Click here to listen to Taking Flight: The Conference off the Birds in the season 1 archives on buzzsprout
“These lofty words are an antidote for anyone sickened by extremism’s poison.” –Attar
The Conference of the Birds is an epic poem from the 12thcentury written by Sufi poet Farid ud Din Attar.
The story is an enduring source of insight and inspiration for truth seekers everywhere. Rumi, said, “Attar is the soul itself.”
If you want a story to speed you down the path to your fulfillment then let Attar be your teacher.
If you are feeling lost, beat down, angry, or despairing, let the story of these birds and their quest to find a king, guide you and lift you up.
“The way of love is not subtle argument.
The door there is devastation.
Birds make great sky-circles of their freedom.
How do they learn it?
They fall, and falling,
they’re given wings.”
–Rumi
Transcript of Taking Flight: The Conference of the Birds
Hello everyone, and welcome to Myth Matters, a bi-weekly podcast of storytelling and conversation about mythology, and why it’s important to our lives today. I’m your host and personal mythologist, Catherine Svehla. Thank you so much for joining me. Wherever you may be in this wide beautiful crazy world of ours, you are part of this story circle.
Birds!
Look at the troubles happening in our world!
Anarchy — discontent — upheaval!
Desperate fights over territory, water, and food!
Poisoned air! Unhappiness!
I fear we are lost. We must do something!
I’ve seen the world. I know many secrets.
Listen to me: I know of a king who has all the answers.
We must go and find him.
—-from The Conference of the Birds, translated by Peter Sis
Does this sound like the opening of the latest Disney movie? Or maybe a setup for the next installment from “The Avengers?” The description of the world and the yearning of the birds feels so apt for this present moment and yet, these are the opening lines from The Conference of the Birds, a Persian epic poem from the 12thcentury. That resonance between this time and those days centuries ago, draws me back to this beautiful story for insight in these difficult times.
The Conference of the Birds, also known as the Language, Speech, or Parliament of the Birds, was written by the Sufi Farid ud Din Attar. This is a story about some birds who make an arduous journey, and much, much more. Sufism is a mystical tradition within Islam and the Sufis developed practical methods, like the use of story and poetry, to unite with the Beloved, that is the soul of god, the Source.
The most popular portal into Sufism, in the West, is the poetry of Rumi. Attar, the author of The Conference of the Birds, lived about 200 years before Rumi. His poetry and practice later inspired Rumi, who said, “Attar is the soul itself.”
The Conference of the Birds has been told and translated many times over the years. In developing my version, the one that I’m going to share with you today, I consulted several translations of the poem. I’ll provide info and links in the transcript of this episode so you can track down the ones that investigated. For now, I invite you to hold this notion of translation in mind as you listen. Every translator brings him or herself to the work and what you’ll hear today reflects my perspective and need for the story.
In a similar way, you as the listener come to the story as an active interpreter, with the riches of your life experience, whether or not you have knowledge or interest in Sufism or consider yourself to be on a spiritual path. This is a gorgeous story and one that can take you in many different directions, to any number of realizations.
I’ll share a few of my thoughts about my current place in the story near the end of this podcast but for now ,simply relax and listen, and let yourself enter the story. Note the details that call to you or the questions that arise. They are clues for your own exploration into the place this story occupies in your life right now.
The Conference of the Birds
All of the birds of the world came together to discuss their need for a king. The Parrot and the Partridge, the Falcon, Quail, and Nightingale were there. The Peacock, Pheasant, Turtle-dove, Hummingbird, and Pigeon came. So did the Hawk, the Goldfinch, the Sparrow, the Heron, and the Hoopoe with a fanlike crest on her head.
The birds looked at each other and said, “Every country in the world has a king so why are we without one? We have many problems and confusion and a king would bring order and organization.” Some wondered if kings actually were a source of problems but before long the assembly began to speculate about where to find a king and how to attract him to lead them.
The Hoopoe listened for a while, then stood up and said, “The world is full of trouble and I agree that we need a king. I have traveled the world in service to King Solomon and seen many things. I have studied and uncovered a great secret. We have a king, a true king who has the answers that we need. Our leader is called Simurgh, the Great Bird, and lives on Mt. Kaf, in the mountain range that wraps around the earth. Our king is so close and yet far away from us, because we are far from Simorgh. Let us go at once and find the Great Bird. I know where to look.”
The birds were not convinced by the Hoopoe’s certainty or claims. Some thought that any king who lived far away was unlikely to understand the local conditions. Others thought such a king would be widely known. “How do we know this king exists,” asked one of the birds, and this question made its way through the crowd.
