The Soul: An Exploration through Intuition and Epistemology

When asked what the Soul is, the Messenger ﷺ received revelation wherein the response was, “And they ask you, [O Muḥammad], about the soul. Say, ‘The soul is of the affair of my Lord. And you have not been given of knowledge except a little.’”¹ Knowledge of the matter rests with God alone, but speculation has been performed still by Theologians and Philosophers alike across our history, both regarding what the Soul is, and having some greater agreement on what the functions thereof are. What remains relatively unexplored but contains much relevance still to this discourse may be listed as follows:

1. The Soul, intuition, and epistemology.
2. The Occult as it pertains to and extends from spirits, Intellects, and magic. A different faculty of the Soul requires elaboration, hence a different piece being dedicated thereto which intertwines the other two aforementioned subjects.
3. Symbology and dreams. Symbology intertwines with the Occult as well, but since the realm of dreams will be more relevant to the discourse, symbology will be present in both discussions, bringing forth a synthesis from a litany of traditions, including Ṣūfism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Shintoism, Taoism, and beyond.
4. Language, Ontology, and the traversal of modernity.
5. The Fiṭrah, ethics, and law seen from an interdisciplinary perspective. 

All of the aforementioned are based fundamentally on the Soul and its faculties. Ethical understandings are by and large intuitive, although affected nonetheless by society and derived from Revelation and Law, with Law being subservient to the field of Ethics by and large. Meanings in language find themselves being comprehended likewise via intuitive faculties; and magic as well finds itself tracing back to the Soul as it pertains to its faculties in the Occult. Aside from the first which is to be dissected here, the latter will be explored in succeeding pieces, thereby yielding a greater synthetic project when holistically treated. Thus, it is only appropriate to initiate with a discussion on the Soul given that for all it is the substratum, touching on epistemology, the Philosophy of Science, to some degree, kashf, and metaphysics.

The term dīn is not understood in the Islāmic Tradition as the term “religion” is throughout Western religious history, but rather carries four primary significations: (1) indebtedness; (2) submissiveness; (3) judicious power;² (4) natural inclination or tendency.

The verb dāna, which derives from the term dīn, conveys the meaning of being indebted. A dāʾin, one in debt, finds himself subjected to the ordinances governing debts and to the creditor himself. Etymologically, the term dīn is related to the name al-Dayyān, carrying the connotations of judgeship, which Ibn Manẓūr classifies as a Divine Name, placing it alongside al-Qahhār—“the Compeller”—which has also been said to be one of the meanings. The name al-Qahhār enters the picture given that one may be bound or compelled to pay a debt, although judgments may likewise be merciful and the debt may be paid on behalf of the indebted should he be unable. It is for this that the yawm al-dīn refers to the Day of Recompense—the Day in which all affairs shall be laid bare, and all debts or incurrences shall be paid. 

Ibn Manẓūr proceeds to offer a broader view still by mentioning that the term encompasses more—ruler (sulṭān), piety (waraʿ), rage (qahr), sin (maʿṣiyyah), obedience (ṭāʿah)—thus shedding more light on why the disbelievers have likewise been described as being on their own dīn, rather than a “religion” as is understood in the contemporary sense. Ibn al-Aʿrabī said, “A man is indebted when he is exalted, indebted when humiliated, indebted when he obeys, indebted when he disobeys, indebted when he commits good or evil, and indebted when he incurs debt—and this is a disease.”²

These affairs between the debtor and the creditor presuppose judgments, which are in turn carried out in organized societies and cities, denoted by mudun or madāʾin. The existence of a set of laws must further be predicated on a manner of acting consistently with what is reflected therein, thus embracing a mode of acting that is considered natural with regard thereto. Such signifies the final implication derived from the term dīn: one’s natural tendency, or fiṭrah. And with the fiṭrah ties that which has a special significance in both epistemology and daily conduct—that which is resorted to for general deductions where one has to transcend mere reason: intuition.

By intuition, one is not necessarily referring to a mere “feeling” or how the term may be colloquially understood. If we are to take a recourse to epistemology, it must be that a portion of knowledge is intuitive, and another acquisitional. A part, in other words, must be based upon a priori knowledge—knowledge that imposes itself on the mind without any deductive process —and the other must require ponderance, and will therefore be a posteriori. Such is in tandem with what al-Juwaynī writes, thus inadvertently refuting the Lockean conception of the tabula rasa—blank slate—for man is not born as a blank slate, but is possessive of certain bases upon which knowledge may build itself. If it were not so, there remain two possibilities: all knowledge is either intuitive or acquired.

The first requires little clarification, and the latter leads to Meno’s Paradox, which proposes that if one is aware of what he is seeking or wishes to know, inquiries are unnecessary. On the other hand, if he is unaware, it is impossible for him to inquire about it, as he does not know what to inquire to begin with.

But this presents a reductionistically dichotomous view of knowledge. It is true that we acquire knowledge about things and may likewise see that whatever we come to know is based upon what we had known prior. Following this pattern, a chain is formed which binds itself to axioms. At any moment in time, therefore, we do not lack knowledge in absolute terms so as to be rendered unable to learn, although such would be the natural conclusion were we to deny axioms. Knowledge may only arise on the basis of some previous knowledge, and so there must be a primary cognitive point that does not depend on any previous learning—and this is what is intimately tied in with both intuition and is separate from it, intuition itself being an epistemic source.

