Attar's Conference of the Birds, Part 2

Leyla: salām, Omid jān.

Omid: salām, Leyla jān.

Leyla: Thank you for joining me for part two of our story from Conference of the Birds. So if we can begin, just giving a little recap of what happened in part one.

Omid: Of course. Yeah. In part one, we saw all the birds of the world come together, both the hidden and the visible. And they spoke together, saying that they need a king because when a country is or when a land runs without a king, there will be disorder and chaos. And there was some urgency to this desire. And they decided that if they can go together and help each other, they will find, hopefully, this king to rule over them and bring some order and chaos to their world. And after they set their mind and set their mission, one of the birds, the Hoopoe or “hodhod” in Persian, stepped forward and told the birds that she has been searching the world already and gone all over the place looking for this king. And she knows where the king is, which is beyond the mountain called “koohé ghāf,” which is a mythological mountain that exists at the edge of the visible or the known world. And she said there's definitely, our king definitely exists and lives beyond this mountain. But even though I know that, she says I have not been able to go and reach this king because I've been traveling alone. So the importance of the birds going together becomes also really, really key. But, where we left off is that Hoopoe is still talking, and is about to reveal who this king is that she has realized is their ultimate ruler.

Leyla: And before we move on, is “koohé ghāf,” does that come from the letter “ghāf”? Is that what it is?

Omid: I don't think it’s related. No, it's spelled out. Yeah, it’s spelled out. “ghāf,” “alef,” “fé,” so “koohé ghāf.”

Leyla: Okay, that's my question. So we continue with the speech of the hodhod.

Omid: Yes. So the hodhod continues and she says, “nāmé oo seemorgh, soltāné toyoor oo bé mā nazdeek ō mā z'oo door door” She says the name of this ruler or king is Simorgh. Simorgh is sovereign over all the birds, “soltān.” He is close to us, but we are far, far from Him. This is really one of the great paradoxes of the poem, right? The Simorgh is introduced and immediately the description is that Simorgh is much nearer to the birds than the birds are to Simorgh. And how does that make any logical sense? It doesn't, obviously, right. Two things are usually equidistant from each other in the world that we are aware of. But the implication here is that the distance is not really physical or geographical, but really it's a distance in awareness. Right? That the Simorgh is very close to the birds in terms of... He knows about the birds, He’s very aware of the birds, whereas the birds don't have the same awareness. So they are in effect far, far away from the Simorgh. And so we can also then start to think that this is a journey of heightening one's awareness, or expanding one's consciousness in a way, as they say. And I love, again, this repetition here of the word “door”. It says "mā z'oo door door," 'we are very far, far, far away from Him'. We have, again, a lot of repetitions like that. We have “kam kam,” “āhesté āhesté” and so on. So “door,” “door door,” or “door -”

Leyla: “yavāsh yavāsh”

Omid: “yavāsh yavāsh,” exactly, exactly! So to kind of emphasize what the idea is, in which case, you know, it's distance, emphasize the idea of distance. So as soon as hodhod introduces Simorgh, then she continues to kind of sing the praises and tell the birds more about Simorgh. She says, “een hamé āsāré son' az faré oo-st jomlé enmoodāré naghshé paré oo-st” She says all these forms of creation originate in His glory, in the glory of the Simorgh. They're all reflections. Everything that's out in this world is reflections of the patterns of the feathers of Simorgh. It's a really beautiful image. "son'" literally means 'craftsmanship'. Here, it stands for all of creation. So the idea is that all of creation is really a work of artistry. It's not like a manufactured world, but it's a world that is made through artistry and all of it is kind of traced back to Simorgh. So the verse is really hinting that Simorgh represents the source of all of creation. And the birds have never seen the Simorgh directly, but they're constantly surrounded by traces of this origin of the source entity called Simorgh. And so creation itself serves as a sign that points back to the source, towards Simorgh. And this is really, again, a central idea of mysticism, that everything around us in this physical world is a creation that comes from source itself. And so when we look at anything, when we look at a tree or a bird or a flower, when we contemplate enough, you know, traces will bring us back to the origin, the source that is the source of everything basically. So that's the idea. Oh, the other word I just wanted to touch upon in this verse is the word “naghsh,” which is very, very rich. It can mean a pattern, a design, an image, a reflection, sometimes even a role, like in the cinema or in the theater. But what it really, kind of, what it does here, it signifies that everything in creation has a part to play. Everything in creation is not only a reflection of the grand design of Simorgh, but also it has its own part in the world. Nothing is useless. Nothing is superfluous.

