Hakim Sanai

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1:When you arrive at the sea, you Do not talk of the tributary. Hakim Sanai F ~ Tahir Shah,

2:/Farsi Stop weaving a net about yourself: burst like a lion from the cage. [bk1sm.gif] -- from The Walled Garden of Truth, by Hakim Sanai / Translated by David Pendlebury

~ Hakim Sanai, Stop weaving a net about yourself
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3:/Farsi The way is not far from you to the friend: you yourself are that way: so set out along it. [bk1sm.gif] -- from The Walled Garden of Truth, by Hakim Sanai / Translated by David Pendlebury

~ Hakim Sanai, The way is not far
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4:/Farsi We tried reasoning our way to him; it didn't work; but the moment we gave up, no obstacle remained. [bk1sm.gif] -- from The Walled Garden of Truth, by Hakim Sanai / Translated by David Pendlebury

~ Hakim Sanai, We tried reasoning
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5:/Farsi Bring all of yourself to his door: bring only a part, and you've brought nothing at all. [bk1sm.gif] -- from The Walled Garden of Truth, by Hakim Sanai / Translated by David Pendlebury

~ Hakim Sanai, Bring all of yourself to his door
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6:/Farsi Until you are complete, a bridge has been prepared; but once you have become complete, what are bridge and river to you? [bk1sm.gif] -- from The Walled Garden of Truth, by Hakim Sanai / Translated by David Pendlebury

~ Hakim Sanai, Until you are complete
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7:/Farsi Take everything away and leave me alone with You. Close every door and open the one to You. [bk1sm.gif] -- from The Book of Everything: Journey of the Heart's Desire, by Hakim Sanai Al-Ghaznavi / Translated by Priya Hemenway

~ Hakim Sanai, Take everything away
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8:/Farsi Love's conqueror is he whom love conquers. Apply yourself, hand and foot, to the search; but when you reach the sea, stop talking of the stream. [bk1sm.gif] -- from The Walled Garden of Truth, by Hakim Sanai / Translated by David Pendlebury

~ Hakim Sanai, Loves conqueror is he
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9:/Farsi At his door, what is the difference between Moslem and Christian, virtuous and guilty? At his door all are seekers and he the sought. [bk1sm.gif] -- from The Walled Garden of Truth, by Hakim Sanai / Translated by David Pendlebury

~ Hakim Sanai, At his door, what is the difference
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10:/Farsi Belief brings me close to You but only to the door. It is only by disappearing into Your mystery that I will come in. [bk1sm.gif] -- from The Book of Everything: Journey of the Heart's Desire, by Hakim Sanai Al-Ghaznavi / Translated by Priya Hemenway

~ Hakim Sanai, Belief brings me close to You
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11:/Farsi The way to You lies clearly in my heart and cannot be seen or known to the mind. As my words turn to silence, Your sweetness surrounds me. [bk1sm.gif] -- from The Book of Everything: Journey of the Heart's Desire, by Hakim Sanai Al-Ghaznavi / Translated by Priya Hemenway

~ Hakim Sanai, The way to You
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12:/Farsi It's your own self defining faith and unbelief: inevitably it colours your perception. Eternity knows nothing of belief or unbelief; for a pure nature there is no such thing. [bk1sm.gif] -- from The Walled Garden of Truth, by Hakim Sanai / Translated by David Pendlebury

~ Hakim Sanai, Its your own self
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13:/Farsi Melt yourself down in this search: venture your life and your soul in the path of sincerity; strive to pass from nothingness to being, and make yourself drunk with the wine of God. [bk1sm.gif] -- from The Walled Garden of Truth, by Hakim Sanai / Translated by David Pendlebury

~ Hakim Sanai, Melt yourself down in this search
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14:/Farsi No tongue can tell Your secret for the measure of the word obscures Your nature. But the gift of the ear is that it hears what the tongue cannot tell. [bk1sm.gif] -- from The Book of Everything: Journey of the Heart's Desire, by Hakim Sanai Al-Ghaznavi / Translated by Priya Hemenway

~ Hakim Sanai, No tongue can tell Your secret
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15:/Farsi Belief and unbelief both have their origin in your hypocrite's heart; the way is only long because you delay to start on it: one single step would bring you to him: become a slave, and you will be a king. [bk1sm.gif] -- from The Walled Garden of Truth, by Hakim Sanai / Translated by David Pendlebury