Intuition is not merely knowledge that subsists in our nature, but may also be defined as a synthesis of reason and experience, and the intuition that an individual may have with regard to reality or certain aspects thereof would be dependent upon his experience, existing knowledge, and capacity, all of which may be strengthened. A scientist, given that it is his profession to explore the natural world, may be able to develop his intuition regarding certain aspects of reality rather than the entirety of reality itself, which is only open to those who are able to attain the highest spiritual stations. In the case of the latter, they are not as limited in their spiritual vision as the common man, although with regard to the Divine Essence, neither logical definitions nor intuition is sufficient to acquire knowledge of what It truly is, as Iṣfahānī indicates in his commentary of al-Bayḍāwī’s work.³

Intuition ties into conception or apprehension (taṣawwur) in another form. As Ibn Sīnā writes in his Ishārāt, apprehension is of three types, and may be defined as follows: “To perceive a thing is to have its quiddity represented (mutamaththila) in the perceiver, by which the thing is perceived in him [i.e. the knower intuitively perceiving it].” The first level is one in which the senses come into contact with the object of apprehension and there is no degree of abstraction. In the second, the object may still be imagined, but it is no longer present to the senses. In the third, it is the quiddity itself that may be perceived by the intellect, and such makes the object intelligible in its entirety. This, once again, intertwines with the discussion on intuition, as the cognition of the quiddity of an object is a gift that is given to man, and not one that the base intellect is capable of grasping, for as Jüng echoes, one may, empirically, gain insight into greater and greater aspects of a certain thing, but there will always be deeper levels to uncover.

Such is the case with existence itself. It has separate degrees (marātib), all of which are manifestations of the Ultimate Truth. God, being the necessary existence, is the Absolute Truth and there is no regard in which he is relative or relatively true. The Divine Essence is held at the highest level as, for one, all else flows from it, and two, the Platonists and the Ṣūfīs held on to a certain version of Divine Simplicity. The latter did not deny the Divine Attributes, given their adherence to general Ashʿarism or Māturīdism—since metaphysics follows theology and is intertwined with it—but rather placed in on a level other than the Essence, stating that they are images thereof. The Essence, on its own level, may not be separated from Existence itself, for existence is an attribute which, for created things, is superadded to the essence of the thing, whilst the Divine Essence itself must remain unqualified—it is pure Being—which is why Platonists often say that God is beyond being as “being” itself is a qualification, hence unattributable.⁴

As knowledge pertains to different modes of being, so does cognition occur in different forms and stages in the heart for which the Qurʾān employs different terms—ṣadr, qalb, fuʾād, and lubb—all of which are connected in some form to the aforementioned layers of existence. Socrates’s quadripartite division is similar to al-Tirmidhī’s, beginning with imagining, which is to apprehend reality in its lowest form; it is succeeded by belief, which is deeper; following belief is thought, which is the locus of gnosis; and the layer of cognition that apprehends reality in its deepest form is intellection.⁵ The diagram below elucidates some of the relationships.⁶

Hegel makes a similar note, writing, “Pure being is the unity into which pure knowing withdraws.”⁷ Hegel’s system begins with pure philosophical thought and culminates in the Absolute, although the relationship here, as is the case with Platonism, is bidirectional, and likewise is the case with knowledge: it is not only meaning that arrives at the Soul, but the Soul likewise arrives at meaning. Marx indicates that the beginning, in Hegelian dialectics, is pure speculative thought and the culmination is Absolute Knowledge. The Philosophic Mind is the estranged mind of the world thinking of its own self-estrangement. The Abstract Mind is the self-objectification of the Philosophic Mind, and the external layer thereof is connected to Nature.⁸ Wealth and state power, for example, to Hegel as Marx interprets him, are concepts which are thought-entities that man is estranged from. Such, in turn, is estranged from pure philosophical thinking, which is in turn an estrangement of the Absolute. Evidently, there is a matter of culmination here, and a bidirectional relationship that portrays both an estrangement of the Absolute as well as the strife towards it—both of which appear in and constitute a central theme of Akbarian and Neoplatonist strands of thought.⁹ The latter, in their categorizations of the degrees of existence, have very similar classifications. But what is particularly interesting and shows the center of Philosophy and human thinking is the common factor: the strife for the Absolute. The Neoplatonists and Akbarians see the phenomenal world and formulate a hierarchy culminating in the Divine Essence in its unrestricted form, foregoing all determinations. The Positivists, particularly the post-Positivists, despite their denial of such and reliance on hyper-empiricism, note that we must aim for objectivity despite receiving probabilistic results. The search for the Absolute is embedded into the human soul, and this is an aspect of the fiṭrah binding man.

