ufism is a living tradition passed from person to person, often through stories, jokes, and poetry. In Sufi tales, unlike other fables and parables, there is usually not an obvious lesson to be derived. Rather, the stories sometimes end with a twist or a perplexing non-sequitur. They invite the listener to ponder deeper meanings or even to stay in a state of “unknowing”. Afterall, “bewilderment” is an integral part of the Sufi way. Many of us report that years after we had first heard a particular story, we finally “get it”; only to discover some time later that yet a newer, deeper meaning has emerged. Humorous, earnest, sometimes puzzling, sometimes touching, these stories are actually a sort of “medicine” whose purpose is to heal skewed perception and erroneous thinking.
ARTIST UNKNOWN
digital publication by See Hear Now Studios designed by Puran | edition: Dec, 2017 1.2 | copyright © 2018 Puran Lucas Perez
They work through the imagination, a faculty highly prized among Sufis. This is not the imagination of fantasy, but that faculty in which we bring myth and archetype to life. These stories enable us to relate more creatively to the mystery of life—that which can only be fathomed beyond the intellect. I have retold these stories here for our time and culture, retaining the essence and only adjusting names and language as needed. The hope is that this modest collection will help keep these tales alive and relevant in this ongoing caravan of wonder. They carry the wisdom of realization passed from heart to heart for centuries. Puran Lucas Perez
The 14+ volumes of the Sufi Message of Hazrat Inayat Khan are peppered with stories; some just two or three sentences long. Both the mysticism and humanity of Sufi Inayat Khan’s teachings shine brightly in those gems. This modest collection of stories from various sources is dedicated to all those who continue the light-bringing, love-sharing, beauty-making work he has inspired in so many of us.
SUFI TALES
Retold by Puran Lucas Perez
CONTENTS
The Use of Speech—•6 We Shall See—•9 Resurrection—•11 The Wily Rogue—•14 The Rose—•16 The Rainbow BIrd—•18 The Cow and the Purse—•20 TheStory—•22 Mullah’s Donkey—•25 Kill Me First—•27 The Way Out—•30 About—•32
The Use of Speech
I
n a village far away there lived a deaf shepherd and his family. Since he didn’t need hearing to tend his sheep, his deafness barely interfered with his life. One day as the sun hit the zenith the shepherd – tending his small flock on a hillside near the village –became, as was his habit, quite hungry. It was only then that he noticed that his wife had forgotten to pack him a lunch. He waited for a while in the hopes that she would realize this and send their young son along to deliver his meal. But when the boy did not arrive the shepherd decided to run home and trust in God to look over his sheep. As he descended the hill he noticed a shrub cutter also working there, and he went over to him. “Kind sir he said, would you be so good as to keep an eye on my sheep? I need to run home to get my lunch – which my wife forgot to pack for me… I’ll be back quickly.” Now it happened that the shrub cutter was also deaf and when he turned around and saw the shepherd there, he smiled at him with the same courtesy he would show anyone he encountered. The shepherd took this as agreement. “Thank you so much”, he said and ran off. When he returned, noting that all his sheep were there and that the shrub cutter was still busy at work, he thought: “What a good man this
is, he has guarded my sheep and he’s not looking for any thanks at all. There aren’t many like that good fellow in the world today!” Having a full tummy and a renewed faith in humanity, the shepherd decided to give the shrub cutter a gift. One of the small lambs had deformed hind quarters and the shepherd had been planning to make a meal of it soon. “I’ll give this one to the shrub cutter, he thought. He’s obviously a deserving man!” The deaf shrub cutter looked at the shepherd suspiciously as he approached with this crippled lamb in his arms. And when he couldn’t understand what the shepherd was saying while he kept thrusting the ugly animal at him, he became angered. “Why are you blaming me?” the shrub cutter shouted. “What do I have to do with it if you abandon your sheep and one of them gets hurt while you’re gone. Don’t blame it on me!” And with this the shrub cutter shoved the shepherd and his lamb away. The shepherd was stunned. He could not for the life of him imagine why this man – who a moment ago seemed a man of character – would so roughly refuse his gift. “Please, my good man,” the shepherd pleaded, “I am deaf and cannot hear why you are refusing my gift. Please explain to me in some way why it has angered you so.” At that moment a traveler on horse back appeared and the shepherd ran to him pleading for him to come down from his horse and help him understand what had enraged the shrub cutter so. At the same moment the shrub cutter rushed at the traveler screaming that the shepherd was crazy, blaming him for the lameness of his animal. Now it happened that, you guessed it, the traveler was also deaf. He was
