him".[9] And this is the recognition of the Holy One who bestows His Compassion on the traveller.

After this begins his journey in the subtle world of the spirits, which cannot be reached by men. For this he becomes veiled and annihilated. The Divine Compassion returns him to his being by means of the Beautiful Name hayy, since he no longer possesses any will or strength of his own. He has become a "nonbeing" in the subtle world of the spirits. Only when he has attained baqâ' (subsistence) is he able to experience the ordinary world again. He can even re-experience all that has happened to him, but, as the Shaykh al-Akbar stresses, in another form.

From a phenomenological perspective the experiences in the sûr (horn) differ from those of the phenomenal world. In the former, one is witness to imaginal forms that constitute the basis of Being as a vast but imperceptible system that

can never be comprehended. Here one experiences processes that are controlled by that system and with which one must align oneself, having made this journey once only. He who returns is no longer the same person that he once was. He does not even need to speak, because the intensity of the experience of finding himself before the sarîr has left him nothing that can be spoken about. The Shaykh al-Akbar gives important information on this phenomenon.[10] It follows that "silence" (samt) is not an everyday act but rather a status that is reached by only a small number of people, particularly in the case of attaining silence of the heart.

2. The mystical journey through wasâ'it (by means of an intermediary) There is a Man who is a being with two aspects or faces: al-insân al-kâmil. He is the most important connecting link that joins man with God across the bridge of love. He is a mirror in which all the Names of God are reflected and become apparent. He is the comprehensive separating Word (kalama-fâsilah-jâmi-a)[11] and his station is ahadîyyah.[12] He is able to intervene in creation, since he stands on the dividing line between hazrat ilâhî and hazrat kaunî. Consequently he is also the shaykh or pir through whose aid the sâlik may look upon the Divine.

He serves as the mirror. Important here is the fact that the Perfect Man has two aspects, the divine and the human, and the theory of the walî is based on this fact. Walî is God the Great in the general sense Who, as the Friend, stands close to every believer. In a specific sense he is the perfect man who, as the friend of God, is also the friend of any believer. This is the walî khâs,[13] who can intervene in being itself. The Pole or qutb is nothing other than the walî who oversees the whole world and who himself closes at night the door of mankind left ajar, while he opens the door of the Beloved.[14] This forms the basis on which the relationship between shaykh and student is founded. What the student learns from his shaykh is seeking or sulûk.

The sâlik travels through various maqâm, while remaining under the instruction of the shaykh. Accounts vary considerably as to the number of the maqâm, but that

given by Abû Nasr al-Sarrâj Tûsi is generally accepted. He names the seven stations[15] of the journey through which a sâlik must pass under the guidance of the shaykh. The shaykh is the master, the walî, the mirror and the intermediary, and maintains a constant dialogue with the student. Shaykh and student face each other like two mirrors, each reflecting the light of the other.

These reflections inspire and purify the heart of the student until he is in a position to reach themaqâm by his own efforts, albeit with the guidance of the shaykh.

Mention should also be made at this point of the spiritual state (hâl). Hâl is a gift from the Divine grace; it cannot be obtained by one’s own will. Depending on the situation of the traveller it is possible that hâl may be given to him in the form of wârid (inrush). Such states always arise in pairs, in opposition and complementarily:[16] for example, first a state of qabz (contraction) is reached, and then after a certain time the state of bast (expansion) is given. It is of the greatest importance that these opposing and complementary states arise in pairs, since one of them counteracts the other. Both are aspects of a cosmic event that gives the traveller the impulse necessary for his journey. If only one of them were to occur, the traveller would remain forever in that state.

From this cosmic event the seeker receives the tajallî (Divine manifestation), which may take one of two forms: tajallî jalâl (manifestation of Majesty) or tajallî jamâl (manifestation of Beauty). All that comes from Beauty (jamâl) is from His Gentleness (lutfîyyah); whatever comes from Majesty (jalâl) is from His Severity (qahrîyyah). The origin of both of these are His Names jamîl (the Beautiful) and jalîl (the Majestic). The cosmic event described above is an interplay between these two names: at one moment the world goes into non-existence (ma'dûm) through the Name jalîl, and at the next moment it comes into existence (maujûd) through the Name jamîl. Since the Name jamîl is under the order of the Name azzâhir (the Manifest/Outward), which in turn is under ar-rahmân (the AllCompassionate), man experiences the qualities and actions of this form more often. The Name jalîl, on the other hand, is under the Name al-bâtin (the

Nonmanifest/Inward) and generally remains in sitr, or concealed. Thus the Divine does not manifest as jalâl in this world. In this case the seeker receives only the states resulting from the characteristics and actions of this Name, such as qabz.

[17] Seen thus, the traveller does not remain in a single state; his heart vacillates and moves between states within a matter of seconds. This situation is known as taraddud (vacillation), and has four principal types: jahl (ignorance, stopping), shakk (doubt), zann (surmise) and ilm (knowledge). All that effuses from the Unseen arrives in the heart and gives rise to further changes of state.

'Abd ar-Razzâq Kâshânî gives a series of definitions concerning the heart.[18] The Shaykh al-Akbar acknowledges the heart as the place of knowledge, and in this regard it is larger even than ar-rahmân, the Divine Compassion. Only the ahl Allâh (the people of God) are aware of this fact and follow closely the khawâtir (incoming thoughts) that manifest in their hearts as tajallî. Ibn 'Arabî names the state of sajdat al qalb(prostration of the heart before the Divine) as the highest state of bliss.[19] The importance to the Sufi of the purity of the heart (tahârah) should be noted here. The purification of the heart is a recognition of the realisation of God, of the knowledge of tawhîd (Unity), of the knowledge of the beautiful Names of the Divine (asmâ' husnâ) and of the knowledge of all in this world that is conjoined to the Divine.

Despite all that has been said here about the heart and its importance for the mystical journey through marâtib, however, we should not forget that, owing to the particular role it plays, the heart is a place of direct communion with God. The address of the Divine is "cast" into the heart directly, without any intermediary action by the shaykh. Furthermore, unveiling (kashf) is nothing other than the moving aside of the layers or veils that come between the heart and the light of the Unseen.

The metaphysics of Mullâh Sadrâ Shîrâzî can more accurately be called a metaphysics of the heart.[20] The metaphysics of the heart contains a psychological system in which the heart is seen as an intermediate station that

binds together the nafs (human nature/ego) and the rûh (spirit). When the nafs has reached perfection through re-education, it passes over to the heart.

When the level of the heart reaches perfection, the consciousness of the heart is attained. This is the longing for Union. Only from the level of the spirit does the movement forward then begin towards the mystery (sirr).

3. The mystical journey as the way of the special aspects (tarîq wujûhi khâs) One of Ibn 'Arabî’s commentators, Khârazmî, describes this way as follows: "This path leads by way of the relationship of the man to the Divine Presence through his own 'ayn ath-thâbitah (fixed entities)".[21] Such a relationship occurs directly and without any intermediary, and its basis is set out by the Qur'anic verse "yuhibbihum- wa-yuhibbûnahû"(Q. 5: 54, Al-Mâ'idah). This is to say that since God loved Man in pre-eternity, and since the love of Man for God is also ultimately from God, there exists the possibility of a direct relationship to God through the heart of Man. "The sâlik (traveller) is not concerned with the stations and degrees here, except when he returns from the Divine to the human".[22] We know that the a'yân ath-thâbitah are the forms in Reality of the Divine Names, and Khajah Parsa, another of Ibn 'Arabî’s commentators, says that when a man can see these, he has seen the Divine Itself.[23] The a'yân aththâbitah are the degrees, the names and the qualities of God and are engraved in the heart of every person. They are the foundation of the relationship of the Divine to the human and vice versa. Each person may come to recognise the Divine according to his own 'ayn ath-thâbitah, and the Divine also recognises each person according to these forms that are carried within each.

The tajallî (manifestation) is accordingly a wholly personal tajallî, and consequently there is no general tajallî. This fact was pointed out by 'Ayn al-Quzât Hamadânî prior to his martyrdom in the year 1131: "The Names of God the Great are countless. You should look into your own pocket if you want to find out what you have been granted of them all … He will manifest Himself to you (tajallî) from

the degree of the Names … in each heart He keeps a different secret, and to each heart He tells a different secret."[24] We know that the Sufi masters have called this way "the way of sirr (the mystery)".[25] From a psychological perspective, the manifestations of God form an entirely personal Divine form for the person’s innermost consciousness. Metaphysically, this relationship to the Divine occurs at the level of the wâhidîyyah (Oneness) and not at that of theahadîyyah (Uniqueness); the manifestations witnessed by the sâlik are thus those of his own rabb and not of Allâh. Accordingly, such recognition of the Divine is limited to the rabb al-khâs (the particular Lord). Each person knows Him according to the form that he desires and loves, and to the extent of his istiîdâd (preparedness) and his ideals. This is what Ibn 'Arabî means by khalaq al-haqq fil-iîtiqâd (God created in Belief).

It should be remembered here that from pre-eternity, since the Day of Alast, the Divine Names have been impregnated with shauq(yearning) to be manifested. All the Names of God that are not yet known remain in huzn (sorrow, grief) of ardent desire prior to tajallî; they seek a majlâ (place of manifestation), and this place is the heart of a believer with istiîdâd (preparedness).[26] Viewed thus, such recognition is each person’s empirical experience of God. Clearly, then, no person is capable of being the place of manifestation of all the Divine Names. No person can allow multiple Divinities to enter him simultaneously. It is, however, possible for different tajallî to take place one after the other. Each tajallî arrives differently, reveals itself differently and changes the person in a new way. The Shaykh al-Akbar thus said that there is no repetition in the manifestation.[27] In no case can the dhât (the Divine Essence) be perceived, since this is at the level of ahadîyyah and beyond the realm of the human.

Another of Ibn 'Arabî’s commentators, Shaykh Heydar Amulî, described this form of sulûk as sulûki mahbûbî (journey as the beloved). He speaks of it thus: "… Sulûki mahbûbî does not depend upon knowledge, practice, words and actions …"[28] He adds that attainment occurs even prior to the sulûk. He compares this to the other form, sulûki muhibbî (journey as the lover) that only brings the

seeker to his aim after long mujâhadah (endeavour) and khalwah (retreat) under the guidance of the shaykh.