Realities have both a rational and a suprarational aspect, the rational being the one that may be grasped by reason—hence their evidentiary nature which hardly has any opposition that does not in some form partake in sophistry—insofar as it concerns the material and mental realities of the thing. Their spiritual realities, or the very objective realities of things are ones that must be tasted, for they descend upon man as gifts from God. Al-Aṭṭās writes,((Syed Naqīb al-Aṭṭās, Prolegomena to the Metaphysics of Islam.))

With regard to intuition, and at the normal level of human consciousness, the higher levels to which great men of science and learning attain, in the moments of their decisive discoveries of laws and principles that govern the world of nature, are levels commensurate with the training, discipline, and development of their powers of reasoning and experiential capacities, and with the specific problems that confront them to which reason and experience are unable to give coherent meaning. The arrival at the meaning is through intuition, for it is intuition that synthesizes what reason and experience each sees separately without being able to combine into a coherent whole. Intuition comes to a man when he is prepared for it; when his reason and experience are trained and disciplined to receive and to interpret it. But whereas the levels of intuition to which rational and empirical methods might lead refer only to specific aspects of the nature of reality, and not to the whole of it, the levels of intuition at the higher levels of human consciousness to which prophets and saints attain give direct insight into the nature of reality as a whole.

All knowledge finds itself imprinted upon the Soul. This includes what power the Soul itself contains to cause influence in the outer world—a concept not to be divorced from an occasionalist framework—or what relevance the pre-modern ideas of the four humors may grant us regarding the Occult and how they all ultimately intertwine with the Soul, as well as how the Soul comprehends symbols, interprets or understands dreams which are rife with symbolism, has a grasp over language which, aside from ontology and semantics, are likewise a medium via which symbols are conveyed. The heart is a faculty thereof, of which intuition is a faculty. The understanding of spiritual realities, therefore, is not divorced from our understanding of material realities, for should we consider a deeper layer of the heart, as al-Ḥakīm al-Tirmidhī indicates, the outermost layer, the ṣadr, is responsible for apprehending external, superficial realities, while their indications and symbols are apprehended by deeper layers, a discussion on which will follow. However, that knowledge is imprinted upon the Soul, as al-Aṭṭās notes when elucidating upon his understanding of the Akbarian framework, is reminiscent of Plato’s own understanding of knowledge being a matter of recollection rather than acquisition.

The Soul is the unifier of all these faculties—of the mind (ʿaql) which is a faculty of the heart (qalb), and the latter finds itself a part of the Soul. The Soul, further, may be subdivided into two types, both subject to the Spirit (rūḥ), although for the purposes of this discourse the terms nafs and rūḥ have been used interchangeably, although in precise terms the former would be used to refer to the Soul—which has a dual nature—and the latter to the Spirit, which is the unifying substratum. Man, in being, is both body and spirit, remnants of two different worlds conjoined into one, although even in this division, there are differences. Jalāl al-Dīn al-Dawānī, for example, holds that man is his Soul (nafs) alone, with the body being an appendage or an addition, rather than an integral part of what makes him insān.¹⁰ Some noted that it is a physical substance, whilst Dawānī and Suhwrawardī differed and held that “it is a spiritual substance that flows upon the heart, grants it life, and provides it with the instrument of cognition via which perfection of the organ is attained and the holder becomes a gnostic thereby. He attains knowledge of the realities of creation, and returns to the Plane of the Angels wherein he attains perfection in his angelic nature and happiness without end—and this is the School of the Philosophers (ḥukamāʾ), the Scholars of [gnosis] and metaphysics (al-ʿulamāʾ al-rabbāniyyah), and the men of unveiling (aṣḥāb al-mukāshafah) for they witnessed their own spiritual substances in their separations, beginnings, and the moments in which they were filled by Divine light.”¹¹ Separate from the substance from which the body is built, the body being physical, it does not extinguish after death, but persists.¹² The falāsifa in general leaned towards this view, citing that there is a distinction, citing that the body is one thing and the Soul another.¹³ The Soul (nafs), as Ibn Sīnā writes, the Soul “is a spiritual substance which flows upon the heart and grants it the ability to perfect itself until it attains recognition of its Lord and inner realities.”¹⁴

Al-Aṭṭās likely derives his conception of the Soul from Ibn Sīnā and lays out the correlation between the different aspects in the following:¹⁵

Ibn Sīnā divides the Soul into three categories which both affect and govern the physical and have their own subcategories. The first, or the vegetative soul (nafs al-ṭabīʿiyyah), is connected to the members of the body. The conceptions are not only metaphysical but physical. The relation of the rūḥ to the nafs is as the relationship between form and matter as the terms appear in Aristotle. The vegetative soul governs nutrition and growth of the members of the body, beginning from the “middle.” Clearly, the physical, mental, and spiritual faculties of man are intimately tied, with one affecting the other. The spiritual therefore may not be separated from the physical and the mental, and this may be seen from advice often issued in taṣawwuf literature to abstain from food and to eat it in controlled manners so that the body and the heart may be focused on worship. In moments of melancholy, advice is issued both from a spiritual perspective to cater thereto, but wisdoms behind trials, general or particular, are also discussed so as to allow one to garner mental fortitude and strength.