a thief by occupation and had recently stolen the horse he was riding. Convinced that one of these men was the owner of the horse – why else would they be screaming at him so – the traveler dismounted and said, yelling to get his voice heard. “Very well, you’ve caught me. But, have pity I am deaf so I cannot hear which of you is the owner of this horse.” “I had nothing to do with the lameness of his lamb!” screamed the shrub cutter. “Tell him! Tell this maniac.” “Make him tell me why he is being so rude as to refuse a gift from me,” yelled the shepherd. “I was only trying to thank him for God’s sake.” “I’m sorry for taking your horse, I was weak in a moment of temptation.” shouted the thief. “But unless you show me who it belongs too...” And so they continued making a mighty din, incapable of hearing anything. Until an old dervish came along. The shrub cutter ran to him. “Please help me,” he cried. “I am a poor deaf shrub cutter and I think these men mean to do me harm and I don’t understand why. Please in your wisdom help us untangle this.” But the dervish was dumb and after he heard each one’s story he could only go to each man in turn and look steadily into his eyes trying to convey the simple truth that everything was really alright. But the shepherd thought that the dervish was trying to bewitch him so he quickly rounded up his flock and went home. The shrub cutter thought this was a madman and throw his herbs into his sack, ran away. The thief felt like the dervish was trying to control his mind, so he jumped up on the horse and sped away. The dervish resumed his journey wondering why God ever gave people the power of speech.
We Shall See
T
here lived an aged man whose primary joy in life was his children. Although he would never admit it, his favorite was his son, Zafr. One day Zafr succeeded in capturing a wild Arabian horse, of exceptional beauty and strength. Neighbors and friends came to the old man’s house that evening, one after another, to congratulate him on the good fortune (and wonderful omen) his son had achieved that day. The old man smiled and said to each of them only, “We shall see, we shall see.” The next day, as he was trying to train this magnificent stallion, Zafr took an awful fall. Crashing violently to the ground, both of his legs were broken. Neighbors and friends came to the old man’s house that evening, one after another, to commiserate with him on the bad luck (and worrisome omen) that had befallen his son that day. The old man smiled and said to each of them only, “We shall see, we shall see.” War broke out the following day, and the king’s soldiers swept through the countryside taking away by force all able bodied men. Zafr, of course – legs in casts – was spared. Neighbors and friends came to the old man’s house that evening, one after another, to celebrate the amazing luck (and excellent portend) that his son had been blessed with that day. The old man smiled and said to each of them only, “We shall see, we shall see.” Horse is a monumental bronze sculpture by Chris Navarro visit: http://www.natureartists.com/artists/
Resurrection
T
here was once a beautiful young woman. Her extraordinary physical loveliness was such that men fell in love at first sight. But even her beauty was nothing compared to the sweetness, and humility of her personality. Naturally there were many suitors for the hand of this exceptional woman and so her father spent many, many hours meeting and interviewing the men from near and far who came courting. Among these, the father selected three young men whose nobility, wealth and character he believed would serve his daughter well. The father liked the three men equally so he left the final decision to his daughter. But, tragically, before she could decide which of them she would marry, she was struck down by a mysterious illness, and soon she was dead. The grief of the three young men – each of whom was deeply in love with the maiden – was overpowering, and they vowed to remain devoted to her forever, each in his own way. The first young man simply would not leave her grave site, and began to live like a wild man in the cemetery. Sometimes he would talk to her grave stone, or lie weeping on the ground covering her. At night he would sleep next to her grave embracing the vines that grew around her, or he would sit up meditating on her divine qualities. The second young man – no longer having a reason to live – became a wanderer. Disheveled and emaciated he went from town to town, like a ghost. He knew he was searching for something, but he didn’t know what it was. Nor did he care since his heart was
now too broken to hold desire or pleasure. But he so completely renounced the world that his spiritual force began to grow. The third young man, seeing how hopelessly grief stricken her father had become, went to take care of him. He moved into his house and attended to the old man. Consoling him, waiting on him hand and foot, night and day, he became like a son to him. In this way, the young man’s saintly conduct helped them both find some slight lessening of their grief. Now in his wanderings, the second young man encountered a wise man. who recognized the inner light growing in him. The sage seemed to see into the young man’s very soul, reading there of the search for something he could not define. So he invited the wanderer to his home and after serving him a meal and having some warm conversation he said, “I think I know what it is you need.” At that moment the wise man’s grandson, who had been sitting with them quietly at table, began to cry. Without hesitation the wise man picked up the small boy and threw him into the fireplace where a roaring fire consumed him in an instant. The young wanderer was shocked and jumped to his feet, screaming at the wise man. He could not believe what he just witnessed. But before he could do anything the wise man smiled at him and said, “All is well, when you have the knowledge.” And with that he recited some strange words and threw some drops of liquid from a small vial into the fire. Instantly the little boy came running back out of the fire, laughing.
