With regard to my personal circumstances and corporeal existence, it is obvious that I am going to have to close the book on my bachelorhood and all talk of youthful passions. Only then will I be able to use marriage as a way of guiding my desires and passionate urges in the right direction so as to earn the approval of the Prophet. In this matter as in others, my model the Prophet (whom I have seen in dreams on more than one occasion) tells me, "Marriage is my custom. Whoever admires my modes of conduct, let him follow my custom." So, once I have fulfilled to the maximum extent the obligation of investigating my beloved, let my marriage be with God's blessing and in accordance with the Prophet's custom. It is Al-Amash* who transmits the saying "Any wedding undertaken without preliminary investigation will end in pain and grief." I also followed the advice given by the most exalted of prophets to lovers when he says, "Let none of you have sex with his wife like some animal. Instead let there be a messenger between the couple." The Prophet was asked what he meant by the word messenger. "A kiss," he replied, "and sweet, tender words." My model and example, what wonderful words those are! May it all happen as you recommend. In treating the woman who lifts me up and entrances me have I behaved in a way that is any different from what you suggest, my most reliable source-text?
Permissible actions are intended to be modes of both diversion and recreation: what a wonderfully foundational principle that is in my own faith community, one that shies away from tedium and encourages enjoyment and good company! With that in mind, the prospect of marriage and its alleged pitfalls cannot scare me, particularly when God has guided me to an honorable woman who is possessed of both beauty and determination, someone who deserves a partner who is sound in both body and mind.
I happened to notice the book The Attractions of Assemblies, by the Spanish writer Ibn al al-Sanhaji, but soon came to realize that his chapters devoted to ultimate abstraction and total asceticism no longer suited my personal situation; either that, or else they were more appropriate for an age group other than my own. I glanced at another book, Ibn Qasi's* The Removal of Sandals, and took another close look at the linkage of this Portuguese Sufi with Ibn al-'Arif and the influence that the latter had on him, something that led him to rebel against the Almoravids along with a group of his devotees. Assuming that God will grant me enough time and prepare the proper circumstances, I will question the Sufis and engage with their writings in order to distill to the extent possible the ideas of their great mentor, Ibn Masarra.* He was born in Cordoba and lived in the mountains nearby; a renowned Mu'tazili Batini Platonist Sufi, his two major works, The Book of Forebearance and The Book of Letters, are both lost (all we have of them is a number of short extracts cited in works on annalistic history and biography).
These thoughts and impressions emerged as a product of my reading, and I duly recorded them at the time, with the idea of returning to them at some point in the future and reorganizing them with a view to further study and publication.
I recalled that my copy of The Removal of Sandals was one that Amr of Cordoba had given me, but in a very poor edition. That brought to mind the question as to what would happen to him and my other students in Spain. Even though I had long since attributed the complete lack of news about them to their many preoccupations and the disasters of this era of ours, I still felt strangely depressed. At the same time I forced myself to suppress the notion that, with my forthcoming marriage, my own fortunes were on the rise while his were continually beset by misfortune.
I spent the remainder of the evening washing and praying without eating any dinner, then lay down on my bed and warded off sleep by reading selected parts of The Great Book of Songs by Abu al-Faraj al-Isfahani.* I must have read a great deal, because, when I woke up the next morning, I found the page open at "the story of `Umar with the girls who were staring at him through a hole in the tent."
I found myself wanting to visit the baths more than ever before, so I made my way there early to avoid the crush and noise. The masseur welcomed me and, as was his habit, selected a medium-warm spot, brought over a bucket of hot water and other things I would need, and started rubbing and pounding my joints with his usual skill. Once the sweat had poured off me and my muscles and tendons felt duly refreshed, he left me to relax on my back and wished me health and well-being.
It is amazing how tiny moths of drowsiness start fluttering over my eyelids just a few moments after such a massage. The way I keep them at bay is by pouring water over my face so as to keep myself awake and alert. Between one round of water and another, I get the anxious feeling of someone who needs to keep his mind concentrating and not let his body relax too much so that he'll doze off and fall asleep. In this case, however, no such problem arose; I had something much better in mind. I made use of my wakefulness to recall absent friends and loved ones, after which I put my dreams in order, categorized them, and filed away my musings and findings. It became completely obvious to me that the person whose presence towered over the top of all these elements was none other than the lady with whom, with God's will and help, I would soon be living. Once enfolded in her companionship and tender care I would be able to forget the ordeal that the loss of my valuable manuscript had caused me.
I allowed my mind to wander into contemplation of having her close as my life companion and spending time together, all of which seemed to augur well for our future. I came to see my marriage to her, and indeed to her alone with no other wives, as being a symbol and pledge of a deep-rooted commitment on my part to enter the phase of all-comprehensive monotheism. This marriage would bring together the aspirations of my flesh and body by providing a release from the excessive variety of ways I had used to fumble my way around the thighs and embraces of various women. Fed jointly by Fayha' and knowledge, I would inevitably be destined to substitute profundity for superficiality and grain for chaff. The partial can only be known through the totality, the branch only through contact with the root. The sheer validity of what is possible in creation lies in its attainment of the Necessary Existent, which draws all existing things toward the one who is God alone…
My daydreams or sleep were interrupted by a noise from outside. I was aware of the masseur leaning over in my direction and asking my permission in his Maghribi dialect to wash me down. Pointing to my back, I sat down and asked him what all the fuss was about. He told me that the owner of the baths had refused to allow three lunatics to enter the baths, his idea being to prevent any trouble or disturbance. With that, he left me and went out in a hurry. I did not set eyes on him again until I had taken my spot in the lounge room, where I was able to pay him his fee and listen in on the heated conversation between the bath owner and the lunatics. They were claiming that, like everyone else, they had a right to bathe themselves with hot water, while the owner kept telling them that entry to the bath was restricted to people who were sane. The entire amazing conversation revolved around definitions of who was sane and who was a lunatic, and what the differences between the two might be. When things reached the point of threatening gestures with sandals and clenched fists, the masseur came over to me and asked my opinion on the subject of the argument. I was presented to the assembled company as being someone who was able to make authoritative decisions, besides my being a person of piety and devotion. They all accepted my arbitration in the matter.