Amulî gives a wonderful description of miîrâj (spiritual ascent) that we also know as qab qausayn au adnâ. This is a maqâm of which only such chosen ones as the Prophet are capable. It consists of a circle formed of two arcs. One arc is the qaus bâliqah (the arc of ascent); the other is qaus nâzilah (the arc of descent). The traveller undertakes his journey in this circular form, continually moving from wujûb (the necessary) to imkân (the possible) and other like movements. Despite this, he is capable of discrimination. The highest maqâm that he can reach on this journey is the degree of au adnâ (even closer), in which discrimination is also no longer possible. This is the miîrâj of the prophets.[29] It is clear that this state cannot be reached through mujâhadah and marâtib; it is the status of the chosen ones, and happens only by Divine favour. Within a short time the traveller experiences countless unveilings (kashf) that would be too much for "ordinary" people to withstand and would drive them to madness. In this sense a "chosen" person is he or she who is capable of undergoing such experiences and remaining healthy and collected. So seen, this mystical experience is the highest level of initiation for seekers in Sufism.

Excursus The mystical journey is the form of practice of the Sufi way (tarîqa). Every person who feels awakened and has begun to marvel at Being (hayrah) accordingly feels called to begin to follow the way of the transcendent. And this is only the beginning. The Sufi learns first to know himself, since an insight gained without knowledge of who he is cannot be a true witnessing of the Divine. For this the adept seeks a shaykh (or is "called" by the shaykh) who can help him to change his inner structure by means of re-education, to conform to the Unseen and to develop the taste (zauq) he requires for the long journey. From the first steps, Love begins, since if there is not Love his steps are counted, and the adept will

find no strength to continue on the way. The deeper he swims in this ocean, the greater becomes his yearning for realisation of the Holy. This in turn precipitates more Love. Notwithstanding which of the ways he takes, whether by the degrees (marâtib) or by direct and immediate inrush (wârid) of the Divine, the eye of the heart ('ayn al-qalb) now sees the contours of that which was sought, made possible by relationship with the Highest.

Ibn 'Arabî’s legacy to us is a detailed description of the Way that is like a map of the inner journey through the Beautiful Names of God and their manifestations (tajallî) in existence. These are signs (âya) and milestones for the seeker, by which he may step from one station (maqâm) to the next. When the seeker has reached the point at which he can enjoy the Divine Gentleness (lutf) in its totality, he is worthy to appear before the Throne of the All-Compassionate (sarîr arrahmân), in obliteration (mahw) and veiled from himself, such that no trace of existence remains in him. This is the highest point that he can reach. Then the All-Compassionate endows him with the Name the Living (hayy) and he is returned to existence. From this moment he remains forever in this state of baqâ' (subsistence).

It hardly need be mentioned that prayer and dhikr are the constant companions of the traveller; without these he cannot bring the Divine Names into his awareness and internalise them. Only when these are internalised can the internal upheaval come about that places the traveller in a position to undergo the process of realisation of the Divine insight. The other function of prayer and dhikr is to deepen the Divine Love, which is a further important aspect of the mystical way. This Love lends the seeker a deep feeling of security, closeness and certainty that may be called tawakkul. Without this, the seeker finds himself lost in the labyrinth of the ways. Withtawakkul, however, the seeker may align himself to that Face that does not become lost. For, kullun shaii hâlik illâ wajhahu Everything is annihilated except His Face.[30]

1. Ibn 'Arabî, Risâlat al-Anwâr, ed. Najîb Mayil Hirawî (Maula Publishers, Tehran, 1996), p. 57.

2. Ibid., p. 156.

3. Seyyed Hossein Nasr, Die Erkenntnis und das Heilige (Diederichs, 1990), p.

414. For the phenomenological interpretation of this term see also Bahram Jassemi, Der Weg der Liebe (Verlag Videel, Niebüll, Germany, 2003), p. 26.

4. The great anthropologist and cybernetics theorist Gregory Bateson has suggested an interesting solution to this. In his book Mind and Nature (Dutton, New York, 1979) he points out that the world "is a slowly healing tautology". If the inner consistency of a tautology is torn, it is moved up to the next level of abstraction. Thus also are the eternal realities (forms).

5. Risâlat al-Anwâr, p. 166. The traveller begins with the unveiling (kashf) of the world of the senses, so that he may see through the walls. At the penultimate degree he becomes obliterated (mahw) and no trace of worldly existence remains in him. Then he re-emerges.

6. Wa mâ minnâ illâ lahû maqâmun ma'lûm. (Q. 37: 164, As-Sâffât) 7. To stand still is tantamount to a relapse, a situation that Sufis strive to avoid.

8. Risâlat al-Anwâr, p. 166. For a detailed interpretation, see also William C. Chittick, The Self-Disclosure of God: Principles of Ibn al-'Arabî’s Cosmology (Albany, NY, 1998).

9. Risâlat al-anwâr, p. 166.

10. Ibn 'Arabî, Hilyah al-abdâl, ed. Najib Mayil Hirawi (Maula Publishers, Tehran, 1996), p. 12: "… And the hâl (state) of samt (silence) is the station of wahy (revelation), and silence is the consequence of Divine insight …". Ibid., p.

11: "... to him, who is silent both in speech and in the heart, the mystery (sirr) will be unveiled, and God manifests himself to him (tajallî)."

11. 'Abd ar-Razzâq Kâshânî, Sharhi-Fusûs (Cairo, 1321H), p. 11.

12. Ibn 'Arabî, 'Anqâ' mughrib (Cairo, 1975), p. 42.

13. Ibn 'Arabî, Futûhât al-Makkîyyah. Commentary by Mohsen Jahângîrî (University of Tehran, 1996), p. 468.

14. From a well-known Rubai by Abû Said Abu al-Khayr.

15. Abû Nasr al-Sarrâj Tûsi, Kitâb al-luma'fi tasawwûf, ed. R.A. Nicholson (Jahan Publishers, Tehran, 2003).

16. Bahram Jassemi, Der Weg der Liebe, pp. 24–7.

17. Ibn 'Arabî, Futûhât al-Makkîyyah. II, p. 542. Commentary by Mohsen Jahangîrî: p. 357.

18. 'Abd ar-Razzâq Kâshânî, Istilâhat al Sufîyyah, ed. Dr Jafar (Tehran, 1976), p.

168.

19. Futûhât al-Makkîyyah. III, pp. 302–3.

20. Henry Corbin, Osman Yahya, Seyyed Hossein Nasr, Histoire de la Philosophie Islamique (Amir Kabir Publishers, Tehran, 1973). Dr Mishkat ad-Dînî, Philosophy of Sadr ad-Dîn Shîrâzî (Agah Publishers, Tehran, 1999). It should be mentioned that sirr or khafi (the veiled) of the Sufis is equivalent to the mystery. This is also the level of wahdânîyyah (fayz ath-thânî = The Second Emanation).

21. Taj-iddin Hossein ibni-Hassan al-Khârazmî, Sharhi Fusûs al-Hikam, ed. Najib Mayil Harawî (Maula Publishers, Tehran, 1996), p. 30.

22. Ibid.

23. Khâjah-Muhammad-Pârsâ, Sharhi Fusûs al-Hikam, ed. Jalil Messgar Nejâd (Tehran, 1987).

24. Letters of 'Ayn al-Quzât Hamadânî, ed. Dr Monzavi and Dr Osseiran (Asatir Publishers, Tehran, 1998), book 1, pp. 269–70.

25. Al-Khârazmî, ibid., p. 30. He also mentions here that the Greatest Shaykh calls this way the way of shattâr. In Sufi psychology this degree is equated with khafi (the basis of the soul), at which shuhûd (the contemplative witnessing of the Divine) is possible. See also Bahram Jassemi, Die Psychologie der Liebe im Sufismus (unpublished).

26. Najmi-al-dîn Râzi, Marmûzâti Asadî dar Mazmûrâti Dawûdî, ed. Shafii Kadkanî (Tehran, 1973).

27. Lâ-Takrâr fiîl-Tajallî: Ibn 'Arabî cites this saying from Abû Tâlib Makkî see Osman Yahya: Futûhât al-Makkîyyah, Vol. IV, no. 248 (Cairo, 1975).

28. Shaykh Seyyed Heydar Amulî: Kitâbi Nass il Nusûs, ed. Mohammed Resa Jauzi (Rozaneh Publishers, Tehran, 1996), p. 115.

29. Ibid., p. 83. A poetic description of this journey may be found in Al-Isrâ'ilâ Maqâm al-Asra'by Ibn 'Arabî, ed. Dr. Ansari (Tahuri Publishers, Tehran, 1997).

30. The Qur'anic term wajhallâh (the Face of God) is the externalisation of the Divine Names and Qualities at all levels of being, and is thus the structure of the universe. See Seyyed Hossein Nasr, Die Erkenntnis und das Heilige, p. 438.

Listening for God: Prayer and the Heart in the Futûhât Part 1 "Surely there is a Reminder in that for whoever has a heart, or listens attentively, while he is witnessing..." (Qur'ân 50:37) This Qur'anic verse beautifully summarizes a sort of recurrent paradox that has surely puzzled every student of Ibn 'Arabî from time to time. One need only recall, for example, his classic discussion of the "Wisdom of the Heart" of the true spiritual Knowers (the 'urafâ') in the central chapter on Shu'ayb in his Fusûs alHikam, where this same verse figures so prominently. If, from the wider metaphysical point of view so well illustrated in that famous chapter, it may be true that all human perception, all experience is ultimately "theophany," it is even more indisputably true - as his distinction in that chapter between those rare enlightened "Knowers" and the rest of humanity pointedly acknowledges - that we don't usually experience things that way, that for many of us there is a noticeable gulf in our lives between rare moments of true contemplative prayer and our ordinary states of perception. And that gulf often seems too much to bridge by our own efforts, whether of prayer or other forms of spiritual practice: if we have some intuition of what the inner life of the Shaykh's "Knowers" might be like, it is probably based on a few special moments of grace, on a memorable but ephemeral "state" (hâl), not a lasting, fully realized spiritual "station" (maqâm).

Put simply, then, what is it about the "heart" - or rather, how is it? - that can so miraculously transform perception into contemplation, everyday experience into theophany, the words and movements of ritual into the ineffable reality of prayer?