“There is proof,” said the Hoopoe. “See here is a drawing of one of the Great Bird’s magic feathers. It felt to the earth in China, late one moonless night, and those who found it knew immediately that it was something very special. Those who found it recorded the occurrence and I have brought this drawing to share with you.”
The birds got very excited at the prospect of having the Great Bird as king. They rose up impatient to be on the wing, but then they started thinking about the journey. They were aware of Mt. Kaf and the mountains that wrapped around the earth. They knew this was going to be a very long and difficult quest. Many had their doubts and fears about the endeavor. Suddenly their present situation didn’t seem quite so bad.
“I am a very passionate bird,” said the Nightingale. “with a deep knowledge of the mysteries of love. My soul is invaded daily by love and I sing of nothing else. I sit in my beloved rose bush, whose beauty, fragrance, and sweetness are unsurpassed, and compose new love songs all day to the splendor of the rose. What greater bliss could I find? The love of a rose is enough. You better go without me.” “Those blooms are fleeting,” said the Hoopoe, “and what of the thorns?”
“I already have a passionate quest too,” said the Partridge. “I sleep on stones and swallow gravel, searching for precious jewels. To yearn for something other than a jewel, to desire what dies, is foolish. My sorrows are many but I have no wish to fly. I’ll discover the precious gems that I seek or die trying.” “It seems these hard gems have hardened your heart, said the Hoopoe, “What are jewels but colored stones, much like pebbles?”
Duck said, “I am happy in water! All that lives depends on pure water and it is my home, my sanctuary, my sole concern. I already have it all. Why should I leave it to cross dry earth?” “You say that you value pure water but is your life as pure?” asked the Hoopoe. “There is plenty of water where we are going.”
“I also love water,” said the Heron. “I am devoted to the sea and can’t imagine leaving it, even though it is so salty that I cannot drink a single drop of it. I must stay along the lonely shore.” “The character of your beloved sea changes by the moment,” said the Hoopoe, “The calm never lasts. Do you think it can return your loyalty?”
Hawk said, “I already have a master and am well trained to do important work. My eyes are hooded but I perch on my sovereign’s wrist and we share the joys of the hunt. I’m not sure that I need another king, even if he is the Great Bird.” “Your king is not a true king,” said the Hoopoe, “only a man with a crown who thinks that he rules. “If you like following orders then follow me and see if what you have is enough.”
Sparrow came forward, trembling in her feathers. “I am small and frail,” she said, “I lack the strength for such an arduous journey. I don’t want to begin something that I know I cannot finish and what you propose is beyond the ability of a bird like me.” “Do you always quit before you begin?” asked the Hoopoe.
Like Sparrow, Finch claimed to be too weak. Parrot said that he felt safe at home, where food and water were regularly provided for him in exchange for a few words. “I am in a cage,” he admitted, “but my routine is secure.” Peacock said that he had no need of adventure or self-improvement because he was already special enough. “Look at my colors,” he boasted and spread his glorious tail. “Come show your colors to the rest of the world,” the Hoopoe said, “and expand your bird brain.”
The Hoopoe had an answer to every question and obstacle the birds proposed but they were still hesitant. “How can you let petty problems and fear stand in your way?” the Hoopoe asked. “You have to admit,” the birds said, “Just look at us! We are a flimsy crew. Success in this quest would be a miracle.” “The journey will require a lion’s heart,” said the Hoopoe, “You are bigger and stronger than you know.”
“You understand more about this Great Bird than we do,” they said. “Maybe it would be easier for us to commit if we had a better sense of our relationship to the king. How do we know the Great Bird will agree to be our king?” “You want to know the outcome of the journey before you even take to the sky,” said the Hoopoe, “and that is impossible. But I can tell you this, the Great Bird cast a thousand shadows on the first flight across the earth, and these shadows became every type of bird. If you look into your heart, you will see this image.”
This revelation inspired the birds and they decided to follow the Hoopoe on the quest for the Great Bird. When they took flight there were so many birds in the sky that they filled every corner of the world. The words of the Hoopoe gave them a sense of the ancient mysteries and the nature of their king. Still, their fears were not completely put to rest. “We are weak and feeble,” they said to the Hoopoe, “concerned about food and water and rest and the length of the journey ahead. What will sustain us?” “Love loves difficult things” said the Hoopoe, and led them up above the clouds.
The birds followed the Hoopoe but they continued to make excuses to her and pass them among themselves. I am too weak, too full of faults, too ruled by my bodily desires some said. Too vain, too greedy, addicted to pleasure and comfort, devoted to my mate, afraid of death. Too cynical, too depressed. “How much farther do we have to go?” they asked the Hoopoe. “Will there be food there? What if the Great Bird is not there? What if he doesn’t want to be our king?”