~ Hakim Sanai, Belief and unbelief
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16:/Farsi Your heartrending fire made me bloom like a rose. I died at your feet and returned fast to life. My inborn freedom offered nothing in profit; but now I am free, since becoming your slave. [2200.jpg] -- from Love's Alchemy: Poems from the Sufi Tradition, Translated by David Fideler / Translated by Sabrineh Fideler

~ Hakim Sanai, Bloom Like a Rose
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17:/Farsi My friend, everything existing exists through him; your own existence is a mere pretence. No more nonsense! Lose yourself, and the hell of your heart becomes a heaven. Lose yourself, and anything can be accomplished. Your selfishness is an untrained colt. [bk1sm.gif] -- from The Walled Garden of Truth, by Hakim Sanai / Translated by David Pendlebury

~ Hakim Sanai, My friend, everything existing
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18:/Farsi When he admits you to his presence ask from him nothing other than himself. When he has chosen you for a friend, you have seen all that there is to see. There's no duality in the world of love: what's all this talk of 'you' and 'me'? How can you fill a cup that's full already? [bk1sm.gif] -- from The Walled Garden of Truth, by Hakim Sanai / Translated by David Pendlebury

~ Hakim Sanai, When he admits you to his presence
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19:/Farsi The path consists of neither words nor deeds: only desolation can come from these, and never any lasting edifice. Sweetness and life are the words of the man who treads this road in silence; when he speaks it is not from ignorance, and when he is silent it is not from sloth. [bk1sm.gif] -- from The Walled Garden of Truth, by Hakim Sanai / Translated by David Pendlebury

~ Hakim Sanai, The path consists of neither words nor deeds
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20:/Farsi And if, my friend, you ask me the way, I'll tell you plainly, it is this: to turn your face toward the world of life, and turn your back on rank and reputation; and, spurning outward prosperity, to bend your back double in his service; to part company with those who deal in words, and take your place in the presence of the wordless. [bk1sm.gif] -- from The Walled Garden of Truth, by Hakim Sanai / Translated by David Pendlebury

~ Hakim Sanai, And if, my friend, you ask me the way
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21:/Farsi There is no place for place! How can a place house the maker of all space, or the vast sky enclose the maker of heaven? He told me: "I am a homeless treasure. The world was made to give you a place to stand and see me." Tell me, if the one you seek is placeless, why put your shoes on? The real road is found by polishing, polishing the mirror of your heart. [2652.jpg] -- from The Longing in Between: Sacred Poetry from Around the World (A Poetry Chaikhana Anthology), Edited by Ivan M. Granger

~ Hakim Sanai, There is no place for place!
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22:/Farsi Don't speak of your suffering -- He is speaking. Don't look for Him everywhere -- He's looking for you. An ant's foot touches a leaf, He senses it; A pebble shifts in a streambed, He knows it. If there's a worm hidden deep in a rock, He'll know its body, tinier than an atom, The sound of its praise, its secret ecstasy -- All this He knows by divine knowing. He has given the tiniest worm its food; He has opened to you the Way of the Holy Ones. [1722.jpg] -- from Perfume of the Desert: Inspirations from Sufi Wisdom, by Andrew Harvey / Eryk Hanut

~ Hakim Sanai, The Way of the Holy Ones
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23:/Farsi Your intellect is just a hotch-potch of guesswork and thought, limping over the face of the earth; wherever they are, he is not; they are contained within his creation. Man and his reason are just the latest ripening plants in his garden. Whatever you assert about his nature, you are bound to be out of your depth, like a blind man trying to describe the appearance of his own mother. While reason is still tracking down the secret, you end your quest on the open field of love. [bk1sm.gif] -- from The Walled Garden of Truth, by Hakim Sanai / Translated by David Pendlebury

~ Hakim Sanai, Your intellect is just a hotch-potch
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24:/Farsi Those unable to grieve, or to speak of their love, or to be grateful, those who can't remember God as the source of everything, might be described as a vacant wind, or a cold anvil, or a group of frightened old people. Say the Name. Moisten your tongue with praise, and be the spring ground, waking. Let your mouth be given its gold-yellow stamen like the wild rose's. As you fill with wisdom, and your heart with love, there's no more thirst. There's only unselfed patience waiting on the doorsill, a silence which doesn't listen to advice from people passing in the street. [1841.jpg] -- from The Hand of Poetry: Five Mystic Poets of Persia, with Lectures by Inayat Khan, Translated by Coleman Barks

