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Question:
Azeemi Sahib! what is meant by pattern of thought (tarz-e-fikr)?
Answer: Consider a person who does not wear glasses—what he sees is
direct and unmediated. Another person puts on tinted lenses; now, whatever he
sees is filtered through the medium of that lens. To elaborate further, if the
lens is red, everything will appear red; if blue, everything will appear blue.
Just as the human faculties and perception are inscribed upon the Loḥ Maḥfūẓ
(the Preserved Tablet), so too are the properties of glass and all its
potential inscribed therein. When one adopts a colored lens as a medium, one
sees only what the lens reveals.
This
analogy illuminates the concept of tarz-e-fikr. The laws governing
perception and tarz-e-fikr are one and the same. A tarz-e-fikr
may function directly or indirectly. One form of cognition operates through
intermediaries, while the other is immediate. If an individual adopts the tarz-e-fikr
of someone whose perception operates directly, then the former's inner vision
is shaped by that transmission—just as placing a tinted glass over the eyes
colors the entire field of vision. Spirituality, in its essence, is the process
of internalizing such a refined pattern of thought.
When
a child comes under the guidance of a teacher, the teacher instructs him to
learn alif, bā, jīm. At this stage, the child has no
knowledge of what alif, bā, jīm are. Yet, driven by his
state of ignorance (or lack of knowledge), he accepts whatever
the teacher imparts. However, if the child were to reject the learning of alif,
bā, jīm, he would not progress in acquiring knowledge. The
essence of this concept is that the child's lack of knowledge becomes
the very foundation upon which knowledge is built. As a disciple, he surrenders
to the teacher’s guidance, and through successive stages, he begins to learn
and comprehend. This process illustrates that lack of knowledge, in its
initial state, transforms into the stepping stones of wisdom, shaping the
disciple’s journey of learning.
A
person who possesses awareness and holds knowledge in various disciplines, yet
seeks to attain spiritual knowledge, occupies a position analogous to that of a
child. In the context of spirituality, the disciple is referred to as a mureed,
and the teacher as a murshid. If the mureed lacks the childlike
receptivity, he will fail to accept the guidance imparted by the murshid
in the same manner that a child readily accepts the teachings of alif, baa,
jeem (the alphabet). Given that, in the domain of spiritual wisdom, his
state mirrors that of a child, he must adopt a mindset akin to that of a child
learning the foundational elements of language.
The
spiritual teacher may instruct, “Close your eyes and sit.” He offers no
rationale. Just as a schoolteacher says, “Read: Alif,” without explaining its
ontology, the spiritual guide commands, “Contemplate the image of the Shaykh,”
without disclosing what this entails or why it is done. If, at the outset, the
disciple seeks to interpret or rationalize these instructions through the lens
of his existing knowledge, he disrupts the process. The true approach in
learning any science is to act upon the teacher’s command—assuming a posture of
unknowing.
A
well-known incident from the life of Imam Ghazālī (R.A) exemplifies this
principle. A preeminent scholar of his era, sought by erudite minds, Imam
Ghazālī once contemplated exploring the Sufi path. For years, he visited
spiritual circles and traveled extensively, but to no avail. One day, someone
asked him, “Have you met Abū Bakr Shiblī (R.A)?” Ghazālī replied that he had
met all notable Sufis and found them wanting—mere mythmakers, he thought. But
then he considered, “Why not meet Shiblī?”
According
to various accounts, Ghazālī embarked on this journey adorned in splendor,
riding a horse with a saddle said to be worth twenty thousand gold dinars.
Whether literal or not, it is known that he lived in grandeur. Upon arriving,
he found Shiblī mending his patchwork cloak in a mosque. Ghazālī stood silently
behind him. Without turning, Shiblī said, “Ghazālī, you’ve come—but you have
wasted much time. In Sharī‘ah, knowledge precedes action; in ṭarīqah,
action precedes knowledge. If you can accept this, stay; if not, return.”