As they flew along, some of the birds started to feel strong and determined and firm in their ability to succeed. “I don’t know about the rest of you,” said one, “but I am very spiritual. I am very dedicated to personal growth and quite aware. I am familiar with lack, just and good, with a steady practice and some measure of wisdom already.” The Hoopoe listened to these confident birds and said, “There is no substitute for the journey, no preparation or lack thereof is a guarantee of success or failure. Fly on.”
Some of the birds spoke of weakness, illness, and complained of bad luck. “My life has been misery since I was born and nothing has gone my way, not the simplest plan has been realized and yet here I am,” said one of them. “What vain hope to think that I’ll make it.” “Do you think that you’re the only who suffers, struggles, and is disappointed?” the Hoopoe asked. “Are you that special? Troubles are part of every life. What differs is the attitude with which pain is met.”
The birds flapped, fluttered, and soared, casting huge shadows on the earth below. “You said that the journey is long and arduous,” they said to the Hoopoe, “can you tell us anything else?” “We have seven valleys to cross before we reach Mt. Kaf and the Great Bird,” answered the Hoopoe. “Every one of the valleys will pose its own challenges and no one who has ever crossed them all has returned to the world.” The Hoopoe told them about the seven valleys and when some of the birds heard what was ahead, they died right there and fell from the sky. But many continued.
The first valley was the Valley of the Quest. Here the seeker must learn that only the quest matters. Everything that you hold dear must be abandoned and left behind, all obsessions and dogmas surrendered to emptiness. Great efforts must be made and this can take years, but when you have crossed the Valley of the Quest, all belief and unbelief will be gone.
The birds reached this valley and settled in for the night. At dawn they rose to fly.
The second valley was the Valley of Love. Here the seeker must abandon all reason and rationales and become one with the burning fire that is love, the love that lifts you up and pulls you down, the love that consumes all it engulfs. If you stay lukewarm, doubtful, and uncommitted, you will never know it or speak that language. If you look at things with the ordinary eyes of reason, you will never understand the necessity of love. When darkness fell, some of the birds quietly slipped away rather than cross.
The third valley was the Valley of Understanding. The birds were confused, lost, flying a pathless path over a distance that cannot be measured. There were so many roads; one for each pilgrim who is meant to follow it. No bird can ever know the secret route traveled by another. Worldly knowledge was useless here. Those who crossed discovered that true knowledge comes to those who can stay awake. When insight arrives, don’t rest there. Fly on.
There was no time now, no beginning or end. Only flying.
The fourth valley was the Valley of Detachment. Here curiosity and desire fade away. There is no desire to possess or wish to discover. Nothing old or new has value. Good and bad have no meaning. A tiny fish is mightier than a whale. The solid earth is shifting grains of sand. You can act or not.
“Don’t even think of stopping here birds,” said the Hoopoe.
The fifth valley was the Valley of Unity. Every thing is broken into pieces and then revealed to be whole. Duality disappears. Although there seem to be many beings, there is only one. One being and one fate. One neck by one collar bound.
The sixth valley was the Valley of Astonishment and Bewilderment. Here you can be overcome by sadness and despair. Do you exist or not? What is real? Is the pain real? Your heart is empty and yet full of love. You doubt what you remember or where you’ve been and the purpose of your quest. Have you journeyed long or just begun? You doubt your doubt. Is there anything other than the fullness, or the emptiness, of love?
When the birds flew over this valley it disappeared below them. One of the birds said, “We should go back.” “There is no such thing as ‘back,’” said the Hoopoe, “there is only a circle.” She reminded them of the Phoenix, who sets herself on fire and rises, born again, weeping, from her own ashes. Again and again.
The seventh valley was the Valley of Deprivation and Death. The essence of this valley is forgetfulness, and what is forgotten is your specific existence. Whoever becomes a drop in the immense ocean of being understands the paradox of existence and non-existence. There is nothing here. Nothing but the mystery, and who can describe it?
Think of the moth, drawn to the flame. The moth that comes close enough to see the light can tell others what he has seen. The moth that draws close enough to the candle to feel the heat can tell her story. But the moth intoxicated with love, that completely embraces the flame and unites with it, understands and can tell no one what has been learned.
There can be no description of all that the birds suffered. Many abandoned the quest or fell along the way, beaten by hunger, thirst, exhaustion, or fear. Those that remained rejoiced when they reached the end of the seventh valley. “Where is that king with all the answers,” they said, “We’ve crossed the seven valleys so let us see him.” “What valleys,” said the Hoopoe. “Those were illusions my friends. Now our quest begins.” When they heard this, some birds lost all hope and died. Some kept flying.
