The outward is for the world; the inward is for God

It is said that the Sufis are in the world but not of the world. In Sufi terminology, this is called khalwat dar anjuman(seclusion in the midst of the crowd). When one is a Sufi at heart, then the soul stays anchored in the Divine Almighty.

Sufi saints do not urge their followers to become ascetics and withdraw to caves or any isolated spaces to seek the Divine. Instead, Sufi masters urge seekers to undertake the quest for the Divine within their heart, within their being. Sufi saints have taught us that even as we may stay engaged with the hustle and bustle of daily life, fulfilling our responsibilities, our heart can continuously remain anchored in dhikr, the sweet and constant remembrance of God. “The outward is for the world; the inward is for God,” said the great Sufi master Hazrat Bahauddin Naqshband (1318–1389), the eponymous founder of one of the largest Sufi Sunni orders, the Naqshbandi.

There is an old Sufi story about the blacksmith of Nishapur, an ancient city in northeastern Iran. A Sufi master took his disciple to the crowded marketplace in Nishapur to teach him about true detachment.

They walked past ascetics who sat in isolated corners, chanting and looking holy. The master kept walking until they stopped in front of a busy blacksmith’s shop. The blacksmith was sweating, vigorously hammering glowing iron, shouting instructions to his apprentices, and aggressively negotiating prices with loud merchants. He seemed entirely consumed by the material world.

The master turned to his disciple and said, “Look closely at him. This man is a true saint.”

The disciple was confused. “But Master, he is surrounded by noise, greed, and manual labor! How is he a saint compared to the hermits in the caves?”

The master replied: “The hermits had to run away from the world because the world conquers their minds. But look at this blacksmith. His hand is entirely engaged in the work of the world, but if you look into his heart, it has never left the presence of God for a single second. He is alone with the Beloved in the middle of all the hustle and bustle of the marketplace.”

Sufi saints were aware that only seekers who master themselves can undertake the glorious journey to seek the divine. True mastery lay not in fleeing the temptations of the world, but in building an inner sanctuary within one’s heart where one could stay steadfast amidst the trials and tribulations of daily life. Such seekers can partake in the nectar of constant remembrance of the Divine Beloved in the sanctuary of the heart.

Sufi mystics say that a seeker must be like a boat or a ship. Boats and ships are designed to stay steadfast amidst waves, and they can function only as long as the water stays outside them. If water gets inside the boat or ship, the vessel sinks. So it is with the Sufi, who lives deeply in the ocean of the world. They may fulfil all responsibilities of life, but the world must always stay outside their heart. If the world gets inside, the spiritual heart shall sink.

The great philosopher and mystic Hazrat Ibn Arabi (1165–1240) once travelled to meet a renowned Sufi master who was rumoured to be incredibly wealthy. When Ibn Arabi arrived, he was shocked to see the master living in a grand palace, wearing fine silks, and managing a massive estate.

Deep down, Hazrat Ibn Arabi felt a twinge of judgment, thinking, “How can a man be a master of the spiritual path while surrounded by such luxury?”

Later that day, a fire broke out in the local town, and a servant rushed in, panicking: “Master! The fire is spreading toward your grand granaries! Everything you own might burn down!”

The master didn’t even look up from his tea. He simply smiled and said, “Let it burn. It belongs to God anyway.”

At that moment, Hazrat Ibn Arabi realized his own mistake. He had associated “not being of the world” with physical poverty. The wealthy master was practicing true khalwat dar anjuman—he possessed wealth, but the wealth did not possess him. His heart was as empty of the world as that of a beggar, even while his hands held a kingdom.

The wise have said that for the devoted seeker, the true cave of retreat may not be found in isolated living high up in the mountains. The true seeker may find his blessed solitude and oneness with the Divine Almighty in the place that is right behind his own ribs, in the sanctuary of his heart.

The famous 10th-century Persian Sufi master Hazrat Abu Sa’id Abi’l-Khayr was once sitting with his disciples when a traveller arrived, eager to share news of the miraculous saints he had seen on his journeys.

The traveller said, “Master! I met a saint who can walk on water without his feet getting wet!” Hazrat Abu Sa’id smiled mildly and said, “That is nothing special. A frog or a tiny finch can do the same.”

The traveller, trying again, said, “But Master, I met another who can fly through the air like a bird!” Abu Sa’id replied, “A common fly or a crow can do that as well. It is no great feat.”

Frustrated, the traveller said, “Well, I met a master who can travel from the East to the West in a single breath!” Abu Sa’id shook his head and said, “Satan can cross the entire earth in a single heartbeat. There is no spiritual value in breaking physical laws.”

The disciples asked, “Then Master, what is a real human being? What is a true saint?”

Hazrat Abu Sa’id answered: “A real human being is one who sits and rises in the midst of people, eats and sleeps, conducts trade in the busy bazaar, marries, interacts with his neighbours—and yet, for one single breath, does not become neglectful of God in his heart.” Staying steadfast in God through the tempests of life tests the mettle of a true Sufi.

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