Music of the Spheres in Akbarian Sufism

Abstract

As per tradition, no human could hear the music of the spheres save for Pythagoras. Ibn ʿArabī, however, claimed he heard this music each time he prayed sincerely. This article examines how the Pythagorean concept of the music of the spheres came to be integrated and reinterpreted in Akbarian Sufism, with a special emphasis on Ibn ʿArabī’s notion of samāʻ and the modes of recreating the music of the spheres in Sufi gatherings.

1. Introduction

The story goes that Pythagoras of Samos (d. 495 BC) walked past a blacksmith’s shop in the sixth century BC. The sound of hammering soon caught his attention; with the blacksmith explaining to him how the weight of a hammer impacts the sound it makes. This encounter presumably inspired Pythagoras to develop his theory of musica universalis, which later came to be known as the music of the spheres (musica spherarum).1 Other stories claimed Pythagoras developed this theory with the help of Babylonian magi. Prior to the sixth century BC, Earth was envisioned as a flat disc surrounded by the river Oceanus in Greek cosmology. Magi, however, believed there are seven heavens surrounding Earth. The seven heavens were identified with the seven planets moving on their heavenly spheres, like “on solid tracks or rails”.2 The Ottoman court astronomers estimated that the Sphere of Saturn, which is the seventh heaven, is 54.093.433 miles away from Earth. The six smaller spheres between the Sphere of Saturn and Earth have been traditionally identified as the Sphere of Jupiter, the Sphere of Mars, the Sphere of Sun, the Sphere of Venus, the Sphere of Mercury and the Sphere of Moon. The aforementioned spheres purportedly differ in length, width and volume.3 Pythagoras surmised that the spheres, like hammers, emit different sounds; based on their measurements. This musica universalis was thought to have an impact on life on Earth. Pythagoras’ concept of musica universalis—and the attempts to harness the power of spheres by reproducing their tunes with musical instruments—gained prominence in ancient Greece by the fourth century BC. Yuḥannā b. al-Baṭrīq’s (d. 815) translation of Pseudo-Aristotle’s K. al-Siyāsa introduced Pythagoras’ theories to the Arabic intellectual milieu.4 Echoes of these teachings can also be found in Akbarian Sufism and there is a surviving diagram in Ibn ʿArabī’s hand (Figure 1) depicting the planet Earth surrounded by the heavenly spheres.5 All planetary orbits and spheres were referred to as aflāk in Ibn ʿArabī’s works. The Arabic root f-l-k conveys the idea of roundness, and Ibn ʿArabī taught that the spheres are circular in shape like Earth, “or approximately so”.6 The names and arrangement of the planetary spheres in Ibn ʿArabī’s diagram follow Greek cosmological models (Figure 1). Ibn ʿArabī claimed to have studied the works of Hellenistic philosophers and he found their cosmological theories to be sound. He accepted the premise that the heavenly spheres influence life on Earth, and he did not contest the existence of musica universalis.7 Yet, he outright denied the direct influence of Hellenistic philosophy on his teachings. Ibn ʿArabī’s writings on the spheres and the music of the spheres were not based on independent astronomical observations either. He owed his knowledge to the Divine revelation (kashf) and the spiritual inrushes (khawāṭir) and practices that enabled him to hear this music for himself. Ibn ʿArabī discussed the music of the spheres at some length in al-Futūḥāt al-Makkiyya, but in a scattered, disorganized manner. As a result, the content of his visions and revelations remains unstudied to date. This article aims to fill this gap in knowledge by analyzing the aesthetical qualities and the nature of musica universalis and its relationship to Sufi musical practices. The first part of the article will deal with celestial mechanics: for Ibn ʿArabī believed the revolution of spheres is the source of musica universalis.8 We will examine how the building-elements and form of spheres impact the sound they make (§ 2) and pinpoint the method Ibn ʿArabī used to hear the music of the spheres (§ 3). This will serve as a foundation for further discussions on Ibn ʿArabī’s notions of samāʻ and the role of musica universalis in Akbarian Sufism (§ 4).

2. The Source of Musica Universalis

Ibn ʿArabī taught that the heavenly spheres belong to the higher world (al-ʿālam al-ʿulwī). Earth, however, belongs to the lower world of gross matter, that is, all earthly creatures and objects are made from the admixture of fire, water, air and earth. These four elements determine the properties and appearance of living beings and objects.9 Having studied the four elements, Ibn ʿArabī concluded that the heavenly spheres exhibit certain properties that cannot be attributed to either fire, water, air or earth. This made him realize there is a fifth element in existence. In the eleventh chapter of al-Futūḥāt al-Makkiyya, Ibn ʿArabī identified the Universal Nature (al-ṭabīʿa al-kulliyya) as the element the spheres are made of. The Universal Nature is an intelligible essence with four distinct qualities: it can be hot, cold, dry and/or moist. The fifth element, Ibn ʿArabī maintained, cannot be universally identified with the heavenly spheres. Even so, the Universal Nature was still closely associated with celestial bodies in al-Futūḥāt.10 Chapter nine of al-Futūḥāt suggests, however, that the seven heavens were made of smoke instead.11 Either way, the spheres transcend the world of gross matter. Some medieval philosophers, such as the Brethren of Purity, argued this means the spheres can make neither sounds nor tunes.12 Ibn ʿArabī did not side with this opinion in the least, since he claimed each human can hear the music of the spheres. The subtle nature of the fifth element does not prevent the spheres from making sounds as they revolve around Earth.