As the Qur'an repeatedly insists, each of us surely has "had a heart" - but what is it that so rarely and unforgettably makes that heart "shahîd," actively and consciously contemplating the Truly Real, so that our transient awareness is transformed into true prayer and remembrance of God? That transformation of everyday experience into realized theophany, whenever and however it occurs, is always a mysterious divine "opening" (fath) or illumination, so it is not surprising that Ibn 'Arabî's most detailed and effective discussions of that central question of

spiritual practice are scattered throughout the record of his own "Meccan Openings" (al-Futûhât al-Makkîya). Before beginning to explore his unfolding discussion of the secrets of prayer and the heart in the opening chapters of the Futûhât, however, it is necessary to summarize a few essential features of the broader development of this problem in the Qur'an and the hadith, since that basic scriptural background, as always, is presumed throughout the Shaykh's own teachings.

I. The Heart in the Qur'an and Hadith: To begin with, it would be difficult to exaggerate either the centrality or the complexity of the references to the "heart" throughout the Qur'an in this extended metaphysical and epistemological sense, as the locus of our awareness - and even more frequently of our ignorance - of the divine Presence. The Arabic noun, al-qalb, appears some 132 times (only two or three of these possibly referring to the bodily organ), far more than such closely related terms as fu'âd or lubb/albâb (both occurring sixteen times). The contrast between the Qur'anic treatment of the heart and the discussion of any number of related terms or roots - such as sadr ("breast"), 'aql ("intellect"),nafs (in the sense of "soul"), sarîra, etc. - only serves to highlight the epistemological comprehensiveness and peculiarly divine focus of this particular Qur'anic expression. Typically enough, Ibn 'Arabî's own widely scattered discussions of the "heart," when we look at them more closely, turn out to be dictated not so much by various earlier Islamic traditions (which had developed multiple technical meanings for each of these terms) as by his own profound reflection and meditation on the full complexities of the original Qur'anic usage. Here we can only mention a few central features of the Qur'anic discussions of the "heart" that are directly related to the problem with which we began, and which are usually assumed each time Ibn 'Arabî brings up that term.

• The Qur'an repeatedly emphasizes God's extraordinary closeness and proximity to the human heart (e.g., at 8:24, "He passes between the man and

his heart"), as well as the uniquely all-encompassing divine knowledge of "what is in their hearts" (4:66, 33:51, etc.).

• That divine awareness of what is in the heart extends in particular to people's innermost intentions (especially in contrast to their words and ostensible actions). That is one important indicator, along with each of the following points, that considerably more than abstract "epistemology" is involved here: from the Qur'anic perspective a spiritually crucial dimension of the human heart is the integral involvement - together with God - of our own "will" and intimate intentions, which are portrayed as somehow inseparable from the degree and nature of our awareness of the divine. In consequence, the Qur'an can even speak of the heart (as more commonly of the soul, al-nafs) as the enduring "self" or ongoing seat of our moral and spiritual responsibility, as at 2:225: "...He will call you to account for what your hearts have earned...."

• Perhaps most obvious of all in the Qur'an is the consistent stress on the divine "responsibility", indeed the ongoing divine Activity, expressed in all the different states of our hearts, including especially our recurrent failures to "remember" God. In this respect, as those familiar with the Qur'an will recognize, the larger metaphysical "paradox" with which we began this discussion is certainly not, to begin with, Ibn 'Arabî's own invention: almost half of the Qur'anic references to the heart directly mention God's responsibility for its states, often without any explicit reference to the shared role of the human "actor."

• In several famous Qur'anic passages, repeated throughout Sufi literature and in popular piety, the enlightened or divinely supported heart (whether in this world or the next) is said to be the locus of true Remembrance of God (dhikr Allâh, at 13:28) and the grace of divinely bestowed Peace and Tranquillity, as well as the receptacle for the sending down of the Spirit and Gabriel and other special acts of divine support. But the Qur'anic references to these special states of enlightened hearts are limited to what in context usually seems like a very small and elect group: Muhammad and other divine prophets, certain of their disciples or saints, or some of the blessed in the Gardens of Paradise...

• With far greater frequency, the Qur'an refers instead to God's sealing, veiling, hardening, locking, binding, closing, or frightening hearts - to hearts that as a result (of their own misdeeds or the divine reaction) are "sick" or "blind" and "suffering." Typical of this disproportionate emphasis are the many references to hearts that "fail to understand" (lâ yafqahûn), far more frequently than those who do perceive the divine "Signs," whose hearts are 'âqilûn. In the Qur'an, therefore, the starkly contrasting dimensions and potentialities of the human heart with which we began are, if anything, even more predominant and vividly drawn. The Qur'anic account of the heart and its situation is repeatedly cast in an intensely dramatic and unavoidably existential form. That intrinsic inner drama is certainly presupposed in each of Ibn 'Arabî's own discussions of the heart, whatever the particular language or context of each discussion.

• Against that sharply drawn dramatic backdrop, the Qu'ranic verses that indicate the actual ways or conditions for us to move from these "negative" or perverse states of the human heart to full awareness of God and the corresponding divine Peace and understanding are relatively few, but certainly all the more worth noting: these practically decisive verses include references to the "softening" and "humbling" or "purification" and "strengthening" of hearts, to the necessity of a "sound" or "repentant" or "mindful" heart (qalb salîm or munîb), and so on.

Unlike the case with many topics in the Futûhât, the Prophetic sayings or hadith favored by Ibn 'Arabî in his discussions of the heart are short and to the point.

(This is partly because, as we shall see, the Shaykh's allusions to the "purification" of the heart frequently occur in connection with more concrete, practical aspects of Islamic law and ritual.) As readers of any of the Shaykh's works are well aware, each of these hadith typically serves as a highly condensed, pedagogically pointed summary of many related verses and concepts in the Qur'an. Almost all of these particular hadith were already widely used within earlier Sufi tradition, and several of them should already be familiar to readers of the Fusûs and other English translations of Ibn 'Arabî's writings.

However, reflecting on the inner connections of those sayings when they are

viewed together, in the following summary, helps to highlight not only their thematic density and mnemonic effectiveness, but also their relatively greater emphasis (compared with the above-mentioned Qur'anic verses about the heart) on the crucial dimensions of spiritual practice and realization.

• "The heart of the person of faith is between two of God's Fingers." This canonical hadith is depicted as the response to Aisha's asking the Prophet whether he was ever afraid. This beautifully succinct image concretely pulls together dozens of the Qur'anic verses we have just mentioned, powerfully representing the constant ups-and-downs of our inner experience, the contrasting roles of the different divine Names of Majesty and Beauty (Jalâl and Jamâl) expressed and realized through that experience, the "ever-renewed theophanies" of those Names, and the reality of God's ultimate control of that panoply of ever-changing inner states.

• Perhaps the most frequently cited saying about the heart in all of the Shaykh's works is the famous canonical hadîth qudsî (one in which the divine Voice speaks in the first person, as in the Qur'an): "My earth and My heaven do not encompass Me, but the heart of My servant who has faith does encompass Me..."

(Often this was summarized by Sufis in the briefer formula "The heart of the person of faith is the Throne of the All-Merciful": Qalb al-mu'min 'arsh alRahmân.) Ibn 'Arabî's own understanding of either of these sayings is of course inseparably related to the famous hadith that figures so prominently in the opening chapter of the Fusûs and throughout the Shaykh's writings, describing Adam's being created "according to the form of the All-Merciful" ('alâ sûrat alRahmân).

• "Hearts rust like iron, and their polishing is through remembrance of God (dhikr Allâh) and recitation of the Qur'an."

• "Were it not for the excess of your talking and the turmoil in your hearts, you would see what I see and hear what I hear!"

• "O Transformer of hearts (yâ muqallib al-qulûb), keep my heart firm in Your Religion."

• "My eyes are sleeping, but my heart is awake."

• "(True spiritual) Knowledge is a light that God projects into the heart of the Knower."

• "Seek the guidance (istaftî: 'ask for the fatwâ') of your heart, even if it guides you toward al-maftûn (what enthralls or charms you)."

Part 2 II. The "Opening" of the Heart in the Meccan Illuminations Ibn 'Arabî's gradual unveiling of his own realization and understanding of the heart in the opening sections of the Futûhât is a beautiful illustration of his unique methods of spiritual pedagogy in that work - methods that are consciously based on his own understanding of the nature and divine underpinnings of that reality of the heart which literally makes us what we are, which, as he simply puts it, "isinsân," is the very inner reality of human being. His method of teaching there is not the elaboration of a single "theory" or system that could somehow be adequately summarized, but rather the intentionally poignant and revelatory "scattering" of allusions to that one Reality in a way that closely mirrors the actual process of spiritual experience and growth in each of our lives. The key to that process of discovery, in each succeeding chapter, is not so much the development of new "concepts" (since his underlying metaphysical perspectives are always present and constantly repeated), but rather the new meanings that each attentive reader constantly discovers through our mysteriously activated awareness of the ever-renewed reflections of what Ibn 'Arabî (and the Qur'an and hadith) are talking about in the changing forms of our own experience, moment by moment.

For that reason we shall follow the unfolding of that teaching very much in the order that references to the heart actually appear in theFutûhât, beginning - as

Ibn 'Arabî himself does - with his evocation of his own revelatory experiences of this reality that underlie this and all his writings, and with some of his more abstract references to that contemplative and divinely inspired dimension of spiritual experience. The language of those opening discussions may at first seem impossibly far removed from anything we could possibly encounter ourselves, but the Shaykh gradually moves on to deeper and deeper phenomenological "allusions" (ishârât) that begin to awaken our awareness of a kind of knowledge and understanding that in fact is constitutive of all that gives meaning to our lives in this world. As we shall see, those more phenomenological, even anecdotal, passages are often remarkably reminiscent of classical discussions of spiritual experience - whether in poetry, prose or scripture - from mystics and artists who were working within other religious traditions.

The first mention of the heart in the Futûhât is in a key autobiographical poem at the very beginning of the book, part of Ibn 'Arabî's famous opening letter to his Tunisian Sufi friend, the shaykh 'Azîz al-Mahdawî, explaining the spiritual circumstances and motives for composing this work. As this passage (at I, 71) makes clear, when the Shaykh speaks of the heart in this work, he is speaking from his own direct experience: everything in this immense book, he insists, comes from a single revelatory experience, when after "continually knocking at God's gate (of the heart), closely attentive (murâqib: a key term throughout all his discussions of the heart), not being distracted..., there appeared to my eye (and 'my essence' or 'self': 'aynî) the splendors of His Face, until nothing was there but that Essence, so that I encompassed a knowing of Being in which there was no knowing in our heart of anything but God." Then follows a remarkable, almost outrageously boastful invitation for each reader to plunge into the rest of this book: "If those people, who are so strange (al-khalq al-gharîb), would follow my Way, the angels would not ask you about the Realities (of the divine Names), what they are!"