Leyla: Wow. Beautiful. Yeah, I was just going to say I have my chāi here and I'm listening to these words on a Monday afternoon, and there's nothing I would rather do. This is so fun. Thank you.

Omid: I’m so happy to hear that.

Leyla: I hope everyone is listening to this with their chāi. meechasbé, khaylee meechasbé right now.

Omid: nooshé jān, nooshé jān. I have my cold water because it’s rather hot here but I’m glad you’re enjoying your chāi.

Leyla: That’s nice too.

Omid: Alright. And so again the Hoopoe continues. She says, “gar neshān yābeem az oo kāree bovad varna bee oo zeestan āree bovad” “āree” means like a disgrace. So she says, if we find any trace of this Simorgh, this will be a true achievement - “kār.” It's like a truth, having done something really meaningful. Otherwise, "varna," living without the Simorgh will be a disgrace. So really the stakes are pretty high as the Hoopoe kind of sets them. So even finding a “neshān,” finding a little sign, a little trace of this magnificent source of everything would be enough to transform one's life. And often, Persian mysticism touches upon this idea that even a little glimpse of the divine, a little glimpse of our own true nature and of our source is something extraordinary that can really kind of shift us even after we have lived years and years and years a certain way, it'll start to shift and change our life. So a very important idea. And now, the Hoopoe starts telling them a little bit about what the journey is like, just to kind of touch upon what they can expect. She says, “bas ké khoshkee, bas ké daryā bar rah ast tā napendāree ké rāhee kootah ast” “kootah” is short for “kootāh.” She says ‘don't think, don’t imagine that this is going to be a short journey. That it’s going to be just a short little road. There's so much dry land, ”khoshkee,” or desert, and there's so many seas that are along the way’. They have to cross lots of land and lots of water on this long road to the Simorgh. “bas,” in modern Persian, we have expressions like “bas-é,” ‘that's enough.’ But in classical poetry, it’s often kind of an adverb that says the degree of something like ‘so much of something,’ ‘so many of something’. So here we have "bas ké khoshkee, bas ké daryā," 'so much dry land and so much water or sea is along the way'. We have a vision now of this very, very long path so that Attar can help us understand that this is not going to be a quick spiritual technique. It's not going to be like, okay, just meditate for five minutes and then you'll find your source or your true divine Simorgh. There's going to be some work involved and perhaps a little bit of endurance is needed.

Leyla: You did mention that that's kind of in poetry it says “bas ké” but I think we say that often in current conversation, right? “bas ké ghor zadee, khasté shodam”

Omid: Sure. That’s fair enough!

Leyla: I feel like I hear that a lot.

Omid: Perfect usage, perfect usage. Fair enough. Yeah, right, I love it. We won’t say who says that to you, or who you say that to. Just leave it at that. Fair enough, fair enough. 'But', the Hoopoe says "leek," "leek," which means 'but'. leek bā man gar shomā hamrah shaveed mahramé ān shāh ō ān dargah shaveed She says 'but, even though the road is long', last verse, 'but if you become my companions on this path’, again, the importance of going together, ‘you will become intimate of that King and of His court’. “mahram” here is really a key word. It means, usually we use it to mean somebody who's close, somebody who’s familiar. Right. Somebody that you kind of trust, and can divulge your secrets to. And by saying that the birds will become “mahram” of the King Simorgh and of His court, Attar is really saying that they can become intimate insiders. They'll be allowed to enter into the king's presence, into that hidden realm.

Leyla: They can remove their hijab when they see him.

Omid: I think that's a perfect analogy because almost literally, the idea is that there is a veil, right, that we all have in mysticism, and we are all “mahjoob;” we are all behind a ‘veil’, not literally the kind of veil that you wear in Islamic countries sometimes, but the kind of veil that keeps us from seeing what is true and what is deep and what is beyond the visible wall. And so, as you say, the idea is to remove that veil, and see who their true king is. Eventually be able to see Simorgh. And they can gain very deep and intimate awareness. That's really the idea of also being “mahram.”

Leyla: Right. For context, what I'm referring to, like when you are in Iran, for example, or in countries where there is hijab, you say like that person is nāmahram meaning that you do need to be covered in front of them. And then when someone is mahram, then you can remove that. That’s a common word.

