A Little Reflection
There was once a man of scholarly reputation. Despite his scholastic achievements
and status as theologian of his Islamic faith, he remained humble, and in his heart a
seeker of the knowledge that cannot be gained from books. One day he was passing
the local tavern in pensive mood, for his reflections that day had led him to confront
the realisation that his erudition had not achieved anything, other than a reputation
that would fade the moment he was in the grave.
It chanced the local wastrel and scoundrel, whose only renown was for copious
drinking and wild singing, was departing the tavern in his usual drunken way. The
scholar made a point of being uncritical of the behaviour of others his motto being
“Whatever comes my way is best”. He smiled with compassion for the state of the
man. The drunk lurched forward and ended up sitting on the floor. The scholar
reached out helped the poor man to his feet.
Oh my dear, on what simple acts of heartfelt kindness turns our destiny in this short
life.
Through boozy eyes the drunk looked at him a while and said nothing but moved on.
Then turning a moment he said, apropos of nothing in particular, “Today, I have work
in the cellar”. Perhaps, thought the scholar, he is happy to have employment in order
to buy his drink. That thoughtful man carried on his way and reached his house.
Now the words of the drunk had reminded him of something long left undone.
His own cellar, he thought to himself, was in a state of sore neglect. He went down
the dusty creaky stairs carrying some rags and polish for cleaning, and a broom.
At the bottom of the stairs he surveyed the dust covered, cobwebbed, cellar. In one
corner leaning against the wall was a grand old mirror with a good solid carved
frame. The face of the mirror was covered in thick dust. Without any particular plan
he went to the mirror and wiped the frame to reveal its beautifully carved teak wood.
Then with no real thought at all he traced the word ALLAH in Arabic in the dust so as
to reveal the shining mirror surface beneath. He stood back a little to look at it. In that
single precious moment he got the answer to every theological difficulty he had ever
struggled with!
He looked in wonder. Then a thought came to him to write GOD in English, then in
French, Hindi, Farsi, in fact all the languages he knew. What he saw then removed
from him every deep rooted sectarian, racial or religious prejudice he had ever
entertained.
Now another thought came to him. He wrote with his finger in big letters his own
name. He stepped back and looked and instantly understood all that the mystics had
ever taught or talked about.
Now finally another thought came to him – taking the rag and polish he wiped all the
dust from the mirror, removing all the words he had written as he did so. He polished
it till it shone brighter than the sun dawning on a clear cloudless day. He looked into it
and in an instant, for him too, night turned into a glorious day.
This, friend, is a story of the heart, find it’s conclusion and explanation in your own
heart. It could be a beginning too, if you follow it well.
JMZ Feb 18th 2016