The wise man gave the vial to the wanderer, taught him the strange words and without question or explanation sent his on his way. The young man rushed back to his home country and went straight to the cemetery. The next thing he knew the beautiful young maiden stood before him alive again and completely restored to health. After the rejoicing among friends and family had quieted down a little her father reminded her that she must chose one of her three suitors to be her husband. Each of them felt, of course that he was the worthiest, having proved by their particular sacrifice that he should be the one. She agreed that they were all worthy, but that was not the question. The decision would be made on the basis of who had inspired true love in her. She said, “The one who found the potion of resurrection inspired me with his humanity and compassion – he is my bosom friend; the one who took care of my father inspired me with his dedication and generosity – he is my dearest brother; but the one who laid by my grave night and day inspired me with his love and deep devotion – he is my lover, and him I will marry.
The Wily Rogue
T
here was a wily rogue who made his way through life by con games and thievery. One day some villagers caught him trying to steal one of their horses. They tied him to a tree and told him that when they had finished their day’s chores they would come back and decide what to do with him. A simple shepherd was passing by when he noticed the man tied to the tree. He came over to him and asked, “What has happened to you, who has tied you up like this?” The rogue put on his most pitiful look and said, “Alas, I am but a poor dervish, trying to stay free of worldly things but these men who are envious of my spiritual power want to force me to take money from them, thinking it will corrupt me. They said the would return at the end of the day with a bag of gold that they will force me to take.” Without thinking – something he was not that good at, anyway – the shepherd said, “Look, I would hate for you to break your vow of poverty, why don’t we change places. That way you can run far away from here.” The rogue, of course, agreed. It was after dark by the time the villagers returned to the tree so they didn’t notice the switch. They tied the shepherd into a sack, carried him to a cliff, and threw him into the ocean far below. The next morning the rogue led his newly acquired flock of sheep right through town on their way to pasture. Upon seeing the man they had murdered the night before quite alive and well before them, the villagers were stunned. They demanded to know how this was possible.
The rogue said, “Didn’t you know that these are magic cliffs. Whoever goes over the edge into the sea is resurrected the next morning with at least a flock of sheep, sometimes even a herd of cows, or other treasure. Perhaps you can imagine what happened next.
The Rose
T
here was once a Sufi teacher whose reputation brought him many would-be disciples from far and wide. One day he found thirty three men and women waiting outside his khankah or study house hoping to join his community of seekers. He went out and greeted each of them in turn, carefully looking in their eyes and feeling the quality of their handshake. Then he gave each a card with instructions to write his or her name on it, and said: “I’ve placed a flower in a vase just there by the front door. Please go and smell it and then write down on your card what it is.” The teacher went back into the house and one by one, with great thoughtfulness, they approached the flower, smelled it, and wrote down what they believed it was. When they were all done, the teacher came back out and asked one of his disciples to collect the cards and read them for all to hear. There was a fascinating variety of answers: One wrote, “A gift of god.” Another wrote, “A fragrance trapped in red petals”. Another: “My heart in your hands.” Another: “A beautiful nothingness”. A few left their cards blank – unable to fathom what the teacher’s true intention was. Only three aspirants had written down simply, “A rose.” The teacher then invited those three to enter his community of friends, and told the others to go home. Immediately one of them protested, trying to be respectful, but with a whining edge in his voice nonetheless, “Is this not a very superficial way of deciding which of us you will accept?”
The teacher said, “Perhaps you have heard the expression that ‘the obvious is the link to the True.’ This experiment has demonstrated that idea in ways that you will no doubt ponder for some time to come. After meeting you, when I went back into the house, I wrote down the names of those I would accept.” With that he showed them a page upon which he had written the names of the three candidates who answered “A rose” – well before they had done so. You see I already knew which of you would join us. But I also knew that you would think that I was being arbitrary and that to be at peace with my decision you would need to see externally, what I saw inwardly.
