Nafs (Ammara)
May 3rd, 2009 by Dunya
Writing on Gold Paper
byDDMcPherson
I exhale and cast forward, over a brink.
My body hurtling down and down,
but the inner world halts,
curling its tongue over the desert of Earth.
Eyesight travels in straight lines; insight curves without ever traveling,
a globe swallowed into the heart.
Inhaling, exhaling stretches the canvas of air
where a painting appears and dissolves continuously,
as breath fogs then absorbs itself from glass.
And now I bend over my leg, lips nearing, nearing my knee.
They touch the silky pants. Like a kiss.
But the effort of a kiss,
a mouth pressing, making a devotion
of what is already a devotion,
that effort strips down.
The bend alone is pure.
All this bending and rising is a purge.
It rips the face off simplicity.
Sometimes purity is convolute, thick with twining vines.
Again and again into the bend, into the rise
I turn and turn and, not finding
one genuine thread of motion, flail.
Pious, saccharine, sterile, bleak.
Day after day of reaching in
leaves only the walking of a fine line:
some days the slide into contentment,
but missing that gate of grace,
stubbing toes in the barrens outside a winter palace.
Maybe I’ve forgotten something,
Forgotten to drink a round rich breath.
Forgotten to drown.
Forgotten the emptiness full of ocean swells
and curved bones floating in light.
*****************
This poem is for Annabelle, after she shared the inner question that had plagued her at the beginning of the workshop: “What am I doing here?”
Her inflection was, “What the hell am I doing here?” I felt it too. But I knew what it was. In spiritual work, that question and the way it was asked is the nafs speaking. The nafs are the ego not wanting to dissolve. They are the tricksters of self that turn gold to dust. Nafs turn up when the seeker is progressing, so they are a good sign, but they are not as pleasant the Unified state waltzing easily towards us, making our day all shiny.
The ability to persevere with our spiritual practice when we encounter our nafs is an act of maturing, of patient but firm handling of our childish inner self that only wants wants wants. The endlessness of our wants, which are mostly fantasies to pull us away from feeling pain and emptiness, must be kindly mastered. Soothed into quietude. Perhaps we have to finally feel pain a bit, fear, or boredom. Acknowledge these emotions, weather them, but not get too involved. Once we stop running and look around, we discover a great deal. Precious things. Perhaps we learn that getting every little want met is not necessary to peace. Whatever the learning, this process leads to an integration of the self.
Spiritual progress is made of leaps into the Unknowable. Beautiful as this is — to be free; to enter a new world of Self, and the Ever-New world of Beyond Self –- it is rarely a straight shot. Our human being-ness requires a two-step-forward-one-back trek. We are cautious. We must not lose our bearings. We still live on the Earth even while we focus on the Eternal. The nafs always sit at the door of deeper development. They are the self’s retrogression into the familiar, and no Path is free of this labor.
Thank you for that explanation, since I battle continually with that part of me which does not want to practice regularly……Karleen
The Sufis have an efficient set of nafs progressions. In my written piece, I integrated our modern psychological understandings of self.
Modern Western psychology is very big on being kind to one’s injured inner self. For me, I can get so indulgent, even sloppy. But when I tighten it up, I get harsh. The Sufi structures are sophisticated and moral. Sometimes I prefer the clarity with which these operate; other times I feel that they inflame unproductive self-judgment. I have to keep an eye on how it is playing out.
The nafs progression is beautiful though. I feel how it encompasses much of my development. I knew about these definitions years ago, then I forgot them and just kept doing my practice and teaching. Now as I return to the reading, I find that the shifts have happened in me exactly as they were articulated in the Sufi system. So I am happy at this realness. It helps me trust more in the whole endeavor.
I am happy to read this post and these comments as well. I am interested in the Sufi definitions and progression..where might I locate this info? I like that you found it happened as you read about, years later upon returning to forgotten info. That is one of my favorite kinds of affirmations! That, and reading/hearing something for the first time after already having experienced it. I can relate to the swing between indulgence and harshness that you speak of. I think, though, that my harshness, when I get to the bottom of it, is usually linked to some grief from an early loss. Saturday I loved your workshop in Boston, though I couldn’t follow everyone in the circle dance as I usually do…I thought of judging myself for it (even at the time), and didn’t have the energy to! So I decided against it. I suppose the circle dance will continue to change for me…maybe I will even look forward to it one day!!
It was great to see you in Boston, Ann.
About the nafs, there is a link in the initial entry here; the Wikipedia has a bare-bones description of the progression. But there are many good texts. I’ll share these at the SMM…Good thought on the origin of harshness towards the self.
Love this discussion. So useful. And the poem is beautifully gritty and honest. The words ‘sterile and bleak’…
Especially like this passage:
Again and again into the bend, into the rise
I turn and turn and, not finding
one genuine thread of motion, flail.
Pious, saccharine, sterile, bleak.
Day after day of reaching in
leaves only the walking of a fine line:
some days the slide into contentment,
but missing that gate of grace,
stubbing toes in the barrens outside a winter palace.
Maybe I’ve forgotten something,
Forgotten to drink a round rich breath.
Forgotten to drown.
Forgotten the emptiness full of ocean swells
and curved bones floating in light.
Boy I can relate. These edges, curves in the road, gaps, cliffs…they are good teachers!
Thank you for sharing.