Teaching the perplexed
For many, complication is menace and subtlety an insult. With such, keep things flat. This reminds me of a story:
Tired with the world, Mullah Nasrudin - the enlightened Hoca- lived secluded in a mountain cave. The perfumed rose of Sufi wisdom alone illuminated his nights and mystic love helped him ignore the cold of the dawn. But his renown could not let him in peace. Like swarms of hornets, would-be disciples assailed the worn barrel top that prevented the Sun to see him through the day and the iyldiz blow to scatter his dreams at midnight.
One wintry afternoon, as the Hodja was about to roll his prayer rug with icy fingers, an aspiring apprentice arrived, after many weeks of vicissitudes, across mounts and valleys. The traveller was tired and frozen but hopeful to learn at the feet of the master. Another one! The mullah greeted him and asked him into his humble abode. Eager to start learning, and knowing that every action of a saint is soaked with sweet meaning like a honeycomb, the believer asked:
"O Mullah, why do you blow onto your hands?"
"To warm them my friend, why else?"
Inside, the mullah poured two bowls of hot soup to share with his visitor. He started blowing into his own.
"Why are you doing that, master?" inquired the pilgrim.
"To cool my steaming brew, of course" answered Nasrudin.
Hearing these words, the disciple could take no more. He threw up his bowl and ran away screaming:
"Curses of Iblis! How could I ever learn from a man who blows hot and cold from the same mouth?"
One wintry afternoon, as the Hodja was about to roll his prayer rug with icy fingers, an aspiring apprentice arrived, after many weeks of vicissitudes, across mounts and valleys. The traveller was tired and frozen but hopeful to learn at the feet of the master. Another one! The mullah greeted him and asked him into his humble abode. Eager to start learning, and knowing that every action of a saint is soaked with sweet meaning like a honeycomb, the believer asked:
"O Mullah, why do you blow onto your hands?"
"To warm them my friend, why else?"
Inside, the mullah poured two bowls of hot soup to share with his visitor. He started blowing into his own.
"Why are you doing that, master?" inquired the pilgrim.
"To cool my steaming brew, of course" answered Nasrudin.
Hearing these words, the disciple could take no more. He threw up his bowl and ran away screaming:
"Curses of Iblis! How could I ever learn from a man who blows hot and cold from the same mouth?"
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