Ibn Sīnā proceeds to discuss the animal soul (nafs al-ḥayawāniyyah) which begins from the heart and is connected to the arteries present in the body. Its strength is influenced by the vegetative soul, with the organs working in tandem in that the weakness of one affects another. The final is the Contemplative Soul (nafs al-mudabbarah). The sensory soul whose origin is the brain, it is further subdivided into three categories:

1. Governing the body: this Soul, originating in the brain, is responsible for such.
2. Governing the Senses (nafs al-mushtarakah).
3. Governing the rational faculties. This has its own subdivisions:
   • Contemplative faculties that grasp the forms of things, distinguish between good and evil, truth from falsehood, benefits and detriments, and others.
   • Imaginative faculties which contemplate things momentarily absent from perception.¹⁶
   • Faculty of memory: preserves what is perceived by the five senses.¹⁷

The greatest of these is the nafs al-mudabbarah. Quṭb al-Dīn al-Maṣrī, however, raises some further insights in light of those who challenge his ideas from an Aristotelian paradigm, writing that Al-Rāzī, in his seminal Maṭālib, uses the terms rūḥ and nafs somewhat interchangeably. Where Ibn Sīnā thus refers to this aspect of the Soul, or this particular Soul itself, as the nafs al-mudabbarah, al-Rāzī employs rūḥ al-mudabbarah whilst discussing different conceptions of the Soul, beginning not with the rūḥ or the nafs, but with “I” (anā), referring to the self. He writes that the majority believe that it is a physical, perceptible element, whereas others hold different views, forming a total of eight:

1. That it is a mixture of the four humors.
2. That it is the pure blood flowing through man’s arteries.
3. It is the lighter body circulating within the physical body, spreading into the oil, fat, marrow, and brain, holding sensations and movements—this was the view of Ibn Rāwandī.
4. It is the vaporous part, carrying the body’s physical actions.
5. It is the substratum that may not be further subdivided, and this is the saying of Ibn Rāwandī.
6. It is the part derived from the Soul, which reaches the brain where thought and remembrance reside.
7. It is the firm part, composed of elements that survive and disintegrate, enduring from the beginning of life until its end.
8. It is a fundamental component of the main organs.¹⁸

He cites that the Ancients concurred that it is a substance existing within the body as a constituent, but is not a body itself. It is rather associated with the physical body via organization, thus indicating once again the spiritual nature of the organ as well as how much it governs. Al-Ghazālī, as al-Rāzī cites, held this view as well, as did the Ṣūfīs, mystics, and Abū Sahl al-Nawbakhtī.¹⁹

The eminent theologian proceeds to discuss Souls as they pertain to other beings as well and gives insight into certain faculties they may contain. He cites the view of those who opine that the existence of Souls is connected to celestial spheres, insofar as they or their powers may be manipulated for ends otherwise nomically impossible to obtain, the orbits of planets, controlling the oceans (or perhaps harnessing some form of power from them) and the mountains, and agriculture, as was the view of those who specialized in the occult and talismans. (He discusses notions about the Soul and the Occult in some detail in al-Sirr al-Maktūm when writing about the faculties of the Soul and how they are used for influence upon the phenomenal world.)

He writes that it has likewise come from Prophetic reports as well, noting one wherein the Messenger ﷺ said, “The Angel of War came to me, as did the Angel of Rain and the Angel of the Seas.” What is interesting is that al-Rāzī proceeds to mention that this is also the view held by the People of kashf and waḥī, and since there is no evidence to contradict this view, it grants their position credence, thus shedding a different form of light on the epistemic value of kashf—in some cases, when there is no explicit or even implicit affirmation of the contrary, or valuable evidence from an opposing side, one could without blame lean towards conclusions arrived at via unveiling.

He continues to discuss the Souls of the Devils and the Jinn, writing that there are those from them who possess good Souls, and these are the believers from the Jinn. There is a difference naturally still between the Jinn and the Angels, given that the latter have “heavenly” bodies (al-ajsām al-samāwiyyah), and Jinn to transient ones (al-ajsām al-fāniyyah), from whom may arise those who are evil. For man, however, somewhat of a different perception is proposed.

The physical, as is seen once again for man, is intertwined with the mental and spiritual, with the contemplative soul reigning supreme. Contemplation and intellection set man apart from other beings, man being a rational animal (al-ḥayawān al-nāṭiqah). From another facet, the “rational soul” and the “animal soul” carry different connotations. The latter, for example, as has been elaborated upon, is the locus of carnal desires which, unlike the Christian conception, Islām does not shun. However, carnality may still have manifestations which call to be disavowed and rejected. Eating, drinking, and copulation are natural desires in man but they may have good or evil consequences or manifestations—just or unjust, rather. Justice, in the Islāmic conception, refers to the placement of a thing in its proper place, and thus man commits a just and highly commendable act when his foods and drinks are directed towards his self-preservation and, even more importantly, appreciating a blessing for which he may be grateful to God. Gluttony, however, is not among the acts appreciated by the dīn, and such applies for extremities in general, the other end of which may be self-imposed starvation as a means of attaining “closeness” to God, notwithstanding the recommendations that the Ṣūfīs give, in controlled amounts, of keeping an eye over what one consumes so food does not distract him from his goals or prevent him from it in any form.

