Rumi's Masnavi, part 6: Unity of being

In God's presence, there is no room for two egos. You say "ego," and he says "ego"? Either you die in his presence, or he will in your presence, so that no duality may remain. Yet it is impossible that he should die either in the universe or in the mind, for "He is the living, who does not die." ( Qur'an 25:58 ). He has grace in such measure that, were it possible, he would die for you to remove the duality. But since his death is impossible, you die, so that he may become manifest in you and the duality be lifted. Rumi's Discourses (Fihi ma fih, 24-5) Rumi's love is not merely emotive, it is a theology with a fierce urgency. This is something quite a bit more complex than the New Age reception and popular English versions of his poems sometimes make out. Rumi's religion of love is not so simple. At one level, Rumi's religion of love symbolises embracing what is divine in creation – both in its immanent and transcendent forms – and pursuing with abandon our attraction to it. As we have seen , Rumi contrasts this mode of intoxicated adoration with an ascetic and self-constrained worship that remains fearful of any taint of impiety and impropriety. But having glimpsed the divine object of desire, you cannot remain as you were, separate and individuated: you are impelled to unite with it. True devotion in the religion of love requires the rending of all veils between lover and beloved, between worshipper and divinity, between duality and absolute divine unity ( tawhid , a principle doctrine of Islam). The lover's sense of a separate and distinct identity is itself an obstacle to this relationship. Therefore one must slay the self, that individuated ego that separates us from our source, the reed-bed from which the reed flute plaintively laments at the very opening of the Masnavi . But if you have two discerning eyes and are not afflicted by double-vision, you will see that everything in this world and the hereafter is actually the beloved (Masnavi 6: 3234). Everything is the beloved, and the lover blocks our line-of-sight by creating an illusionary separation of subject and object; the beloved is living, uncontingent, while the lover is a corpse (1: 30). Remove the veils and tell the naked truth Who sleeps in carnal embrace with their clothes?! Masnavi 1: 138 This unity of being is as true for the relationship of believer to believer, as it is for the individual soul to God: I speak of plural souls in name alone – One soul becomes one hundred in their frames; Just as God's single sun in heaven Shines on earth and lights a hundred walls But all these beams of light return to one If you remove the walls that block the sun The walls of houses do not stand forever And believers then will be as but one soul Masnavi 4: 415-18 This theology of love demands purification, peeling off the layers of the lover's baser self, to the point that the lover's distinct will and identity is effaced, and only the beloved remains. The Sufis' term for this process is fanā . When the traces of the selfish self ( nafs ) are effaced, pure soulful self remains, immortal and united with the divine, like a candle whose light fades away with the sunrise. For this reason, the Sufis have urged the wayfarer to "Die before you die" (a tradition Rumi treats at length in Masnavi 6: 723ff). You there, checkmated by the king of love Don't be moved to wrath or retribution Enter the garden of effacement – Look inside your own immortal soul: Eden Move just a little bit ahead of Self To see what's beyond, above the heavens – The monarch of fine meanings, mystic truths Divan, Ghazal 378 Rumi gives several humorous parables to illustrate, including this: A man knocks at his friend's door. "Who is it?" "It's me." The friend sends him away to be purified – there is no room in one home for two egos, two "I"s. When he returns a year later and knocks again, he responds to "Who is it?" with "It is you." The reply now comes, "Since you are I, come in, myself" (Masnavi 1: 3056-76). Any true dervish has been effaced in this manner (3: 3669-85). Ironically, then, by dying one gains life. The parable of the three fish (which tale Robbi Robb of Tribe after Tribe and Jeff Ament of Pearl Jam performed on a 1996 album called Three Fish ) illustrates how the fish that flails about trying to save itself draws attention to itself and is caught by fishermen, whereas the fish that feigned to be carrion – dying before death – did not fall prey to the net (Masnavi 4: 2202ff). As Rumi argues, this dying to self is actually a metamorphosis, a birth that transforms us to a higher state: I died to mineral, joined the realm of plants I died to vegetable, joined animal I died from animal to human realm So why fear? When has dying made me less? In turn again I'll die from human form only to sprout an angel's head and wings and then from angel-form I will ebb away For ALL THINGS PERISH BUT THE FACE OF GOD And once I'm sacrificed from angel form I'm what imagination can't contain. So let me be naught! Naughtness, like a fugue sings to me: WE VERILY RETURN TO HIM Masnavi 3: 3901-3907