23 August 2020

After an interesting and somewhat drawn out attempt at a fish braai with David and Dr Z, we sat down to lunch with SFH today. “Kingklip”, salad, beautiful mango chutney, potatoes, mushrooms and the rest of it. Everything here tastes delicious.

SFH began by joking with Paul: “Here comes a seeker! Will you tell them about your lunch with God?” He would later say that “Paul is a beautiful being, but he hasn't quite yet perfected the art of disappearing. It’s so simple - just disappear!”

The first, and perhaps most notable, thing he said to me centred around “all these spiritual beings and gurus and shaykhs who want to offer you something.” He emphasised that there is nothing to be offered, nothing to be gained, no benefit to be had from sitting with a so-called teacher. Especially the ones who think they can give you something. Only listen to the One. Only listen to the Voice within your own heart. And you can only do that when you regularly move into silence and practice being there until all your other illusions disappear.

He told a story about a so-called shaykh in Karachi who had held a gathering with all the top Pakistani government officials. When someone told this shaykh that a Shazzali shaykh had arrived, he began to describe a dream he had had the previous evening where all the great shaykhs had been present with him and The Prophet (pbuh). All the great ones, except for Shazzali, that is. Everyone looked at SFH, expecting a response. Eventually, to break the pregnant silence, he said that this was because Shazzali had gone beyond The Prophet to simply be with God. Then they left.

Spiritual comparisons are meaningless.

The story is about resonance with the One, Who is boundless and timeless, while you are bound within time. “We are only here for a short while and we get the chance to play a little, move my arm here, say this, look there. It is a beautiful gift, wrapped in humour. If you can’t see this, you become too serious, like Paul over here.”

“We cannot ever express enough gratitude.”

With these words, a wave of love and a gurgling stream of laughter overflowed in my heart. I was immediately reminded of a moment the night before with Paul, drinking some tea after a divine piece of lemon cake where I had quietly slipped into deeper meditation and dissolved in the presence here. Eventually, I felt a deep green vine with a single white flower grow up and around me from my right foot, and this flower was joy, and it had the same quality of loving humour as this particular meal with SFH.

“So, we must play and enjoy this for the little time we have, because after death there is none of that. After death it is only perfect witnessing.”

Lunch ambled on, and SFH gave Paul and I some of his personal blend of perfume. There are no words for what it smells like. In fact, there is nothing left to say.