Sufism
The Arabic word for “Sufism”. It appears in the 9th century as a distinct science of the heart. Its root — ṣūf, coarse wool, or ṣafāʾ, purity — says the essence: poverty and inner limpidity.
Forty Arabic terms — each one a door onto a spiritual universe. With their vocalised spelling, to hear the original sound.
The Arabic word for “Sufism”. It appears in the 9th century as a distinct science of the heart. Its root — ṣūf, coarse wool, or ṣafāʾ, purity — says the essence: poverty and inner limpidity.
The one who walks on the path. In the formula of Bistāmī: “The ṣūfī is the one who no longer belongs to himself.” And according to Junayd: “The ṣūfī is the son of the moment.”
The “way” — at once the initiatic method and the order that transmits it. Each great master founded his ṭarīqa: Qādiriyya, Châdhiliyya, Mevleviyya, Naqshbandiyya…
The religious, prescriptive Law — the rites, the obligations, the prohibitions. Sufism never opposes it: it interiorises it. The sharīʿa is the rind, the ṭarīqa is the way that leads to the kernel.
The inner Reality, the kernel. “Without the Law, the path is mere wandering; without the Path, the Law is mere rind; without the Truth, the path itself is illusion.”
Spiritual perfection: “To worship Allāh as if you saw Him.” It is with this third degree — after islām and īmān — that the Sufis identified their path.
Not the organ of feeling, but the spiritual centre of the being — the organ of direct knowledge. Like the mirror: polished, it reflects the light; rusted, it hides it. The Sufi work is to polish it.
The whole of the unpurified tendencies — pride, desires, fear, the illusion of autonomy. The “greater jihād” is this inner struggle against the nafs. The outer struggle is, beside it, but a “lesser jihād”.
The divine breath breathed into the human being — through which he partakes of the heavenly world. Distinct from the nafs that draws him downward, the rūḥ is the wing that reaches upward.
The “secret” — the innermost depth of the being, the place where God manifests Himself to the human being in his most profound intimacy. Beyond the heart, beyond even the spirit: there where the lover and the Beloved are no longer two.
Reason — discursive, calculating. The Sufis respect it but show its limit: it cannot “know” God, only speak about Him. True knowledge — maʿrifa — is tasted, not discursive.
The extinction of individual consciousness in the divine Presence — “to die to oneself before dying”. The Sufi ceases to be a separate “I” and becomes transparency.
The return among men after fanāʾ. The individual being is reborn, but now inhabited by the Presence. It is the highest step — that of the saint who acts in the world without being attached to it any longer.
A stable stage on the path. Repentance, scruple, patience, trust, contentment, love, knowledge… One does not “pass” a station: one inhabits it.
Unlike the maqām, the ḥāl is fleeting — a gift of God that comes and passes: a flash of joy, a pain of absence, an ecstatic rapture. It is not kept, it is received.
A paradoxical word spoken in a state of ecstasy — like the famous Anā l-Ḥaqq (“I am the Real”) of Al-Ḥallāj. For the sober Sufis, the shaṭḥ is a sign of authentic rapture; for the jurists, a danger of heresy.
Self-mastery within spiritual intoxication. Junayd is the archetype of the “sober one”: he lives the union inwardly without betraying it outwardly. A path of measure and of control.
The ecstasy that overwhelms the being to the point of making it lose the measure of speech. Bistāmī and Al-Ḥallāj are its figures. A path of the flash and of overflowing.
Gnosis — the direct and savoured knowledge of God, in contrast to discursive knowledge (ʿilm). As one knows honey when one has tasted it, not when one describes it.
The love of God — founded on the Quranic verse 5:54: “He loves them and they love Him.” Rābiʿa is the first to make it the central path, before the fear of hell and the desire for paradise.
Stronger than maḥabba: love as a consuming passion. Al-Ḥallāj, Rūmī, Ibn al-Fāriḍ sing this divine ʿishq. “Love burns the lover — and thus he becomes the Beloved.”
The longing for the Beloved — that inner tension which is dissolved only in the encounter. It is the cry of the reed at the beginning of Rūmī's Mathnawī, torn from its original reed-bed.