Omid: Exactly. But here, much more metaphorically, is the idea of going beyond the veil that keeps us separate from seeing the truth, seeing the invisible, seeing the hidden world, and becoming very, very intimate with this true source of existence with this divine Simorgh, basically. And so the Hoopoe is promising the birds or indicating that if the birds all go together, along with the Hoopoe, they will come to the state of being “mahram” with the King, with Simorgh. So this, this speech and this introduction that the Hoopoe gives really moves the birds, right? Because Attar then says jomléyé morghān shodand ān jāygāh beegharār az ezzaté ān pādshāh “beegharār” means ‘restless’, ‘excited’. We use it a lot in common Persian. So he says all the birds in this place that they've gathered, they've now become restless. They’ve become very excited because they're moved by the glory, by the majesty of this King, of the Simorgh, as described to them by Hoopoe. And so what that does for them is, he says, "azmé rah kardand ō dar peesh āmadand āsheghé oo doshmané kheesh āmadand" This is very interesting. Another paradox. So let's see what it means. He says now they resolve, all the birds resolved to take the path, to go on this journey and they step forward. Right? Ready to go. And now he describes the bird as "āsheghé oo, doshmané kheesh." They’re in love with “oo,” here meaning the Simorgh, because they've heard this description and they've become very moved, but they also now become enemies of their own selves. And I think this is interesting to think about, to be the enemy of yourself. Right? Not literally, in a way, but really becoming willing to challenge your own notions of who you are. To challenge and maybe put aside your own longstanding habits, your own notions and beliefs and illusions. And that's really the true obstacle, right? Not the distance, literally, to the Simorgh, but really the attachment that we all have to what is familiar and especially to this familiar notion of who we are. So this is another clue to who the Simorgh is and what he represents. The more we fall in love with the Simorgh, the more we are eager to let go of our little ego and of who we think we are.

Leyla: Well, let's focus on that word “kheesh” a little bit. Can you say what “kheesh” is and what it represents?

Omid: Absolutely. “kheesh” essentially means ‘self’, “khod”, ultimately. And so “kheesh” literally has the notion of ‘myself’. But again, in the mystical kind of metaphorical sense, it is the notion of my ego self, who I am in my external self, who I believe I am, how people see me, how I want to present myself. All of those are notions of “kheesh.” We also say “ghom ō kheesh,” We have a lovely expression in Farsi, “ghom ō kheesh,” which means ‘your tribe’ and people that you consider as close to you as yourself. So “ghom” meaning your tribe and “kheesh” meaning yourself, or people that are really close to you, almost as you are to yourself. But here, it's really kind of that small self, that ego self that they have become enemies of, they are ready to put themselves on the line because they are now so in love with this idea of finding Simorgh. Yeah. Wonderful. He continues, he says "bord seemorgh az delé eeshān gharār eshgh dar jānān yekee shod sad hezār” Now he really shows us. Attar says the Simorgh took away from their heart any idea of “gharār,” any idea of staying put. In other words, the Simorgh made them very, very “beegharār,” very, very restless. But the key cause of this is “eshgh,” is the love that they feel for this beloved Simorgh. And this love, “yekee shod sad hezār.” If there was one piece of love or one degree of love in their heart, now it expands to become a hundred thousand. And of course, in Persian when we say something like 100,000, we just mean infinite. Something beyond even calculation. So the love that they have starts to expand so much based on this longing and this description that they hear of the Simorgh. And so that becomes the engine, the love of Simorgh becomes the engine that moves them to go forward.

Leyla: Wonderful. I think that's a good, that's a good stopping point, yes?

Omid: Perfect. Yeah. So now we're going to see hopefully next time how this journey begins and how this excitement carries into hopefully the beginning of the journey of the birds.

Leyla: Okay! And anything that we should be focusing on for next time? I think that the word “gharār,” we've seen “gharār” a couple of times. That was in the sixth line as well. So we talked about how, at that time, we said it was “beegharār.” So I think that’s important.

Omid: Yeah, the idea of “gharār” usually shows up in the story as “beegharār,” as losing your “gharār,” or losing your tendency to stay put and just be at rest, there's a movement here that I think is very, very crucial. Ultimately, it is a journey of the birds. So the movement is fueled by that love and by that “beegharāree,” by that sense of restlessness. So we can think of our own lives and also see what is it that makes us restless in a good way, not restless and anxious, but restless as in we can't wait to go towards it. We can't wait to go find it. “beegharār hasteem.”

Leyla: Wonderful. Okay, well, I'm “beegharār” for the next part, so we'll leave it at this part for now, and we'll be back with part three next time. khaylee mamnoon, Omid jān.

Omid: I'm looking forward. Merci. Thank you.

Leyla: Until next time.

Omid: khaylee mamnoon.