A humanities or philosophy degree can provide you with a strong foundation in critical thinking, analytical skills, and communication—qualities that are valuable in a variety of career fields. While some careers may directly align with the content of your degree, many employers also value the skills and perspectives gained through a humanities or philosophy education. Here are some career opportunities for individuals with a humanities or philosophy degree:

1. Education and Academia:
   • Teacher or Professor: Teach at the high school or college level.
   • Researcher: Conduct research in humanities or philosophy fields.
2. Writing and Communication:
   • Content Writer: Create written content for websites, publications, or marketing materials.
   • Technical Writer: Explain complex concepts in clear, concise language.
   • Journalist: Report news and analyze current events.
3. Public Relations and Marketing:
   • Public Relations Specialist: Manage communication between an organization and the public.
   • Marketing Coordinator: Develop and implement marketing strategies.
4. Nonprofit and Advocacy:
   • Nonprofit Program Coordinator: Oversee programs and initiatives for nonprofit organizations.
   • Advocate: Work for social justice causes and promote policy changes.
5. Business and Management:
   • Human Resources Specialist: Manage personnel matters within organizations.
   • Management Consultant: Advise companies on organizational and strategic issues.
6. Government and Public Service:
   • Policy Analyst: Analyze policies and recommend changes for government or organizations.
   • Government Researcher: Conduct research for government agencies.
7. Technology and Innovation:
   • User Experience (UX) Designer: Improve the usability and accessibility of products.
   • Ethical Hacker: Test the security of computer systems and networks.
8. Healthcare and Wellness:
   • Medical Ethics Consultant: Address ethical issues in healthcare organizations.
   • Wellness Coordinator: Develop and implement wellness programs.
9. Law and Legal Services:
   • Paralegal: Assist lawyers in legal research and document preparation.
   • Legal Analyst: Analyze legal issues and provide recommendations.
10. Arts and Culture:
    • Museum Curator: Manage and curate collections in museums.
    • Art Gallery Manager: Oversee the operations of an art gallery.

Remember that your degree does not necessarily limit you to specific career paths, and many employers value the transferable skills and critical thinking abilities that come with a humanities or philosophy background. Additionally, gaining relevant experience through internships, volunteering, or additional training can enhance your marketability in various fields.

• About Love: Reinventing Romance for Our Times
• Analects of Confucius
• Anna’s Book
• A Record of Meetings
• Awakened Dreams
• Bhagavad Gita
• Conversations with God
• Daughter of Fire
• Dhammapada
• The Epic of Gilgamesh
• Fear and Trembling
• Freedom from the Known
• Gang Leader for a Day
• Gospel of Judas
• Gospel of Marty Magdalene
• In Search of the Miraculous
• In The Light of Truth
• Learning How to Learn
• Mr. God, This is Anna
• On Liberty
• Our Lives with Mr. Gurdjieff
• Plato’s Dialogues
• Tao Te Ching
• The Death of Ivan Ilych
• The Gospels
• The Invisible Way
• The psychology of man’s possible evolution
• The Quran
• The Strange life of Ivan Osokin
• The Sufis
• Thus Spoke Zarathustra
• Tibetan Book of the Dead

• American History X
• Boston Legal
• Dead Poet Society
• Detachment
• El Cid
• Exorcism of Emily Rose
• Fiddler on the Roof
• Fight Club
• Flatliners
• Freedom Writers
• Gandhi
• Good Will Hunting
• Groundhog Day
• House of Cards
• Jesus of Nazareth
• Kpax
• Life as a House
• Little Buddha
• Malcolm X
• Meet Joe Black
• Mind Walk
• Monsieur Ibrahim
• Mr. Frost
• Phenomenon
• Powder
• Razor’s Edge
• Stigmata
• Still Alice
• Tears of the Sun
• The Experiment
• The Judge
• The Last Castle
• The Matrix
• The Outer Limits
• The Ten Commandments
• The Twilight Zone
• Waking Life
• Yes
• You are Not You

A modest interpretation

By A.S.

Whence comes life, the most sacred and holy? Whence and how enters life into dust? And, whence does the dust become aware of life and life of dust? Mind, Body and Spirit! Each houses, nourishes and complements the other in such ways that perhaps only silence may be an adequate response as to why it is so. Such may be the path of the wise, but not those who are still journeying towards wisdom. Hence, as each desire to discover what it and others are, it sets out on a journey knowing not to where it may go and what it may find. Mind, Body and Spirit, each desire to know with the knowledge that it knows not. And, this simply adds to the mystery!  Such is the beginning, the middle and the end.

But let us be more human in our expression!!!

One of the most important allegories ever to be gifted to humankind is Allegory of the Cave. Plato’s Allegory of the Cave is one of the most potent and pregnant of allegories that describe human condition in both its fallen and risen states. That is, the human existence in its most profound and profane states. As there is a wonderful Islamic saying that parallels this: “the human being can ascend to such heights that even the angels will become jealous of him or will descend to such realms that even the devil flees from him.” Equally important, one can also find within the allegory social, political, philosophical, moral, ethical, and spiritual elements. So fluid is this allegory that the more one puts in, the more one can take out. And, perhaps Nietzsche was right in his suggestion that there are no facts but only interpretations. After all, how could there be anything but interpretation given the existence of variety of temperaments and personalities and life experiences?

There is much wisdom contained in this statement, “There are no facts, but only interpretations,” and one could even argue that perhaps Nietzsche himself was unaware of the depth and the power of his own insight. We all have different personalities and temperaments. Some are extroverts and some introverts, some are intellectuals and some are emotional and feeling types, some are born into princely and some into impoverished social, moral and economic environments. Due to the vastly different physical, psychological, emotional and intellectual capacities existing in every person, some have a more penetrating insight into the nature of existence than others. All these mentioned elements have profound contribution in how we see, experience and interpret ourselves and the world in which we live. In the end, the only thing that perhaps remains is the acknowledgement that there are vast inward and outward differences that exists amongst mortals. It is these differences that produce not facts of the different realms of existence but only interpretation, since it is the capacity of each person that shapes the theme and the storyline of each experience. The collection and the unification of those experiences create our worldview. Hence, one could inject and insert one’s own experiences and one’s interpretation of the allegory would still be valid. This said, what is to follow is but a humble interpretation of the Allegory of the Cave.

The human being can either live within the Cave or outside of it. The Allegory of the Cave is about the existence of two worlds or experiences. It is about two radically different states of consciousness and awareness, or two radically different life perspectives.

The “cave” or “cavic existence” is the physical and the sensible world. It is a world in which there is no permanence, no stability, no constancy and no security. It is the ever-changing world of Maya or illusion that oftentimes one takes as the real. The absurdity of human condition is about when the individual begins to search for permanence and security in a realm whose fruit is anything but permanence and security. What every human being yearns for and longs: happiness, comfort, contentment and their stability and constancy can never be attained so long as they are sought in a realm whose essential nature is change and impermanence.

Of the existence outside of the cave, nothing is known, or at least, cannot be spoken of. This other realm cannot be spoken of or described except that it is a non-sensory realm of permanence and constancy. It is a God-realm. In other worlds, it transcends mental imagery and linguistic descriptions.

The 19th century Danish philosopher, Kierkegaard argued that the only way this other realm can be spoken of is through “indirect communication.” “Indirect communication” is simply speaking of this transcendental realm through metaphors and allegories, stories and anecdotes. In fact, one glance at the sacred literatures of the world will illustrate that metaphors, allegories, stories and anecdotes are the vehicles through which every saint, sage, prophets and even God try to communicate of this other realm to the adepts.

There is in the Sufi tradition a story that may illustrate this point. There was a city in which was a wall and whomever climbed this wall and was able to catch glimpse of this “other side” jumped over and never to returned to the city. Curious as to why this is so since the city provided all “goods” for its residence, the people decided to tie a rope around the leg of young man so that as soon as he had a peek of this other side, they could pull him back to ask him all sorts of questions about this other side. However, once pulled back and bombarded with questions, people had realized that the young man had lost the power of speech. One interpretation of the story is that when trying to describe the nature of this other realm, ordinary language breaks down and its insufficiency as a communicative tool becomes apparent.

Kierkegaard further supports his theory of indirect communication by reminding his readers that even when Pontius Pilate asked Jesus what “Truth” was, the only thing that Jesus could offer him was a humble silence. Perhaps this is his reason for suggesting that “all theology is blasphemy”- simply because theology and language for that matter try to define the indefinable and by doing so becomes blasphemous.      Since this other realm must be experienced by the individual him or herself, the task of indirect communication is simply to provide the psychological, emotional, intellectual and spiritual environment through which the individual can get direct access or experience into this world.

