{"id":6151,"date":"2018-07-20T07:53:28","date_gmt":"2018-07-20T14:53:28","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/?p=6151"},"modified":"2018-07-20T07:53:28","modified_gmt":"2018-07-20T14:53:28","slug":"hakim-sanai","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/2018\/07\/20\/hakim-sanai\/","title":{"rendered":"Hakim Sanai"},"content":{"rendered":"

Naked in the Bee-House
\nby Hakim Sanai<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n

English version by Coleman Barks<\/font><\/p>\n

Being humble is right for you now.
\nDon\u2019t thrash around showing your strength.<\/p>\n

You\u2019re naked in the bee-house!
\nIt doesn\u2019t matter how powerful
\nyour arms and legs are.<\/p>\n

To God, that is more of a lie
\nthan your weakness is.<\/p>\n

In his doorway your prestige
\nand your physical energy are just dust
\non your face. Be helpless
\nand completely poor.<\/p>\n

And don\u2019t try to meet his eye!
\nThat\u2019s like signing a paper
\nthat honors yourself.<\/p>\n

If you can take care of things, do so!
\nBut when you\u2019re living at home with God,
\nyou neither sew the world together
\nwith desires nor tear it apart
\nwith disappointments.<\/p>\n

In that place existence itself
\nis illusion. All that is, is one.<\/p>\n

Lost in that, your personal form
\nbecomes a vast, empty mosque.<\/p>\n

When you hold on to yourself,
\nyou\u2019re a fire-worshipping temple.
\nDissolve, and let everything get done.
\nWhen you don\u2019t, you\u2019re an untrained colt,
\nfull of erratic loving and biting.
\nLoyal sometimes, then treacherous.<\/p>\n

Be more like the servant who owns nothing
\nand is neither hungry nor satisfied,
\nwho has no hopes for anything,
\nand no fear of anyone.<\/p>\n

An owl living near the king\u2019s palace
\nis considered a bird of misfortune,
\nragged and ominous. But off in the woods,
\nsitting alone, its feathers grow splendid
\nand sleek like the Phoenix restored.<\/p>\n

Musk should not be kept near water or heat.
\nThe dampness and the dryness spoil
\nits fragrance. But when the musk is at home
\nin the musk bladder, fire and wetness
\nmean nothing. In God\u2019s doorway your guilt
\nand your virtue don\u2019t count.<\/p>\n

Whether you\u2019re Muslim, or Christian, or
\nfire-worshipper, the categories disappear.<\/p>\n

You\u2019re seeking, and God is what is
\nsought, the essence beyond any cause.<\/p>\n

External theological learning moves like a moon
\nand fades when the sun of experience rises.<\/p>\n

We are here for a week, or less.
\nWe arrive and leave almost simultaneously.<\/p>\n

To be is not to be.<\/p>\n

The Qur\u2019an says, \u201cThey go hastening,
\nwith the Light running on before them.\u201d<\/p>\n

Clear the way! Muhammed says, \u201cHow fine!\u201d
\nA sigh goes out, and there is union.<\/p>\n

Forget how you came to this gate, your history.
\nLet that be as if it had not been.<\/p>\n

Do you think the day plans its course
\nby what the rooster says?<\/p>\n

God does not depend on any of his creatures.
\nYour existence or non-existence is insignificant.
\nMany like you have come here before.<\/p>\n

When the fountain of light is pouring,
\nthere\u2019s no need to urge it on!
\nThat\u2019s like a handful of straw
\ntrying to help the sun. \u201cThis way!
\nPlease, let this light through!\u201d<\/p>\n

The sun doesn\u2019t need an announcer.
\nThe lamp you carry is your self-reliance.
\nThe sun is something else!<\/p>\n

Half a sneeze might extinguish your lantern,
\nwhereas all a winter\u2019s windiness
\ncannot put That out.<\/p>\n

The road you must take has no particular name.
\nIt\u2019s the one composed of your own sighing
\nand giving up. What you\u2019ve been doing
\nis not devotion. Your hoping and worrying
\nare like donkeys wandering loose,
\nsometimes docile, or suddenly mean.<\/p>\n

Your face looks wise at times,
\nand ashamed at others.<\/p>\n

There is another way, a pure blankness
\nwhere those are one expression.<\/p>\n

Omar once saw a group of boys on the road
\nchallenging each other to wrestle.
\nThey were all claiming to be champions,
\nbut when Omar, the fierce and accomplished
\nwarrior, came near, they scattered.<\/p>\n

All but one, Abdullah Zubair.
\nOmar asked, \u201cWhy didn\u2019t you run?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy should I? You are not a tyrant,
\nand I am not guilty.\u201d<\/p>\n

When someone knows his own inner value,
\nhe doesn\u2019t care about being accepted
\nor rejected by anyone else.<\/p>\n

The prince here is strong and just.
\nStand wondering in his presence.
\nThere is nothing but That.<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/a> \u2014 from The Hand of Poetry: Five Mystic Poets of Persia, with Lectures by Inayat Khan<\/a>, Translated by Coleman Barks<\/font><\/p>\n


\/ Image by natureguy<\/a> \/<\/em><\/font><\/p>\n

The cruelties of the world can make us feel like we are naked in the bee-house, entirely vulnerable, (Ooh. That image can make a person twitch with unease.) We\u2019re not necessarily just talking about cruelties and frightening experiences, either. All experiences, even the pleasurable and satisfying, those too can overwhelm us. Trying to match human force against the endless variety of experience and sensory input is like standing naked in a bee house while boasting of our strength.<\/p>\n

It doesn\u2019t matter how strong or capable we imagine ourselves to be. Even Bruce Lee can\u2019t fend off a swarm of bees if they are angered. The only appropriate response is humility and awareness.<\/p>\n

