Sufi masters are those whose spirits existed before the world.
Before the body, they lived many lifetimes. Before seeds went into the ground, they harvested wheat. Before there was an ocean, they strung pearls.
While the great meeting was going on about bringing human beings into existence, they stood up to their chins in wisdom-water. When some of the angels opposed creation, the Sufi masters laughed and clapped among themselves.
Before materiality, they knew what it was like to be trapped inside matter. Before there was a night sky, they saw Saturn. Before wheat grains, they tasted bread.
With no mind, they thought. Immediate intuition to them is the simplest act, what to others would be an epiphany. Much of our thought is of the past or the future. They’re free of those.
Before a mine is dug, they judge coins. Before vineyards, they know the excitements to come. In July they feel December. In unbroken sunlight, they find shade. In fana, the state where objects dissolve, they recognize things and comment rationally.
The open sky drinks from their circling cup. The sun wears the gold of their generosity.
When two of them meet, they are no longer two. They are one and six hundred thousand. The ocean waves are their closest likeness, when wind makes from unity the numerous. This happened to the sun and it broke into rays through the window, into bodies. The disc of the sun does exist, but if you see only the ray bodies, you may have doubts.
The human-divine combinations are a oneness. Plurality, the apparent separation into rays.
Friend, we’re traveling together.
Throw off your tiredness. Let me show you one tiny spot of the beauty that can’t be spoken. I’m like an ant that’s gotten into the granary, ludicrously happy, and trying to lug out a grain that’s way too big.
–Maulana Jalaluddin ar-Rumi