by T.L. James of Mars Blog and Man of Two Worlds, who has moved and is rediscovering the joys of dial-up. Part of our weekly Sufi Wisdom series.
In Knowing How To Know, Idries Shah relates the tale of a king and his would-be portraitists:
Once upon a time, there was a king who desired his portrait painted.He was blind in one eye.
The King invited the three greatest royal portraitists in the world to paint his picture, saying: 'If you do a bad portrait, I shall punish you; but if you do a good one, I shall reward you beyond your dreams.'
The first painter produced a picture which showed the King's eye to be blind. The King had him executed for disrespect.
The second painter showed the King's eyes as perfect. The King had him thrashed for falsification.
The third painter, however, pictured the King in profile, showing only his good eye.
This man was made the official portraitist, and heaped with gold and honours.
The story, of course, can be read many different ways -- the King can be judged as both wise and vain; his differing reactions to the portraits can represent the natural reactions to the manner in which higher knowledge is presented; the three portraitists can represent three contrasting modes of philosophical thought, or three different expressions of greed; the King's half-blindness can be read as a metaphor, as can the portrait itself.
What lessons does this story paint for you?








Beware of kings! ;-)
"why lie when you can just omit."
In the land of the half-blind king, the half-blind king is king.
Focus on what works and what is beneficial, and ignore what is broken.
It was a trick, Ha Ha Ha!!
The wily artist actually only painted HALF a portrait, and because the king was (like most of 'em) half-stupid as well as half blind, he never sussed the con.
Idris Shah left out the other part of this tale. The king had promised not 'great treasures' but some land -two acres of prime grazing land in fact.
When the painter came to claim his land the nasty old royal said "I never promised you anything!"
"Yes you did" said pee-d off artist, "You said I could have two acres"
"Oh, that promise" said the royal skinflint, "Okay, -come hither and I'll give you two acres."
The artist warily approached,
-And the king booted him in the nuts...
Are we being exhorted to tell the truth but circumspectly?
Are we being exhorted to know what we are looking for, seize it, and be willing to pay for it?
Are we painters or are we we kings? Or should we just know that there are painters and kings?
Some hilarious responses here. Dave, Sufis do place very strong emphasis on telling the truth in a way (and to a degree) that each listener can understand. Their memorable stories, containing multiple levels of meaning that reveal different facets to those with different levels of understanding, are one example of practices that flow naturally from this priority.
It's good advice. For instance, if I sent you back to Europe before the Black Plague, and people started dying around you, and you told them to keep cats and kill rats - you'd either be burned as a witch/sorcerer, or greeted with complete bafflement and mistrust. What the hell does A have to do with B?
The key to telling the truth to those who cannot fully see "the King" (and is G-d not frequently represented in this way - or in Jewish parlance, "the king of the kings of kings"?) is not to mislead people, because that can create very damaging systems and beliefs. More important, untruths like that are offensive before G-d - the heavenly king will punish you.
And yet, one cannot tell the whole truth as one sees it, because of the limits of communicating higher knowledge to those without the right foundations of understanding. You could end up like al-Hallaj - punished by earthly kings and unable to help anyone.
Hence the portrait painted by those with higher knowledge, explaining as much as they can to their audiences but never lying to them. They do so in the certain knowledge that by walking this delicate line, those who truly love the subject will in time grasp the whole properly when the King is met at last face to face.
Continuing his recent pattern of synchronicity with our Sufi Wisdom series, Rabbi Lazer Brody has a post that speaks to this last point
Always tell the truth, but tell no more of it than you must.
Seems to me it's a lesson in spin-doctoring and plausible deniability. :)
The painter should have been an impressionist. He would have portraid the King in sutch light that the king could have invented his own interpretation of his own features. The lesson is, don't be too keen on details. Let the details be lost in the mass of interpretation. Then, you may get to appeal to all public.
The same goes to all things.
Too mutch details destoys the general effect.
Francois.