In the opening poetic lines of the very first chapter (I, 215), Ibn 'Arabî calls on his reader to "Look at that House (the Kaaba of the divine Presence, the 'Heart of Being,' qalb al-wujûd), whose unveiled Light is resplendent to purified hearts, to those who see It/Him through/with God (billâh), without any veil...." Returning to the openly autobiographical plane, that opening poem introduces Ibn 'Arabî's celebrated conversation at this inner "House" or Temple of the Heart between his earthly self and the image of his true Self, a mysterious divine "youth" (fatâ) who reveals to him all the spiritual secrets to be recorded in these very special "Openings." Having "turned the face of his heart toward his Lord," Ibn 'Arabî is told by this divine Person (at I, 226-27): "This Kaaba of Mine is the Heart of being, and My Throne (the whole universe) is a limited body for this Heart. Neither of them encompasses Me... but My House which does encompass Me is your heart, which is the sought-for Goal (al-maqsûd), deposited in your visible body. So those circling around your heart are the mysteries/secrets (of the divine Names), who resemble your (human) bodies circumambulating these rocks (of the earthly Kaaba)....

So just as one who knows the Secrets - who are circling about the Heart which encompasses Me - is in the loftiest and most resplendent of stations, so you (human beings) have precedence over those (angels) circling the all-encompassing Throne. For you-all are circling the Heart of the Being of the world: you are in the station of the secrets of those who know.... For none but you (human beings) encompass Me, and I have not revealed Myself in the Form of Perfection to any but your inner Realities. So realize the full extent of what I have freely bestowed on you from the supernal Dignity....

You are the receptacle (anta al-inâ') and I am I (wa anâ anâ). So do not seek Me in yourself, lest you suffer and toil; and do not seek Me outside yourself, or you will have no pleasure. Never stop seeking Me, or you

will suffer torment. So do seek Me until you find Me, and then ascend!

But follow the right adab in your seeking, and be ever-present (with Me) as you set out on your way of going...."

In the following chapter 2, which concerns the mysterious "science of letters," Ibn 'ArabÎ's references to the "heart" almost always occur in the course of epistemological discussions where he is trying to explain the special nature of the divinely inspired knowing that is the source of this esoteric science. Here we can only quote a few key passages from those discussions (at I, 250-51), which necessarily appear somewhat abstract or mysterious at this early point and in this explicitly autobiographical context: "Now it is God (al-Haqq), from Whom we take this knowledge, by emptying our hearts of thinking and preparing them to receive the divine inspirations (wâridât). It is He who gives us this matter from its very Source, without any summarizing or confusion (as in poetic or intellectual inspiration), so that we know the Realities as they really are, whether they be individual Realities (of the divine Names), or ones that come into existence in combinations, or the divine Realities: and we do not have any doubt about anything concerning them. Our knowledge comes from There, and God (al-Haqq) is our teacher - through inheritance from the prophets, preserved and protected from error or generality or (confusion with) external form.... And our share of that is in proportion to the purity of the place (of our heart) and our receptivity and awareness of God." A little later in the same chapter (I, 255-58), however, the Shaykh explains the relevance of this inspiration to all his readers: "Our aim in this book is to reveal the glimmers and allusions and intimations from the secrets of Being. For if we were to speak fully and openly about the inner secrets of these letters and what is demanded by their realities..." (our work would never come to an end), "Since they

are among those 'Words of God' of which He has said: 'If the sea were ink for the Words of My Lord, the sea would be dried up before the words of My Lord would be exhausted....' (18:109)."

This kind of inspired knowing, he points out, "contains a secret mystery and a remarkable allusion for whoever reflects deeply on it and comes across these divine 'Words.' Because if these kinds of knowing were the result of thinking and reflection, human-being (insân) could be circumscribed in a short period. But instead these acts of knowing arrive from God (al-Haqq), continually flowing into the heart of the (true) servant: they are His devoted spirits descending upon the servant from the world of His Unseen, through His Mercy...and 'from His Presence' (18:65). For God is perpetually bestowing them and continually flowing forth with them, and the 'place' (of the heart) is likewise continually receiving - either knowing or ignorance. So if the servant (of God) is prepared and receptive, and has polished and purified the mirror of their heart, then they realize that divine Giving continually and receive in a single instant what could never be bounded within time...."

"I have recorded these inspirations in accordance with the command of my Lord that I received," Ibn 'Arabî continues (I, 264-65). "I do not speak about anything except by way of (reporting) what I have heard (from God) - just as I will stop (writing) whenever I am directed to do so. For our compositions - this book and all the others - are not like other books; we do not follow the procedure of (ordinary) writers... (who follow their own aims and desires, or what is required by a knowledge they want to communicate, at their own discretion). No, we are not like that in our writings. They are only hearts intent upon the Door of the divine Presence , carefully attending to what is opened up to them through that Door, needy (faqîra) and empty of all knowledge (of

their own).... So sometimes there appears to them from behind that Curtain a particular matter that they hasten to obey in the way that was defined for them in that Command. And sometimes they receive things that are unlike anything ordinarily found by custom or thinking or reflection in outward knowledge... because of a hidden correspondence that is only perceived by the people of spiritual unveiling. Indeed sometimes it is even stranger than that: for things are given to this heart that it is ordered to communicate, although the person doesn't understand them at this time, because of a divine Wisdom which is hidden from the people. Therefore every person who composes according to this 'receiving' from God is not restricted to understanding that about which they are speaking...."

Not surprisingly, for Ibn 'ArabÎ the process of true spiritual understanding and interpretation of Scripture or other forms of revelation requires a very similar kind of preparedness and receptivity of the heart, even if that process is far more common and familiar. Thus somewhat later in the same chapter 2 (II, 73-75), in a discussion of how one should properly go about discovering the intended meanings of apparently "obscure" or anthropomorphic expressions in revealed Scripture, Ibn 'ArabÎ again stresses the indispensable role of the heart in the practical methods adopted by the "people of unveiling and realization" for understanding such problematic or mysterious divine sayings: We empty our hearts of reflective thinking, and we sit together with God (al-Haqq) on the carpet of adab and spiritual attentiveness (murâqaba) and presence and readiness to receive whatever comes to us from Him so that it is God who takes care of teaching us by means of unveiling and spiritual realization. So when they have focused their hearts and their spiritual aspirations (himam) on God and have truly taken refuge with Him - giving up any reliance on the claims of reflection and investigation and intellectual results - then their hearts are purified and open. Once they have this inner receptivity, God manifests Himself to

them, teaching them and informing them through the direct vision of the inner meanings of those (obscure scriptural) words and reports, in a single instant. This is one of the kinds of spiritual "unveiling....

(Through it) they limit (the meanings of these scriptural or prophetic expressions) to what (God) actually intended by them - even if that very same expression occurs in another report (with an entirely different intended meaning). For there (these identical words) have another meaning, among those sacred dimensions of meaning, which is specified in that specific act of witnessing.

You should know that the heart is a polished mirror, that all of it is a face, and that it never rusts. For if it has been said to 'rust' (as in the famous hadith that 'hearts rust like iron...')..., that expression only refers to when the heart becomes connected and preoccupied with (seeking) knowledge of worldly matters (asbâb), and thereby distracted from its knowing of and through God. In that case its connection with what is other than God does obscure the face of the heart, because it prevents God's Self-manifestations (or 'theophanies': tajalliyât) from reaching the heart. Because the divine Presence is continually manifesting Itself, and one could not imagine any 'veil' for that Selfmanifestation. But when this heart fails to receive that Manifestation in the prescribed and praiseworthy way, because it has received something other than God instead, then that receiving of something else is what is referred to as the 'rust' and 'veils' and 'lock' and 'blindness' and the like (mentioned in the Qur'anic verses on the heart).

"For the hearts are eternally and unceasingly, by their very primordial nature, polished and pure and resplendent (mirrors of God). Therefore every heart in which the Presence of God is manifest insofar as the Theophany of the divine Essence (al-tajalli al-dhâtî), or (what the mystics call) 'the Red Ruby': that is the heart of the perfected human

being, the (true) Knower (of and with God), the (pure) contemplator (of God) - and there is no other theophany higher than that. Beneath that is the theophany of the divine Attributes (in which the heart immediately grasps and comes to know the various divine "Names" manifest in its experience). And beneath both of those (higher levels of theophany) is the theophany of the divine Activities - but (in which those actions are) still perceived as being the Presence of God. As for anyone who does not (perceive all the happenings of their experience) as Self-manifestations flowing from the Presence of God, that is the heart of a person who is heedless of God, banished from the proximity of God." The unfolding discussions of the heart scattered throughout the rest of the Futûhât are essentially a vast phenomenological amplification of what Ibn 'Arabî has summarized here, designed to bring out the essential connections or "correspondences" (munâsabât) between the underlying Realities of these divine "Names" and "Activities" and their actual exemplifications in each reader's own experience - and thereby to initiate the transforming movement from "heedlessness" to the heart's innate "knowing" and spiritual perfection. While those more phenomenological sections are usually easier reading, the individual experiences they point to and presuppose are another matter.

Part 3 III. Unveiling the Heart (Chapters 3-54) In chapter 3 (II, 105-107), in his first discussion of the famous hadith of "God's Two Fingers" and the related prayer of the Prophet for the "Transformer of hearts" to "fix my heart in Your Religion," Ibn 'Arabî takes up a kind of "inspiration" and awareness of the heart that, if much less spectacular, is also much closer to the actual reality of our moment-by-moment experience: namely, the universal

human awareness of moral realities, and the resulting conflicts, judgments, and "tests" (to use the recurrent Qur'anic expression) that continually occupy the theater of the Heart. ...God's 'turning over' (taqlîb) of the hearts (6:110) is His creating in them our concern with good and our concern with evil. So whenever the human being perceives the conflict of these opposing inclinations (khawâtir) in the heart, that is an expression of God's 'turning over' the heart - and this is a kind of knowing that the human being cannot keep from having...

Ibn 'Arabî goes on to explain that the allusion to God's "Two Fingers" holding the heart, in the well known hadith, refers "to the speed of its turning over between faith and ingratitude (to God), with all that implies," and that the "duality" of the two Fingers likewise refers to the opposing "inclinations toward good and evil" although he hastens to add that an "unveiling" reveals (in ways he explains considerably later ) that these "Two Fingers" are related to the famous hadith concerning "both of God's Hands being 'Right' Hands", both instruments of the all-encompassing divine Lovingmercy (Rahma).