The Rainbow BIrd
A
rich merchant owned a beautiful rainbow bird which he kept securely in a cage. He was very proud of this fabulous creature, and in his own way loved it. As he was beginning a business trip to the place where the bird came from in India, the merchant asked the bird if there was anything he would like from his home country. “All I really want is my freedom,” said the bird politely. When the merchant refused, the bird said, “Well then, please go to the jungle where you captured me and announce to my brothers and sisters that I am alive, living in a golden cage here in your palace.” While in India, the merchant, out of love for his bird, went into that jungle and walked around until he saw a flock of the very same rainbow birds. “Listen,” he called up to them, “you should spread the word that your bother bird, whom I captured in this place but a year ago is alive and well and living in a golden cage in my palace.” Instantly several rainbow birds plummeted out of the trees and fell, apparently dead, at his feet. The merchant, believing that the birds had died of grief at the news of their brother’s capture was saddened and decided that he wouldn’t mention this to his bird when he got home. But when he arrived back and the bird inquired excitedly about his visit to the jungle, the merchant forgot his decision and said, “Yes my dear bird, I went to your home and said what you told me too. But sadly, the news of your captivity struck several of your relatives down with grief, and they fell dead at my feet.”
No sooner had he said this than his beloved bird dropped to the floor of the cage and was deathly still. The merchant cried out and pulled the lifeless body of his precious bird out of the cage. Placing it on the window sill he lamented, “Oh what have I done?” The bird suddenly sprang up and flew into the branches of a nearby tree. From there he called back to the merchant. “Thank you, thank you, for bringing the message my brothers and sisters gave you! How wonderful that their instruction for how to attain my freedom, was transmitted through you, my captor!” And with that he flew away at last to freedom.
Photo by Kevin Thom. More gorgeous shots at https://www.kevinthom.com/
The Cow and the Purse
R
umi tells a tale in the Mathnavi about a farmer who was taking a prize cow to market to sell. The man was inattentive, given to daydreaming and holding elaborate conversations with himself so he didn’t notice when a thief snuck up behind him, cut the rope by which the man led the cow and stole it away. When, many, many steps later, the farmer realized that his cow was gone, he began to run around frantically looking for the cow. He came to a place where he saw a man who was looking down a well, apparently in despair. What he didn’t know was that this was the very same thief who had stolen his cow. “What’s the problem?” the farmer asked. “Oh woe is me,” said the thief. “I’ve dropped a purse with a thousand silver coins into this well. If I go down after it there will be no one to pull me up. Would you help me? If you’ll go into the well, I’ll give you 200 silver pieces for your effort.” The farmer thought, “What luck! I’ve lost the cow but here I have a chance to make more than twice what I would have gotten for her. The universe takes away, but it also gives!” He pulled off all his clothes, kicked off his sandals and jumped into the well. At which point the thief picked them up and carried them away.
TheStory
A
highly learned religious leader heard of Lahzar and his mastery of tales. The religious leader’s curiosity (and perhaps a little bit of envy) moved him to want to see this for himself. So one day he arrived at the Sufi’s lodge and asked if he might be granted permission to sit and observe his teachings. Lahzar gladly welcomed him and invited him to sit at his right hand while he carried on his duties as spiritual guide for his followers. At one point, as twenty or thirty disciples were seated around listening to the teacher speak on human nature, Lahzar told the following story: A dervish came to beg at the door of a very wealthy man. Wanting to show his magnanimity, the wealthy man not only gave the dervish some food and a few coins but invited him to have a tour of his palatial estate. He took the dervish through room after room full of the most exquisite art works, carpets, and furnishings, telling little stories about the famous and noble people from whom he had received or purchased these treasures. At the end of the tour the rich man asked the dervish what had impressed him most. The dervish looked around him and said with some wonder in his voice, “The fact that the earth is strong enough to support such weight!” Lahzar waved his hand gently at that point indicating that the teaching session was over, and the disciples began to disperse. One of his pupils waited for the others to leave and then approached the teacher. “Thank you so much, I understood from this story so clearly that the Sufi is one who is not hypnotized by what he sees, but has a unique and unexpected point of view.”
