encounter at a hermitage...

I had walked to a hermitage in the Hindu Kush to visit its Sheikh,
and also to see if I could find some way of stilling my doubts about
some way of proving the real existence of the Hidden Path. It was
only after many adventures that I at last came across the friendly
sight of smoke rising through the chimney-hole of that simple
building.

A man, plainly dressed, an honest expression on his face, was
sitting quietly at the door of the hermitage.
He said, "Welcome, brother." Far from feeling glad, I was
disturbed to find so little respect for me in this man, who was
surely a watchman.

"Are you the watchman?" I asked.
"I am called that," he said.
"I am looking for the Ancient, the Guide," I told him.
"I am called that," he answered.

And then I was glad that the great teacher had called me
brother. As we went into the house a small dog ran to the Sheikh's
side, delighted that he had come back.

"Welcome, brother," said the Sheikh to the animal, and I was
again downcast to think that by this greeting I had been put on a
level with the dog, that I had not been honoured at all. But out of
politeness I said nothing, for I was the guest.

Soon we were seated before a bowl of yoghurt; when the Guide
spoke, it was to recite a poem:
"A puff of smoke against a mountain--the heart grows glad.
A kind word to a little dog--the heart grows sad."
I was amazed that he could understand my secret thoughts in this
way, and uneasy, and rather ashamed.

"Teach me," I said.
He answered, "What do I sing, and what does my lute sing? You
and I are not in harmony, although I understand your thoughts. What
have you already taught yourself? What have others taught you? You
are uneasy because you have come so far and at the end of your
journey have found someone who can read your thoughts. And you feel
that perhaps you could learn this power, and then use it to your
heart's content. I seem acceptable to you, as people sometimes
think of doctrines as being acceptable to them. But are you
acceptable to me? People never bother to think that the doctrine may
not accept them."

For the first time I was overcome by real fear; alone with this
man of power in such a lonely place, I began to tremble.
And the Guide continued, "You must go away. You are still too
raw for a teacher to develop; a fruit must be touched by the right
things, by those elements which ripen it. Go away, strive, work in
every possible way. When you are nearer maturity you will be able
properly to understand the experience of our master, Ben-Adhem, who
gave away the throne of Balkh to be with us.

"For he was walking along the road one day when he saw a stone
on the ground. It had written on it, "TURN ME OVER AND READ." So he
picked it up and looked at the other side. And there was
written, "WHY DO YOU SEEK MORE KNOWLEDGE WHEN YOU PAY NO HEED TO WHAT
YOU KNOW ALREADY?"

Turning from the Sage I thought to myself, "I wish that everyone
could have an encounter like this, so that at least it would be
common knowledge that teaching of this kind exists in the world."
He went on, "Often the penalty of knowledge is to be laughed at.
Tell people of our discussion here and they will think you mad. In
this way, real knowledge protects itself."

I made no attempt to shape words, but in my heart, as earnestly
as I could, I framed the thought, "How can I serve?"
And, also without words, Shah Firoz spoke directly to my
heart, "Increase the desire to serve and a chance of service may be
given you."

Only when through frequent effort I had reached this stage did I
realise the true value of my encounter with him who is called "Shah
Firoz"


Firman-Bardar of Badakhshan
as collected by Idries Shah