In chapter 4, in the context of praising the special spiritual blessings and influences of Mecca, Ibn 'Arabî goes on to mention (at II, 120-24) a kind of "contemplation" and inspired knowledge of the heart that is a bit less mundane, but still a remarkably powerful and widespread experience for many individuals who today are often unaware of its deeper religious roots and significance: the question of our sensitivity to the spiritual power of sacred places: One of the conditions for the person who knows through direct vision, who is master of the stages and modes of witnessing the Unseen spiritual realities (mashâhid al-ghayb), is that they are aware that places have an influence on sensitive hearts... (Only the individual entirely under the influence of their own perturbed inner state, the sâhib al-hâl, could fail to perceive this powerful difference in the spiritual

intensity of being, the wujûd, of different places.) But as for the perfected person, the master of this spiritual stage (sâhib al-maqâm), they are able to discern this difference in the power of places, just as God differentiates between them... What a difference there is between a city most of whose buildings are the carnal passions (shahawât) and a city most of whose buildings are (divine) Signs and Miracles! [Here Ibn 'Arabî is probably alluding more specifically to "cities" or spiritual communities of human hearts. He then goes on to address directly his friend in Tunis, the Shaykh Mahdawî (for whom the entire Futûhât was originally composed), and to remind him of his inexplicable preference for spiritual retreat at a particular place in a cemetery of Tunis, where he felt closer to the presence of al-Khâdir ('Khezr') - and eventually encountered that ageless initiatic figure.] ...Now my friend knows that this (power of spiritual places) is due to those who inhabit that place, either in the present, such as some of the noble angels or the pious spirits (jinn), or else through the spiritual intentions (himma) of those who used to inhabit them and have passed on, such as (...the house of Abû Yazîd al-Bastâmî, the prayer-room of al-Junayd ...) and the places of the Righteous (theSâlihîn) who have left behind this abode, but whose influences have remained behind them, so that sensitive hearts are influenced by them. This is also the cause for the influences that different places of prayer have on the intensity of presence (wujûd) of the heart - not the number of their bricks! ...And whoever doesn't notice this difference in the spiritual presence of their heart between the marketplace and the place of prayer is under the influence of their passing hâl, not the master of this spiritual station. ...Indeed your intensity of presence (wujûd) is according to your companions (julasâ'), for the spiritual aspirations (himam) of one's companions have a tremendous influence on the heart of the one who is

there with them - and their intentions are according to their spiritual ranks... ...So for us, the awareness of this matter, I mean the knowledge of the spiritual influence of places and the sensitivity to its greater or lesser presence, is part of the completion of the mastery of the Knower and the high dignity of that station, of the Knower's responsibility for things and their faculty of spiritual discernment...

Of course this particular case is only one small part of the larger question of the spiritual presence or awareness of the heart, and in chapter 12 (II, 346) Ibn 'ArabÎ alludes to the example and exemplar which underlies so much of his work: Now (Muhammad) alluded to something which the people of God have put into practice and found to be sound, and that is his saying: 'If it were not for your speaking too much and the turmoil in your hearts, then you would have seen what I see and would have heard what I hear!' For he was singled out for the rank of perfection (kamâl) in all things, including perfection in servanthood, so that he was the absolute servant (of God). ...And Aisha said: 'the Messenger of God used to remember God in all of his states,' and we have had an abundant inheritance from that. Now this (constant presence with God) is a matter that specifically involves the inner dimension of the human being and our 'speech' (qawl), although things (apparently) contradicting that may appear in our actions, as we have realized and verified with regard to this spiritual station - even if that appears puzzling to someone who has no knowledge of the spiritual states.

Fortunately, although many of the forms or degrees of prayer and contemplation evoked by Ibn 'ArabĂŽ might appear at first glance to lie beyond the usual range of our experience or, in some cases, even our most ambitious aspirations, he is also

a master in evoking and suggesting the fundamental role of the divine activity and the providential divine "Caring" ('inâya) that constantly underlies every stage of this individual process of realization - not just in an abstract, metaphysical terms, but often, especially in the Futûhât, in subtly practical ways whose relevance and meaning only become clear to readers who are willing to approach the work slowly and attentively in terms of its echoes and implications in their own experience. His language for describing the phenomena of "grace" and the human-divine interactions, in all their richness, are surely most fully developed in the hundreds of later chapters of the Futûhât on the various spiritual stations, but chapter 24 (III, 178-79) marks one of his first allusions to this practically central dimension of the problem that concerns us here: "As for those hearts who are passionately in love (muta'ashshiqa) with the (divine) 'Breaths', since the treasuries of the animating spirits (of human souls) are in love with the Breaths of the All-Merciful - because of this inner connection and correspondence (between the divine Spirit and our souls) - the Messenger of God said: 'The Breath of the AllMerciful is coming to me from the Yemen.' Because the animating spirit (that gives life to our soul) is a (divine) "breath," and the Source of those breaths, for the hearts that are in love with them, is the Breath of the All-Merciful which is from the 'Yemen,' for whoever has been taken from their true Homeland, separated from their home and resting place: therefore (that Breath) contains release from (the hearts') oppression and the removal of misfortunes. Which is why he also said: 'Surely God has fragrant breaths (or 'breezes', nafahat), so go toward the fragrant breaths of your Lord!'

One of the Shaykh's most powerfully moving evocations of the soul's state of true prayer and awareness of God is in his chapter 41, on the "People of the Night" the "Night" in question (based on complex allusions to a number of hadith and Qur'anic verses, as well as classical Arabic love-poetry) being conceived here as the inner state of mutual intimacy and awareness between the human lover and

the divine Beloved, however and whenever that contemplative state might occur.

In this intimate, speechless dialogue within the heart, it is the divine "Voice" that is speaking at first here (IV, 41-43), describing the inner reality of these "nocturnal" prayers, the fully realized state of "recollection" (dhikr): So I am the One reciting My Book to the person praying, through his tongue - and he is the one who is listening, for that is My 'nighttime conversation' (musâmiratÎ). And that servant is the one who is taking pleasure in My Speaking - such that if he stopped (to ponder) the meanings (of what I am saying) he would be taken away from Me by his thinking and reflection.

For what is essential for the servant here is to listen attentively to Me, to devote his hearing entirely to what I am saying, until the point where I am actually the One in that reciting - as though I were reciting it to him and making him listen to it - until I am the One explaining My words to him, translating its inner meaning to him. That is My nocturnal conversing with the servant, so that he takes his knowing directly from Me, not from his own thinking or considerations.

For (the true Knower) is not distracted (from total attention to Me) by the mention (in those Qur'anic words) of the Garden or the Fire, of the Accounting and Reviewing (of our works at the Judgment), or of this world or the next. For that (accomplished divine Knower) does not reflect on each verse with their intellect or investigate it with his own thinking. Instead he only 'listens attentively' (alluding to the key verse at 50:37 with which we began) to what I am saying to him, 'while he is witnessing' (Me), present with Me, while I take upon Myself the responsibility for teaching him... In that way the Knower realizes with complete certainty knowings which did not come from within himself, since It was from Me that he heard the Qur'an, from Me that he heard

Its explanation and the commentary on Its meanings, what I meant by this or that particular verse or chapter.

That is the Knower's proper adab with me, his carefully listening and paying heed to Me. So if I seek them out for a nocturnal conversation concerning something, they answer Me immediately with their presence and readiness, and their immediate witnessing...

Indeed if the Dawn comes along and I have ascended upon the Throne ..., My servant goes off to his livelihood and the company of his fellows. But I have already opened up a 'Door' for him among My creatures, a Door between Myself and him through which My servant sees Me and through which I see him - although the others don't notice that. So I converse with My servant through his tongue, without his being aware of that. And My servant receives (that spiritual instruction) from me 'with clear Insight' (12:108), although those people don't know that and think that they are the ones who are talking to him, even though (in reality) no one is speaking other than Me! They imagine that My servant is answering them, when they are actually replying to no one but Me! The final paragraph here of course recalls some of the metaphysical teachings most commonly associated with Ibn 'ArabÎ and his later interpreters, ideas which he most often develops in connection with the hadith of the divine "transformation through the forms (of the creatures)" and the celebrated hadith in which the spiritual virtue of ihsân ("right-and-beautiful-action") and the ultimate goal of Religion is defined as "serving God as though you see Him." But this divine speech from chapter 41, with its open identification of the heart as the open "Door" linking God and the soul - and of the most "mundane" incidents of each person's everyday life as priceless, entirely individual "private lessons" from God - throws a very different, less "mystical" and much more practical and instructive light on that same teaching.

Ibn 'Arabî's next discussion of the enlightened "heart," in chapter 43 (IV, 78-82) on the "people of inner spiritual 'scrupulousness'," emphasizes even more strongly the importance of carrying out this spiritual practice of realizing the divine Presence within all the testing demands of social life in this world, but in complete secrecy, without leaving any opening for the multiple forms of inner hypocrisy and potential corruption that are usually tied up, in any culture, with any overt or distinctive personal focus on "spiritual" activities. And in fact the Prophetic advice regarding this state that Ibn 'Arabî quotes here, if one puts it into practice, is likely to lead in directions somewhat different from any society's public expectations of "religiosity": Now since this was the inner state of the people of wara', they followed in their (daily) matters and activities the ways of the common people, not letting them know that this (inner scrupulousness and attentiveness) distinguished them from them, concealing themselves behind the conventional arrangements in the world so that no special praise is accorded the person who takes on those ways...; Here the Shaykh goes on to explain that 'the people of God carefully avoid anything like' what would cause them to be singled out for their piety or asceticism or good nature and the like. He then asks his reader to Ponder what (the Prophet) said about this spiritual station, teaching his intimates how they should act in regard to it: 'Stop doing whatever disturbs you, and turn to what does not disturb you!' And his saying: "Seek the guidance of your heart (istaftî qalbaka), even if it guides you toward what fascinates or tempts you (al-maftûn).

These two hadith, which could certainly be interpreted (if taken in isolation) in order to justify some of the notorious ways of themalâmîya or the nonconformist attitudes associated with the ideal of the "rend" in Hafez's poetry, in fact offer some of the most useful and straightforward - if also incredibly demanding and challenging - practical spiritual guidance one could find anywhere in the Futûhât:

Thus (the Prophet) pointed them in the direction of their own hearts, because of what he knew their hearts contained of the secret/mystery of God (sirr Allâh), what their hearts included (of that Secret) that is essential to realizing this spiritual station. For in the hearts there is a special divine Care and Protection that is not perceived by any but the people of attentive awareness (ahl al-murâqaba), concealed for them there (in the heart).