There are so many delightful lines and images in this poem, but I thought I\u2019d focus on a short section that is not the most transfixing on a poetic level, but one that I keep returning to\u2026<\/p>\n

If you can take care of things, do so!
\nBut when you\u2019re living at home with God,
\nyou neither sew the world together
\nwith desires nor tear it apart
\nwith disappointments.<\/i><\/p>\n

That first statement \u2014 \u201cIf you can take care of things, do so!\u201d \u2014 immediately negates the temptation to interpret the poet\u2019s words as a justification for passivity. We are given bodies for one purpose: to interact in a world of action. We are not disconnected spectators. As body dwellers, we are inherently beings of action, and being interconnected we act with<\/i> each other and for<\/i> each other.<\/p>\n

But the intensity of action and the world perceived by the senses can confuse us, leading us to imagine that reality is somehow held together by our actions and injured by our failures. This belief leads to inflation of ego in success, and a crippling psychic burden when success evades us.<\/p>\n

And then we get caught in the cycle of taking only actions we think will succeed and avoiding all others. Our actions grow smaller, safer, more predictable. We all feel this gravitational pressure to some extent.<\/p>\n

But\u2013 when we remember that we are first and foremost beings with vast interior spaces, beings of awareness and intention, we break that ever tightening cycle. We step free from the idea of a mechanical world of action and reaction, action graded with a pass or fail. Instead, we understand action as a form of ritual. We begin to see action as enaction. Action flows outward from those great interior halls of the heart. Action becomes expression.<\/p>\n

Yes, we still strive to take effective action, we measure the results and improve future actions, but we are not enthralled by those results. We take action simply because it is our nature to act. And we act because the awakening heart prompts us to act. The results are left to that greater Reality. Freed from \u201cresults\u201d and \u201csuccess,\u201d we can then act in ways that are right for the simple reason that it is right.<\/p>\n

Right action heals in ways that even \u201csuccess\u201d cannot match.<\/p>\n

In Hinduism, this might be called Karma Yoga. I prefer not to call it anything. It is simply the nature of being in the world.<\/p>\n

Have a beautiful day, inside and out. <\/p>\n


\n

<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

<\/a>Recommended Books: Hakim Sanai<\/font><\/b><\/p>\n\n

<\/p>\n

\n\n\n
<\/a><\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
The Longing in Between: Sacred Poetry from Around the World (A Poetry Chaikhana Anthology)<\/a><\/small><\/td>\nReal Thirst: Poetry of the Spiritual Journey<\/a><\/small><\/td>\nThe Drunken Universe: An Anthology of Persian Sufi Poetry<\/a><\/small><\/td>\nPerfume of the Desert: Inspirations from Sufi Wisdom<\/a><\/small><\/td>\nIslamic Mystical Poetry: Sufi Verse from the Early Mystics to Rumi<\/a><\/small><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
More Books >><\/a><\/i><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/table>\n

<\/center>
\n<\/p>\n\n\n
\n\"Hakim<\/a>\n<\/td>\n\nHakim Sanai<\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n

Afghanistan (1044? \u2013 1150?) Timeline<\/a>
\nMuslim \/ Sufi<\/a><\/a>
\n<\/a><\/a><\/em>\n<\/td>\n

<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/table>\n

<\/p>\n

Sanai is one of the earlier Sufi poets. He was born in the province of Ghazna in southern Afghanistan in the middle of the 11th century and probably died around 1150.<\/p>\n

Rumi acknowledged Sanai and Attar as his two primary inspirations, saying, \u201cAttar is the soul and Sanai its two eyes, I came after Sanai and Attar.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sanai was originally a court poet who was engaged in writing praises for the Sultan of Ghazna.<\/p>\n

The story is told of how the Sultan decided to lead a military attack against neighboring India. Sanai, as a court poet, was summoned to join the expedition to record the Sultan\u2019s exploits. As Sanai was making his way to the court, he passed an enclosed garden frequented by a notorious drunk named Lai Khur.<\/p>\n

As Sanai was passing by, he heard Lai Khur loudly proclaim a toast to the blindness of the Sultan for greedily choosing to attack India, when there was so much beauty in Ghazna. Sanai was shocked and stopped. Lai Khur then proposed a toast to the blindness of the famous young poet Sanai who, with his gifts of insight and expression, couldn\u2019t see the pointlessness of his existence as a poet praising such a foolish Sultan.<\/p>\n

These words were like an earthquake to Hakim Sanai. He abandoned his life as a pampered court poet, even declining marriage to the Sultan\u2019s own sister, and began to study with a Sufi master named Yusef Hamdani.<\/p>\n

Sanai soon went on pilgrimage to Mecca. When he returned, he composed his poetic masterpiece, Hadiqatu\u2019l Haqiqat or The Walled Garden of Truth. There was a double meaning in this title for, in Persian, the word for a garden is the same as the word for paradise, but it was also from within a walled garden that Lai Khur uttered the harsh truths that set Hakim Sanai on the path of wisdom.<\/p>\n

More poetry by Hakim Sanai<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Naked in the Bee-House by Hakim Sanai English version by Coleman Barks Being humble is right for you now. Don\u2019t thrash around showing your strength. You\u2019re naked in the bee-house! It doesn\u2019t matter how powerful your arms and legs are. To God, that is more of a lie than your weakness is. In his doorway […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[512,1399,131,1251,193,2183,19],"class_list":["post-6151","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poetry","tag-bee","tag-beehive","tag-hakim-sanai","tag-karma-yoga","tag-muslim-poetry","tag-san-of-ghana","tag-sufi-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6151","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6151"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6151\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6152,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6151\/revisions\/6152"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6151"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6151"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6151"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}