Chapter 21: Prideful Angels and the Wooden Horse of Reason

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Welcome to the Deep Dive.

Today we're jumping into some really profound stuff excerpts from Rumi's The Maznavi, Book 1.

Yeah, it's incredible work.

It really is.

And we're treating it not just as old poetry, but more like a living guide, you know, something to help us understand ourselves, maybe our motivations a bit better.

Exactly.

Rumi's Maznavi isn't just beautiful language, though it is that it's this huge spiritual epic, really full of stories and insights that kind of challenge how we usually see things.

So for this deep dive, we're aiming to pull out some key lessons, things about self -awareness, what real knowledge actually is, and well, the path to spiritual purity.

It's often pretty counterintuitive.

Right.

And Rumi uses these amazing metaphors to light the way.

Powerful ones.

Yeah, sometimes quite surprising.

So our mission today basically is to unpack these verses, get to the core teachings and figure out what can these words from centuries ago mean for you listening right now?

Think of it as a shortcut, maybe a way to get well informed on this pretty rich topic, but with insights you can actually use.

Yeah, practical takeaways.

How neat, though.

We're kicking off with verses 3 -4 -33 to 3 -4 -39, and it's quite a start.

A real cautionary tale about ego, about delusion, Rumi says.

The pair's distracting itch would not subside until it sowed the seed of selfish pride.

Straight away, he's making us think, isn't he?

How easily even good intentions can get twisted by ego.

What's this distracting itch all about?

Well, what Rumi digs into here is pretty deep.

He paints this picture of a specific delusion, almost grandiose.

This pair, they're driven by this relentless selfish pride, and they start imagining they can do these incredible, almost godlike things.

Like what?

Things like, draw the curtains over all the sky, or land on earth and raise the screens so high.

And their goal, to grant all justice and bring worships light, but then casually be flying home to heaven every night.

Wow.

So like cosmic superheroes.

Sort of, yeah.

But the key is their motivation.

They wanted to be renowned for bringing earth security.

It wasn't just about doing good.

It was about being seen as the ones doing good.

The renown was crucial.

Ah, okay.

The recognition part.

Exactly.

And Rumi's critique is instant.

He says, this view of earth and heaven isn't right.

There's something missing here that's kept from sight.

So what's missing?

It shows this fundamentally flawed perspective, you know?

An ego -driven view of spiritual service.

The core idea Rumi's getting at, I think, is that real service comes from selflessness, from surrender, not from wanting applause.

Right.

Being a channel, not the source itself.

Precisely.

We become the vessel.

Which definitely raises a question for us, doesn't it?

When we do things, even good things, are we trying to facilitate good or are we maybe secretly looking for that pat on the back, that recognition?

That is a tough mirror to look into right at the start.

It makes you wonder how often do our own actions, even stuff we think is purely selfless, have that little hidden thread of wanting approval or maybe just wanting to feel in control.

It's subtle.

Ego's sneaky like that.

It's so true.

Okay, so moving on from ego's traps, Rumi then shifts gears a bit.

He starts talking about the importance

of discretion, especially with deep spiritual stuff.

Right.

And he uses a quote from Hakim Sana, another great Sufi poet, to bridge this.

Yeah.

Rest where you drank the wine your drunken head.

Seems like simple advice at first glance, right?

Stay put if you're vulnerable.

It does, but there's way more packed in there.

Rumi impacts it with this really vivid metaphor.

It's almost funny, actually.

It's about a drunk person who wanders away from the tavern where they have this profound experience and they become like a clown for children to play with.

Stumbling around, being laughed at by people Rumi calls wretches who just have no clue about the state of drunkenness, that mystical state.

So the kids just follow because it's something weird and new.

Exactly.

They completely miss the sacredness, the altered state the person is in.

It just becomes a spectacle.

Ah, I see the connection now.

Yeah.

And the spiritual lesson is right there.

Rumi says, except those drunken God, men are just boys.

Mature people, he implies, move beyond superficial passions, beyond worldly toys.

So showing off your deep spiritual insights to people who aren't ready, it's pointless or even harmful.

Pretty much.

It's counterproductive.

It turns something sacred into, well, entertainment or confusion, like trying to explain, I don't know, advanced physics to someone who hasn't learned basic math yet.

Right.

And he brings in God's words here.

The world is just a toy and you are merely children.

What God says is true.

It reinforces that idea of spiritual maturity versus childish preoccupation.

And then comes Rumi's call to action, which feels pretty direct, almost sharp.

You keep on bringing toys down from the shelf.

You won't gain wisdom until you slay yourself.

Yeah.

That slay yourself is intense.

It is.

But it's not literal self -destruction, is it?

It's about the ego.

Exactly.

It's about transcending that small self, the part of us that constantly needs validation, control, praise from the outside.

So real wisdom, real maturity for Rumi means letting go of that ego, letting go of attachments to worldly things, even the need to show off how spiritual you are.