This brief introduction was merely to point out to the reader that Plato may be one those prophets or visionaries who may have journeyed outside of the cave and that the only way he was able to communicate his experience was through indirect communication: Allegory of the Cave.

Well, on the Allegory!

Plato tells us of a group of people living in a cave. In fact, they have been born and raised in this cave. They are, however, unable to move their hands, legs and heads as they have been born in chains that have bound them to the ground. All that they have been exposed to is the cave wall in front of them. Behind them, however, is a fire and behind the fire objects moving back and forth, which, of course they are unable to see because they have been chained. Since they have only been exposed to the shadows, they have come to assume that there cannot exist anything else beside what they have been exposed to all their lives, the shadows. Someone within the cave, however, grows rather tired of such existence and images and begins to free himself from the chains. Once free, he or she turn around only to find that there are other things existing. The individual continues this journey within the cave until one day he or she witnesses dim light entering the mouth of the cave. The individual follows this light and finally leaves the cave where he or she finds him or herself in the presence of the sun or truth. The person goes back to share this discovery with his friends who are still in the cave only to realize that they now consider him or her mad. And, Plato tells us that if they could they would have killed this person.

That is a very brief and a very crude telling of the allegory, but what is to follow is a more in depth commentary on one the most potent allegories to be gifted to humankind.

From the moment the indweller begins to ask serious existential questions to the moment where he exists the cave, he goes through five stages of emotional, intellectual and spiritual evolution: The Call, The Search, The Struggle, The Breakthrough and The Return. These, five stages, however, can be categorized into two groups. In the first group are the first three stages: the Call, the Search and the Struggle, and in the second group are the Breakthrough and the Return. But let us see how these fives stages function within this allegory.

The German philosopher, Heidegger, has two important concepts that pertain to this discussion in a very powerful way: “thrown-ness” or “historicity” and “fallen-ness.” The former suggests that we are simply thrown into this world, a world that does not care for our desires or us. We were thrown into the bosom of our parents, into a certain culture and time period. Also, that we were simply given a certain personality and temperament. Then there is the enculturation and the indoctrination that simply “happen” to us through our parents and friends, society and media, religion and education. But, what makes human condition and existence even more horrific is the latter notion, “fallen-ness.” That is, once thrown, we fall into tasks or roles making our existence inauthentic, shallow and superficial. Even our thinking becomes calculative. We put on various masks such as being a teacher or a student, a husband or a wife, a waiter or a waitress and many others, and by falling into all sorts of roles, we lose authenticity and ourselves because we begin to identify ourselves and who we are through the masks that we wear. Hence, both notions of “thrown-ness” and “fallen-ness” make up the “cavic existence.” And, the chains may symbolically be taken not so much as physical enslavement, but emotional, psychological and spiritual enslavement.

One cannot underestimate the serious impact upon one’s entire being when one begins to wonder about the nature of the cave and human existence therein. Plato suggested that in fact the birth of philosophy begins at this stage, the stage where the senses of awe and wonder present themselves. It must be emphasized that philosophy was born out of only two perennial questions: who am I, and what is my purpose? Take these two questions away and all philosophies and religions vanish.

Philosopher-mathematician Pascal argued that by only asking either from oneself or others these two deceptively simple questions one will realize that the potency of these two questions is so great that status, wealth, power will all crumble at their feet. In the presence of these questions, Pascal argued, one will find oneself and others inwardly weak and naked due to the inability to adequately respond to these questions. Of course, he calls us “creatures of absurdity” simply because we value others above ourselves knowing that others like us have no answers to the perennial questions of philosophy.

There is an interesting story about a philosopher who had on his outgoing telephone answering machine that parallels Pascal’s insight. The outgoing message was: who are you and what is your purpose? Just in case you think these are simple inquiries, know that there have been individuals in search of answers to such questions for thousands of years.

Yet it is not quiet clear how this first stage, the Call, comes forth. Psychological and spiritual awakening depends on so many different variables making it virtually impossible to pin point its exact entrance. It could be in the form of Tolstoy’s story of Ivan Ilych: a successful business man who finds out that he has this incurable disease and shares this news with his employees only to realize that those who have been working for him for years are only worried about their jobs. He shares this news with his family only to realize that they are concerned with inheritance. It is at this stage that he comes to realize that human existence is a very lonely experience and asks, for the very first time, if he lived his life wrongly, and if so, could he have lived in a different way.

Or, very much like Gilgamesh who upon the passing of his friend Enkidu comes yearn for a deeper understanding of life. There is also a story told to us by Kierkegaard about the man on the death bed who comes to realize after his friends and family leave that he is all alone and only he himself must realize the answers to the philosophical questions.

There are countless such stories that bring about this first stage, a life changing event. However, to yearn for a deeper understanding of life is an uncomfortable sign that one’s past experiences and even one’s identity do not provide any answers to the perennial philosophical questions. To suddenly see one’s personal history, family, friends and even one’s community as insignificant and irrelevant is not a joyous and comfortable experience.

What these stories suggest is that once questioning begins one inevitably turns to ones community for comfort but only to realize that human relationships much like what the German philosopher Nietzsche called is “mutual manipulation.” The seeker with these yearning questions turns to his friends only to realize, much like what Socrates realized that they are hollow. And, though they speak the same language, they, however, attach different meanings and emotions to the words.

At this juncture he understands why Zeus, for example, took away language, the gift he first bestowed to humanity. It is because Zeus saw that that people are unable to use this communicative tool properly. Language, in the Hindu tradition, is gifted to human beings by the goddess Vac. Vac, enters the human consciousness so that human can utter divine language.

Knowing the he is no longer able to communicate with his community the seeker begins to examine the nature of friendship only to come to the same conclusion of Aristotle. There are only three kinds of friendship: one of Pleasure, one of Utility and one of Nobility or Excellence, which is very rare to find.

While in this first category, the seeker begins to examine life and finds very much the Schopenhauerian outlook: Human beings are like mosquitoes that go in circles: they mate, produce and die. All this absurdity takes place only within a day!

19th century Artist, Thomas Cole who was deeply moved by Schopenhauer’s dark and gloomy view of life, painted a four stage human journey: Childhood, Youth, Manhood and Old Age. In the first picture, Childhood, there is a boy in a boat jumping joyously because he now exists. In the second picture, Youth, he has a one leg in front and one hand pointing to the sky subtly suggesting that nothing can stop him from reaching his desires. In both of these pictures that waters are calm, but this is not to remain so for long. In the third picture, his hair is long and his face bearded. He is approaching a waterfall in a sea that is no longer calm. In the final picture, all his hair is gone and he is seating in this boat. Life has beaten him and death is upon him.

Perhaps the seeker sees humanity as the absurd hero Sisyphus who was first condemned to have eternal life and was given only one task: to push a rock up a hill and throw it over. But! Once close to the top, Sisyphus is completely exhausted which makes the rock weight many times heavier. At this point all that he can do is helplessly watch the rock roll back to its original place. The rock, of course, is nothing but human desires that give man the illusion that once a particular desire has been attained happiness too will be at hand. Once the illusion disappears, however, man sees himself at the bottom of this hill chasing another desire.

It is clear how difficult life can become inside the cave when such questions are asked. It ultimately leads to a profound alienation. Once this takes place, which is the first category, one ultimately finds oneself in the presence of the Greek goddess Chaos. Chaos, of course, does not mean disorder, but simply Empty Space or Void. Interesting to note that Chaos has two children: Night and Darkness who mate and have a child whose name just happens to be Light. In other words, if the semi-liberated can endure this difficult and alienating period, Light or enlightenment will take place.

Once, he has stepped out of the cave, however, there is this feeling that he must share his experience with his friends. It is interesting to note this experience annihilates the human individual to where he or she sees him or herself as an extended part of humanity and as a result is “plagued” with care and compassion for other beings.

Entering the cave or the world once again to share his insight with others he comes to realize that that humanity resembles to that of man with an arrow in his back. The story in Buddhism has it that there is a man walking and an arrow, a poisonous arrow enters into his back. People rush him to the doctor who wants to pull the arrow out only to realize that the wounded man asks a stupid question such as the color, the length, the width and the make of the arrow. The doctor is, of course, is the person who has journeyed to the outside of the cave and the man with the arrow could be Ivan Ilych, Gilgamesh, Sisyphus, or humanity itself, that ask foolish questions.

Whether or not Plato intended for all these “truths” to be contained in the Allegory of the Cave, no one can be certain. Perhaps Shakespeare is right in suggesting that the world has no meaning, it is us who give meaning to the world.

