One day, a group of Sufis went to their shaykh to complain about one of their fellow darvishes. “Master, we need your help,” they pleaded. “Please save us from this man's company, for he'll soon put an end to us all.”
“What's your complaint, dear fellows?” asked the shaykh sympathetically.
“This chap is supposed to be a proper Sufi, but he suffers from three major character flaws,” one of the darvishes protested. “When he speaks, it's like a siren going off, loud and unremitting. When he eats, he polishes off the portions of twenty men! And when he sleeps, oh my God when he sleeps, it's as if he'll never wake up again!”
The shaykh listened to his students patiently and in due time called the unpopular man to his presence. He kindly advised him to change his ways and always adopt the middle path, never exaggerate in his behavior. The man listened to his spiritual master quietly, trying to grasp the essence of what he was being told. The master shaykh realized that this was a great opportunity to impart essential Sufi teachings, interweaving them with his advice.
“When people exaggerate, they eventually become ill,” said the shaykh with gravity. “One must always cooperate with one's fellow Sufis; otherwise, separation and alienation will result. With the masses, Moses always spoke just enough, but with close friends he elaborated his thoughts much more freely. Once when he rambled on a bit too long with the prophet Khidr, he was scolded and sent away, rebuked for having spoken far too much! If he wanted to stay in Khidr's company, he was told that he would have to remain mute and blind. Now, my good man, if you, too, continue with your excessive behavior, you'll ultimately alienate all your friends!”
The shaykh felt that his words were slowly penetrating the young Sufi's consciousness and decided to seize the moment and continue with his spiritual advice.
“You're still a young Sufi; choose your companions carefully. Find the ones who thirst for your words. Try to live like a naked man, without any embellishment or decoration. Seek the company of those who are free of these vanities, too. And if you can't completely strip naked, then at least lighten your load, remove your extra layers and adopt a balanced state of being.”
The young Sufi exclaimed his gratitude and paid his shaykh great courtesy, and then he asked permission to speak. “The middle path, my great shaykh, is relative,” he said. “The water in a shallow stream may seem hardly an obstacle to the camel, but to the mouse it's a vast and swollen sea. When someone has an appetite for four loaves of bread, he must consume at least two or three loaves. For someone who can only appease his hunger with ten loaves, he can perhaps manage with a minimum of six. I personally can easily eat fifty loaves of bread, so six loaves seem like nothing to me.
“One man may tire after saying ten prayers, but I've the stamina to recite, without a break, at least five hundred prayers. One person might be brave and selfless and give up his life willingly for a worthy cause, while another man will give up his life before submitting to part with a single loaf of bread!”
The young man fell silent and lowered his head respectfully before his shaykh. The shaykh, too, remained silent.
“Ah, and when it comes to sleep,” remembered the Sufi, “I may sleep for hours on end, but my heart is perpetually awake. One should be wary of those whose bodies are restless but whose hearts are chronically numb. My heart gazes into both worlds, and I can clearly see how many people get stuck in the mud while I glide over it with ease. I may be cohabiting with them on the earth, but I walk in the heavens.
“I've surpassed plain thoughts and have gone far beyond. As I take to the air, I leave mundane ruminations behind. It is I who choose to descend, so that these lame devotees of yours may benefit from my presence.”
He kissed the edge of his shaykh's robe, stepped away without showing his back to his master, and quietly walked out of the room.