Chapter Six: On Contentment

He never knew God, never truly worshipped, who was not content with the fortune and daily bread he was given. Contentment makes a man rich; go tell this to the greedy wanderer chasing the world. Find some stillness, you restless soul, for nothing green will grow on a rolling stone. If you are a person of sense and reason, do not pamper the body, for in feeding it you are killing yourself. Wise people cultivate their talents; those who pamper the body are thin on merit. Only that person has learned the ways of a true human who first silenced the dog of his own appetite. Eating and sleeping alone are the way of beasts; to live only for these is the code of a fool. How blessed is the lucky one who, in some quiet corner, gathers a provision of true knowledge. Those to whom the truth of God was revealed never chose falsehood over it. But when a man cannot tell darkness from light, what difference is a demon's face from an angel's? You threw yourself into that pit because you failed to tell the trap from the road. How can a noble falcon soar to the height of the sky when you have tied the stone of greed to its wings? If you free its wing from the grip of lust, it will fly up to the highest heaven. By cutting back on your habit of eating, you can make yourself angelic in nature. The pace of a wild beast never reaches the realm of angels; one cannot leap from the dust straight to the heavens. First take up a truly human character, and only then set your mind on becoming angelic. You are mounted, belted, on an unbroken colt; take care that it does not shake off your command. For if the rein slips from your hand, it will destroy itself and spill your blood. If you are truly human, eat in measure. So stuffed with belly, are you a person or a jar? Within you is room for strength, remembrance of God, and the breath of life; you imagine it exists only for bread. How can remembrance of God fit in a sack of greed? With difficulty the soul stretches out its legs. Those who pamper the body do not realize that a full stomach is empty of wisdom. Two eyes and a belly are never filled by anything; better empty than these winding guts. Like hell, which they fill with fuel yet it still cries out, 'Are there more?' Your inner Christ is dying of starvation while you are busy fattening the donkey. Do not buy the world at the price of your faith, you low creature; do not trade the Gospel of Christ for a donkey. Can you not see that nothing but the greed for food ever lures beast and prey into the snare? The leopard that lifts its neck proudly over other animals falls into the trap, for food, like a mouse. Like the mouse: eat its bread and cheese and you fall into its trap and take its arrow.

A pilgrim once gave me an ivory comb, may God's mercy rest on the ways of pilgrims. Then I heard that this same man had once called me a dog, that his heart had somehow soured against me. So I threw the comb away: I don't need this bone. From now on, don't call me your dog. Don't think that just because I have my own sour vinegar to eat, I'd suffer a master's cruelty to get his sweets. Be content with little, my soul, and you'll see the king and the beggar as one and the same. Why go begging to the emperor's door? Set greed aside, and you are an emperor yourself. But if you serve only your own belly, turn it into a drum and bow toward every stranger's house for food.

I heard that one morning, early at dawn, a greedy man went before the king of Khwarazm. When he saw him, he bent double in service, then straightened, and again pressed his face to the ground before rising. His son said to him: Father, seeker of good name, I want to ask you something puzzling, so tell me. Didn't you say the direction of prayer is toward the Hejaz? Why did you pray this way today? Don't obey a soul enslaved to desire, for every hour it faces a different direction. Don't lend your hand to its commands, brother, for whoever refuses to obey it is set free. Contentment lifts your head high, wise man; a head full of greed will not rise above the shoulders. Greed spilled your honor and your dignity; for two grains of barley it tore open a whole robe. When a little stream would quench your thirst, why pour out your honor chasing snow? Learn to do without luxury and pleasure, or need will drive you begging from door to door. Go, master, shorten the hand of greed. What do you gain from a long, grasping sleeve? Anyone whose ledger is filled with greed should not be called any man's slave or servant. Your begging drives you out of every gathering; drive it out of yourself before it gets you thrown out.

One of the wise fell sick with fever, and someone said to him, 'Go ask so-and-so for some sugar.' He answered, 'My son, the bitterness of my own death is easier to bear than the insult of that sour, scowling face.' A sensible man will not take sugar from the hand of one who turns his face away in arrogance, sour as vinegar. Do not chase after everything your heart desires, for pampering the body drains the light of the soul. The craving self debases a man; if you have any sense, do not hold it dear. If you eat whatever you wish, you will carry away much disappointment from the turning of the world. To keep the oven of your belly always fired up makes the day of scarcity a disaster. When times are hard the color drains from your face, because in times of plenty you never held your stomach in check. The glutton carries the burden of his belly; and when he finds no food, he carries the burden of sorrow instead. You will often see the slave of his stomach ashamed. To me, a tight stomach is better than a tight, aching heart.