Copulation, on a similar note, is inherently neither condemnable nor commendable, but the action may lean towards either depending on the individual or the manner in which the action is carried out. If done so with one who is permissible, whilst avoiding impermissible acts, the action becomes praiseworthy. In this frame, acts do not only have a physical or a superficial framework, but is imbued with metaphysical importance as well, and besides reports of rewards or sins being associated with what is being performed, there are cases, as mentioned by Ibn al-Qayyim, of some Ṣūfīs attaining illumination as well during the act of intercourse.²⁰ (It partly sheds light on why there are certain ṭuruq, such as the Mevlevis, which call for particular dances (raqṣ), and others, alongside the Mevlevis, which utilize particular musical instruments or movements, the intention being the induction of a state of “drunkenness via physical movements or entering into an environment which is conducive for the focus needed.) Al-Ghazālī’s refusal to condemn sexual desire or anger stems from similar ideas, as they are merely aspects of human nature, and man’s nature itself is not deserving of condemnation.

This is where the contention lies between the Aristotelians, as interpreted by Quṭb al-Dīn al-Maṣrī, and the one laid forth by al-Ghazālī and Ibn al-Qayyim, as it ties in with the Soul. The Aristotelians held, al-Maṣrī writes, that “Vegetative Soul is the one responsible for rest, reproduction, and nutrition alone, whereas the Animal Soul in essence differs from its Vegetative counterpart insofar as it superadds thereon animalistic actions (afʿāl al-ḥayawāniyyah); and the Vegetative Soul and the Animal Soul likewise are superadditions to the Rational Soul (nafs al-nāṭiqah).”²¹ While this may be a matter reducible to semantic differences, the implications are interesting to note still, for there may be a slight alienation due to differences in categorizations. While Aristotle himself may not have held to the notion of sexual acts being ones to be inherently refrained from, the notion has seeped into certain groups from later generations.

Now that the Soul, from a foundational perspective has been sufficiently discussed, it is important to discuss some epistemic points as well as intuition, which is what the other subjects in question will be founded upon. Unveiling (kashf) as it is found in Ṣūfism provides a decent leeway into initiating the discourse.

It is a strengthening—a climax—in the intuitive faculty which finds its locus in the heart, as well as the objects of knowledge gained through sound reports, deliberation, and the sense faculties, and is therefore naturally present in all and is the primary tool used for knowledge-based endeavors. Epistemically, however, in public discourse, such discussions as they appear in metaphysical works that are more inclined towards tasting (dhawq) such carry little value, since they may well be opposed to discursive reasoning. One is in no shape or form bound by statements made in a state of intoxication as the Ṣūfīs may attain, for such is outside the realm of what rationalist discourse. Rationally, these would yield odd conclusions, firstly; and, secondly, unveiling leads to contradictory or perplexing ideas for those experiencing them. It is why a distinction is drawn to begin with between the sharīʿa and the ḥaqīqah, the latter being attained upon perfection of the former and only through the former. Thus, arguments made against the sharīʿa on the basis of kashf to invalidate what is known in the Religion by necessity (al-maʿlūm min al-dīn bi-l-ḍarūrah), or even issues on which there are differences, contribute little, although some rulings are infused with spiritual reasons as subsidiary justifications or primary influences. A famous example lies with the luminary Abū Ḥanīfa who is said to have experienced a moment of kashf when he considered the water used by another for ablution impure, for in the state of illumination he saw the sins of the one who doused his hands therein contaminating it. Abū Yūsuf followed him in this regard, and was cited by Ibn Ḥazm as an odd instance.²² Abū Ḥanīfa is reported to have changed his opinion after he supplicated and had these visions taken away, but this reported change likewise sheds light on the epistemic factor: public discourse must find its basis in what is apparent. Al-Taftāzānī cites Suhrawardī to that effect who held that kashf may not always be a source of knowledge in public discourse and a guarantor of certitude.²³ Nor do ascetic practices necessarily bring about such results, as al-Rāzī writes. Al-Ghazālī, although like other Ṣūfīs does hold asceticism in high regard, is in agreement with Rāzī’s view, and adds that whilst this may be a means by which God may be perceived,²⁴ it is likely still that one may be led astray by odd practices should he be detached and not grounded in the Sharīʿa first and foremost, for the attainment of the ḥaqīqah must be preceded by a perfection of the Sharīʿa.²⁵ Ibn al-Jawzī, along these lines, criticizes the usage of weak reports, for there had been many who had tormented themselves, not giving their families or their own selves the rights possessed due to some fabricated saying attributed to the Messenger ﷺ.²⁶

Scholars typically hold the same views when it concerns matters of ḥadīth when it concerns methods of verification. Al-Ṭabarānī, for instance, asked the Prophet in a dream and found the answer therein regarding a report he intended to grade. ʿAbd al-Wahhāb al-Shaʿrānī also cites Ibn ʿArabī to this effect, writing, “Shaykh Muḥyī al-Dīn said, ‘We have verified many narrations via kashf and found thereafter in the works of the [ḥadīth] masters that they were in fact authentic. However, prior to kashf, we had no knowledge of their veracity. Thus, the correct kashf does not bring from the Lawgiver except that which is accurate.’”²⁷ Al-Shaʿrānī also proceeds to cite some mystics, although he does not specify whom, who had noted that they did not believe that the Angels had particular traits that were nobler than those of humans until they had received knowledge of such in their dreams from the Prophet.²⁸