Mt. Kaf appeared in the distance. The group was small now only thirty birds, exhausted and broken. They flew on empty of intention, will, or mind and reached the mountain. A door opened in the mountain and a voice said “Birds, who are you and why have you come?” “We have come to acknowledge the Great Bird as our King,” they replied. “We have come a long way and suffered from heat and cold, hunger and thirst, fear and exhaustion. We’ve fallen ill or been preyed upon by wild beasts. Many multitudes of us have fallen. Of thousands upon thousands, only thirty of us remain. Surely the Great Bird will greet us with kindness.”
“You are nothing but a handful of earth,” said the voice, “This king that you seek governs in a glory that you can’t conceive. Go back to wherever you came from.”
The birds were astonished by this dismissal. Would they despair? Grief engulfed the ragged group but love made them strong and unafraid. They stood together at the threshold and after a time they said, “We want nothing other than to know our king. Even his insults are better than the life we once had. How can a moth save itself from the flame when its sole desire is to be one with that fire? The moth knows that it cannot penetrate the flame. Simply to reach it is enough, and so it is with us. We are here and nothing else matters.”
Now the curtains of existence parted and the birds were bathed in celestial light. They saw the face of Simurgh, the Great Bird, like a bright, shining mirror. They looked closer. Who was that? The reflection was their own. They were startled, astonished, and then came the wisdom beyond words. Simorgh, the name of the Great Bird, was “si morgh,” Persian for “thirty birds.” When you see the face of the Beloved, you will always see yourself.
And that is the end of The Conference of the Birds.
In my research on this story I came across an article by Alta Price on the Words Without Borders website,that included an interview with Sholeh Wolpé, an Iranian-born poet and literary translator who published her version of this story in 2017. Wolpé opens her translation of the poem with these words from the poet Attar: “These lofty words are an antidote for anyone sickened by extremism’s poison.”
Recognizing a woman after my own heart (!), I looked a little bit further into Wolpé and want to share a few words from the interview with you. Wolpé says:
“These are dark times and this is an enlightening, nonjudgmental book that should be required reading for everyone. In its essence, The Conference of the Birds is a story about us, the human race. It is the story of the journey of the soul back to its source. The source is the Great Ocean, the Beloved. We can give it any other name but it remains itself, unknowable. Attar tells us that belief and unbelief are both irrelevant to the Wayfarers of the Path.[…]”
“We are the birds in the story. All of us have our own ideas and ideals, our own fears and anxieties, as we hold on to our own version of the truth. Like the birds of this story, we may take flight together but the journey itself will be different for each of us. Attar tells us that truth is not static and that the path evolves as we evolve.”
I’ll include a link to the whole article in the transcript of this episode, along with the names and links to the various translations that were background for my telling of this story.
I encourage you to find the poem in its entirety and look into it. All of this will be on the Myth Matters page on the Mythic Mojo website, as part of the transcript of this episode. The journey made by the birds to find their king is peppered with parables, allegorical stories that add depth to the story and are worthy of meditation. I omitted these for the purpose of this podcast but the introductory notes and parables in these translations will be useful if this story resonates with you.
Now a few of my thoughts about this story. I find myself thinking about the excuses that the birds make. They seem obvious and even a bit pathetic but that’s because I/we are outside the story. We are listening in to their lives, so we have the distance necessary to have perspective. We are able to see the relative smallness of their choices, how they rationalize their weakness and need for security and so limit themselves.
When the birds first gathered and the Hoopoe stepped up to encourage the journey to the Simorgh, did you know or suspect, how the story would end? Did you know they were going to be called to move beyond what we would call “the ego’s confines?” The first time that I read this story, I certainly didn’t. I thought there might actually be a king, although I wondered what such a king was going to have to offer.
And then we find out that we are the king. Our own king.
Now, in the story there is the Hoopoe and in Sufism there’s a guide, a teacher who can initiate you. You may not have a guide in this way and yet we are all teachers—and students—if we see ourselves as that flock of birds and join with others, to fly together. I joined a march to protest the concentration camps on the US borders on July 12th. The protest was organized by the Lights for Liberty and it was very well organized, a good event that was clearly inspired by and led by a specific group of people and yet, as we all marched together I felt the power of each individual decision, each series of decisions actually, that each person made to be there. Hundreds, probably thousands, of excuses overcome and each of us making our unique contribution and learning what we needed to learn, through making that brief journey together.
