"There is philosophy in donkeys"

Sufis sure like to teach by allegories and funny stories. I noticed that quite a few of the most resonant ones for me are about donkeys, which is intrinsically funny. So here they are.

Nasrudin was trotting his donkey in all directions one day. Someone asked him: “Where are you going, Nasrudin?” He said, “I am looking for my donkey!”

I think this one is very accessible to Westerners. It is possible to go out into the world looking for something that is actually inside of you, which may sound like a platitude, but is very real. For example, if you’re looking to the world to give you permission to start liking yourself, you’re going to be waiting for a long time, because self-love is something that should be given with no strings attached and no conditions. You already have your donkey, it’s not out there waiting to be found. There is a deeper esoteric sense here too: Sufis say they can’t teach you anything you don’t already know, the highest truth being something that is already present inside everyone.

Profiting by the immense reputation which Sufis have as teachers of special insight, a group of robbers settled in an abandoned monastery on a highway, pretending to be Sufi dervishes. Nasrudin and his small son were traveling on a long journey when they were espied by a lookout man among the robbers. They immediately started to carry out a rhythmic dance, with a great deal of noise. As they approached, Nasrudin said to his son: “Night will fall soon, and this seems to be a monastery of advanced dervishes. Let us seek their hospitality.” The false dervishes welcomed them heartily, and even asked the Mulla to join their special exercises. These took the form of a rapid circular movement, with the repetition of phrases which were changed from time to time by the leader. Presently Nasrudin was whirling with the best of them, taking up the repetitious cries and in a near-hysterical frame of mind. Now the leader of the “dervishes” started to call: “I give you my donkey! I give you my donkey!” Obediently, Nasrudin echoed the refrain, and the tempo was increased until he fell unconscious. When he awoke with the dawn, Nasrudin found the robbers – and the donkey – gone. “I thought I left you in charge of the animal!” he roared at his son. “Yes, Father. But when one of the dervishes came and took the donkey I ran to you, and you were shouting ‘I give you my donkey!’ so often and in front of so many witnesses that I realized that you had given him away.”

This is such a delightful story, robbers pretending to be mystics. Robbers, being wise in the ways of the world, understand very well the dynamics of most spiritual communities, where members give their ‘donkey’ away to the leader or community. But what is giving your ‘donkey’ away? It would be ceding your own power and intuition away to that of another. Who doesn’t feel that temptation at times? Life can feel so overwhelming, it would be nice to hand it off to someone else to sort it all out, when you feel your resources have failed you. But you’re in so much trouble if you give away your donkey…

Nasrudin had so much against his donkey that the obvious thing to do was to sell it and get another one. So he went to the marketplace, found the auctioneer, and gave him the donkey to sell. When the animal came up for sale, the Mulla was standing by. “And the next lot,” shouted the auctioneer, “is this superb, unequalled, wonderful donkey. Who will start the bidding at five gold pieces?” “Only five for a donkey?” Nasrudin was impressed. So he started the bidding. As the price mounted higher and higher, with the auctioneer singing the praises of the donkey at every bid, Nasrudin became more and more anxious to buy. The bidding finally settled down to a duel between the Mulla and a farmer. At forty gold pieces it was knocked down to Nasrudin. He paid the auctioneer his commission of one third, took his share of the money as the seller; then he took possession of the donkey as the buyer. The donkey was worth perhaps twenty gold pieces. So he was out of pocket: but he had bought a donkey of whose merits, as he now realized, he had been ignorant until they had been so glowingly portrayed by the town auctioneer. “I never miss a bargain,” said Nasrudin to himself, as he walked home with his prize.

I didn’t even intend for this one to be part of this essay, but then I came across it when I was searching for ‘donkey’, and I realized I get it now. We don’t evaluate objectively what we already have. Routine and familiarity cause many features of things to fade into the background and become essentially white noise. I think this happens more to positive attributes of things, possibly due to the hedonic treadmill, possibly it is that we have a need for a certain amount of novelty, and if we stop injecting novelty into our life, we become dissatisfied with it and the things in it, even if really, it’s going quite well, or as well as it could.

Speaking of needs.

A cruel neighbor wanted to borrow Nasrudin’s donkey. “I’ll have to ask his permission,” said the Mulla. “All right, go and ask him.” Nasrudin soon came back from the stable. “I am sorry, he is endowed with prescience, and says that the future does not augur well for your relationship with him,” he told the man. “What does he see in the future then?” “I asked him. He simply said: ‘Long journeys and short meals, sore bones and scuffed knees.’”

I remember when I first came across this one, I completely drew a blank, I didn’t have the slightest idea what could be the teaching here. But I get it now: I am both the donkey and the cruel neighbor. The cruel neighbor is the ego, with its regal designs, called the Commanding Self in Islam and Sufism, the part of the being that sits as tyrant over the the other parts and the whole of the being. To escape from the Commanding Self is one of the goals of every spiritual path. The ego can be a very cruel master, neglecting everything in pursuit of the latest arbitrary goal it has concocted, in my case, getting a girlfriend. That’s cringe, and yet, I think I’ve been neglectful of myself in pursuit of that, resting too little.

Another thing there is that maybe we don’t really understand what our donkey needs. Something else I’ve seen sufis say elsewhere is that it’s important to have taken care of all your lower needs before being ready for higher studies. For example, they say it’s possible to show up to a teacher, looking for teaching, but in reality, you haven’t satisfied your social needs for that day, and will be treating the encounter as an opportunity to socialize, closing off the possibility of learning anything. They say it would’ve been better to go to a party before going to the teacher, in that case…

Another important need is the need to rest, which is something distinct from sleeping, and also something I think I’ve been neglecting.

Nasrudin was riding along one day when his donkey took fright at something in its path and started to bolt. As he sped past them at an unaccustomed pace some countrymen called out: “Where are you going, O Nasrudin, so fast?” “Don’t ask me,” shouted the Mulla, “ask my donkey!”

It’s so easy to lose control of oneself. You get triggered into thinking you need to do everything quickly, losing any sense of patience.

There’s also getting triggered in general, a thought leading to an unpleasant emotion, that then leads to more thoughts that reinforce the emotion. The whole process can be stopped simply by slowing down. I don’t know how universal this is, but at a first glance, most people are not contemplative at all, so it’s possible they stand to gain a lot simply by slowing down, both their actions and their thoughts.

I like this approach of representing the self, both more surface layers and deeper ones, as an animal, something you can’t communicate with that well, but that nevertheless, it is possible to understand, as opposed to something you have imperial control of, understanding it fully and making it go like a machine. Also, that this self is a very valuable thing, you need to respect it, treat it well, and never denigrate it, and especially, never give it away.

P. S. All stories taken from Idries Shah’s The Pleasantries of the Incredible Mulla Nasrudin.

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