~ Hakim Sanai, The Wild Rose of Praise
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25:/Farsi Then through that dim murkiness, I saw an old man with a radiant face. "You are the moon!" I called out. "Where did you come from?" "I am beyond substance and space. I am creation's cause, here to lead you back to your home. Hold close. and let my fire consume you. Don't be afraid of losing your strength here. This fire is one which has a spring of eternal water inside it. As your animal-soul dies, your new soul will be born. Live humbly with me, and I will raise you into majesty." He talked more to me in silence, without using syllables. He gave me love and light and eyes to see, and together we set out. [1841.jpg] -- from The Hand of Poetry: Five Mystic Poets of Persia, with Lectures by Inayat Khan, Translated by Coleman Barks

~ Hakim Sanai, Then through that dim murkiness
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26:/Farsi My dear! You haven't the feet for this path -- why struggle? You've no idea where the idol's to be found -- what's all this mystic chat? What can be done with quarrelsome fellow travelers, boastful marketplace morons? If you were really a lover you'd see that faith and infidelity are one... Oh, what's the use? nit-picking about such things is a hobby for numb brains. You are pure spirit but imagine yourself a corpse! pure water which thinks it's the pot! Everything you want must be searched for -- except the Friend. If you don't find Him you'll never be able to start to even look. Yes, you can be sure: You are not Him -- unless you can remove yourself from between yourself and Him -- in which case you are Him. [1501.jpg] -- from The Drunken Universe: An Anthology of Persian Sufi Poetry, Translated by Peter Lamborn Wilson / Translated by Nasrollah Pourjavady

~ Hakim Sanai, Mystic Chat
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27:/Farsi There is great joy in darkness. Deepen it. Blushing embarrassments in the half-light confuse, but a scorched, blackened, face can laugh like an Ethiopian, or a candled moth, coming closer to God. Brighter than any moon, Bilal, Muhammed's Black Friend, shadowed him on the night journey. Keep your deepest secret hidden in the dark beneath daylight's uncovering and night's spreading veil. Whatever's given you by those two is for your desires. They poison, eventually. Deeper down, where your face gets erased, where life-water runs silently, there's a prison with no food and drink, and no moral instruction, that opens on a garden where there's only God. No self, only the creation-word, BE. You, listening to me, roll up the carpet of time and space. Step beyond, into the one word. In blindness, receive what I say. Take "There is no good..." for your wealth and your strength. Let "There is nothing..." be a love-wisdom in your wine. [1841.jpg] -- from The Hand of Poetry: Five Mystic Poets of Persia, with Lectures by Inayat Khan, Translated by Coleman Barks

~ Hakim Sanai, The Good Darkness
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28:/Farsi Collect your mind's fragments that you may fill yourself bit by bit with Meaning: the slave who meditates on the mysteries of Creation for sixty minutes gains more merit than from sixty years of fasting and prayer. Meditation: high-soaring hawk of Intellect's wrist resting at last on the flowering branch of the Heart: this world and the next are hidden beneath its folded wing. Now perched before the mud hut which is Earth now clasping with its talons a branch of the Tree of Paradise soaring here striking there -- each moment fresh prey gobbling a mouthful of moonlight wheeling away beyond the sun darting between the Great Wheel's star-set spokes, it rips to shreds the Footstool and the Throne a Pigeon's feather in its beak -- or a comet -- till finally free of everything it alights, silent on a topmost bough. Hunting is king's sport, not just anyone's pastime but you? you've hooded the falcon -- what can I say? -- clipped its pinions broken its wings... alas. [1501.jpg] -- from The Drunken Universe: An Anthology of Persian Sufi Poetry, Translated by Peter Lamborn Wilson / Translated by Nasrollah Pourjavady

