‘The Magic Monastery’ is the book in the Idries Shah corpus which is devoted to Understanding.
It contains little known insights into human psychology. ‘The absence of sadness may create bitterness’ is one.
We are told that a Sufi said, ‘none can understand man until he realises the connection between greed, obligement and impossibility,’ adding that you should never look for understanding through conundrums when you can attain it through experience. The student, who was the recipient of this piece of information, was later brought to a shop where robes were sold. His teacher expressed interest in one robe on display, but requested a similar one with sequins and fur. The shopkeeper added these adornments to the original garment only to be told by the Sufi teacher that he wanted both garments. Everyday life is full of similar situations.
Gaining understanding is not just about reading statements, remembering them, and applying what you have learned. It is also about developing and exercising the capacity to judge by inner reality rather than external appearances. This capacity is like a jewel, which is only seen as such when the dirt surrounding it has been removed. Fake jewels are created by applying layers of glittering substance to any surface at all. Reliance on opinions, and the conditioning to which we are all exposed in everyday life are examples of this glitter. General rules and hypothetical examples, we are told, block the understanding as often as they assist it.
Throughout the book are the answers to many questions. ‘Which statement should one choose if two Sufi statements contradict one another?’ ‘How is it possible to comprehend the teachings of the Masters when so much of their behaviour is paradoxical, and frequently so very ordinary?’ And, very directly, ‘What is the source of your teaching?’
In the Sufi teachers we see understanding at its fullest development. Ever sensitive to the needs and vulnerabilities of their students, beyond what we have have become accustomed to, they see teaching as charity ‘which must be given secretly for the reason that the public display of charity is bad for the giver, for the receiver and for the observer. Teaching is like a nutrition, and its effects are not visible at the time it is being given.’
The teacher is also like the nightingale, who when asked by the other birds in the forest why he was singing, said ‘I am trying to please you with my song.’ ‘That,’ he confided to another nightingale, ‘was an aim which they could understand.’