Even so is the Cosmos preserved so long as the Perfect Man remains in it.
۱- Did the Perfect Man sleep with the lights off?
… Do you not see that when he shall cease to be present in it?
۲- How to see if the lights are off. How?
… and when the seal [on the treasury] of the lower world is broken, none of what the Reality preserved will endure and all of it will depart
۳- Departing is such sweet sorrow, esp. when the lower world seal is broken.
… each part thereof becoming reunited with every other part, [after which] the whole will be transferred to the Final Abode where Man the Perfect will be the seal forever.
۴- If forever is longer than the Final stretch, will the Abode abide by such elasticity?
Quotations (in bold) from Ibn Arabi‘s Bezel’s of Wisdom
“ilmooN bus kareeN o yaar
ikko alif teray darkaar” – Bulleh Shah
According to historian Mubarak Ali, the Abbasids (750-1258 AD) quashed political dissent using a network of spies among other means. The climate of oppression forced dissenters to develop a subculture of secret codes and identities. This culture of secrecy in turn gave rise to a tendency towards esoteric interpretation of scripture that in time led to a subversion that privileged resignation over resistance: the first Sufic orders were born.
Too long under the covers and the secret mutates;
A tampered empiricism, a secondary telling; not
Doubt but a mutilated strain of truth thirsting,
Thrusting. The scrap of disdain that informed
Fight is now the lulling of soul. Guilt of surrender
Shucks pride, takes flight. As unknowns assume
Their trajectory on a constellation of infinite riddles,
You are left wondering in a maze only the chosen
Are condemned to navigate. The secret thrives in
This maze of loopy contradictions that severs all
Links with the real, cuts out air, reeks of dark. It will
Uproot you lest you unmask it with rapture and skill.
Also goes by the pseudonym Kempinski. Which is a well known name around here in this part of East Africa. Kilimanjaro though is better known. A tumultuous piece of rock sticking out of the earth tall enough to warrant sufficient interest for a long time. There is a national park which takes its name from this peak. And there is an eponymous local brew which too gets inspired by the tumult of the tallish piece of rock. Or the tallness of the tumultuous piece of rock, I am not exactly sure. It could of course be both, which would be a fuzzy little compromise on the nature of reality. Or of language, I am not exactly sure. It could of course be both.
As pit stops go, the Kempinski in Dar es Salam is a plush one, designed to satiate the creature of comfort. But in its fulfillment of sojourners’ gluttony, whether it lives up to the somewhat higher standards of the caravanserai is something that is not immediately obvious. And as immediately obvious things go, you wonder where is it that they go to exactly?
That, my friend, is the curve ball of life, the well-rounded mystery which saps the blue-green juice out of the diaspora of vegetarian ecstasy. And if you think you can wrap your mind around that one, then come on right in and stay on as long as you want without any fear of not being able to check out (this is Dar es Salam, not California).