The state in which the soul is seized by the divine Presence — often during the samāʿ. The word comes from the same root as wujūd (being): one “finds” God by letting oneself be “found” by Him.
Invocation, the recalling — the central practice of Sufism. “Remember Me, I will remember you” (Quran 2:152). Vocal or silent, solitary or collective, the dhikr imprints the divine Name in the heart until the whole being becomes that remembrance.
Attentive listening — often to music, to chant, to poetry — as a way of unveiling. The Mevlevi samāʿ (whirling dervishes) is its best-known form, but each tradition has its own.
Withdrawal into solitude for the inner work. Often forty days — the arbaʿīn — on the model of Mūsā (Moses) at Sinai. The Khalwati path made it its centre.
The set of prayers, invocations and formulas to be recited daily, given by the master to each disciple according to his capacity. The discipline of the wird structures spiritual time.
The art of right conduct — towards God, towards the master, towards one's brothers, towards oneself. “The whole of Sufism is adab,” says an early shaykh. Every gesture, every word, every silence is a spiritual courtesy.
Detachment — not from the world, but from attachment to the world. “Be in the world like a stranger, or like a traveller passing through,” says a hadith.
Not material destitution, but inner stripping-bare. To be faqīr — “poor before God” — is to have recognised that one is nothing by oneself, and that God is all. “The faqīr is nothing, and that is why he is everything.”
Active surrender to the divine governance. Not passivity — one acts, one works — but without holding to the results, entrusting all to God. “Tie your camel, then trust,” the Prophet advises.
The spiritual struggle against the ego. “The greater jihād is the one against the nafs.” Without effort, no transformation: the path is demanding.
The proper Name of the one God. For the Sufis, this Name contains all the other Names. To invoke it is in itself a complete dhikr, which leads to extinction and to unveiling.
The “pronoun of the absent” — which designates the divine Presence beyond all naming. The most secret of the Names: the one by which God names Himself in His intimacy.
The central principle of Islam: “There is no deity but Allāh.” Among the Sufis, tawḥīd is not only a doctrine — it is an experience to be lived: to recognise inwardly that nothing is, in truth, outside the One.
A metaphysical doctrine formulated by Ibn ʿArabī: God alone is, and creatures borrow their existence from Him through His ceaselessly renewed theophany. “The world is at once He and not-He.”
The manifestation of God in His creation. For Ibn ʿArabī, the whole world is an infinite succession of theophanies — never repeated, always new. Each instant is a divine face.
Two divine Names, given by the Quran (57:3): God is at once aẓ-Ẓāhir, the Apparent, and al-Bāṭin, the Hidden. Sufism thus states its twofold demand: to honour the visible and to seek the invisible.
The 99 Divine Names — qualities through which God reveals Himself to the world. Ar-Raḥmān (the All-Merciful), Al-Laṭīf (the Subtle), Al-Wadūd (the Loving), An-Nūr (the Light)… Each Name is a door.
The guide. A companion on the road, a mirror, a midwife of the soul. The authentic shaykh does not present himself as a mediator but as a servant (khādim).
Literally “the one who wills” — who has made an act of spiritual desire. The novice who places himself under the direction of a shaykh in order to journey.
The lineage of masters going back to the Prophet. Each shaykh transmits what he received from another, who had received it from another, and so on. The silsila guarantees the authenticity of the transmission.
The spiritual influence that radiates from a master, a holy place, a word, a sacred object. The baraka is received — through the gaze, the touch, proximity, prayer.
The fact of keeping assiduous company with a master or with brothers on the path. For the Sufis, ṣuḥba is not a formality — it is a spiritual contagion. One becomes like those one keeps company with.
“Friendship” with God. The walī (saint) is literally “the one who is close, who is a friend”. For Ibn ʿArabī, walāya never ceases: it inherits from prophecy, which, for its part, has come to an end.
The visible spiritual gifts — healing, the reading of hearts, presence from afar. The word comes from karam (generosity): they are “generosities” of God towards His friends.
A garment that the master transmits to the disciple on his formal entry into the path. A symbolic gesture — the disciple visibly receives the spiritual lineage.
These words are not labels. They are doors. Each one opens onto an entire universe of experience, of teaching, of practice. Throughout the site, they will be met again, deepened. For now, may they resonate.