Whatever the context, the situation or aspirations, each of us is being called to move beyond our complacency and current, limited view of ourselves into something new. To ask the questions: “Who am I?” and “What am I here to do?” and to heed the answers that well up from within. We have the insight from the Valley of Understanding—it’s in the story for us to hear although we may not live it yet—that there is a path for every pilgrim, a route that no one else can truly know.
You are on your journey my friend, even if you’re lingering with your rosebush or sitting on the gloved hand of a king with a hood over your eyes.
What pushed the birds forward and sustained them was love, and this is true for us too. The Conference of the Birdsconcerns a religious/spiritual quest, it comes from the Sufi tradition and yet, when we speak of love, I think the common divide maintained between religious/spiritual and secular life, between the sacred and the mundane, collapses. The bird’s journey to meet their king, “the Beloved” in the words of the Sufi poets, and what they discover is that it’s all love, they are love, and the love was there all along. Love inspired and motivated them, and love sustained them.
Does this love, and I sincerely hope that you know what I’m talking about, belong in the compartment labelled “my spiritual development,“ or “my relationship,” or “fill in the blank,” or is it All? Do I quest with the willingness to find that kind of love, to live that kind of love? This is my place in the story today.
As the Hoopoe (who is the poet) tells us, there is no replacement for the journey. It’s okay to not already be there! No excuses, no amount of insight or preparation can take the place of the long flight through the seven valleys and the painful dropping away of illusions, the many deaths of the “self” that fall like loose feathers as they are outgrown, one after the other. If each of us is “king,” then this is a revolution without leaders and without dogma, a revolution of the heart.
No one will come to save us or spare us the suffering and yet, we have the story as teacher, as guide and support, and we have each other.
Flap your wings my friends, and let’s take to the sky.
That’s it for me, Catherine Svehla and Myth Matters. Feel free to contact me if you have questions or comments about today’s program. Special announcement for the women who are listening:
If you are ready to reflect on your life journey to your truth and fulfillment, then consider joining me for Psyche’s Quest. Psyche’s Quest is a 2-day intensive workshop that I am offering here in Joshua Tree, the weekend of September 13-15th. Details are on the website at http://www.mythicmojo.com. This workshop can been a powerful path changer— it’s soulful and creative and fun, and if you’re sitting there thinking “I don’t like to do my introspection in a group,” well, this workshop is conducted to make space for you to show up in the best way for you.
There’s lots of information on the website about Psyche’s Quest and there’s lots of information about Myth Matters, including links to a variety of ways to subscribe to this podcast, so you can listen from your favorite platform, like Itunes or Google play, or sign up to receive email announcements with links to new episodes.
You will also find the transcript of this episode with names and links to translations of The Conference of the Birds at http://www.mythicmojo.com
Thanks to those of you who support this program by sharing it with others. Please pass the stories around and build the circle. This is an important way that we can help each other fly further.
And I have to express my gratitude to those of you who lend some financial support to Myth Matters. All of those contributions ,through the community on bandcamp or put in an envelope and mailed in; they are truly my wings and more important than you may realize.
Thank you so much for listening! Please tune in next time, and until then, happy myth making and keep the mystery in your life alive.
Notes on the translations—
The Conference of the Birds, A Sufi Fable (Mantiq Ut-Tair)by Farid ud Din Attar. Translated by C. S. Nott from a French translation by Garcin de Tassy.
at amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Conference-Birds-Farid-ud-Din-Attar/dp/0993187064
online at the internet archive: https://archive.org/stream/AttarTheConferenceOfTheBirdstr.C.S.Nott/Attar%20%20The%20Conference%20of%20the%20Birds%20(tr.%20C.S.Nott)_djvu.txt
The Conference of the Birds translation and illustrations by Peter Sis, whose illustrated version is a lovely distillation of the core story without the amplifying parables. I began this podcast with the opening lines from his translation.
The book at alibris:
https://www.alibris.com/search/books/isbn/9781594203060?qwork=17738457
The book on amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Peter-SissThe-Conference-Birds-Hardcover/dp/B006GTS4SY/ref=sr_1_2?keywords=conference+of+birds+Peter+sis&qid=1564095988&s=books&sr=1-2
The Conference of the Birds translation by Farid ud Din Attar, translated by Sholeh Wolpé
Available on line and for download at: https://drive.google.com/file/d/11iLk7e6tB8pj0veva-0b0ffXxd_zsCuF/view
And here’s an open source version at the internet archive, translations by Afkham Darbani, and Dick Davis. at : https://archive.org/details/TheConferenceOfTheBirdsattar
Use this link to read the entire article with quotes from Sholeh Wolpé:
Women Translating the Classics: An Interview with Emily Wilson, Sholeh Wolpé, and Arshia SattarBy Alta L. Price