Jiddu Krishnamurti: A Dialogue with Oneself

I realize that love cannot exist when there is jealousy; love cannot exist when there is attachment. Now, is it possible for me to be free of jealousy and attachment? I realize that I do not love. That is a fact. I am not going to deceive myself; I am not going to pretend to my wife that I love her. I do not know what love is. But I do know that I am jealous and I do know that I am terribly attached to her and that in attachment there is fear, there is jealousy, anxiety; there is a sense of dependence. I do not like to depend but I depend because I am lonely; I am shoved around in the office, in the factory and I come home and I want to feel comfort and companionship, to escape from myself. Now I ask myself: how am I to be free of this attachment? I am taking that just as an example.

At first, I want to run away from the question. I do not know how it is going to end up with my wife. When I am really detached from her my relationship to her may change. She might be attached to me and I might not be attached to her or to any other woman. But I am going to investigate. So I will not run away from what I imagine might be the consequence of being totally free of all attachment. I do not know what love is, but I see very clearly, definitely, without any doubt, that attachment to my wife means jealousy, possession, fear, anxiety and I want freedom from all that. So I begin to enquire; I look for a method and I get caught in a system. Some guru says: “I will help you to be detached, do this and this; practise this and this.” I accept what he says because I see the importance of being free and he promises me that if I do what he says I will have reward. But I see that way that I am looking for reward. I see how silly I am; wanting to be free and getting attached to a reward.

I do not want to be attached and yet I find myself getting attached to the idea that somebody, or some book, or some method, will reward me with freedom from attachment. So, the reward becomes an attachment. So I say: “Look what I have done; be careful, do not get caught in that trap.” Whether it is a woman, a method, or an idea, it is still attachment. I am very watchful now for I have learned something; that is, not to exchange attachment for something else that is still attachment.

I ask myself: “What am I to do to be free of attachment?” What is my motive in wanting to be free of attachment? Is it not that I want to achieve a state where there is no attachment, no fear and so on? And I suddenly realize that motive gives direction and that direction will dictate my freedom. Why have a motive? What is motive? A motive is a hope, or a desire, to achieve something. I see that I am attached to a motive. Not only my wife, not only my idea, the method, but my motive has become my attachment! So I am all the time functioning within the field of attachment – the wife, the method and the motive to achieve something in the future. To all this I am attached. I see that it is a tremendously complex thing; I did not realize that to be free of attachment implied all this. Now, I see this as clearly as I see on a map the main roads, the side roads and the villages; I see it very clearly. Then I say to myself: “Now, is it possible for me to be free of the great attachment I have for my wife and also of the reward which I think I am going to get and of my motive?” To all this I am attached. Why? Is it that I am insufficient in myself? Is it that I am very very lonely and therefore seek to escape from that feeling of isolation by turning to a woman, an idea, a motive; as if I must hold onto something? I see that it is so, I am lonely and escaping through attachment to something from that feeling of extraordinary isolation.

So I am interested in understanding why I am lonely, for I see it is that which makes me attached. That loneliness has forced me to escape through attachment to this or to that and I see that as long as I am lonely the sequence will always be this. What does it mean to be lonely? How does it come about? Is it instinctual, inherited, or is it brought about by my daily activity? If it is an instinct, if it is inherited, it is part of my lot; I am not to blame. But as I do not accept this, I question it and remain with the question. I am watching and I am not trying to find an intellectual answer. I am not trying to tell the loneliness what it should do, or what it is; I am watching for it to tell me. There is a watchfulness for the loneliness to reveal itself. It will not reveal itself if I run away; if I am frightened; if I resist it. So I watch it. I watch it so that no thought interferes. Watching is much more important than thought coming in. And because my whole energy is concerned with the observation of that loneliness thought does not come in at all. The mind is being challenged and it must answer. Being challenged it is in a crisis. In a crisis you have great energy and that energy remains without being interfered with by thought. This is a challenge which must be answered.

I started out having a dialogue with myself. I asked myself what is this strange thing called love; everybody talks about it, writes about it – all the romantic poems, pictures, sex and all other areas of it? I ask: is there such a thing as love? I see it does not exist when there is jealousy, hatred, fear. So I am not concerned with love anymore; I am concerned with `what is’, my fear, my attachment. Why am I attached? I see that one of the reasons – I do not say it is the whole reason – is that I am desperately lonely, isolated. The older I grow the more isolated I — Page 5 — become. So I watch it. This is a challenge to find out, and because it is a challenge all energy is there to respond. That is simple. If there is some catastrophe, an accident or whatever it is, it is a challenge and I have the energy to meet it. I do not have to ask: “How do I get this energy?” When the house is on fire I have the energy to move; extraordinary energy. I do not sit back and say: “Well, I must get this energy” and then wait; the whole house will be burned by then.

So there is this tremendous energy to answer the question: why is there this loneliness? I have rejected ideas, suppositions and theories that it is inherited, that it is instinctual. All that means nothing to me. Loneliness is `what is’. Why is there this loneliness which every human being, if he is at all aware, goes through, superficially or most profoundly? Why does it come into being? Is it that the mind is doing something which is bringing it about? I have rejected theories as to instinct and inheritance and I am asking: is the mind, the brain itself, bringing about this loneliness, this total isolation? Is the movement of thought doing this? Is the thought in my daily life creating this sense of isolation? In the office I am isolating myself because I want to become the top executive, therefore thought is working all the time isolating itself. I see that thought is all the time operating to make itself superior, the mind is working itself towards this isolation.

So the problem then is: why does thought do this? Is it the nature of thought to work for itself? Is it the nature of thought to create this isolation? Education brings about this isolation; it gives me a certain career, a certain specialization and so, isolation. Thought, being fragmentary, being limited and time binding, is creating this isolation. In that limitation, it has found security saying: “I have a special career in my life; I am a professor; I am perfectly safe.” So my concern is then: why does thought do it? Is it in its very nature to do this? Whatever thought does must be limited.

Now the problem is: can thought realize that whatever it does is limited, fragmented and therefore isolating and that whatever it does will be thus? This is a very important point: can thought itself realize its own limitations? Or am I telling it that it is limited? This, I see, is very important to understand; this is the real essence of the matter. If thought realizes itself that it is limited then there is no resistance, no conflict; it says, “I am that”. But if I am telling it that it is limited then I become separate from the limitation. Then I struggle to overcome the limitation, therefore there is conflict and violence, not love.

So does thought realize of itself that it is limited? I have to find out. I am being challenged. Because I am challenged I have great energy. Put it differently: does consciousness realize its content is itself? Or is it that I have heard another say: “Consciousness is its content; its content makes up consciousness”? Therefore I say, “Yes, it is so”. Do you see the difference between the two? The latter, created by thought, is imposed by the `me’. If I impose something on thought then there is conflict. It is like a tyrannical government imposing on someone, but here that government is what I have created.

So I am asking myself: has thought realized its own limitations? Or is it pretending to be something extraordinary, noble, divine? – which is nonsense because thought is based on memory. I see that there must be clarity about this point: that there is no outside influence imposing on thought saying it is limited. Then, because there is no imposition there is no conflict; it simply realizes it is limited; it realizes that whatever it does – its worship of god and so on – is limited, shoddy, petty – even though it has created marvelous cathedrals throughout Europe in which to worship.

So there has been in my conversation with myself the discovery that loneliness is created by thought. Thought has now realized of itself that it is limited and so cannot solve the problem of loneliness. As it cannot solve the problem of loneliness, does loneliness exist? Thought has created this sense of loneliness, this emptiness, because it is limited, fragmentary, divided and when it realizes this, loneliness is not, therefore there is freedom from attachment. I have done nothing; I have watched the attachment, what is implied in it, greed, fear, loneliness, all that and by tracing it, observing it, not analysing it, but just looking, looking and looking, there is the discovery that thought has done all this. Thought, because it is fragmentary, has created this attachment. When it realizes this, attachment ceases. There is no effort made at all. For the moment there is effort – conflict is back again.

In love there is no attachment; if there is attachment there is no love. There has been the removal of the major factor through negation of what it is not, through the negation of attachment. I know what it means in my daily life: no remembrance of anything my wife, my girl friend, or my neighbour did to hurt me; no attachment to any image thought has created about her; how she has bullied me, how she has given me comfort, how I have had pleasure sexually, all the different things of which the movement of thought has created images; attachment to those images has gone.

And there are other factors: must I go through all those step by step, one by one? Or is it all over? Must I go through, must I investigate – as I have investigated attachment – fear, pleasure and the desire for comfort? I see that I do not have to go through all the investigation of all these various factors; I see it at one glance, I have captured it.