“Very Good!” said Lahzar smiling broadly. A few minutes later another disciple approached and said, “Please, Master, could you tell me if I have interpreted your story correctly? The dervish was actually talking about the ego of the rich man, and his amazement was that it could support the burden of all these possession. Isn’t that so?” “Very Good!” said Lahzar smiling broadly. The learned religious man felt his pulse quicken as he realized that he had witnessed a major discrepancy in the Lahzar’s conduct. Trying to conceal his pleasure at having “caught” the teacher, he said. “Sir, I’m afraid this does not make any sense at all – how can the story have one valid meaning for that person and a completely different meaning to the other one? Unless you are being insincere, this means that the story has no meaning in and of itself... and if this is so how can it be a useful means of teaching?” He eyed the teacher intently, quite impressed with his own philosophical acuity. Lahzar replied, “Surely you would not think much of a cup from which you could drink milk, but not wine or water; or a plate on which you could have eggs, but not fruit. And yet these are pretty limited containers, being made of clay. How much more capable should a story be – made of breathing language – to hold various meanings. What I think about is not what a story means, but what benefit can a particular hearer can derive from it.” The religious man’s mind was too full of his own elegant arguments to really apprehend what Lahzar had said. So he left – pleased with himself that he had shown the teacher to be a fraud – and never realizing that the Lahzar had actually told the story for his – the learned man’s – benefit and that there was a particular personal meaning waiting there expressly for him to discover.
Mullah’s Donkey One of Mullah Nasrudin’s neighbors came to him with a request. “Mullah,” he said, “Would you be so kind as to let me borrow your donkey for the day? I need to take some things to market and my horse is lame.” Mullah replied, “I’m sorry dear neighbor but I have already loaned out my donkey.” At that same moment Mullah’s donkey stared braying loudly. “But Mullah,” protested the neighbor, “I can hear that your donkey is there in its stable.” Indignant, Mullah said, “Who are you going to believe, me or an ass?” -o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o--o-o-o-o-o-o-o Mullah plodded into town one day on his donkey. But, to the amazement of all who saw him he was seated on the donkey facing backwards. Finally someone asked him, “Mullah why are you facing in the wrong direction?” “No, my friend,” answered the Mullah. “You are mistaken, it’s this dumb beast that is facing in the wrong direction.” -o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o--o-o-o-o-o-o-o Mullah’s neighbors came to his house one evening to commiserate with him, because they heard that somehow Mullah’s donkey had gotten loose and now was lost somewhere in the forest. They couldn’t help but notice how cheerful the Mullah was, smiling and whistling as he prepared the evening meal. “Mullah,” one of them said, “How can it be that you seem so happy when your beloved donkey is gone?” Mullah answered, “I’m just so grateful that I wasn’t riding him when he got lost, other wise I wouldn’t be here.”
Nasrudin was riding along one day when his donkey was spooked by a snake in its path. The donkey bolted, running madly through the village. As he sped past them some of the villagers called out: “Mullah, where are you going in such a hurry?” Mullah shouted as he flew past, “Don’t ask me ask my donkey!” -o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o--o-o-o-o-o-o-o Nasrudin stopped at a carriage house on his way to town. He was quite exhausted as he got down off his donkey. One of the men standing by the gate asked him why he was carrying these apparently heavy saddle bags on his own back rather than putting them on the donkey. Mullah answer, “My good sir, isn’t it enough that I burden this poor beast with my own weight? Should I add to that the weight of these bags?” -o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o--o-o-o-o-o-o-o Every evening Mullah Nasrudin would arrive with his donkey at the border between his country and the neighboring one. Strict tariffs had been imposed on any goods passing that border, so a customs official had been posted there. Each evening this official – who was quite intuitive, and was certain that Mullah was up to something, carefully inspected the two large baskets being carried by the donkey. And each evening, no matter how hard he looked, he only found straw in them. Years later, after he had retired, this customs official happened to run into Mullah at the local pub. He offered to buy Nasrudin a drink, and they fell into a friendly conversation. At one point he said, “Mullah, I’m a pretty intuitive person, and I’m sure that sure you were smuggling something across that border. What was it?” “Donkeys, of course,” said Nasrudin. -o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o--o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Kill Me First
T
