God, i.e. that ineffable Ground of all things to which the word alludes, can surely be seen and realized. This ground is not found as long as one is seeking it in the form of an object of consciousness, for It is Itself the source of that objectifying subjectivity that animates all things from behind the veil that is the seeking subject.
God is not found by seeking, for It is the finding itself: It is the will by which one seeks and the light in which one finds. The revealer of all things Itself remains forever concealed.
However, God, the Ground, can be seen and realized though in a manner incomparable to ordinary cognition subject to the trifold differentiation of the knower, the known, and the knowing. Compared to the seeing that sees God, our everyday seeing is sheer blindness.
Knowledge, whether discursive or unitive, has a form proportioned to its content. As knowledge of the relative world is itself relative, knowledge of God, the absolute and the infinite ground of reality, is absolute and infinite knowledge. Since the supreme principle of all things transcends the conditions of time and place, the consciousness that apprehends it is also unconditional; it is an eternal and universal knowledge that brings instantaneous and infallible liberation.
In seeing God, one does not acquire new knowledge but rather realizes the Ground, in the form of a shocking recognition or perhaps a transcendental and permanent déjà vu, as one’s true Self, an essential self stripped of all relative content, of individuality and personality, and in general of conditional existence.
The seer of truth is truly immortalized which by no means implies a prolongation of individual existence but rather freedom from individual existence as such, for he/she has realized within himself the identity of immanent time with transcendent eternity. In light of this supreme realization he comes to know that what is real in him has never stepped into the river of finitude and temporality but that he has been all along but witnessing all this from the throne of infinitude and eternity.
Seeing God is the self-realization of the Unmoved Mover.
In the words of our Sufi master Bayazid Bastami, “I went from God to God, until they cried from me in me, ‘O thou I!’”
The Void swallows that which is like it, empty and transparent. In that blessed moment what is above snatches from the claws of time what is below and hands it over to eternity.
Oh pole-seeking inhabitants of this imaginary sphere! It recedes as you seek It.
My Being stands, like Muhammad and the circle of friends, before this captivating tale of becoming begun.
Neither human nor angel am I! I am a pure gaze of no origin. I am the seer in all eyes and yet no eye can see me. I am one without a second. How do I bear this eternal solitude! In the whole of this existence no one is found but Me.
My Beloved has come again,
I am light again, light as a feather whirling in the gravity of my Eternal Beloved;
My heart beats again on hearing the familiar echo of Her footsteps;
She is near and the smell of Her colorful perfume is throwing me in ecstasy again;
Tonight She has approached me from a direction unbeknownst to this world;
She has returned from a point at once infinitely far and infinitely near.
My Beloved has come again,
I have beheld those dark, bottomless eyes, the eyes that steal the hearts forever;
With borrowed eyes I have gazed into the abyss of infinite love;
I have been absorbed into Her Prakriti,
Oh my Love, this heart knows no master but You;
By your grace I have been humbled into that blessed Oblivion but this time I like to be that playful child in the shore of your boundless beauty; my Beloved, let us just play.
This wavering raft can’t withstand even a glimpse of Your blinding face, so let this affair be as it is from behind the Veil of Time; let me be soaked in Your majestic traces but gaze not in my direction, for Your piercing stare shatters me to the bone.
My Beloved has come again,
I am overcome by this fountain of joy; I am Majnoon tonight;
Tonight I am transformed into Her harp again; Oh my Beloved, let Your fingers wound the lifeless fibers of my spirit so that I may sing again the songs of heart’s eternal Eden
Oh, the Hidden Treasure, the Animator, The Possessor of my states, how beautiful is your sound and sight! How intoxicating is Your merciful breath to a heart in spiritual poverty!
Water finds the thirsty, rain finds the crop; abundance seeks scarcity and scarcity abundance,
But my Beloved! I am not thirsty, neither lacking; I am thirst itself. So my Love, come my way, because my union with You is in my annihilation in You,
But devour me not; let me gracefully and slowly dance my way into your Supreme Sakina
Oh, My Beloved has come again
I thought I was a man and I sought the other half in a woman. But I had to break to realize that I were not a man but an enclosure. What I perceived as woman was nothing but what I had negated in the Self. The seeking was the gradual breaking, and when the vessel broke the inner and outer space were realized to be one indivisible space only imagined to be divided. My liberation was in my annihilation, and woman was nothing but a figment of my imagination.
We approached the Giver of States in awe and reverence seeking a glimpse of that burning and annihilating ecstasy. Hearing our footsteps a voice came from the Throne of the Void, infinitely near and infinitely far from our ears, “In my perfect justice no state is dispensed in vain.”
“Tell us our Lord, what constitutes your perfect justice?”
From behind Its psychedelic veil our Shaykh spoke thus: “In my perfect justice that which persists in existence subsists in non-existence and that which persists in non-existence subsists in existence.”
“Seek annihilation by not seeking at all, for I am not found by seeking but by seeing, a seeing stripped of all looking, by pure witnessing. The seeing that finds my face annihilates the seeing that finds my trace.”
“Who art thou who dwells in the heart of the Void?”
“My essence is my face and my names are my trace. On whosoever I cast my piercing glance, whosoever has witnessed my Jamaal and blinding brilliance, is at once annihilated in its temporality and reintegrated in my eternity. That is Fanaa, the state I bestow upon my dearest folks.”
“The stupid cannot become wise, and the non-existent cannot become existent, nor can the existent go into non-existence.”
Of all beings in this field, the only one capable of turning away from the incessant stream of phenomena, from mundane existence and the life of the field, is human being. This being roams the field while standing on the fence between the two worlds; facing the world he’s standing against The Abyss. But he is standing against the abyss in such a way that one could even say man is the abyss staring into the world.
Every night after a long day of work in the field, after planting my seeds, I takes off this human disguise and withdraw back into that abyss, I return home.
In every man, woman, and child that wakes up from sleep, in all beings starting from the first cause up until now, I alone have been the one returning from the abyss known to you as dreamless sleep. I am the single mover in all movements. I move all things while myself remaining unmoved. I move by a single glance from the abyss, from my transcendent throne: I am the possessor of all masks. I am the Animator. I dwell in eternity and recur eternally.
There is a type among us whose soul suffers much with every small turbulence, as a sensitive tooth does with every wind. In this suffering soul, a layer of spirit is exposed to the harshness of bare existence. The sober soul understands him not, for he/she has not known the spiritual madness for transcendence. This world has no remedy for such souls except a congregation of souls who understand by gnosis the restlessness of a spirit longing for home. Our suffering fellow isn’t aware that he’s been seeking to be restored to the original and primordial state of his existence, that is, to coincide with the archetype of which he is a projection. A dental appointment doesn’t cure this type; he/she needs a transcendental appointment.
A sensitive spirit has residual memories from the good old times its father’s house. This type, coming from that old city of Eidos in eternity, has no tolerance for time and impermanence. This type is the insane one, and his insanity lies in forgetting that the remedies of this world have only an apparent resemblance to the consolations he found in Eidos. The impregnated abyss has come between him and Eidos. How can one bridge a gap that is not even of the nature of space! How can one reach for the Hidden Door that is at once infinitely near and infinitely far!
We suffer from separation, and our only remedy is a bridge, a Logos from Eidos and not a bridge of our own making.