So, through negation of what is not love, love is. I do not have to ask what love is. I do not have to run after it. If I run after it, it is not love, it is a reward. So I have negated, I have ended, in that enquiry, slowly, carefully, without distortion, without illusion, everything that it is not – the other is.

The human animal is a lamenting creature. All human creations are subtle illustrations of the never-ending struggle and quest for freedom, creativity, happiness, meaning, and authenticity.

Whether a king or a slave, rich or poor, white or black, the human being shares the same fate as all other living organisms: death and extinction. Even the wisest of human beings must ultimately submit to the frailty that is brought about by old age and sickness. While the betrayal of the body and mind have not yet arrived, the human being stands before two powerful and indestructible questions that have haunted and tormented human beings for millennia: Who am I? And, how am I to live?

There are many forms and crafts through which human beings express themselves. One of them is philosophy. Philosophical expressions are the revelations and testimonies of human experiences with birth and death, love and loss, union and separation, pleasure and pain, good and evil, war and peace, hope and frustration, joy and sorrow, excitement and despair, doubt and certainty, magic and transcendence.

Philosophy is an invitation toward a complete and profound state of Unknowing, Confusion, Bewilderment, Fascination, and Awe: all of which lead the human being toward a humble awareness of the untapped vastness and potential of the Human Spirit, and Creativity.

Philosophy is the ultimate art of self-romance. It is perfecting the art of the Examined Life regardless of how painful and troubling the examined life may be.

Philosophy’s first task is to make the human being a devoted pupil of Love and slowly guide him or her towards Wisdom.

A laborious and arduous task indeed! The student of philosophy therefore should be slow to walk towards the dark, mysterious, exciting, and frightening underworld of Philosophy and be enormously cautious of the entrapment of Philosophy’s Love. It is a testing ground for those who have dared to be romanced and seduced by Philosophy’s Love. Many are entranced and enamored by the sheer beauty of Philosophy’s Love! Most of her seemingly faithful devotees, however, are cast aside as Philosophy’s Love finds them to be unworthy of Her gift: Wisdom.

Those who are rejected by Philosophy’s Love depart with joyous memories of their exciting initiation into the bosom of Philosophy’s Love as well as the sorrowful memories of being kept outside of Philosophy’s Gate that leads to Wisdom. The few who have been deemed worthy of Philosophy’s Love and have been knighted by her Wisdom become the mad and the intoxicated sages who embody Philosophy’s Love and Wisdom. Through them does philosophy come to Life and the daring journey into the exotic mysteries of existence begins.

Laney’s Humanities-Philosophy department offers AA degrees in both philosophy and Humanities.

Welcome!

A.S.

By A.S.

At what point is life transformed into the most sacred and holy? When and how does life return to the primordial beginnings of very dust that has fashioned all of life? Further, at what point does the dust become aware of the life it has created and become? The Mind, Body, and Spirit are still great mysteries that have yet to be fully understood. These three components are what compose the human being, and each aspect contains within it pieces of the other. But what are these different parts of the human being, and how can we come to know each part not only separate from the whole, but also in relation to it? The Mind, Body, and Spirit nourish and complement one another in such a way that the discovery of the essence of each requires an intense reflective penetration that can only be experienced through silence. This understanding however is perhaps only for those who have walked along the path of wisdom. For others still seeking this path of understanding do not yet have yet the capacity to comprehend the mysteries of the three-fold being. Hence, the human being who desires to encounter and apprehend the worlds of the Mind, Body, and Spirt, sets out on a journey that does not offer a beaten path. Rather the being that wishes to venture into the vast subconscious abyss, which is the self, does so without the knowledge of where it is going, where it will end up, nor what it will find in the deepest chambers of the self. The Mind, Body and Spirit all ache to be known in essence, but the task to uncover their mysteries demands much more than what the physical world has bequeathed upon the human being. The tools that the journey requires are tools that must be cultivated by the art of learning to learn. Such is the beginning, the middle, and the end of the journey; a continuous, cyclical process of learning.

The art of learning, similar to any other art, cannot be cultivated without immense effort, will, sacrifice, and yearning. Listening, which becomes possible only in the presence of awareness, is the noblest of all arts, for in it is contained lasting understanding through which humility is born and wisdom cultivated. Self-knowledge is the beginning of wisdom. But the beginning of self-knowledge (knowing the essences of Mind, Body, and Spirit) begins with listening. Self-knowledge cannot come about without first having the ability to observe and listen to what the self is saying, doing, thinking, and being. The acquisition of knowledge of the self, demands that the self be listened to. Listening, however, does not exclusively belong to the task of the ear alone, rather listening belongs to the function of one’s entire being. One’s entire being, internal (Mind and Spirit/ metaphysical) as well external (Body/ physical) have the capacity to listen, only in so far as it is allowed. It is only when one’s being is allowed and not weighed down and put to sleep by the various ‘inner attachments’ that make up one’s opinions, beliefs, ideals, prejudices, presuppositions, conclusions, and habits that it is possible for the process of listening with one’s entire being to begin. To listen and to be aware of one’s thoughts, thinking patterns, and the intention behind them, is to be completely aware of all inner and outer movements that one makes. It is only when the intelligence of the human being is not corrupted and destroyed by the conditioned reality in which it lives, that the Mind, Body, and Spirit can be trained to be sensitive enough that listening with totality can begin. It is only when the human being has focused its entire attention towards active observation of the self that they enter a space of awareness. In this state of awareness, all intentions, actions and motives, thoughts, and interactions remain pure and are filled with sincerity. An action in which the self is absent benefits all unconditionally. Awareness then, also is something that is a part of the art of learning.

To learn is to be aware and to be aware is to be alive. To be alive is to be alert and to be alert is to struggle against forgetfulness. To struggle against forgetfulness is to experience pain. To experience pain is to suffer. To suffer is to have sorrow as a companion. To be in the companionship of sorrow leads to endurance. To endure is to be patient. To be patient is to grow and to grow is to learn. To learn is to observe and to observe is to be sensitive. To be sensitive is to listen with totality of one’s being. To listen in totality is to be free of psychological, emotional, intellectual, and physical attachments to one’s history. To be free of one’s psychological, emotional, intellectual, and physical attachments is to be detached. To be detached is to be unconditioned. To be unconditioned is to understand. To understand is to care and to care is to be humble. To be humble is to move towards perfection. To move towards perfection is to transcend male/female configurations, social, cultural, national, political, and economic categorizations. To transcend the impositions that the physical world has burdened the human individual with is to move towards becoming a Human Being and to become a Human Being is to love. Hence, from life love is born, and from life is learned the art of how to love.

Listening, however, first demands silence- a quality that is attained only in the presence of freedom. Only when the mind has completely freed itself of all psychological, emotional, intellectual and physical attachments will listening come into being. In this way, the mind, as it were, is able to stand outside itself to look and observe itself. It therefore becomes a mirror that is constantly polishing itself for clearer reflection of itself. This gives birth to a vision that is void of biases and prejudices. A vision that not only does not compare the present with the past but is also able to look beyond the concepts of good and evil, just and unjust, true and false. The presence of this vision given birth to a human being who is able to honestly, sympathetically, compassionately, critically and intelligently look, listen and learn from one moment to the next. Only for such a Being is it possible to polish the rusted and to guide the lost.

Life, then, is only for those who love and those who have the strength to make love out of life. The constant creative striving towards love-making is that which gives Life to life. Great is the struggle and suffering for the one who loves, for the lover endures in the hopes of creating a life out of that which life has given; this is the battle of the art of loving life. At times Life and love may seem immensely dark, hopeless, and utterly exhausting. Hope and faith, however, must never be lost during periods of hopelessness. NEVER! For indeed, Life is found under the dark ‘cloud of unknowing’. It is, after all, in the presence of utter hopelessness and exhaustion that humility- the creator of selflessness, compassion and love- is born.

Without exception, all human beings are here to learn of only one thing: life. But to learn life, one must first learn love. Life cannot be in the absence of love, and love cannot be without the presence of awareness. Awareness, however, cannot come into being without psychological freedom. This psychological freedom however, takes place only when the Mind, Body, and Spirit have been unshackled from the constraints of their conditioned realities. All that a human being comes to know is acquired through a relative world. A world in which things can only be known in so far as an opposite exists simultaneously. To learn then, in a relative world means to be cognizant of the governing opposing forces that construct the conditioned reality in which one lives. Opposites such as just and unjust, good and evil, right and wrong, true and false are in place to establish various points of reference. The world of relativity is bound by subjective observations, judgements, values, and ideals that shape the life that one lives. Perceiving opposites signifies the existence of judgments, which are the result of psychological attachments and conditioning which signify the absence of freedom. And, in the absence of freedom nothing can be learned though it may appear otherwise. Outside of this subjective relative world however is where objective observation takes place. Objective observation demands that one has access to as many possible subjective thoughts, feelings, ideas, and outcomes in order to choose without condition and understand the world of actuality rather than the world of relativity.