The people of this "Pure Religion" (39:3), Ibn 'Arabî admits, almost inevitably become recognized eventually as somehow peculiar - although most people do not at all suspect just why they are so mysteriously "special." The particular example he chooses to give here, of the conscientiousness of an anonymous sister of the famous early Baghdadi Sufi Bishr al-Hâfî, revealed in a question she brought to the learned jurist Ahmad Ibn Hanbal, is a telling illustration of the outwardly modest way of life the Shaykh has in mind. The key to this highest level of conscientious spiritual practice, he again insists, is simply to begin applying these two utterly straightforward sayings of the Prophet: For he gave us the True Balance (al-mîzân) in our hearts, so that our station might be concealed from others, wholly devoted to God, in complete purity and sincerity, not known by any but God and then His trusted companion: 'Is not the Pure Religion (wholly) God's?!' (39:3) since any other form of religion is inevitably corrupted either by the promptings of the egoistic self (the nafs) or its concern with social proprieties. ...So when the people of this spiritual station saw the Prophet's careful attention to what is realized within the heart of the servant, what he said about it and what he pointed out that the human being should do and should avoid by seeking to remain concealed: (when they saw all that,) they put it into practice in order to realize that (station), they followed that path, and they knew that the salvation we seek from the

Lawgiver is only possible through concealing our spiritual state. So he bestowed upon them (the duty) to act according to that and to actively realize it.

Therefore the people of this station realized that this (earthly) abode is an abode of concealment (for us as it is for God), and why God was not content in describing (His) religion until He had qualified it as the "Pure and Sincere (Religion)" (al-dîn al-khâlis). So they sought a way in which they would not be corrupted by any form of associating (any worldly motives with the pure service of God), so that they might apply themselves to this place (i.e., life in this world) with just what it deserves, from the point of view of proper adab, wisdom, and observing and following the law (shar'). Hence they veiled themselves from the ordinary people through the veils of scrupulous piety (wara'), which the people don't even notice, since (for them) that is the outward aspect of religion (zâhir al-dîn) and the received forms of knowledge. For if the people of this spiritual station followed outwardly anything other than the commonly received forms of religion they would stand out - and thereby end up accomplishing the opposite of what they were seeking...

Yet if "the common people only notice these (anonymous saints) according to the usual motives they have concerning them," he concludes, those who have realized this spiritual station are already "being praised by God, by the holy divine Names, by the angels, by the prophets and messengers, and by the animals and plants and minerals and everything that sings God's praises. It is only the jinn and human beings (al-thaqalayn) who are entirely unaware of them, except for those individuals to whom God may reveal their identity..." This emphatic allusion to the necessary anonymity of the "Friends of God" (the awliyâ') is of course a central theme in Ibn 'Arabî's spiritual teaching, and one that is marvelously illustrated by his anecdotes about his own personal encounters with such hidden saints throughout the Islamic world, whether scattered in the Futûhât or, more accessibly in English, in the stories translated in Sufis of Andalusia. However, from

practical point of view, it might be even more revealing to connect what Ibn 'Arabî has said about such hidden saints, whether in those collected stories or here in chapter 43, with his lesson on God's instruction of the heart (and His mundane instruments of that teaching) in the immediately preceding excerpts from chapter 41. The special effectiveness, and the deeper fascination, of this strange book mirroring life itself - lies in just such juxtapositions and hidden connections.

Since the external, visible path of these true "people of the heart," for Ibn 'Arabî, ordinarily comprises above all the "outward aspect of Religion" (zâhir al-Dîn), it is not surprising if much of the rest of this opening section of the Futûhât is devoted to the inner secrets or mysteries (asrâr), the "heart-dimension," of the "Five Pillars," and especially of the ritual prayer (salât). As the Shaykh points out in his next discussion of the heart, in chapter 47 (IV, 134-37): Now there is no act of worship or devotion ('ibâda) that God has prescribed for His servants that does not have a special connection with a divine Name, or a divine Reality implicit in that Name, which gives to (the person carrying out) that devotion what it gives to the heart in this world...and in the other world. ...(In this world, those corresponding 'gifts' of each Name to the heart include its specific) stations and forms of knowing and awareness, and the divine Signs and manifestations of Grace (karamât) included in its specific spiritual states...

Now God says that He converses intimately with the person praying [alluding to ch. 41 above], and He is Light (24:35), so He confides (in His servant in prayer) through His Name 'The Light' (al-Nûr) and no other. And just as Light drives away all darkness, so the ritual prayer cuts off every other preoccupation, unlike the other acts (of devotion), which do not involve letting go of everythingother than God, as the ritual prayer does. This is why prayer is called 'a light' [in the hadith 'Prayer is a light'], because in that way God gives (the servant) the Good News that if he confides in God and entrusts himself to Him through His Name 'The Light,' then He is alone with the servant and

removes every transient thing (kawn) in the servant's act of witnessing Him during their intimate conversation...

Therefore every servant who is (outwardly) praying, but whose act of prayer does not remove them from everything (other than God), is not truly praying, and that act of prayer is not a Light for them. And anyone who is reciting (the verses of the Qur'an) inwardly, within their soul, but who does not directly witness God's remembering them within Himself, has not...really remembered God within their soul, because of the lack of the right inner correspondence (between God and the receptive soul), due to what is present there of things of this world, such as family and children and friends, or of the other world, such as the presence of the angels in his thoughts... The inward state (of presence and receptivity) of the servant praying must be such that none but their Lord is intimately addressing them in their prayer and recitation, in their praises and petitions (to God).

And Ibn 'Arabî goes on here to multiply at length the inner conditions for experiencing the true reality of salât. For as he points out, "Among the acts of devotion and worship ('ibâdat) there is none that brings the servant closer to the angelic spiritual stations of 'those drawn near to God' (the muqarrabûn), which is the highest station of the Friends of God - whether of angel or Messenger or prophet or saint or person of faith - than the act of prayer." Lest one despair of ever realizing - at least as something more than a memorable hâl - such a true inner state of prayer, the Shaykh immediately follows this description with another imagined speech of God to his angels, a speech which underlines the extraordinary dignity and rarity of any human achievement in this realm of prayer: ...For I have placed between this servant of Mine and the 'station of Proximity (to Me)' (maqâm al-qurba) many veils and immense obstacles, including the goals of the carnal soul; sensual desires and

passions; taking care of other people, property, family, servants and friends; and terrible fears. Yet (My servant) has cut through all that and continued to strive until he prostrated himself [clearly more than bodily motions are involved in this sense of sujûd] and drew near (to Me) and became one of the muqarrabûn. So look, O My angels, at how specially favored you are and at the superiority of your rank, although I did not test you with these obstacles nor obligate you to undergo their pains.

And realize the rank of this servant, and give him all that he is due for everything that he has undergone and suffered on his path (toward Me), for My sake!

In chapter 50, on the "people of Hayra (spiritual 'bewilderment')" - one of the highest spiritual stations for Ibn 'Arabî, as we know - he returns to an even closer phenomenological description of this state of the truly open and purified heart, in an account whose conclusion recalls certain celebrated poems of John of the Cross. The first part of that description (IV, 218-25), though, simply summarizes the process by which any of the "people of spiritual unveiling" - as opposed to the followers of intellectual reflection or of mere formal obedience (taqlîd) - set out to discover the right divine answer to their religious questions, arising from the recurrent fundamental problem of applying or interpreting scriptural tradition: So this group apply themselves vigorously to acquiring (the reality concerning) something that has come down in the divine reports from the side of God (al-Haqq), and they begin by 'polishing their hearts through acts of dhikr and the recitation of the Qur'an' (as specified in the famous hadith), by emptying the receptacle (of their hearts) from all inquiry about contingent things, and through the presence of careful attentiveness (to the inner state of their hearts, murâqaba) - along with observing the purity of their outward action through following the limits set by revelation... (Such a person seeking inspiration) turns their thoughts completely from their self (nafs), since that (turning away) disperses their worries, and remains alone carefully attending to their

heart, at the Door of their Lord. Then when God opens up this Door for the possessor of such a heart, they realize a divine Self-manifestation (or 'theophany':tajalli) that is in accordance with their inner condition.

And through that (inspiration they realize) the relation of something to God that they would never have dared to risk relating to God before and would never have even attributed to God...[unless that were already reported by the divine prophets, in which case they still could only have accepted it on faith]. But now that person applies that (newly revealed aspect of the divine) to God as verified and realized knowing, because of what was revealed to them through that divine Self-manifestation.

But this sort of "extra-ordinary" experience of divine illumination is only the first step toward the spiritual state of "Bewilderment": For after the first such Self-manifestation (the person experiencing such an unexpected revelation of God's nature or activity in the world) imagines that they have reached their goal and accomplished the matter, and that there is nothing to be sought beyond that except for that (revelatory state) to continue. But then another Self-manifestion occurs to them, with still another quality and implication (hukm) unlike that of the first - even though the (divine Reality) manifesting Itself is undoubtedly the same, in the same position as in the first case. After that still other Self-manifestations follow one another for that person, with their different implications, so that through this (ongoing revelation) the person comes to know that this matter has no end at which it might stop. Only then do they realize that they have not perceived (or 'attained') the divine Ipseity (innîya), and that the divine Essence (huwîya) cannot be made manifest to them, in that it is the Spirit (the rûh) of every theophany. So that person's 'bewilderment' increases, but there is great pleasure in it...[which, Ibn 'Arabî hastens to add, is totally unlike the different and quite frustrating "perplexity" of our intellect that is called by the same name]. People like

this have been raised above the contingent things (akwân), so that they witness nothing but (God), and He is the object of their witnessing...

Their state of 'bewilderment' only grows more intense, and (because of the intensity of the satisfaction associated with it) they only seek to continue experiencing those successive Self-manifestations...