However, once again, while personally this may be an intriguing form of justification or influence, in the wider sphere to muḥaddithīn, it would carry little weight, as it would to generic discourse. This raises problems with Setia’s assumptions regarding the Aṭṭāsian model for an Islāmic Philosophy of Science,²⁹ wherein he argues for an intuition-based model over any other. While spiritual intuition may undoubtedly be in cases underlaid by truth, there is no guarantee that such, for one, will be bestowed upon even one who diligently pursues such; and two, even if it is given that there is agreement that all mystics experience the same truth, there is no guarantee that they will be elaborated upon in the same language, let alone one in which non-practitioners may understand, as Harvey identifies and critiques,³⁰ although there is an additional point to be indicated that Aṭṭās’s model does not necessarily reduce all to intuitive thinking or unveiling as may be understood. Rather, Aṭṭās proposes what encompasses matters on a broader level and situates the Philosophy of Science as a Philosophy not intended as the pursuit of facts but rather the truth as it pertains to reality itself. This is important to keep in mind as one engages with Aṭṭās’s views, for otherwise misinterpretations readily arise although Aṭṭās himself would not claim that Taftāzānī would propose a Philosophy of Science similar to a model he is pitting his own against, for “feelings” and ilhām are neither fundamental nor decisive in yielding knowledge in this context.

An intriguing case appears in Ibn Sīnā and his treatment of intuition, which he refers to as ḥads. In his conception it is the mind’s ability to know the middle term in a logical syllogism without significant effort. Mullā Ṣadrā, on the other hand, “presents it as an exceptional faculty of the soul, which connects it to the ‘Sacred Angelic world.’ This establishes a direct link between the intuitive perception of primary intelligibles and receiving light and blessings from the Angelic world.”³¹

As such, al-Ḥasan al-Yūsī, the 17th Century Moroccan scholar and one of the most important figures in the rational sciences (ʿaqliyyāt) in later times, advises that one should not reveal what he witnesses in such states, as they may only sow the seeds of chaos amongst the masses or those who had not witnessed it—and indeed, such has been the case with many readings of the works of the gnostics wherein readers attempted to analyze some realities rationally when what was being described was not necessarily esotericism in the same sense as it is perpetuated by the esotericists (bāṭiniyyah), since the Religion is not esoteric. On the contrary, one may easily discover refutations of the esotericists or of those who try to reduce fundamental matters thereto, Abū Ḥāmid al-Ghazālī being at the forefront of such. As a matter of fact he is an intriguing figure to mention in this discussion, since, as both a theologian (mutakallim) and a Ṣūfī, he has works delving into both kalām, Ṣufism, and Ṣūfī metaphysics, the latter of which may be well exemplified by Mishkāt al-Anwār in which he is seen clearly with suprarational leanings. He clarifies as well, however, due to the aforementioned reasons, that these tastes or their experiences may not be described by the tongue; they remain accessible to only those who have had the same experiences, echoing the statement of the Companion Abū Hurayrah when he declared that he had only shared a part of his knowledge—as for the other part, he would rather have his throat slit than share it.

Ibn ʿArabī’s metaphysical system, as is known, is based on a henological model rather than one on multiplicity. In other words, the ontology subsists in a unifying principle. For things to be coherently perceptible, they must not only consist of manifolds only, as any arbitrary proliferation of properties would never yield a coherent object to be grasped. A tree may serve as an example here, in that colors and shapes do not magically become a tree, but are rather subjected to a “tree” as a unifying principle, and it is by virtue thereof that we may comprehend what we witness—otherwise we are left discrete properties and yet nothing to make them intelligible. This point leads us further to the epistemic discussion on kashf, in that, in its higher forms, one does not witness accidents or empirical matters that yield multiplicities or other potential incoherences, but rather realities are seen for what they are, and man finds himself in abstraction, being able to grasp the essences of things and their metaphysical realities, and this is the proper form of unveiling that man may be gifted with. As al-Aṭṭās writes, “At this level the rational has merged with the intellectual, and the empirical with what pertains to authentic spiritual experiences such as ‘inner witnessing’ (shuhūd), ‘tasting’ (dhawq), ‘presence’ (ḥuḍūr) and other interrelated states of trans-empirical awareness (aḥwāl). At this level knowledge means ‘unification’ (tawḥīd) of the soul with the very Truth that underlies all meaning. Here the soul not only understands, but knows reality and truth by real and direct experience. Real and direct experience consists in ‘union’ of the knower and the known.”³² Aṭṭās continues,³²