All whose eyes open unto this world must liken this world to a laboratory. Nothing in this laboratory is to be owned by any single being but rather shared by all. The things which have come into being to make up the world in which we live must be looked upon as instruments through which learning becomes possible. The function of the instrumental use of the world is to conduct experiments that lead to an increased, refined, and critical awareness of self. This is not to say that the human being will succeed in every trial but that with the possibility of success also comes failure. The human being must fall again and again until one learns how to stand erect in the midst of all of life’s gifts: sorrows as well as joys, pains as well as pleasures, agonies as well as ecstasies. Every moment of success, as well as every failure, has something profound to offer and teach. It is only in awareness however that learning can take place; one must look, listen, and learn with one’s total being. The human being must engage in the arduous experiments of life and must sacrifice what they think they know for that which they do not so that the art of learning can be mastered.

In short, learning in this laboratory demands the absolute absence of opinions and beliefs. They are signs of immaturity and weakness, since they give birth to fear, confusion, anxiety, fragmentation, hatred, pride, and all sorts of vanities. When the mind is attached to a past experience, it translated and defines the present according to the past, and within this play of the mind, the present becomes the past. Such a Mind is incapable of seeing all that is involved in the present for it is in the habit of experiencing images and memories from the past. These past experiences are not only filled with biases and prejudices, but also, belong to a different conceptuality of time and space. Such a mind projects these past images unto the present. Therefore, not only does the present become distorted and corrupt, but goes wholly and totally unexperienced. This results in one’s involvement in image making, and hence, getting caught in the net of images. Though unconscious this activity may be, it nevertheless is a mechanical network of the mind that blocks all forms of awareness. Such a mind does not perceive with the intent to learn, but with the intent to support its own previous conclusions, prejudices, and biases. Everything that does not affirm the prior notion held with the mind’s preconceived notions are tossed aside and looked upon as unsound, false, and unworthy.

In the end, all those who have the strength to experiment in this laboratory are lovers and are able to live and create a Life out of love. They may not succeed in finding answers to the mysteries of man and life, but one thing is for sure: life and love are indeed the greatest of all mysteries!

By: Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee

The love between teacher and disciple is both the most powerful and the most paradoxical relationship a human being can experience; it is unique in this world… . And yet it has to be played out in the human arena where it is inevitably brought into the limited and distorted structures of the ego and personality. From the point of view of the soul all the projection and misunderstanding this gives rise to can seem such needless drama, based entirely on illusion, and yet this drama too has a role to play. It is the teacher’s job through it all to remain unswervingly true to the real divine nature, to the love and to the inner light of the disciple, as the transmission of love that the disciple needs to make the journey is given from heart to heart.

In an earlier chapter, “Dust at His Feet,” I wrote about my relationship with my sheikh, the Naqshbandi Sufi master Radha Mohan Lal. The following chapter describes a little of my own experience as a Sufi teacher. I began this work when I was thirty-six and was sent by my teacher, Irina Tweedie, to lecture about the Sufi path in North America. And then when she retired in 1992, I became her successor. In 1998, the year before she died, I was made a Sufi sheikh.

I should clarify that there are two distinct forms of spiritual teacher. There are teachers who convey the spiritual teachings of their tradition, their practices and disciplines. They may give lectures and seminars, write books and have students who study these teachings and often engage in the practices. Then there are spiritual teachers who have disciples, taking upon themselves the full responsibility of their disciples’ spiritual evolution, their journey Home. I have written a number of books and conveyed some of the teachings of my lineage of Sufism; this chapter is about my work in the traditional relationship of teacher and disciple. Although most of this drama of soul to soul happens deep within the heart, beyond the grasp of consciousness, I hope to convey a little of the human side of this most extraordinary relationship. In particular I want to describe an ambiguity that I often feel about what belongs to the human being and what belongs to God, and how this has been played out in my life.

The teacher is without a face and without a name. . .

What does it mean to be a teacher, a guide, to have the spiritual responsibility of taking souls Home? For many years I knew what it meant to be a disciple, to have my heart opened by love, to sit at the feet of my teacher being absorbed into emptiness, to see the light of another world in her eyes. From the first moment I met the white-haired Russian lady who was to be my teacher, I felt in her the inner authority that belongs to a Sufi teacher, and in the coming years, full of fear and longing I sat, week after week, in her small room, wanting nothing except the Truth I knew she knew. As she spoke about her sheikh in India, I felt his invisible presence, a being of power and love to whom I came to realize I belonged beyond life and death. I recognized this energy of the path that would demand everything from me, and over the years I experienced how a disciple is destroyed and remade through love, bitter and sweet.

Then one day when I was thirty-four, I was told by Irina Tweedie that I too would become a teacher, take up this transmission of love. This simple statement, made almost in passing, terrified me. Yet it also made sense of and echoed some dreams I had had in previous years. I recognized how the training had begun years before, maybe soon after I first came to the path as a battered and unbalanced young man. I could glimpse how I had been guided by the masters of the path and though I knew it was a grace to be given the work, it was also the last thing I wanted. It was as if I already knew it would demand from me more than I believed I could give, destroy me in ways I did not yet know – the fear was very real.

I had sat at my teacher’s feet since I was nineteen, and knew her ways of working with people, and also saw the demands that the path made on her. Because seekers sensed the unlimited love within her, they somehow instinctively felt that their demands could also be unlimited. I saw her give and give until her body and whole being were exhausted, and still she gave. Once people sense real love, their unmet needs come to the surface and almost suffocate everything else. People came with all of their troubles as well as their longing, and it was all unloaded on her. So much was expected. And this was the work and the world that were waiting for me.

Although, after sitting in her presence, watching her work with people day after day, I had some sense of what was involved, of course my own experience of this work was quite different. She began when she was already over sixty, having just returned from India after the death of our sheikh, and for the first ten years just a few people gathered around her, sitting in her small North London room. I began when I was young and the path was already present in the West: there was already a room full of people. My journey was different and yet the essence of the work was the same: holding a transmission of love to be given to those who need.

Maybe I should say from the beginning that from my experience I think it is almost impossible to be a spiritual teacher in the West. Recently a young man came to me who had begun having a small group of people around him, and asked my advice about being a spiritual teacher. Half-jokingly, I replied, “I think it’s impossible. Here in the West there is no container, no tradition of the real relationship of teacher and disciple. We have no context for this relationship of the soul that is both impersonal and intimate. There’s just misunderstanding and projection. It’s much better to have a sensible job as a plumber or an accountant.” I don’t think he understood what I meant.

In the West we have just an echo of an echo of this ancient tradition, in the love that Mary Magdalene had for Christ and the few words that she spoke to him after she mistook him for a gardener near his empty grave:

Jesus said to her, Mary. She turned herself, and said to him. Raboni; which is to say, Master.

Here are the devotion and love that belongs to this traditional relationship of teacher and disciple, but it was buried by the Church and has been forgotten. And yet anyone who has been awaked by a teacher’s love knows it truth. But how to express and live this sacred relationship in a culture that understands only personal love? How not to get caught in the myriad projections and misunderstandings that can arise when there is so much love and nearness? How can we live this mystery in its purity so that as with Mary, it can take us to see the risen Christ?

The question for the teacher is how to hold this truth, this essential love, when you know it will be misunderstood by even the most sincere seeker. And from this simple question comes my own experience that the teacher can expect to be burned by this love even more than the disciple. The teacher has to hold this love in its true, impersonal nature, knowing that it belongs only to God. And together with the love comes a deep recognition and complete acceptance of the wayfarer – one can only walk the path as one’s whole self. But this same love and acceptance so often awakens in the disciple a desire to have a personal relationship with the teacher, as the disciple does not understand that the real relationship belongs to the soul and not to the personality. The need to personalize this relationship appears most strongly in women, particularly when the love and understanding they experience are otherwise lacking in their lives. And in the West women seem to form a majority of spiritual seekers, especially on a path of devotion like Sufism.

Yet there can be no “friendship” with the teacher, despite the feelings of inner closeness that are very real. In the Sufi tradition the relationship with the teacher leads the disciple towards a relationship with God. The teacher is in essence an empty space through which the energy of the Divine can nourish the disciple, or a mirror that just reflects back her true self. Having no conscious understanding of its real nature, the disciple will color this relationship with personal dramas, with the images of parents or other authority figures, or even with the longing for a physical lover. She will paint her own pictures on this clear mirror.