here was a dervish who had a hundred disciples. They had been studying with him for years had come to a point where they would need an altogether different sort of experience to advance any further. Itinerancy being the finishing school of the Sufis, the dervish proposed to take them on a long journey to which they all agreed excitedly. Before they embarked he said to them in a very serious tone “There is only one requirement for any who will undertake this journey with me: If at any time I raise both my arms into the air you must shout out, ‘Kill me instead of the dervish.’ Unless you can solemnly promise to do so please remain behind.” The disciples began to mutter among themselves. “He means to take us into danger and use us as some kind of shield,” said one. “Maybe he’s planning some awful crime, some murder or debauchery for which he intends us to be hung,” said another. In this way all but one of them became convinced that the wisest course was to desert their teacher. Leaving the 99 behind, the dervish went off with his one loyal disciple. Soon they came into a country where an awful evil had taken hold. The ruthless king of this realm – supported by a circle of ten black lords – kept everyone subjugated in fear by regularly executing subjects; making examples of them for various supposed offences. It happened that on the day the dervish and his disciple arrived in that country, the king had decided to make an example of mendicants and wanderers. He ordered his soldiers to arrest the first such person they found. As luck would have it, they grabbed the disciple and dragged him before the king. The dervish followed them, along with a crowd that had gathered. The soldiers threw the young disciple to the ground in front of the king who declaimed. “I have decided to make an example of you. It is my
rule that everyone should be productively occupied. We will not tolerate beggars, and vagrants. At that moment the dervish stepped forward and shouted. “Oh Royal Sun, please take me instead. After all I am the one who encouraged this life style in this young man. I should be the one to die!” With that he raised both his arms into the air. The disciple shouted out , “No your majesty, kill me instead of the dervish!” The king was taken aback. Never had he witnessed such behavior. He turned to the lord on his left hand and asked in a whisper “What does this mean?” The lord said, “Nothing more than misplaced valor. They think they can look heroic, I suppose. But that can be easily taken care of by killing them both. As the king was about to give this order, the lord on his right said, “But, your royal worship, it can do no harm to ask them why they are being so stupidly valiant.” The king asked this question, to which the dervish answered, “Sire, it has been foretold that today in this very place a man shall die who will then arise again as an immortal being. Of course I desire to be that man, as does my disciple. Then instantaneously in the kings mind there flashed the thought – “Why should I be the instrument of this beggar’s immortality when I can be the instrument of my own?” And with that he ordered the circle of lords around him to slay him on the spot. But the lords, themselves also had the same thought flash in their minds at the same moment, and hungry for their own immortality, before anyone could realized what was happening, each had drawn sword and slit his own throat. Needless to say no one arose again on that day. Although... since the dervish and his disciple were able to escape in the midst of the pandemonium, they were, in a way, reborn.
Calligraphy - “Thanks be to God” by Hani Zuhair - design by Puran
The Way Out
O
ne day a Sufi teacher received a visitor – an eager seeker who had traveled many weeks just to see the master. Once welcomed and seated the visitor launched into an energetic and one would have top admit eloquent plea for the teacher to accept him as a talib, or student. The teacher sat patiently, nodding while the visitor elaborated all of the reasons why he should be accepted... how much he had already studied, all the great men at whose feet he had sat, what a devoted student he would be, and how grateful, etc. etc. When he was done he bowed his head to the ground in supplication. But before he could lift it again the Sufi shouted at him, “Imbecile! Fool! Donkey’s ass! I would not have you clean my toilets, never mind, admitting you to my circle. If you are not out of my site in 5 seconds I will call my body guards to beat you senseless!” The visitor leapt to his feet, amazed and confused. He ran from the place tears streaming from his eyes. One of the Sufi’s disciples who had been observing all of this said gently to his teacher, “Master, was it really necessary to treat this poor man so violently? I thought that our way was...” Before he could finish the teacher raised his hand and smiled warmly at his disciple. Suddenly there was a bird in the room – although only one window was opened, and that only slightly. The bird flew frantically around trying to find the way out. The teacher watched the bird patiently until it settled back down onto the sill of the slightly opened window. Faster than sight, the teacher clapped his hands together thunderously and the startled bird flew like a rocket out of the window. The teacher said, “I imagine that bird was pretty shocked too.”
About
Puran Perez has been learning, teaching, deepening, guiding on the path of the Sufi Way in Europe and North America for almost 50 years. His focus in this continues to be the development of transformational awareness through creativity and the refinement of consciousness in everyday life. Honored by the title of Murshid in the evolutionary Chisti lineage of Hazrat Inayat Khan, Puran is a direct initiate of Fazal Inayat-Khan, the founder of The Sufi Way and Inayat’s grandson. More at www.puranperez.com contact: puranlp@gmail.com For more about the Sufi Way: www.sufiway.org
digital publication by See Hear Now Studios designed by Puran | edition: Dec, 2017 1.2 Unlesss otherwise credited, photography and artwork by Puran.