Do you know what strange thing I brought back from Basra? A story sweeter than fresh dates. A handful of us, dressed in the robes of honest folk, were passing along the edge of a date grove. One among us was a walking storehouse of a belly, and from his own gluttony he was utterly wretched. The poor man tightened his belt and climbed the tree, then fell from up there hard, right on his neck. You can't always eat dates and carry them off: that leather sack of a belly ate its fill at last and died. The village headman came and asked, 'Who killed this man?' I said, 'Don't shout at us so harshly.' His belly dragged him down from the branch: a heart too narrow, but guts wide open. The belly is a shackle on the hands and a chain on the feet; the slave to his stomach rarely worships God. When a man is nothing but belly, he becomes a locust, and even a small tidy-bellied ant can drag him off by the foot. Go and cultivate a clean inner self, for the belly is never filled until it is filled with earth.

Hunger and lust brought a Sufi low; he spent two coins on both of them. A friend asked him quietly, 'What did you do with these two coins?' He said: 'With one I chased the pleasure of the flesh; with the other I laid out a feast for my belly.' 'I acted like a base fool, for the one was never filled, and the other never emptied.' Whether the food is fine or plain, you enjoy it best when it comes to you after long hunger. The wise person lays his head on the pillow only when sleep has taken him captive by force. Do not speak until you find the right moment; when you see no field to play in, hold on to the ball. Do not go to a woman beyond what is right; you are no madman, so do not turn the blade on yourself. To rouse desire when there is no genuine want is to spill your own blood by choice.

A man had sugarcane laid out on a tray, turning left and right, calling for a buyer. In a corner of the village he said to a wise man, 'Take some now, and pay me back when you can.' That gracious, thoughtful man gave an answer worthy of being written on one's eyes. 'You wouldn't stay patient waiting on me, but I can wait; I can do without your sugarcane.' Sugar holds no sweetness in its reed when a bitter debt is hanging over it.

The prince of Khotan gave a robe of silk to one of the clear-hearted, enlightened men. The man blossomed with joy like a smiling flower; but he did not put it on. He kissed the prince's hand and said: The prince of Khotan's gift is fine indeed, yet finer still is my own simple cloak. If you are truly free, sleep on the bare ground and be content; do not bow and kiss the floor to earn someone's carpet.

One man had nothing to eat with his bread but an onion; unlike others, he had no comforts or fine things. A troublemaker said to him: You wretch, go and grab yourself a dish from the free-for-all feast. Just ask, sir, and fear no one; a man cut off from his daily bread is the one who should feel shame. He tucked up his robe and quickly reached out his hand; they tore his robe and broke his hand. I heard him say, while weeping tears of blood: My own soul, what remedy is there for the harm I brought on myself? Whoever is caught in the grip of greed goes looking for trouble. From now on it's just me, my home, my bread and my onion. A crust of barley bread I earn by the sweat of my own arm is better than fine white bread on the table of the generous. How miserably that low creature slept last night, straining to hear what fell from other people's tables.

A cat once lived in an old woman's house, but its luck had turned and its days were miserable. It ran off to the prince's guesthouse, where the sultan's servants shot it with arrows. Blood dripping from its very bones, it ran, fleeing in terror for its life, and said: If I escape the hands of this archer, give me my mouse and the old woman's ruin, and nothing more. Honey is not worth a sting, dear life of mine; better to be content with your own simple syrup. God is not pleased with the servant who is not satisfied with the share God has given.

A child had cut its first teeth, and the father sank into worried thought. How will I bring it bread and food? It would be heartless to abandon it. When the helpless man said this to his wife, see how bravely she answered him: Don't let the devil's fears eat at you till he takes your life. The One who gives teeth will give bread too. In the end, the Lord of each day is able to provide our daily bread, so don't burn yourself with worry. The One who shapes the child in the womb is also the One who writes its lifespan and its provision. A master who buys a servant looks after him; how much more the One who created the servant? You do not lean on the Creator the way a slave relies on his master. You have heard that in ancient times stones turned to silver in the hands of the saints. Don't imagine this saying makes no sense: once you are content, silver and stone are the same to you. When your heart is as free of greed as a child's, what is a fistful of gold to your spirit, or a handful of dust? Tell the dervish who worships kings that the king is poorer than the wretched dervish. A single silver coin fills the beggar, yet all the realm of Persia leaves Fereydoun half-hungry. Guarding kingdom and wealth is a torment; the true king is the beggar, though his name is beggar. A beggar whose heart is free of cares is better than a king who is never satisfied. A peasant and his wife sleep more sweetly than a sultan ever slept in his palace hall. Whether king or humble cobbler, once they fall asleep, night is the same for both. When the flood of sleep arrives and carries a man off, what difference is a sultan's throne or a bare stretch of open ground? When you see the rich man drunk on his own pride, go and thank God, you who have little. Thank God, you do not have the power to cause anyone harm.