I remember at the beginning of the work being shocked at how easily this inner relationship of love and closeness was misplaced, how this intimacy of the soul evoked so many other feelings and projections. Because I never knew my sheikh on a human level, I had never played out this drama, and found it deeply disturbing. For a time I tried to be distant, even cold or disdainful, sometimes deliberately pushing away the feelings that were projected. But then I learned how easily this could evoke patterns of rejection in the disciple, which could then open old wounds and veil the disciple from the love that was given, the love that could take them Home. I have found that it is better to allow the misunderstandings and projections, which over time are resolved through the energy of the path, through the impersonal nature of the love that is given.

And now, after so many years, when someone tells me that they want a “more personal relationship” with me, there is just a certain sadness that this evokes. If they knew the real nature of the love that is given, how its purpose is to draw them step by step towards an abandonment so complete that only Truth remains, they would not try to color it with the images of a personal friendship. And if they could glimpse what is within “me,” an emptiness where a cold wind often blows that knows nothing of any personal self, they would not want to get any closer. But we always paint the pictures we want to see, and when love is given there is no understanding of its desolation.

Hopefully the teacher is one who has been trained to want nothing, has been emptied to completely that there is no danger of being caught in the trap of so many projections. I was fortunate in that I was trained for almost twenty years before I began. I was ground to dust in order to do this work. And for the first few years I was watched very closely, and then crushed, again. I was taught the old-fashioned way, forced to see my limitations again and again. And this was only the beginning.

To guide a soul back to God is the most serious responsibility anyone can be given, because it concerns what is most precious within a human being: the desire for Truth and the ability to live this desire – the potential to go Home. Nothing is more important in the life of an individual, and so nothing is more dangerous to abuse. Sometimes seekers have come to me who have been spiritually misled, or even abused, by their teacher. The soul becomes twisted, unable to live or reflect the light that is within. These seekers can easily become lost souls, wandering aimlessly without true purpose. Sometimes help can be given, and their light can be returned to them. They can be reconnected with their life’s meaning. But there is almost always a scar, a sadness that what was so precious was contaminated.

On the Sufi path the disciple is taken Home through the power of divine love, and this love is the most potent and dangerous force in existence. It can cut through every pattern of resistance and awaken the heart. To have the power to place this love into the heart of another person is a tremendous responsibility. It also means that the other person can easily fall in love with you. This love is like nothing the disciple has every known, and it is given freely without conditions. It is pure poison – a drug to the heart. The teacher holds the heart of the disciple in his own heart and nourishes it with divine love. And how easy it is to mistake this divine love for human love. Without any cultural understanding of devotion, the disciple can become lost in a maze of longings in which the human and Divine become confused. It is the work of the teacher to try again and again to reflect back to the disciple the true impersonal nature of this love.

After almost twenty years I am in constant awe of this inner drama of divine love, how the disciple is held in love, and how the soul of the teacher is guided by the laws of love in this work. But it was many years before I understood the nature and effect of this transmission of love: how the essence of the relationship between teacher and disciple belongs to the level of the soul, how the soul of the disciple is infused with the light and love that it needs for the journey. And how little this work has to do with the outer person of either the teacher or disciple. And yet most practitioners believe that it is the outer person rather than the real being of the teacher with whom they interact. This is the cause of so much misunderstanding, and yet the outer form of the teacher also has a part to play.

As has belonged to so much of my experience of the path, this paradoxical relationship between the human and the Divine is at the center of the relationship with the teacher. I have personal faults and failings like anyone, and yet I have been trained, been made empty, to hold a transmission of love that is pure and impersonal. Because this pure love goes directly from heart to heart, it creates a feeling of intimacy that evokes needs, projections, and misunderstandings in the disciple. The journey of the disciple is of necessity through this maze of misunderstandings created by the divine love that comes through the teacher. Without the human presence of the teacher this drama would not take place, and yet it is due to the emptiness within the teacher that the wayfarer is drawn into this labyrinth, and hopefully, finally, into the mystery of merging, when human and divine reveal their essential unity.

COMMITMENT

When I first began this work I traveled around America giving lectures and workshops, finding the people who belonged to this Sufi path. It was a miracle to suddenly feel this love within my heart connecting with another, to experience its sweetness and the sense of a tradition coming alive. What had begun in a room in North London was now present in lecture halls and living rooms across North America, like an ancient promise or a dream being answered. And my heart and life were part of this promise, this mystery of love being awakened. An outer journey of so many motel rooms and rental cars was mirrored by an inner journey that brought a deep joy and sense of fulfillment. Even after twenty years I still find it a miracle when I see an unfamiliar face across a lecture room and find that her or she is already in my heart, or when I hear a dream that carries the ancient imprint of the path, discover a young man whose journey has taken him years and many miles to find his way here, and know that he is now where he belongs.

Over the years gradually more people were drawn to this path, and meditation groups formed in different parts of the world. For some strange reason North America, northern German, Switzerland, and London have become the places most people following this path are gathered. Outwardly we meet in these places, in the form of a lecture, a seminar, or weekly meditation groups. Inwardly we are present within the circle of love that belongs to this Sufi path, the mysterious gathering of souls on the inner planes where the real work takes place. The people following the path have become like a family. I know their lives, the joys and sorrows of their children, the demands of their work. I have heard their stories and know the longing that has always been present.

Only as the years passed did I come to realize the sense of responsibility and commitment that are involved in this work of the soul. Much is said about the need for commitment on the part of the wayfarer: without commitment there can be no progress along the path. Less understood is the depth of commitment on the part of the teacher. Without this complete commitment the disciple can easily be left stranded between the worlds, unable to return to a former ego-identity, yet lacking he energy or guidance needed to cross into the deeper reality of the Self. The teacher has to take responsibility for the disciple, whatever their limitations, doubts, or inner resistance. The disciple can hesitate, even step off the path. Disciples have this freedom.   But the teacher has to remain committed to the potential the wayfarer has for the journey, hold the truth of her inner light even when it is obscured. The teacher as to follow an ancient code of practice that gives the wayfarer the best opportunity to make the journey, to live their longing for God. Rarely does the disciple understand what is being offered, or the price the teacher has to pay to keep this connection of love alive. Only if the disciple behaves unethically or makes a conscious decision to no longer follow a spiritual life is the commitment of the teacher withdrawn, the link between their hearts broken.

The wayfarer who is drawn onto the path of love will make many mistakes, and through the drama of projection and misunderstanding may get angry with the teacher, feel abandoned, even at times betrayed. In the East these feelings were contained within the tradition of adab, the correct behavior to have in the presence of the teacher. But in the West not only do we not have the real practice of adab, we have a culture that encourages the self-expression of the ego and has no understanding of what is really involved on the spiritual path. Often as a teacher I have had to accept the anger, resentment, even hostility of individuals faced with the darkness within themselves. So may times I have been blamed for inner problems or outer difficulties. One has to be trained in detachment or have the gift of compassion at such times to remain true to the highest potential of the disciple and not react. To wait with patience for weeks, or even sometimes years, until the darkness dissolves and the higher light within the disciple shines through. In these times to even want the wayfarer to progress or change is an obstacle. The disciple must be left free to make mistakes and experience her darkness. Sometimes, much later, the disciple may be made aware of how she has behaved. Sometimes it is never even mentioned. This is the tradition.

TRUST AND DISTRUST

As a teacher I have to trust the light within the disciple and the knowing that the path will nurture and guide this light, will take it where it needs to go. It is not that “I” know, but I have deep faith in the path itself, in this Sufi system that has been guiding souls Home for centuries. And I have faith in my sheikh who has trained me in a way that enables my light to be used in this work. For hundreds of years seekers have been coming to the path with their longing and difficulties, and this tradition has embraced them. There is a deep wisdom in the path itself: so many souls, so many difficulties, and yet the path remains as a living force. I trust that we are each given what we need, even if it is not in the way we want or expect. Real spiritual life is always so different from any expectations.