That's the core of it.

Letting go of that ego -driven self so your deeper, more authentic self can actually come through.

Okay.

This children and toys idea seems really key then.

Central, yeah.

Yeah.

And he pushes it further.

He compares things like infant sex and infant's fight, basically meaningless play acting, to the wars of men.

Whoa.

Yeah.

He calls these adult conflicts meaningless,

senseless, base, without real might.

That's a pretty radical statement suggesting that a lot of what we adults take so seriously,

politics, power struggles, whatever it might just be, from a spiritual view like kids' games, no real substance.

He really paints a picture, doesn't he?

They brandish wood and swords and then take aim, but there's no point or meaning to their game.

And that image of riding a piece of wood like a horse saying here's Borac and here's Prophet's mule,

that's powerful imagery.

It really is because Borac, for those listening, is this mythical winged creature, right?

Yeah.

Said to have carried Prophet Muhammad on his night journey, a symbol of miraculous divine travel.

And the mule too represents a journey with divine purpose.

Right.

So the irony Rumi points out is just stark.

They carry it themselves, but stupidly, they think they're being born majestically.

It's pure self -deception about our own efforts, thinking we're soaring when we're just running around carrying a stick.

And the contrast he draws then is with actual spiritual reality.

Exactly.

He contrasts this childish play with the real deal, the divinely powered ascent.

Wait till the day those born by God should race beyond the nine -tiered heavens at great pace.

Spirits and angels to him will ascend and make the heavens shake from end to end.

That sounds effortless compared to the wooden oars.

Totally different category.

That's the true ascent, propelled by grace, not just human striving.

It really highlights the gap.

And he ties it back to us personally.

Correctly.

Children, you ride your skirts and run the course, clutching the hem to make it seem a horse.

It's this kind of poignant image of our own limited self -made attempts at getting somewhere, often fueled by illusion.

Which leads to that really critical line.

Opinion does not free you from all night.

You won't reach heaven on your reasoning steed.

So it's not about what others think or even just our own smarts.

Intellect alone won't get you there, he says.

And then that call for self -awareness.

It's time now to look down at your own steed.

You've made it from your own two feet.

Take heed.

Basically, recognize when you're just relying on yourself, maybe fooling yourself, when divine help is what's actually needed.

Wow.

So his conclusion is that pretty much everything that drives us daily,

your every feeling, fancy sense and care is like the children's wooden horse.

Our emotions, desires, senses, even our worries.

They're like these flimsy things giving us the illusion of movement.

That's what he's suggesting, which leads to a pretty confronting question for us, doesn't it?

What are our wooden horses?

What are we clinging to thinking it's carrying us forward?

When maybe we're just running in place, holding onto our own clothes.

That's, yeah, that image of riding your own skirts, pretending it's a horse.

I think we've all been there, right?

Pouring energy into something, convinced we're making strides, then realizing, oops, just running on the spot, fueled by maybe our own wishful thinking.

It's relatable.

So building on this, Rumi then makes a distinction about knowledge itself.

One I think we often miss.

He says,

knowledge of mystics was the steed they rode, knowledge of sensual men and extra load.

Yes, this is absolutely core to Rumi.

He sees two basic kinds of knowledge.

There's heart knowledge, which he says helps you when it fills you there.

Meaning it's transformative, internal.

Exactly.

It's intuitive, liberating.

It's knowledge you become.

It changes you from the inside out.

It's not just something you have.

Okay.

And the other kind.

But other knowledge, what he calls sensual knowledge, stuff gained just through senses and intellect without that inner spiritual connection.

That stuff is a cross to bear.

A burden.

A burden.

He even quotes the Quran.

Like asses carrying their books, God said, knowledge that's not from him wears down your head.

Wow.

So he's not against learning.

No, not at all.

It's about why and how you learn.

Knowledge just piled up for show or for ego without real insight or application.

That becomes heavy, a burden, not a blessing.

And he describes this external knowledge as pretty superficially, right?

No meeting shell without a core.

Yeah.

And that other vivid line, it doesn't last like makeup on a whore.

It's blunt, but the point is clear.

It's superficial, temporary.

It doesn't feed the soul.

It might look good, might sound impressive, but it lacks substance, fades away, leaves you still burdened.

But he does offer a way out.

Even for this burdensome knowledge.

Yes, absolutely.

And this is really key, he says.

But when you bear the burden well, it will be taken off and you'll feel such a thrill.

Bear it well.

How?

So don't bear knowledge for your own sake, friend.

And you'll find inner knowledge in the end.

Then you may ride on knowledge's fast deed and watch the load fall off and your soul freed.

So the intention changes everything.

Precisely.

If you approach even that external knowledge, not for ego, but with humility, seeking real insight,

then the burden transforms.

It becomes the fast deed.

It becomes liberating.

That's fascinating.

The same knowledge can be a crushing weight or liberating vehicle, depending entirely on your inner approach.

