Excerpts from The Forty Rules of Love by Elif Shafak
Page 246-247
Page 257
Page 66
…he said one should keep the intellect satisfied and yet be
careful not to spoil it. It was one of his rules. “Intellect and love are made of different materials. Intellect ties
people in knots and risks nothing, but love dissolved all tangles and risks
everything. Intellect is always cautious and advises, ‘Beware too much
ecstasy’, whereas love says, ‘Oh, never mind! Take the plunge!’ Intellect does
not easily break down, whereas love can effortlessly reduce itself to rubble.
But treasures are hidden among ruins. A broken heart hides treasures.”
“Most of the problems
of the world stem from linguistic mistakes and simple misunderstandings. Don’t
ever take words at face value. When you step into the zone of love, language as
we know it becomes obsolete. That which cannot be put into words can only be
grasped through silence.”
Page 140
“You are bleeding,” Shams murmured as he started to wipe the
blood off my face. “Not only on the outside, but inside as well.”
Upon saying that, he took out a
silver flask from the pocket of his robe. “Apply this ointment to your wounds,”
he said. “A good man in Baghdad gave it to me, but you need it more than I do.
However, you should know that the wound inside you is deeper, and that is the one
you should worry about. This will remind you that you bear God within you.”
“Thank
you,” I heard myself stutter, touched by his kindness. “That security guard…he
whipped me. He said I deserved it.”
As soon as
I uttered those words, I was struck by the childish whining in my voice and my
need for comfort and compassion.
Shams of
Tabriz shook his head. “They had no right to do that. Every individual is
self-sufficient in his search for the divine. There is a rule regarding this: We were all created in His image, and yet we
were each created different and unique. No two people are alike. No two hearts
beat to the same rhythm. If God had wanted everyone to be the same, He would
have made it so. Therefore, disrespecting differences and imposing your thoughts
on others is tantamount to disrespecting God’s holy scheme.”
“That
sounds good,” I said, amazing myself by the ease in my voice. “But don’t you
Sufis ever doubt anything about Him?”
Shams of
Tabriz smiled a tired smile. “We do, and doubts are good. It means you are
alive and searching.”
He spoke in
a lilting tone, exactly as if he were reciting from a book.
“Besides,
one does not become a believer overnight. He thinks he is a believer; then
something happens in his life and he becomes an unbeliever; after that, he
becomes a believer again, and then an unbeliever again, and so on. Until we
reach a certain stage, we constantly waver. This is the only way forward. At
each new step, we come closer to the Truth.”
Page 216
Other than my mother back in my childhood, Shams was the
only person who treated me with unconditional compassion. He had taught me not
to be despondent, no matter what. Whenever I told him there was no way someone
like me could shed the past, he would remind me of one of his rules: The past is an interpretation. The future is
an illusion. The world does not move through time as if it were a straight
line, proceeding from the past to the future. Instead time moves through and
within us, in endless spirals.
Eternity does not mean infinite
time, but simply timelessness.
If you want to experience eternal
illumination, put the past and the future out of your mind and remain within
the present moment.
Shams always told me, “You see,
the present moment is all there is and all that there ever will be. When you
grasp this truth, you’ll have nothing to fear anymore. Then you can walk out of
this brothel for good.”
Page 233-234
On the
surface we lived a collective life where everyone ate, drank, and performed the
same activities at the same time, but underneath we were expected and
encouraged to remain alone and look within. On the Sufi path, first you
discover the art of being alone in the crowd. Next you discover the crowd
within your solitude – the voices inside you.
… I
suddently knew that I didn’t need to go anywhere. Not anymore. I was sick and
tired of always longing to be somewhere else, somewhere beyond, always in a
rush despite myself.
I was already where I wanted to be.
All I needed was to stay and look within…
“Religious rules and prohibitions
are important,” he said. “But they should not be turned into unquestionable
taboos. It is with such awareness that I drink the wine you offer me today,
believing with all my heart that there is a sobriety beyond the drunkenness of
love.”
Just as Rumi was about to take the
glass to his lips, I snatched it back and flung it to the ground. The wine
spilled on the snow, like drops of blood.
“Don’t drink it,” I said, no longer
feeling the need to continue with this trial.
“If you weren’t going to ask me to
drink this wine, why did you send me to the tavern in the first place?” Rumi
asked, his tone not so much curious as compassionate.
“You know why,” I said, smiling.
“Spiritual growth is about the totality of our consciousness, not about obsessing
over particular aspects. Rule Number Thirty-two: Nothing should stand between yourself and God. Not imams, priests,
rabbis, or any other custodians of moral or religious leadership. Not spiritual
masters, not even your faith. Believe in your values and your rules, but never
lord them over others. If you keep breaking other people’s hearts, whatever
religious duty you perform is no good.
“Stay
away from all sorts of idolatry, for they will blur your vision. Let God and
only God be your guide. Learn the Truth, my friend, but be careful not to make
a fetish out of your truths.”
I had always admired Rumi’s
personality and known that his compassion, endless and extraordinary, was what
I lacked in life. But today my admiration for him had grown by leaps and
bounds.
This world was full of people
obsessed with wealth, recognition, or power. The more signs of success they
earned, the more they seemed to be in need of them. Greedy and covetous, they
rendered worldly possesions their qibla,
always looking in that direction, unaware of becoming the servants of the
things they hungered after. That was a common pattern. It happened all the
time. But it was rare, as rare as rubies, for a man who had already made his
way up, a man who had plenty of gold, fame, and authority, to renounce his
position all of a sudden one day and endanger his reputation for an inner
journey, one that nobody could tell where or howit would end. Rumi was that
rare ruby.
“God wants us to be modest and
unpretentious,” I said.
“And he wants to be known,” Rumi added softly. “He wants us
to know Him with every fiber of our being. That is why it is better to be
watchful and sober than to be drunk and dizzy.”
I agreed. Until it turned dark and
cold, we sat in the courtyard with a single red rose between us. There was,
beneath the chill of the evening, the scent of something fresh and sweet. The
Wine of Love made our heads spin gently, and I realized with glee and gratitude
that the wind no longer whispered despair.
“Ah, so you do have questions after
all,” Shams said. “The message is that the torment a person can inflict upon
himself is endless. Hell is inside us, and so is heaven. The Qur’an says human
beings are the most dignified. We are higher than the highest, but also lower
than the lowest. If we could grasp the full meaning of this, we would stop
looking for Sheitan outside and instead focus on ourselves. What we need is
sincere self-examination. Not being on the watch for the faults of others.”