He sees with a spiritual vision as if it were by ocular vision all Multiplicity gathered together into Unity. In other words, he sees the ‘perishing’ of all phenomena and the ‘remaining’ of the Reality underlying them. Now in the final ‘unveiling’, he ‘witnesses’ the single, unified Reality again taking the myriad forms of the phenomenal world without Itself becoming multiple. He sees with a spiritual vision the Unity individuating Itself into Multiplicity without impairing Its original Unity, and yet ‘connecting’ or ‘relating’ the Multiplicity with Itself in such wise that, although the Unity takes on the forms of Multiplicity, It still distinguishes Itself from the latter and remains always in Its original nature. In other words, he sees the inner articulations of the Unity, in which the Unity is neither joined to nor separate from the Multiplicity, and which goes on in continuous operation. This continuous operation of Unity articulating Itself into Multiplicity and back again into Unity as witnessed by the spiritual adept is called the ‘gathering of gathering’ (jamʿ al-jamʿ). In this state, which is no longer the same state as the previously experienced fanà’ but the final stage of it, the man realizes his true selfhood and ‘subsists’ in God (baqāʾ) His experience of fanāʾ al-fanāʾ  is what the masters of spiritual experience and discernment call ‘absorption’ (istighrāq). In his experience of the ‘gathering’ and then, after utter oblivion (istighrāq), the ‘gathering of gathering’, God, out of His favor and bounty has revealed to him, as it were, a fragmentary vision of the continuous operation of His self-manifestations and determinations and particularizations that appear as the forms of the sensible world.

Strife with the intention of kashf in mind yields little, however. Kashf is meant to be a gift from the Divine to His servants. Like knowledge, it is a gift that He places in the hearts of whomever He wills, through which the servant is able to grasp higher abiding realities and is not restricted to the mere senses or even the lower faculties of the heart. But it must also be noted that things, even with senses and as may be understood mentally, have some evidentiary realities, and this line is where a distinction must be drawn between theological and metaphysical discourses, particularly as the latter pertains to Ṣūfī metaphysics and there may well be overlapping and intertwining points between the two fields. As such, the realities of things, theologically and on an epistemic level that does not transcend to what is clearly given as a Divine gift, are evident and subject to the laws of reason and such evaluations, whilst higher metaphysical realities are suprarational in nature and do not have impacts on a rational framework which intends to tackle lower realities. 

Carrying on from the brief digression, if recounting visions of unveiling, which may come in a few forms, does not lead to any discord, then it is urged to recount them in great detail. The Messenger ﷺ said, “Whoever has a vision, let him recount it.” As Abū-l-Mahdī al-Daghdūghī urged, “Do not hide from your brethren the miracles that you witness, for recounting these leads them to love obeying Exalted God.”³³ Al-Yūsī echoes the same opinion centuries later.³⁴

Al-Yūsī adds that these experiences may be shared with those able to understand them, i.e. those who have had similar experiences for they may provide some greater guidance. In some cases, they are not, for kashf on occasion may yield misleading information, or the one experiencing it may well misunderstand what he is witnessing in his state of intoxication. “One has no power to choose, much as one has no power to choose in the case of sleep.” Speech, in this stage, is particularly what is to be wary of, given both odd writings—as they may once again appear with Ibn ʿArabī, although disagreements may be had with him even in evidently “sober” discourse and poetry. Abū Madyan al-Tilmisānī expresses this sentiment in his verses:

When intoxicated are we, as are our minds,
We sip the wine of the lover, and our inhibitions unwind.
Blame not the drunkard for his drunkenness,
For in intoxication, no discernment do we harness.

As fascinated as some may be by such matters, often it leads one to err or be enticed by one who erringly made a statement which al-Yūsī warns against as it is entirely possible for Saints (awliyāʾ) to err in any regard. If erroneous remarks are particularly made in a state of unveiling, one may hardly hold them to account, and this is well-known, as al-Ghazālī writes in the Iḥyāʾ regarding those who delve in these practices or are known to be practitioners of divination, or what would superficially be considered “esoteric,” not to be conflated with the bāṭiniyyah or bātin-ism whose discussion has preceded. Acceptance of kasfhī realities are done so with the precondition that one has bought into the same epistemic and metaphysical framework as the gnostic discussing his visions—or any man who has experienced such—and considers him to be a true Saint (walī). Even then, however, problems may arise, as al-Yūsī had indicated.

At the same time, however, despite the lack of epistemic weight such may have in public discourse, it is not necessarily a reason to entirely undermine the concepts as a whole for the hints or ideas they nonetheless have to offer. When discussing an Akbarian or a Neoplatonist framework, it must be remembered, two facets are presupposed: a rational and a suprarational one, as was discussed previously with regard to realities. Al-Rāzī’s discourse in the Maṭālib regarding sense faculties is relevant here, wherein he writes that it may not be explained what sweetness or bitterness taste like, as these are not matters that may be described, but ones that must be grasped through experience. It is thus not a reason to hurl away every idea proposed or the system as a whole, but rather a problem to be identified with the notion of engaging in discursive reasoning with kashf or inspiration (ilhām) as the basis, with the awareness that they may enter intelligible discourse only when a rational framework is already presupposed—not when one is building a system from First Principles and other fundamental structures accessible to reason, despite the prominence still of intuition in being a faculty of the Soul, as well as having value in both personal and interpersonal epistemology.