Right.

Which makes you ask yourself, doesn't it, what kind of knowledge am I actually seeking?

Is it for real liberation or is it just more stuff to carry, more weight on my back?

Am I aiming for that heart knowledge?

Deep question.

And this journey from burden to freedom seems to continue with this idea of going beyond the surface level, right?

Transcending.

Transcending the superficial, yeah.

Rumi poses this challenge.

If you don't chant he, how can you then flee your own desire?

Transcend the mere name he.

Okay, wait.

Chant the name to flee desire, but then transcend the name itself?

Yeah.

That sounds paradoxical.

It does, doesn't it?

But he clarifies.

He says that while a thought's produced by attribute and name, this thought's a guide with union as its aim.

You have to remember it's just the guide.

The thought, the name.

They're like maps.

Exactly.

They point the way.

But you don't just stare at the map forever, right?

You want to reach the actual place.

The goal is the derived experience, the union, beyond the concepts or words.

And he uses those great examples.

Oh yeah, really concrete stuff.

Can roses grow from R -O -S and E?

Just saying the letters doesn't make a rose appear.

Right.

You've said the name.

To find the named, now try.

The moon's not on the lake, but in the sky.

The reflection is beautiful, sure, but it's not the real moon.

The word isn't the thing itself.

We can talk about love, but feeling love is different.

Precisely.

The concept isn't the reality.

So how do we make that leap from the named to the named, from the reflection to the moon?

Through purification.

That's Rumi's prescription.

Mere names and words, if you wish to transcend.

Then purify yourself of self, my friend.

Back to the self.

The ego again.

Always back to the ego.

Like iron, give up your original color.

Through discipline, become the clearest mirror.

Lest purge yourself of attributes to view your own pure essence lying inside you.

Become a clear mirror.

Strip away everything that's not essential.

Yeah.

All the conditioning, the labels, the ego stuff.

Polish the mirror so your true core, your pure essence can just shine through unclouded.

And here's where he makes this incredible promise, something really radical.

Within your heart, you'll find the prophet's knowledge without a book or teachers from the college.

It's amazing, isn't it?

It suggests what?

That deep intuitive truth, real wisdom is already inside us.

Accessible once we clear away the clutter.

That seems to be exactly it.

A direct line of divine insight, bypassing all the external learning structures.

How is that possible?

He backs it up with a saying from the prophet Muhammad.

Yes, a really profound one.

There are some in my nation who share my essence and my aspiration.

The same as me.

They see me by that light with which I also see them day and night.

And crucially,

without hadiths and their transmitters too, water of life they drink to know it's true.

Water of life.

That sounds mystical.

It is.

It's a symbol for that direct spiritual knowing, right?

A truth so real and sustaining it quenches your deepest thirst.

It's not learned, it's drunk.

It's an intuitive understanding, connecting directly with divine wisdom, available to the purified heart.

Wow, okay.

And the section wraps up with this really intriguing parable, almost a riddle.

Yeah, it kind of leaves you hanging, wanting more.

So understand, last night I was a Kurd, now I'm an Arab though.

It's not absurd.

What does that mean?

Shifting identity.

It suggests a transformation beyond fixed labels, I think.

A kind of fluidity of self that goes beyond ethnicity, culture, maybe even our personal story.

Moving towards something more universal.

Perhaps.

He calls it a parable which shows the mysteries and links it to another story about the Greeks and the Chinese.

But the text excerpt stops there.

It definitely hints at deeper explorations of identity and essence.

Okay, that was a lot to take in.

A really rich deep dive.

Rumi's wisdom, just from these few pages of the Maznavi, it really does feel like a roadmap, doesn't it?

For understanding ourselves, maybe our place in the grand scheme of things.

We've seen those subtle dangers of ego, you know, sneaking into our best intentions.

We've talked about the wisdom of humility, knowing when to speak and when to be silent about deeper experiences.

Right.

And that huge difference between just playing around, like children with toys, and genuine spiritual growth, that real ascent.

Yeah, and that journey from knowledge that weighs you down to knowledge that sets you free.

That inner wisdom.

Leading ultimately towards finding that pure essence beyond just names and labels.

If you zoom out a bit, Rumi is just constantly pushing us, isn't he?

Look past the surface.

Look beyond what everyone else thinks.

Seek the deeper reality inside yourself.

He really is relentlessly challenging us, which I guess leaves us with a kind of parting thought or maybe a question to sit with.

What wooden horses are we riding right now?

What kind of sensual knowledge that external stuff are we maybe relying on too much?

What might be perhaps unintentionally holding us back from finding that true essence, that liberation Rumi keeps pointing towards.

That's definitely something to chew on.

What are my wooden horses?

Well,

we really hope this deep dive into Rumi's Masnavi has sparked some aha moments for you.

It maybe left you feeling better informed and perhaps a little inspired to do your own inner looking.

We hope so.

Thank you so much for joining us for this deep dive.