Yet in America I have encountered a difficulty that has taken me years to understand, and that is a cultural disrespect for real spiritual work and any real spiritual tradition. This deep disrespect appears to be part of our Western mind and psyche, and can subtly undermine the work of the path. It is as if there is a deep cultural mistrust of giving oneself to a spiritual path. This is easy to understand if it is the result of a recent experience with cults or some other form of spiritual abuse, but I sense that it goes deeper than that. Maybe it comes from an early Puritan imprint that was an escape from any imposed religious dogma. Maybe it is simply because the West – and in particular America – does not have any esoteric spiritual traditions as a part of its heritage, and distrusts something it does not understand, especially something that cannot be bought with money. Or maybe it is because America has sold its spiritual principles for material prosperity, and so has lost its own self-respect. Whatever the reason, this disrespect runs deep within the collective, and can easily poison the attitude of the wayfarer. Its presence is particularly felt when the wayfarer encounters difficulties or apparent contradictions in relation to the path or the teacher. It is surprisingly easy to undermine this work of the soul.

In other cultures a spiritual teacher and a spiritual path are respected, even by those who do not follow them. Here in the West we are left with the debris of a dying materialistic culture that has long lost touch with the sacred. Our collective disrespect for the sacred and its traditions casts a shadow on our individual and world soul, blurring the brightness of inner light, making it more difficult to recognize an inner truth. We do not trust what is real, preferring a spirituality that is subtly distorted, whose promises of enlightenment, if one looks closely, belongs to the ego rather than the Self. We are more comfortable with what is false. And in this materialistic culture it is much easier to trust what can be bought or sold. A true spiritual path cannot be bought or sold, but like the sunlight is free,

I have learned that there is nothing to be gained from confronting this collective shadow, but it is important to recognize the forces that interfere with the work of the soul. Distrust and disrespect are subtle poisons that create distortions in the relationship between teacher and disciple. Regardless, my work is always to respect the light within the individual, and to trust that this light and the light of the path will guide the soul Home.

FROM HEART TO HEART

From heart to heart the transmission of love is given, the love that the wayfarer needs to make the journey. “The disciple progresses through love.   Love is the driving force, the greatest Power of Creation. As the disciple has not enough love in him to have sufficient of the propelling power to reach the Goal, so love is increased, or “created” simply by activating the Heart Chakra.” The teacher activates the heart of the disciple, giving her the love that is needed. This is the grace of the tradition, the transmission of love without which the path would no longer be alive. In the Naqshbandi path there is a bond between teacher and disciple, rabita, that contains this link of love. It can be experienced as a special sweetness within the heart.

The transmission of love is given effortlessly, and, once the bond has been created, is automatic. It does not even need physical presence, but can be given on the inner plane of the soul when the disciple is asleep. The link of love exists beyond the limitation of time and space. When the love is needed it flows from heart to heart. The disciple may not even be consciously aware of what is given, but sometimes awakes with a feeling of sweetness, or even bliss, or a dream of being together with the teacher. Inwardly the teacher is always attentive, his heart attuned to the spiritual needs of the disciple.

It is as if the heart of the disciple is held within the heart of the teacher. As more and more people came to the path, I experienced my spiritual heart expanding to contain their hearts. They are a part of me, and the greater their longing, the more their desire for Truth, the closer I feel them to my spiritual center. They are always with me.

In the outer world the work of the teacher is to help the disciple stay true to the inner focus of the heart. Guidance may be needed to keep the inner or outer life aligned with the higher purpose of the soul, and also to deal with the difficulties that arise through this transmission of love. The love cleanses the heart and psyche, and often causes confusion to the mind. It is not easy to learn to live with the energy of divine love, as it has a vibration that is quicker than the density of our lower self and everyday consciousness. Transformation through love is a demanding process that requires inner attention and perseverance. We need to learn how to surrender to the love that is given and not to resist this higher power. Love can also create feelings of vulnerability and even anger as it triggers patterns of resistance or repressed inner pain. All these feelings need to come to the surface and be accepted and understood. Here the teacher can help the disciple to differentiate what belongs to the work of inner transformation from what is a distraction that can be avoided. It is easy to get caught in unnecessary inner dramas, and the distractions of the mind and psyche can be endless. We all bring our patterns of avoidance along with our desire for Truth.

On this path we also work with dreams that guide us, helping us to understand the inner work that needs to be done, the psychological blocks that may be an obstacle, the darkness we need to confront and accept. Dreams may also give us images of the mysterious process of inner transformation, of love’s journey through the chambers of the heart. Some dreams are spiritual teachings or experiences on the plane of the soul that need to be understood from a solely spiritual perspective. Dreams are often shared within the mediation group, were they are given the interpretation that is needed. But what matters is always the attitude of the dreamer, whether one is able to listen and be open and receptive to the meaning of the dream, to the energy of its images. As a teacher I am sometimes given direct insight into the meaning of a dream, or I may just allow its meaning to surface through group discussions. I also need to be attentive to my own dreams, to the way the path reveals itself in my own psyche. The journey always continues.

LOVE’S DARK SIDE

There is also a dark side to this transmission of love. One afternoon my teacher sat me at her kitchen table and told me a strange story that shocked me. She told it to me three times so that I knew it was for me. It was the story of how they make a torturer: how someone is tortured and tortured until he is broken, and then he is taught how to torture others. There can be great cruelty to the workings of love, and sometimes the teacher is the instrument of this cruelty.

Most wayfarers are taken Home gradually through the simple power of love working within them, echoing the words of al-Hallaj, “When Truth has taken hold of a heart, She empties it of all but Herself.” Love and longing purify and transform us, emptying us of our self. But sometimes the ego is too strong to surrender and then the disciple needs to be broken. This is a terrible task for the teacher because the disciple is always dear to the teacher: the link of love holds him or her in your heart. But occasionally instructions are given from within the heart and this dark work of love begins.

It is a subtle process, hardly ever done with any outer show of anger, although sometimes that is necessary. We all have particular weaknesses within us, places where we are vulnerable and afraid. It is here that the teacher begins to pressure the disciple, usually with an energy of cold detachment that can seem heartless. A comment here, a remark there are often all that is needed; sometimes the disciple is simply seemingly ignored for months. There are many ways to break a human being in order to help them to make this step, and when there is great love between teacher and disciple, the pain is particularly potent. My teacher called her sheikh her “beloved executioner,” so often did he appear hard, cold, and distant to her.

You have to be trained to do this work. It is one of the most painful things anyone can be asked to do. And it is done with great love, a love that does not allow anything to get in the way on the road towards Truth. You can only do this work if it has been done to you. It is the dark side of love, and a work that is much misunderstood. Something within the disciple is destroyed, torn out, crushed. They are broken, made empty.

Part of this process often manifests as an experience of feeling abandoned, betrayed by the teacher. The teacher may “put all the appearances against him; he will appear full of faults and all kinds of defects.” The disciple may be forced to abandon any images or projections he placed on the teacher, and often becomes angry, even hostile. He is not aware of the great love on the part of the teacher that is needed to do this work – the human being has to be broken with love; otherwise, it could leave a terrible scar in the psyche and even the soul. It is all part of this ancient training, how a human being is destroyed and remade with love, so that he can contain the vaster dimension of Truth.

If the teacher were not completely surrendered he could easily interfere with this process, want to make it easier for the disciple, to help in the work. Then the breaking would not be complete and the pain would be wasted. The knife must be clean and cold, and although there is great love there is also an inhuman quality to this work. And yet I am not separate from this process. Although I have to put all my own feelings aside, still it hurts: it tears the fabric of my own heart.

THE DRAMA OF PROJECTION

It is easy to idealize the work of the teacher, of one who has been made “featureless and formless” by love so that this work can be done to others. When I sat at the feet of my teacher I was in awe of what she was given, of the power of Truth she carried within her. Yes, there are oceans of love to which one has access, and the grace of the tradition is always present or the work could not continue. But one is always given for others, never for oneself, and there is a human cost to this work that is rarely understood.

There is the simple burden of being responsible for the souls of others, of keeping open the doors of grace. One of the first things my teacher told me was that none of us are indispensible, and one is always aware of that. Even so, to carry the energy of the path and its teachings is a tremendous responsibility. This is not a nine-to-five job, and there are no weekends off! It is the job of the teacher to be inwardly with all of the disciples all of the time, to keep the inner attention awake. Although this is a spiritual work that takes place on the level of the soul, there is a human cost to being the focus of so many lives, so many aspirations, the central figure in so many dreams. There is a sacrifice that has to be made again and again as one’s own life is lived in a state of surrender to the work. I first realized this when I lived above my teacher and saw the constant stream of people who came to her door. But in the last twenty years I have come to know for myself how subtly draining it can be. At times it takes me to the point of exhaustion. So many times something human within me rebels, and wants to be left alone. I have images of a small cottage in Scotland surrounded by the wild moors and the wind and the rain!