~ Hakim Sanai, Meditation
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29:/Farsi When the path ignites a soul, there's no remaining in place. The foot touches ground, but not for long. The way where love tells its secret stays always in motion, and there is no you there, and no reason. The rider urges his horse to gallop, and so doing, throws himself under the flying hooves. In love-unity there's no old or new. Everything is nothing. God alone is. For lovers the phenomena-veil is very transparent, and the delicate tracings on it cannot be explained with language. Clouds burn off as the sun rises, and the love-world floods with light. But cloud-water can be obscuring, as well as useful. There is an affection that covers the glory, rather than dissolving into it. It's a subtle difference, like the change in Persian from the word "friendship" to the word "work." That happens with just a dot above or below the third letter. There is a seeing of the beauty of union that doesn't actively work for the inner conversation. Your hand and feet must move, as a stream streams, working as its Self, to get to the ocean. Then there's no more mention of the search. Being famous, or being a disgrace, who's ahead or behind, these considerations are rocks and clogged places that slow you. Be as naked as a wheat grain out of its husk and sleek as Adam. Don't ask for anything other than the presence. Don't speak of a "you" apart from That. A full container cannot be more full. Be whole, and nothing. [1841.jpg] -- from The Hand of Poetry: Five Mystic Poets of Persia, with Lectures by Inayat Khan, Translated by Coleman Barks

~ Hakim Sanai, Streaming
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30:/Farsi Being humble is right for you now. Don't thrash around showing your strength. You're naked in the bee-house! It doesn't matter how powerful your arms and legs are. To God, that is more of a lie than your weakness is. In his doorway your prestige and your physical energy are just dust on your face. Be helpless and completely poor. And don't try to meet his eye! That's like signing a paper that honors yourself. If you can take care of things, do so! But when you're living at home with God, you neither sew the world together with desires nor tear it apart with disappointments. In that place existence itself is illusion. All that is, is one. Lost in that, your personal form becomes a vast, empty mosque. When you hold on to yourself, you're a fire-worshipping temple. Dissolve, and let everything get done. When you don't, you're an untrained colt, full of erratic loving and biting. Loyal sometimes, then treacherous. Be more like the servant who owns nothing and is neither hungry nor satisfied, who has no hopes for anything, and no fear of anyone. An owl living near the king's palace is considered a bird of misfortune, ragged and ominous. But off in the woods, sitting alone, its feathers grow splendid and sleek like the Phoenix restored. Musk should not be kept near water or heat. The dampness and the dryness spoil its fragrance. But when the musk is at home in the musk bladder, fire and wetness mean nothing. In God's doorway your guilt and your virtue don't count. Whether you're Muslim, or Christian, or fire-worshipper, the categories disappear. You're seeking, and God is what is sought, the essence beyond any cause. External theological learning moves like a moon and fades when the sun of experience rises. We are here for a week, or less. We arrive and leave almost simultaneously. To be is not to be. The Qur'an says, "They go hastening, with the Light running on before them." Clear the way! Muhammed says, "How fine!" A sigh goes out, and there is union. Forget how you came to this gate, your history. Let that be as if it had not been. Do you think the day plans its course by what the rooster says? God does not depend on any of his creatures. Your existence or non-existence is insignificant. Many like you have come here before. When the fountain of light is pouring, there's no need to urge it on! That's like a handful of straw trying to help the sun. "This way! Please, let this light through!" The sun doesn't need an announcer. The lamp you carry is your self-reliance. The sun is something else! Half a sneeze might extinguish your lantern, whereas all a winter's windiness cannot put That out. The road you must take has no particular name. It's the one composed of your own sighing and giving up. What you've been doing is not devotion. Your hoping and worrying are like donkeys wandering loose, sometimes docile, or suddenly mean. Your face looks wise at times, and ashamed at others. There is another way, a pure blankness where those are one expression. Omar once saw a group of boys on the road challenging each other to wrestle. They were all claiming to be champions, but when Omar, the fierce and accomplished warrior, came near, they scattered. All but one, Abdullah Zubair. Omar asked, "Why didn't you run?" "Why should I? You are not a tyrant, and I am not guilty." When someone knows his own inner value, he doesn't care about being accepted or rejected by anyone else. The prince here is strong and just. Stand wondering in his presence. There is nothing but That. [1841.jpg] -- from The Hand of Poetry: Five Mystic Poets of Persia, with Lectures by Inayat Khan, Translated by Coleman Barks

~ Hakim Sanai, Naked in the Bee-House
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