Perhaps such a description, as is not infrequently the case with Ibn 'Arabî, may seem to apply to a state of the contemplating heart almost unimaginably beyond anything we might consider possible in our own experience. But as always, the Shaykh returns to this subject from another perspective which may suggest that the fruits of such inspiration are in fact not so far removed from things we have already realized, if we can only make the essential connection (the mysterious "correspondence") between his concepts here and the corresponding spiritual phenomena. His next extended discussion of the heart, in chapter 54 (IV, 268-77) on the "Allusions" (ishârât) and technical vocabulary of the Sufis, is a striking illustration of that kind of unexpected connection - and of the fundamental role of individual "preparedness" and (humanly) inexplicable spiritual "aptitudes" in the realization of everything discussed in the Futûhât: One of the most astonishing things about this Path (of the people of God), and something that is only found here, is the fact that there is no other group bearing a kind of knowledge - whether the logicians, grammarians, mathematicians, geometricians, theologians or philosophers - who do not also have a technical vocabulary that the novice among them does not know except by frequenting a master or another one of them: that is necessarily the case. Except for the unique case of the people of this Path, when a sincere seeker (murîd) enters among them who does not know anything at all about their technical terminology: indeed this phenomenon is precisely what allows them to know that person's spiritual sincerity (sidq). For if God has already opened the eye of that seeker's understanding and that person has (truly) taken the beginning of their spiritual 'tasting' from God, then that

person will sit down among them and speak with them using their terminology in the special way that no one else knows but them - even though that person knew nothing before about the special expressions of the people of God! For that sincere spiritual seeker understands everything that they are talking about, just as though that person were actually the one who had decided upon those technical expressions; and that seeker (immediately) joins them in using that language, without feeling any strangeness about doing so - indeed that person feels that the knowledge of these expressions is immediately self-evident and unavoidable. It is as though they had always known that language, without knowing how they ever came to acquire it.

Ibn 'Arabî's allusion here to the vast extent of the "unconscious" or ordinarily unarticulated spiritual knowing and awareness of the heart that is often taken for granted precisely by those who most obviously possess it is a phenomenon that everyone has probably encountered at one time or another, and not only in the history of religions.

Part 4 IV. THE "SECRETS OF PURIFICATION" (Chapter 68): The next discussions of the Heart in the Futûhât are in the lengthy chapter 68 on the "Secrets of Purity" (asrâr al-tahâra), where dimensions of spiritual "purification" are raised more than twenty times, usually in implicit or explicit connection with prayer (the subject of the even longer following chapter). Many of Ibn 'Arabî's points there about realizing the contemplative potential of the heart are both brief and exceedingly practical even for the uninitiated reader, while others are astonishingly subtle and far-reaching in their implications. Within this

article we can highlight or summarize only a few of the most important of those passages. To begin with, Ibn 'Arabî points out (V, 148-49) that "the divine knowledge received directly from God's Presence through revelation ('ilm ladunnî ilâhî mashrû') has a single taste - even if the places where it is drunk may differ, they do not differ in being good: and whether it is good or better, it is all pure, without any corruption...

For the prophets and saints and everyone who informs us from God all say the same thing of God...not differing among themselves, and confirming one another - just as the pure rain from the sky is not different when it falls.

So let the foundation of your purification of your heart be with water like this - with nothing but knowledge known through divine revelation (shar'), which has been likened to rainwater. ... then your own essence and your purification (of it) will be like that spring from which water flows forth. And if you should differentiate sweetness or saltiness (in what is claimed to all be 'revealed' rainwater), then know that your perceptions are sound! This is a topic to which I have not found anyone alluding. And yet the person who eats sugar knows its sweetness like that, and knows that there is something wrong with the bitterness of aloes: they don't need a "rational proof" (dalîl 'aqlî) (to recognize the difference)! Now I have definitely pointed this out to you, so take my indication to heart - and watch out!

Now that that is established, my friend, start employing the forms of knowledge given by the revelation (shar') in (purifying) your own essence, and use the knowings of the saints and the true Knowers who took them from God in your own spiritual exercises and spiritual efforts and exertions, refraining from the excesses (i.e., the desires) of the bodily members and the promptings of the egoistic self (the nafs) For if you cannot distinguish between those waters (i.e., which are truly pure

and divinely revealed, and which polluted by human interference), then know that something is wrong with your nature, that it has somehow been corrupted. In that case we can do nothing for you, except that God may help you, through His Lovingmercy."

It should not be necessary to underline the continued practical relevance of his remarks here, or the way they apply equally to every religious tradition. This innate human awareness of the right course of spiritual action, Ibn 'Arabî continues (V, 165-71), is a "purification" that is religiously obligatory "...for every responsible-rational person (every 'âqil, in the legal sense of that term). For that person is the one who understandsfrom God ('an Allâh) what they are ordered and prohibited, and what God gives to them in their innermost being; they are the person who is able to distinguish, among the inner promptings of their heart, what comes from God and what from their egoistic self (nafs), what from the touch of an angel or the touch of a devil: and that is the fully human being (al-insân)! So if someone reaches that degree in their spiritual awareness (ma'rifa) and their discernment, and understands from God what He wants from them, and truly hears God's saying that 'the heart of My servant encompasses Me': then it is obligatory for that person in this situation to use this (awareness) in purifying their heart and every other member connected with it, in the way God intends..."

Therefore, the Shaykh concludes (V, 166), this inner purification and discernment are an obligation for every single responsible human being, whether or not they've even heard of the historical forms of religion: "Our own way of proceeding (our madhhab) is that all people in general - whether they are among the people of faith, or kufr, or inner hypocrites - are 'addressed' (mukhâtabûn: spoken to directly by God in their hearts) regarding the Sources of the divine Way (thesharî'a, in its

root sense) and its branches, and that they are all held responsible at the Day of the Rising."

"For us," he explains further on (V, 320-22), "purification itself is an independent act of devotion." Indeed for Ibn 'Arabî, as we have already seen, it is in a way the ultimate root and aim of every act of worship. From the traditional legal point of view, of course, "it may also be the condition for properly performing another act of worship and devotion, either an essential condition or one necessary for its proper performance, while for another act of devotion it may be only 'preferable' or part of the Prophet's personal example (mustahabb orsunna)."

"The inner spiritual grounds (hukm al-bâtin) for that," he continues, "is that the purification of the heart is a precondition for our intimate converse (munâjat) with God or for our contemplating Him - a condition that is at once both obligatory (or 'essential') and necessary for the proper realization (of that spiritual intimacy and true contemplation)." "Sometimes," he adds, "spiritual knowing may be an essential condition for the soundness of our faith in a matter. And sometimes faith in turn may be an essential condition as well as a necessary condition for assuring the soundness of our knowing through experiential 'unveiling.' However in faith there is the purification of the heart from being veiled (from God's presence), while (spiritual) knowing purifies the heart from ignorance and doubt and pretension. So purify your heart with both of those purifications (of faith and of knowledge): you will rise high, through that, in both the worlds, and through it you will attain the knowledge of the 'Two Handfuls' (of human souls destined to suffering or bliss)."

And he concludes: "As for the inner spiritual judgment (hukm al-bâtin) concerning all of this," the Shaykh concludes, "we say that every prescribed religious action that is not preceded by this purification through faith is unsound because of this lack of faith. Therefore faith is necessary for every religious action."

In his ensuing discussion (V, 341-44) of the purifications appropriate to the pilgrim visiting the Kaaba - whether that "pilgrimage" be inward or outward - Ibn 'Arabî makes two points that are very simple, but practically of the utmost importance. The first concerns the proper inner attitude to have in our relations with all the other creatures, which is the full realization of the virtue of ihsân - of "seeing God" and the divine Presence through and with all things: "Now spiritual purification (tahârat al-bâtin) - which is (purification of) the heart is through liberating ourselves (from all attachments other than God), in order to seek (His) friendship. And there is no (true) friendship and closeness with God except through freeing yourself from the creatures, insofar as you used to consider them (only) in light of their relation to yourself (to your ego or nafs) and not through God (and the realization of His aims in their regard)."

The Shaykh's second point is made in regard to the spiritual experience of the pilgrim with regard to the "treasure" and blessing and guidance that the Prophet has mentioned as being reserved for those visiting the "House (or Temple: albayt) of God": "So consider the one who comes to circumambulate (the Kaaba), when he has turned to his heart after going around (the House). If he finds an 'increase' in his awareness of his Lord and a 'clear indication' (from God) that he did not have before, then he knows from that that he has properly carried out his purification for entering Mecca. But if he finds none of that (in his heart), then he knows that he has failed to purify himself, did not come to his Lord, and so did not (truly) go around His House. For it is impossible that anyone should come to stay with a noble and wealthy host, entering into his house, and yet not experience his hospitality! ...If such a person 'came close' (to God's House), they only came close to the rocks, not to the Essence (or the Source: al-'ayn) May God place us among the possessors of hearts, the people of God and those close to Him!"

This process of inner purification obligatory for all worship and devotion, Ibn 'Arabî constantly reiterates, is always changing and always essential (V, 349): "The purification of the heart (is obligatory) so that it may be joined with its Lord, and so that its spiritual aspiration may be joined in intimate converse (munâjât) with Him through the raising of the veil from (the servant's heart). ...So it is necessary for anyone who is seeking this state (of the heart's intrinsic intimacy with God) to purify themselves with a special purification. Indeed I say thatevery state of the servant with God requires its own special purification..."

At this point (V, 346-47) Ibn 'Arabî adds a special warning, but one which also highlights his typical reliance on the actual consequences of spiritual effort - and the sensitivity of each individual's heart - in overcoming these recurrent dangers of the Path: "Now the guardians (the bawwâbs of the heart) may sometimes be sleeping or distracted, so that the secret promptings (khawâtir) of the carnal souls and the devils find nothing to keep them from entering that person's heart. In that case, when that person says 'Labbayk!' ['Here I am, Lord!', the traditional pilgrim's call] with their tongue, imagining that they are coming in response to the call of their Lord, they are only responding to the prompting of their own nafs or of a devil calling to them in their heart."

And Ibn 'Arabî goes on to describe the glee of that ever-present impostor in thus fooling the deluded seeker... "So 'If it were not for the Generosity of God and His Lovingmercy' - through the tongue of our inner spiritual state (lisân albâtin wa-l-hâl) and the spiritual intention (nîya) preceding that event," such a person who was imperfectly purified would surely encounter the 'dire suffering' mentioned in that same verse (24:14). But in reality, as he insists in another extraordinary passage of this same chapter, it is necessary to take a much more comprehensive view of the providential divine "Caring" ('inâya) and "Outwitting"

(makar) with regard to Iblis and the devils, a proof of God's Mercy and Grace that is ultimately manifested precisely through the multitude of such memorable spiritual "mishaps" and delusions that each person inevitably experiences over time.

This is why, Ibn 'Arabî explains (V, 354-56), "it is necessary to purify the heart from the 'touch of Satan'" - which he has elsewhere identified with the passion of blind anger, sakht - "when it descends on the heart and touches the inner being of a person." And that purification of the heart is through the 'touch of the angel,'" which is the manifestation of God's providential Caring for the heart at that point.