Ghazālī replied, “I shall stay.”
Shiblī
instructed him to stand in a corner of the mosque. Later, he took him home,
where he treated him with great kindness. Ghazālī felt content, believing he
had found a master who offered both comfort and guidance.
But
after a few days, Shiblī said, “Now let us begin.” The first task: “Take this
sack of dates to the marketplace. Announce that whoever strikes you on the head
shall receive a date.” That evening, Ghazālī returned bruised. He asked how
long he would need to continue. “One year,” came the reply.
At
the end of the year, he reminded Shiblī. The reply: “One more year.” At the end
of two years: “Yet another year.” When the third year concluded, and Ghazālī no
longer inquired, Shiblī asked, “Hasn’t the year ended?” Ghazālī responded,
“Whether it has or hasn’t—what difference does it make?”
Shiblī
then declared, “Your work is complete.” He transferred to Ghazālī the knowledge
he had long sought. Ghazālī returned home in tattered clothing, carrying only a
rope and a bucket. The entire city came out to welcome him. Shocked at his
appearance, they asked, “What has become of you?” He replied, “By God, had I
not undergone this transformation, my entire life would have been wasted.”
This
confession from one of history’s greatest intellectuals is profound: “The
knowledge I acquired through three years of humiliation was the knowledge that
saved me.”
Had
Ghazālī, on his first day, asked for the rationale behind distributing dates
for blows to the head, he would have forfeited the transmission of that sacred
knowledge.
Such
is the dynamic between murād (spiritual guide) and murīd (the
seeker). As long as the disciple clings to ego and intellectual pride, he
cannot receive. When we recite the Kalima Ṭayyibah—Lā
ilāha illā Allāh—we first negate all deities and then affirm Allah.
Its
common interpretation is historical: that in the era of Huzoor (P.B.U.H.),
idolatry was prevalent, and thus “Lā ilāha” denied those false gods. But at a
deeper level, it signifies that we negate our own epistemological constructs of
God—we reject knowing Allah through the confines of our reason. Instead, we
affirm Allah as He defines Himself, through the message conveyed by Muhammad
(P.B.U.H.), His Messenger.
In
short, we begin by negating knowledge—negating the self. And in the
annihilation of self, what remains is Allah alone.
Whenever
we adopt anything truly, it begins with the transformation of tarz-e-fikr.
If spirituality were to be described in a single phrase, it would be a
reformation of the pattern of thought. Since the average person is
unfamiliar with the principles for establishing such a pattern, he must seek a
person whose vision is unmediated, whose tarz-e-fikr operates from
direct knowledge.
Khwaja Shamsuddin Azeemi
Nearly three decades ago, the esteemed spiritual scholar and blessed guide, Khwaja Shamsuddin Azeemi (R.A), inaugurated a mission of public service with the objective of liberating humanity from afflictions, psychological distress, and physical ailments. For ten years, he remained in contemplative retreat, silently advancing this sacred commitment to the service of creation (khidmat-e-khalq). As the hearts of the people began turning toward him, he employed the medium of mass communication. In 1969, this initiative was formally introduced to the public through newspapers and spiritual journals. According to conservative estimates, through written correspondence and face-to-face interaction—particularly via national publications and the Roohani Digest—Hazrat Azeemi has extended spiritual guidance and healing to over 1.4 million men and women, addressing intricate personal crises and intractable medical conditions. Today, it is not uncommon that wherever a few individuals gather, and a seemingly insoluble dilemma or incurable illness is mentioned, someone inevitably suggests: “Establish contact with Azeemi Sahib—the matter will be resolved.”
Through the grace of Allah the Almighty, the spiritual affinity with the Prophet (P.B.U.H), and the continued beneficence of the blessed guide, four volumes of Roohani Daak (Spiritual Correspondence) have now been compiled. The first volume is hereby presented to you for contemplation and benefit.
