So many paths! I scarcely notice that my Murshid has gotten up and moved to the kitchen. I hear the scrape of earthenware bowls on the counter, the ringing of metal lids as he checks the state of the cooking. He calls me to him and tells me to fetch a loaf from the street. Then, hesitating a moment, he smiles at me. I see the depths of his love, the fire in his eyes. I see he is deciding what to say to me. I wait what seems a very long time, until at last he says, ``We are eating a strongly flavored dish.''

The air outside in the alley has chilled somewhat from the day. I move toward the loaves and stare at them, all dimly visible in the starlight. I cannot distinguish one from the other. Their smells faint now that they are cooled, their odors mingled together. His words ring in my ears, We are eating a strongly flavored dish, and I am stymied by not knowing which loaf to choose, nor even being able to see them enough to distinguish one from the other. How will I know what loaf is best for our meal. I do not want to disappoint my master.

If only I had light.

In this was the lesson. To see the loaves we need illumination. To understand ourselves and our world, we need illumination. The beloved, the Divine-Presence, is our illumination.