There is also this strange burden of projection. One not only carries the aspirations of the wayfarer, but also many strange projections, particularly in a culture that has no understanding of this tradition. One is the focal point of the inner life of the disciple, and everything one says or does not say is interpreted as deeply meaningful. One learns to be careful when speaking, knowing at the same time that most of what one says will be misunderstood. How can mystical truth be understood by the rational mind? The disciple looks through the veil of the ego and its conditioning. The reality of love is so different.

The disciple wants the teacher to be perfect, to be all knowing rather than just someone who has been made empty. I have learned that some people think I know their every thought, their hidden secrets and their future. They do not realize that I know nothing except when it is necessary to help the disciple to make a step or avoid an unnecessary difficulty. Why would I want to burden myself with so many thoughts? I am just used when I am needed. And sometimes when I am made to know something about a disciple, her inner or outer situation, I am not allowed to share it with her, even if I think it may help. She has to be free to walk her own way, make her own mistakes.

It is very easy to get caught in the projections of others, to become a helper, savior, or even their image of a teacher. As every therapist knows, an individual person’s projections can be very strong. The projections of a spiritual group are a thousand times more powerful, particularly one full of people who have done many years of meditation, whose inner focus as a result is stronger. One has to be very attentive not to try to live up to their expectations but rather to take the ground out from under those expectations whenever possible, while always maintaining one’s detachment. Although the disciple is free to project what she wants onto me, I have to want nothing again and again. I cannot even react against the projections, as they would engage me in their drama.

Sometimes, I think that although I have tasted the real freedom of surrender, those who are just walking the path are in many ways more free than I am. They are free to make mistakes and forget, to put aside the work of the path for their own reasons, even get lost in the world from time to time. I am bound to be always attentive, to hold the light regardless of how I may feel. I cannot abandon the disciple, even though the disciple is free to abandon or even betray the path.

But at the same time I am given that deepest joy of seeing and experiencing a human being awakened to the Divine and making the journey Home. When I hear dreams or experiences that reflect that ancient journey I feel deeply touched to be a part of this process, a witness or participant in these stories of divine love. Every human being is so infinitely precious, but a person who has been touched by the tenderness or fire of real love has a special sweetness. It is often those one would least expect who make the serious steps on the path, who become lost in deep states of meditation or feel the presence of divine oneness. And to know that one has played a small part in this awakening, even as just a witness, is deeply nourishing. I know that it is all due to the grace of my sheikh and the energy of the path, but something in me has been present as a soul turns towards God, or when that light is lit within the heart. There is nothing one wants more than for another to taste the Truth that is at the root of all.

And sometimes one is given the privilege of preparing a disciple for physical death, for that last journey. Then one can see almost visibly how the grace works, how the individual is given the experiences that she needs in order to complete this life, and how she can become free from any inner or outer attachments that might impede her journey beyond this world. One friend was given the direct experience of life that she had never had. Her cancer went into unexpected remission for two years, and as she walked the beaches near her home or watched the sunsets, she was at last able to be present with life in a simple and pure way, free of all the dramas of self that had dominated her life. Life and its joy were present in their essence. Another friend was able to go in a state of infinite sweetness and tenderness, with a presence in her room that carried this fragrance of love. Her eyes had already seen the other side before she died. Mostly the work of the teacher is to help the disciple to “die before you die,” to become free of the ego with all its patterns of attachment while still in this world. But sometimes one can help in this more final transition, as life’s journey is fulfilled through love.

BURNOUT

I could not do any of this work without the constant inner help of my sheikh. How could I carry the burden of a disciple’s aspirations on my own, without real support? At the beginning he was always present in my mediations, giving me advice and answering my questions. He also showed me when I made a mistake, and helped me to correct it. But over the years he has left me more and more alone, unless there is a real need that I cannot answer. I have had to stand on my own feet in the shifting sands of this world, knowing that although his energy is present I have to make my own decisions. I trust in his trust of me, but sometimes it is a very lonely, heart-wrenching business. I have been given much outer help, especially from my wife, whose feminine wisdom and understanding and deep connection to the path have been an invaluable support. And yet at the same time I am left more and more with my own humanness and imperfections. I no longer aspire to anything, not even to be a better teacher. The work seems to have washed everything out of me.

Partly this inner state came as a result of what I can only describe as a spiritual burnout that began some years ago, after I had been doing this work for over fifteen years. For fifteen years I had pushed myself, lecturing and being with people, as slowly over the years more and more people came with their mixture of spiritual longing and human dramas. During this time I discovered that I could give people a certain light to help them, to help to free them from inner blocks and align them with their higher Self and their true purpose. After I had spent time with a person in this way the light was drained out of me, but then in meditation it would be replenished. Although I would often be tired, there was always enough light.

Usually it seemed to be the everyday difficulties that dominated people’s consciousness and to which I was pushed to respond – problems with work or relationships. Rarely were there real questions about the inner relationship with God. At the same time my own journey was drawing me further and further into the emptiness, into the formlessness beyond creation. How could I help people with problems about this world when my inner attention was being turned elsewhere, into a dimension far distant from the ego and its concerns? I felt inadequate to answer their questions, to understand their problems that, although real and pressing to them, to me appeared insubstantial.

It became harder and harder for me to hold the light of their spiritual aspiration in the midst of these demands. I do not know whether spiritual work has always been like this, or whether the collective darkness and forgetfulness in the West have emphasized this – whether the individual light now is more easily caught in the collective darkness, a darkness that also carries a self-obsession with the ego-self and its endless problems. I began to feel more and more drained. I tried to say that I could only work with people’s spiritual self and not their psychological dramas. I even stopped interpreting dreams for a while. But I realized that it is almost impossible to separate the personal and spiritual, that the individual path is lived through our human drama and its apparent difficulties. I had to accept and work with people as they were. But I felt my own light and life force being more and more drained, less easily replenished, until finally I had little left to give.

The energy of the path still came through me, but I had also discovered that often it needed a human container, that on its own it was too inhuman, too detached for people to easily digest. It needed the container of my own human nature, and yet that was getting more and more exhausted. And then there was the added difficulty of working in the United States after the invasion of Iraq, with the collective darkness that the invasion constellated. As many people know, after 9/11 there was a period of grace when the prayers of millions around the world were turned toward the United States. Yet this grace did not last and the invasion of Iraq triggered a cloud of darkness that all but obscured the spiritual sun. Spiritual work in the U.S. became much more difficult and demanding over these years, as individuals were confronted not only by their personal darkness but also by this collective shadow. Holding the light in these times drained almost all my reserves, until finally I could not continue. I was burned out and for over a year I was physically ill.

That time has passed and my physical health has returned. That shadow over the United States has gradually lifted. But something has changed. The light is different. A spark that had been present when I first came to America is no longer there. And I know that I will never able able to work with people in the same way again. I can no longer afford to give them my own spiritual light to help them on their journey. I have enough light to stay attuned to the energy of the path and to ensure that its grace be given where it is needed. But those years of darkness took with them a certain light from within me that has not been returned. This bewildered me for a long time. I suppose that means that this light is not needed, that I no longer need to help people in the same way. We each have to stand on our own feet, live our own light. Often I am reminded of Buddha’s words to Ananda, his closest disciple, before he died:

Therefore O Ananda,

Take thyself for a light

Take thyself for a refuge

Never seek for a refuge in anyone else

And work on thy salvation diligently

We are all a part of the one light. Teacher, disciple, and path are just different reflections of the same one light as it comes into the world. And as the world shifts on its axis of love so the light within the world changes. Sufism has always adapted to the changing need of the time, and now we need to subtly adapt in the way we work, the way we are present in the light of the world.

When I was first sent to America to teach I came with an innocence and enthusiasm I no longer have. I have had to mature and understand more deeply what it means to guide people on this journey of the soul. I have seen more clearly the difficulties and demands of this work, as well as experiencing the deep joy of being present as love awakens and transforms the heart and life of another. But I have also come to see that our individual journey is part of a greater journey – the evolution of the whole. Nothing is separate. And I have seen that changes are taking place within this larger picture that affect the way we live our longing. The path will always continue, sometimes more hidden, sometimes more visible. And the relationship of teacher and disciple will also continue – the mysterious transmission of love from heart to heart. And yet something has changed that is too far-reaching to fully understand at this moment. A certain light has been withdrawn and a certain light is waiting to be given. The soul of the seeker and the soul of the world are being drawn together more closely: a global oneness is coming nearer to our consciousness. I am waiting to see how this light will work, both in the individual and in the whole. And I am trying to stay attuned to the currents of love as they come into the world. At the same time something within me has been washed away: some sense of what it means to be a teacher has gone. Maybe some new understanding will be born, or maybe this is just part of the deepening emptiness that belongs to this work.