As a reader and scribe of my Sufi Teacher Adnan’s writings, I am very familiar with the various themes and styles and their effect on his students.

My favorites are his sublime writings full of poetry and beauty with descriptions of the sky, breeze, clouds, and wind that can put you into a state of bliss. I often share pieces of these sorts of writings in my Sufi meditation classes. They are icing on the cake. 

Another style of Adnan's writing is what I would call admonitions -- sometimes humorous and sometimes severe reminders of what will happen if we indulge in our senses, obsessions, greed, and forget spirit. These admonitions are reminiscent of the fire and brimstone preacher only in Adnan's writing the hell is in life not after death.

Here's a brief sample:

When the intelligence of the heart is blank and obliterated and man turns to the intellect of the mind, the wheels of the intellect in the head keep going like in a factory that requires calculation. And the man sees great profit in hanging billboards to glorify beer and the tranquility of the beer, its fun, play, and joy — without realizing that his kind of tranquility, fun, play, and joy will fill him with poison and make him disturbed, and positively will result in a certain damage to certain compartments in the brain that will cause great physical difficulty, and even the smile becomes strained. And smiling becomes the hardest chore to do. 

This is just one of the abuses that man will indulge in when he operates from the head only, without the spirit. But man should know that liquor and drugs, like cocaine and so on, are assuredly the way to ruin and dissolution. And there is no escape from disaster and dissolution. And the blessing never comes near people who are heedless, who have no respect for the existence, for the cosmos, or even for themselves. And Ghazalli (a famous Sufi writer) said, “The ignorant plunge into sensual pleasures with the avidity of brutes.”

Reading Adnan's admonitions has always made me uncomfortable. Although in copying them here, I experience the lyricism and rhythm in the flow of his words and I am reminded, once again, that the words are the form, not the essence. The essence is in the breath, my breath as I read them, and his breath as he dictates them.

By focusing on his words, I became afraid that they would scare people away from the work. And sometimes it seemed like they did. 

“The Secret protects itself,” Adnan told me. Meaning, that only those who are ready to do this spiritual work will stay with it. So it is ok for some to leave. It is their choice.

Sometimes, I find, the words are the point. Very recently I had an encounter with a woman who embodied one of Adnan's admonitions. This encounter made me consider his writing in a new light. She was a living illustration of what happens when you live without spirit.

Perhaps you have encountered such people. They are everywhere, especially in the news. The misery in this world is heartbreaking . . . or maybe heart-opening.

My encounter with the woman happened a few weeks ago when I decided to take an evening walk in the local cemetery. It had been raining most of the day and finally, the deluge had turned to a fine mist around 5 pm.

The cemetery is situated on a steep hill that separates Upper and Lower El Cerrito. I walk it almost every day to stay fit.

Soon after I entered the cemetery I observed a woman ahead of me struggling with her shopping bags. She needed to stop and adjust her load every few yards. When I came beside her, I asked if she needed help. So completely preoccupied she was with her struggles, at first, she did not even hear me. I repeated my offer. She declared me an angel and handed me 2 of her 3 bags. 

As we walked up the hill, she chatted about the political situation and how there was no one worthy of her vote. I tried to switch the focus and talk about Marianne Williamson and the hope she offered. But then the talk turned to the police and how useless they are. I found myself agreeing with this negative talk because I too have had disappointing encounters with the local constabulary.

As we neared the top of the cemetery I looked forward to ending our conversation and continuing on my own. Instead, I found myself unable to leave her. I continued carrying her bags up the dangerously narrow uphill road which was without sidewalks and periodically crowded by home-eager drivers. Although she assured me that was ok to leave her, I could not in good conscience abandon her. A whiff of her breath made it clear that she was inebriated and would be unable to safely manage this uphill climb with all three bags. 

Had I known at the moment just how very far we were from her home, I might have had second thoughts about my decision. Unfortunately, she was very vague about where she lived only letting me know that she needed to get to the next main road at the top of our climb.

When we got to the main road, I asked her again about how much further we needed to go. She pointed up the road. We continued on a small shoulder with the traffic heading towards us rather than from behind. The wet weeds, puddles, and gravel path made the walk slippery and it became necessary for me to hold her hand as well as her bags.

My back began to feel the strain of both bags on one shoulder. Noticing my struggle, she took one of the two bags. It was soddened and starting to drop its contents in the path. I retrieved each item and placed it in my bag.

Throughout our journey, she complained about the speeding cars, the police, and her drunk husband. At one point, she started screaming at the driver of a parked car declaring her a good-for-nothing drug addict and to move off. I was alarmed that she might provoke a confrontation, but the driver did as she was told.

Weary of her cursing, complaining, and negativity, I asked if there was anything for which she was grateful. Groping into her alcohal suffused mind she recalled a list she had created for AA.

I learned that she was married but separated from her husband. She had a loving son who cared for her when she was injured. She owned a house in the hills of El Cerrito worth a substantial sum and for which she had received several offers. I also learned that she was a retired cardiac nurse with both a retirement and an inheritance from her mother. 

This woman was not some homeless person down on her luck. She was a person of means who had let negativity get the better of her. Ok, maybe I don't know her whole story. But it certainly seems to me that she had lost her connection to gratitude and joy and, as Adnan would say, her spirit.

As we got closer to her street, she assured me she would pay for an Uber to take me home. I asked her if she had an account because I had neither my cell nor an Uber account. She did not. Then she started promising to give me some money for my time. I insisted it was not necessary. All I wanted was a telephone to call my husband to let him know where I was.

When we arrived at her street there was yet again another long hill. Her negativity was starting to be contagious. Is this journey never to end? Did she do this walk regularly? Why was she not in better shape?

Her front door was locked and she did not have a key. We had to make our way around to the back of her house in the dark. No keys? No lights?! What kind of nightmare am I in? Patience! Patience! I reminded myself. You are almost there.

We were greeted at the back door by her friendly dog and the warmth of her kitchen. She invited me to spend the night and enjoy her hospitality.

Oooh, no thank you. I grabbed her phone. No dial tone! She apologized that her phone was broken, but we could go to her neighbors. More complications? I just wanted to go. I told her I was fine and left through the back door before she could say one more word.

Without her bags, I felt light as a feather. FREEEEEE of her complaints, I felt re-energized. The beauty of the night, the mist, the clouds, the blurred lights of the city below, and the cars driving past caught my breath. It took another 40 minutes to get home, but throughout this downhill trek, my heart was filled with gratitude for my health, my vitality, the Sufi work, and the warmth and love waiting at home.

Soaking my feet, I had to laugh. I had been on a wild adventure and entered one of Adnan’s stories. I understood firsthand the message of his admonitions. I have a choice, in every moment to choose spirit over misery, negativity, and complaints.

I now feel more able to read Adnan’s writings -- all of them. Perhaps the rhythm and flow of the words are sufficient. They lull you to sleep. Or maybe the words will hit you like my grand adventure and remind you that you too have a choice.

What is your choice?

Join me for another Sufi meditation session tomorrow, Friday, February 23 at 9 am PST and Sunday, February 25 at 8 am PST. 

The Zoom link is:

https://us02web.zoom.us/j/89999494833?pwd=V2pOS28yYUdXM3hkaW1rVWIvSjBUdz09

Meeting ID: 899 9949 4833

Passcode: SUFI

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Be peaceful.

Michelle

Dr. Michelle Peticolas

Life Transformation Coach

Empowering Women to Reinvent Their Life After Loss

Secrets of Life and Death

https://www.facebook.com/secretsoflifeanddeath.com