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1. Qurʾān, 17:85. [↩]
2. Ibn Manẓūr, Lisān al-ʿArab, pg. 1467. [↩] [↩]
3. Edwin E. Calverley, James W. Pollock, Nature, Man and God in Medieval Islām: ʿAbd-Allāh al-Bayḍāwī’s Text Ṭawāliʿ al-Anwār min Maṭāliʿ al-Anẓār, Along With Maḥmūd Iṣfahānī’s Commentary, Maṭāliʿ al-Anẓār, pg. 745. [↩]
4. Eric Perl, Theophany. [↩]
5. Eric Perl, Thinking Being. [↩]
6. For a greater elaboration upon the relationships between the Socratic division and al-Tirmidhī’s, as well as how they all tie in with the different layers of existence, consult my article “Akbarian Metaphysics: A Brief Elaboration.”. [↩]
7. Hegel, Science of Logic. [↩]
8. Karl Marx, The Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts of 1844, pg. 174. [↩]
9. Karl Marx, The Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts of 1844, pg. 175. [↩]
10. Dr. Anwar Faraj ʿUlwānī al-Zaʿīrī, Jalāl al-Dīn al-Dawānī wa Ārāʾuhu al-Kalāmiyyah wa-Falsafiyyah wa-l-Ṣūfiyyah wa-l-Akhlāqiyyah, pg. 347. [↩]
11. Al-Dawānī, Makhṭūṭ Risālah fī ʿIlm al-Nafs. [↩]
12. Al-Dawānī, Makhṭūṭ Risālah fī ʿIlm al-Nafs. Also see al-Ṭūsī, Risālah fī Baqāʾ al-Nafs baʿd Fanāʾ al-Jasad. [↩]
13. Refer to Abū al-ʿAlāʾ al-Maʿrī’s (al-Irbilī) treatise on the Soul for further details. [↩]
14. Ibn Sīnā, Risālah fī Maʿrifah al-Nafs al-Bashariyyah. [↩]
15. Syed Naqīb al-Aṭṭās, Prolegomena to the Metaphysics of Islam, pg. 176. [↩]
16. See: the forms of existence in al-Aṭṭās’s Prolegomena or Lahhām’s work on ontology. [↩]
17. Ibn Sīnā, Khulāṣah al-Taʿbair fī-l-Ruʾyā, pp. 47-50. [↩]
18. Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī, al-Maṭālib al-ʿĀliyah, 7:36. [↩]
19. Dr. ʿAbd-Allāh Muḥammad Ismāʿīl, Dr. Muḥammad Ḍarghām, Talkhīṣ al-Maṭālib al-ʿĀliyyah, 2:369-370. [↩]
20. Ibn al-Qayyim, Madārij al-Sālikīn. [↩]
21. Fāris al-ʿAlāwī, al-Falsafah al-Ilāhiyyah baʿd Ibn Rushd, pp. 376-377. [↩]
22. Ibn Ḥazm, al-Muḥallā. [↩]
23. Al-Taftāzānī, Al-Farāʾid fī Ḥall Sharḥ al-ʿAqāʾid, pg. 150, DKI. [↩]
24. Binyamin Abrahamov, Faḫr al-Dīn al-Rāzī on the Knowability of God’s Essence and Attributes. [↩]
25. Aḥmad Zarrūq, Qawāʾid al-Taṣawwuf, pp. 1-2. [↩]
26. Ibn al-Jawzī, Kitāb al-Mawḍūʿāt, 1:32. For more, read Jonathan Brown’s Even If It’s Not True It’s True: Using Unreliable Ḥadīths in Sunni Islam. [↩]
27. ʿAbd al-Wahhāb al-Shaʿrānī, al-Manhak al-Muṭahhir li-l-Jism wa-l-Fuʾād, pg. 149, Dār al-Iḥsān. [↩]
28. ʿAbd al-Wahhāb al-Shaʿrānī, al-Manhak al-Muṭahhir li-l-Jism wa-l-Fuʾād, pg. 71-72, Dār al-Iḥsān. [↩]
29. Adi Setia, A-Attas’s Philosophy of Science: An Extended Outline. [↩]
30. Ramon Harvey, Islamic Theology and the Crisis of Contemporary Science: Naquib al-Attas’ “Metaphysical Critique” and a Husserlian Alternative. [↩]
31. Ibrahim Kalin, Knowledge in Later Islamic Philosophy: Mullā Ṣadrā on Existence, Intellect, and Intuition, pg. 154. [↩]
32. Syed Naqīb al-Aṭṭās, Prolegomena to the Metaphysics of Islam, pg. 183. [↩] [↩]
33. Al-Yūsī, The Discourses, pg. 174, NYU Press. [↩]
34. Al-Yūsī, al-Qānūn (Rabat: Matbaat Shalat al-Ribat, 1998), 177. [↩]
35. Al-Yūsī, al-Qānūn (Rabat: Matbaat Shalat al-Ribat, 1998), 176. [↩]
36. Al-Yūsī, al-Qānūn (Rabat: Matbaat Shalat al-Ribat, 1998), 179. [↩]