"And if the hadith of God's 'Two Fingers' alluded to that (mysterious working of Grace and divine Providence)," Ibn 'Arabî continues, then "both of those Fingers are Lovingmercy (rahma)...since if it were not for God's Lovingmercy for His servant through that touch of the devil, the servant would never receive their reward for countering that prompting (of the devil) and turning away from it to the work of the angel's touch (i.e., the experience of repentance and divine Grace), so that the servant acquires two rewards (for the inner struggle, and for the eventual repentance and right action). And that is why we say that God attributed both (of those 'Two Fingers') to the Divine Name 'the AllMerciful' (al-Rahmân)."

This point, which has so often been treated as paradoxical or even heretical by later Islamic critics of the Shaykh, in fact could not be more central to Ibn 'Arabî's comprehensive awareness of the processes of spiritual growth and transformation, on both the individual and larger cosmic levels. For in a passage so long that it can only be summarized here, Ibn 'Arabî carefully points out how the devil always ends up accomplishing the exact opposite of what he intended, as the results of his deception eventually push the servant to regret - "the greatest of the pillars of repentance and return to God," as the Shaykh calls it and then to true re-turning to God (tawba). Thus the "victim" of Satan

"has the reward of the shahîd [here not only 'martyr,' but also the literal 'witness' of God's Love and Mercy] because of the occurrence of that act (of turning to God) in him. And the shahîd (as confirmed by Qur'an and hadith alike) is alive, not dead - for what life could be greater than the Life of hearts together with God, in whatever activity that may be?! For the presence (of the heart) with faith, in the face of the opposition (of Satan), renders that action alive with the Life of the (divine) Presence."

So this, Ibn 'Arabî concludes (V, 356) , is again why both divine "Fingers" although they appear to us, in terms of our own dualistic feelings and judgments of our experience, as diametrically opposed - are in fact equally instruments of God's Love and Mercy: "If (the devil) knew that God was blessing the servant, through the devil's touch, with a special sort of happiness, then he wouldn't have done any of that. But this is the divine Cunning (makar Allâh) through which He fools Iblis, and I have not seen anyone else allude to that. And indeed were it not for my knowing Iblis and being aware of his ignorance and his compulsion that drives him to counter (God), I too would not have alluded to this... But this is what encouraged me to mention this, because the devil can never stop at those occasions (for temptation) because of his veil, through his compulsion to make the servant suffer and his ignorance that God is (always) turning (to forgive) the servant. For God always cunningly deceives someone in such a way that they themselves fail to notice it, even if others are able to see what is really happening!"

The preceding discussion highlights one of the active principles of spiritual life underlying one of Ibn 'Arabî's most straightforward and illuminating pieces of practical advice (V, 359-60) regarding this ongoing purification of the heart and the way it transforms every single event of our life, inner or outer, into a further occasion for discovering the secrets of our relationship with God:

"Now the Knower finds in one of his spiritual states a contraction or expansion (qabd aw bast) whose immediate cause (sabab) he does not know. And for the people of the Path this is (always) a significant matter. For he knows that this (uncertainty as to the meaning of this experience) is due to his unconsciousness or heedlessness (ghafla) with regard to carefully observing his heart and his spiritual intention - and to his lack of spiritual insight (basîra) in grasping the inner correspondence of that state with the (spiritual) matter which that (divine) Attribute caused him to experience. In that case what is incumbent on (the Knower) is tosurrender (taslîm) to the eventual effects of the (divine) Decree, until he sees what that gives rise to in the future.

But if the Knower recognizes (the inner reason for that particular experience), then he should purify himself through being completely present with God in his knowledge of those correspondences, so that he does not become unaware of what has come to him from God through these 'sanctifying spiritual experiences' (wâridât al-taqdîs) - so that he is not unaware of which (divine) Name became (real) to him through that experience, and which Name came to be through him, and which Name is actually influencing him at that instant, causing him to call out for that experience. So these (spiritually "educational" dimensions of our experience realized by the Knower, sooner or later) are three: the name that is calling (to the Knower), the name that is called (into being) through him, and the name that is (at this instant) coming over him. Of course there is no possible correspondence (of this sort) through which God, in His Essence, might be (ultimately) circumscribed to us or through us..., But through His Names we are connected (with Him), through those Names we take on His qualities, and through them we become realized (or 'become transformed toward what is Real':natahaqqaq) - and God makes this possible!"

The next set of allusions to the heart's "purification" in this chapter (V, 363-366) stands out in every possible way from the discussions that surround it. The passage itself is almost certainly an illustration of that quintessential spiritual teaching destined for the "elite of the elite" which Ibn 'Arabî, in a key passage of his Introduction, claims to have intentionally "scattered" throughout the Futûhât.

An adequate translation and commentary would require a separate article, but the real difficulty, as one might expect of such a lesson, has nothing at all to do with its language. The essential point clearly has something to do with overcoming spiritual "dualism" - but at a fundamental level of depth and subtlety, and of necessarily personal and nearly ineffable intensity, considerably more profound than in the passages we have just discussed. The section begins with a discussion of distinctly spiritual qualities that, according to Ibn 'Arabî, require a complete bodily ablution (ghusl) - an act of purification that Islamic law typically requires for very different types and circumstances of "impurity." Ibn 'Arabî's movement here beyond the received forms of Islamic law, which serve as at least the ostensible point of departure for all of his other discussions of spiritual purification in the rest of chapter 68, is already a dramatic sign of the unique character of this section. The largest part of the passage, however, is a strange and in some ways metaphysically "comprehensive" catalogue of spiritual or ontological states and qualities.

The chapter (or "Door": bâb has both meanings) opens as follows: "Now we have already established that janâba (the technical legal term for a major ritual impurity requiring the total bodily ablution) is ghurba (a state of 'exile,' 'estrangement,' or 'removal' from one's rightful place). And here that is the exile of the servant from his rightful homeland which he deserves - and that is nothing but the state of pure servanthood ('ubûdîya). Or that (impurity) is the estrangement of an attribute of 'Lordship' from its rightful homeland (in God), so that someone (wrongfully) ascribes it to themselves or uses it to describe

some contingent creature or another. Now there is no disputing that one must be purified from this question.

So you must know that this single total ablution mentioned here in this chapter branches into 150 spiritual states, and that the servant, in his heart, must be completely purified from every single one of those states. So we will mention to you the essence ('ayn) of each one of them, if God wills, in ten sections, each section containing fifteen states, so that you will recognize how you (should?) meet them when they occur to the heart of the servant. Because they must inevitably occur to every heart, both of ordinary people and of the (spiritual) elite - and God gives support and inspiration, there is no power but through Him! While the adequate translation of this strange catalogue of spiritual states would be very long, we can at least note that it includes a number of what would ordinarily be viewed as "opposite" or contrary states (at least partially reminiscent of the lists of divine Names in the hadith and elsewhere): e.g., this world and the other world, life and death, mercy and anger, and so on, although the vast majority are of what would ordinarily be taken as positive and even rarely achieved spiritual virtues. The catalogue, with no other explanation or amplification, is followed by the following remarks: "You must know - may God support us and You with a Spirit from Him! that according to the school (madhhab) of the people of God and His elite among the people of spiritual unveiling, it is obligatory for every human being to completely purify their heart and their inner being from everything that we have mentioned in these (ten) sections, as well as everything else each of these spiritual states includes which we did not mention, for fear of being too long, There is no dispute among the people of immediate spiritual experience ('tastings') concerning that.

But those who seek to purify themselves from most of them will need an abundance of difficult knowledge concerning the proper ways to become

purified from what we have mentioned; and some of these states may serve as purifications from others!"

Later in the same chapter, Ibn 'Arabî's explanation of the proper "times" for purification also begins to move more openly beyond the ritual or legal contexts that are the usual occasion for such discussions in this chapter, as in the following passage (V, 374): "Now the purification of all things is with and through God (bi-l-Haqq).

So if someone becomes heedless of the (heart's primordial) witnessing (of God) and instead sees their self (or 'ego,' the nafs) taking the different kinds of knowing that God is (always) causing to descend on the heart, they must be purified because of their seeing their own egoself (rather than God).

In the same way, if we should happen to encounter another person in a matter in such a way that we teach them, either through our state or our words, and if that teaching flows from our presence (with God), then no purification is necessary, for we have not left our state of purity (with God). But if we should notice our own self (our nafs) in the process of teaching another person through our words or our state, then purification is absolutely obligatory for us, because of our noticing our self. For the people of God in this Path do everything that they do with and through God, out of their witnessing and unveiling of and from Him..."

Of course the very awareness of this hidden "corruption" or unconscious hypocrisy, and our corresponding need for purification, is itself a kind of gift of divine Grace, as Ibn 'Arabî recalls in this phenomenologically precise summary (V, 435): "Therefore the 'time' or 'moment' of purification in the spiritual sense (fi-l-bâtin), for us, is whenever one has specifically realized the

(eternally unfolding) connection between the divine 'Address' to the person obligated by it (the mukallaf) regarding what is incumbent on them both inwardly and outwardly. In spiritual terms, that is a divine Self-manifestation that suddenly comes over their heart, which is called in the Path a 'surprise attack' (hujûm)."

And finally, near the very end of this chapter (at V, 499), Ibn 'Arabî restates everything as simply as possible: "For God sees nothing of the human being (al-insân) but the heart. So it is incumbent on the servant that their heart should always and continually be pure, because it is the place God sees in them."

V. CONCLUSION: At this point we have followed Ibn 'Arabî's lessons on the heart and contemplation as far as his long chapter on the secrets of prayer (ch. 69), which would require several lengthy volumes to translate into English. So it is fitting to conclude with what he says there (VI, 217-219) about the puzzling Qur'anic verse (50:37) with which we began, in his discussion of the moments of silence during the ritual prayer: "...So it is obligatory for the servant, when he has finished reciting the verse (in prayer), to "listen attentively, while he is witnessing" (50:37). Therefore (the person praying) becomes silent, so that he can see what God is saying to him concerning that, as is only appropriate behavior (adab) with God. For we must not interrupt someone who is speaking to us, since that is only proper etiquette even in ordinary conversations - and God is far more deserving that we should be that way with Him! ...That is how this matter remains between the listener and the One speaking to him, so that the listener might gain benefit (from that silent pure receiving in prayer). Know that kings do not take

a person without proper adab to sit with them, nor to converse with them at night, nor to be their intimate companion."