I heard of a wise and decent man who built himself a house just his own size. Someone said, 'I know you have the means to build far better than this.' He answered, 'This is enough.' What would I want with raising a grand pavilion? This much is enough for a place I'll only leave behind. Don't build your house in the path of a flood, my friend, for no one has ever seen that building finished. It shows neither wisdom, nor sense, nor good judgment for a caravan to build an inn on the open road.

There was a majestic, powerful king whose sun was about to set behind the mountains. He handed the country over to a hermit in that shrine, a man who had held no rank during the previous reign. When the recluse heard the drums of power, he no longer found any joy in his corner of solitude. He began marching armies left and right, until the hearts of the brave fled from him in fear. His arm grew so strong and his claws so sharp that he picked fights even with seasoned warriors. He killed many from the scattered people, so the rest banded together, of one mind and backing each other. They pressed the siege so tightly around him that he was helpless against the rain of arrows and stones. He sent word to a righteous man: 'I am stuck in dire trouble, come to my rescue.' 'Help me with your spiritual strength, for sword and arrow are not a lifeline in every battle.' When the devout man heard this, he laughed and said, 'Why did he not settle for half a loaf of bread and simply sleep in peace?' Korah, that worshipper of wealth, never understood that the treasure of safety lies in a quiet corner.

A generous man carries his worth within himself; if he has no gold, what has he really lost, what should he fear? Don't imagine that a mean man, even if he grows as rich as Croesus, will change his stingy nature. And if a generous man cannot find even bread, his nature is still rich all the same. Kindness is the soil, and giving is the seed: give, so the root is never left without its branches. A God who shapes people out of dust, it would be strange if He let humanity go to waste. Don't seek greatness in hoarding your wealth, for standing water turns foul and sour. Strive to give freely, for the flowing stream is fed by the rains that pour from the sky. If a mean man falls from rank and fortune, only rarely will he ever recover and stand straight again. But if you are a precious jewel, do not grieve, for time will never let you go to waste. A clod of dirt lying in the road, you never see anyone give it a second glance. But if a fleck of gold slips from between the teeth, people search for it again by candlelight. They cut clear glass out of raw stone; how could a mirror ever stay buried under rust? What matters is skill, learning, faith, and inner worth, for rank and riches come and go.

I heard from elders with their sweet talk that once, in this city, there lived an old man. He had seen many kings, many ages, many rulers; he had lived a lifetime, from the days of old. This ancient tree bore fresh fruit: a young beauty for whom the whole city was famous. How strange, that dimple on his chin, that charmer; for an apple never grew on a cypress. Because the young man was mischievous and cutting toward people, someone thought it best to shave his head. With a razor, an old man of short-lived hopes turned that head as white as the hand of Moses. The sharpness of that iron-hearted man made him mock the fairy-faced boy's flaw. For the little hair he had trimmed from that beauty, they suddenly shoved that man's head into his belly. Like a harp bowed low in shame, the beautiful boy hung his head, his hair fallen before him. There was one whose heart was given to the boy, as troubled as his beloved's captivating eyes. Someone told him: you have tasted his cruelty and pain; stop chasing this futile desire. Turn your back on his love, as a moth would, for the scissors have snuffed out the candle of his beauty. A cry rose from the loyal, quick-tongued lover: the shallow are the ones whose vows run thin. A son should be good-natured and handsome; let his ignorant father go ahead and shave off his hair. My soul is woven into his love; my heart never hung on a single hair. If you have a lovely face, do not grieve, for if the hair falls out, it will grow again. The vine does not always give fresh clusters; sometimes it sheds its leaves, sometimes it bears fruit. When the great fall behind a veil, like the sun, the envious go out like embers dropped in water. The sun slowly emerges from under the cloud, and the ember dies in the water. Do not fear the darkness, my worthy friend, for it may be that the water of life lies within it. Did the world not find rest after its turmoil? Did Saadi not travel until he found his wish? Do not burn your heart with thoughts of disappointment; the night is pregnant with the day, my brother.