Regarding density turning to subtlety [and vice versa], each thing that can be subjected to transformation can be transformed into different, opposite forms. This is akin to a person modulating their voice. Although sound cannot change form per se, a person can deepen it in one moment and then make it higher to suit their intentions and in order to affect the audience the way they want; in order to cause happiness or joy, expansion, sadness or constriction. The four [strings of the lute] are used to create these effects: bamm, zīr, mathnā, mathlath. This is because the place where they wish these sounds to be effective [i.e., to affect the human body] was constructed in a similar form, from four admixtures: yellow and black bile, blood and phlegm. Hearing the sound of these strings stirs the corresponding formation—i.e., the corresponding humour—of the audience.13

Ibn ʿArabī did not explicitly link musica universalis to the measurements of the heavenly spheres. The quoted paragraph, however, indicates Ibn ʿArabī recognized that the length of lute strings impacts the sound they make. It is thus not out of the question he also presumed that the revolution of the Sphere of Saturn, which is the biggest planetary sphere in existence, is louder and different in tone than the revolution of the smaller spheres below. Ibn ʿArabī claimed no person is stronger in faith than the one who knows the exact measurements of celestial bodies. Yet, he never attempted to calculate these measurements for himself when discussing the music of the spheres. This is not to say Ibn ʿArabī was disinterested in the texture, pitch and rhythm of musica universalis. He rather thought it would be impossible to pinpoint the exact measurements of celestial bodies since they are many times bigger than humans. A person attempting to pinpoint the length, width and volume of celestial bodies would, in all probability, get one detail or another wrong. Hence, Ibn ʿArabī argued that one would be wiser to study the meaning, purpose and spirit of the spheres instead.14 These issues are directly related to the meaning and purpose of musica universalis.

The seven heavens exist only for the sake of mankind: Ibn ʿArabī was quite explicit on the matter.15 The Perfect Human was drawn at the center of Figure 1 to emphasize this point. The heavenly spheres have a twofold purpose. First, they were created in perfect form to remind humans of their Creator.16 The spheres were then adorned with “shining stars, like flowers on earth”17 so that humans could tell time. This is the second purpose of the heavenly spheres and the sole reason for the existence of the Sun and the Moon.18 Musica universalis is the direct product of the revolution of celestial bodies and spheres. Ibn ʿArabī noted that some scholars have argued that all celestial bodies are contained within a single sphere. This could potentially mean that one sphere has a primary role in the production of musica universalis. Ibn ʿArabī was firmly opposed to these and similar theories—for he believed God created the seven spheres one by one, with a planet “swimming” in each of them alongside angels. His teachings were based on the surah The Prophets (ar. al-Anbiyāʾ), which Ibn ʿArabī quoted as follows: “God, the Exalted One, said [He was the one who created night, day, the Sun and the Moon] and each of them is swimming in their spheres”.19 Whereas Earth spins around its axis because of its shape, Ibn ʿArabī taught that the revolution of the spheres is determined by the will of God. This made G. Elmore speculate that the spheres move [and “sing”] under compulsion.20 Ibn ʿArabī however clarified that the spheres—like minerals—have a will of their own. Hence, they can be entrusted with certain tasks. As a matter of fact, the Qur’an describes how God asked the seven heavens whether they will come to Him willingly or unwillingly. To this, the heavens said: We come willingly (Q. 41: 11). Ibn ʿArabī took this verse as a confirmation that the spheres move freely, willingly. That said, it should be noted their movements were concurrently described as “willing” and “compelled” in Ibn ʿArabī’s works. This is due to the fact that the spheres are in direct contact with one another, with no space in-between their surfaces. As a result, the movement of the highest sphere impacts the speed and rotation of the spheres below. Hence, Ibn ʿArabī reasoned that the revolution of the planetary spheres is both willing and compelled. The will of God is another factor dictating the movement of the spheres—not in the least since the spheres worship God by rotating.21 Musica universalis is an indirect product of their worship. However, the spheres are not angels—and they do not consciously sing in praise of their Lord. As a matter of fact, the heavenly spheres are fully unaware of His existence. Ibn ʿArabī had them compared to chairs in this regard. A sphere, like a chair, has no knowledge of the craftsman who made it. Even so, by singing and existing, the heavenly spheres stand as witnesses for the existence of their Creator.22 Since the spheres were created for the sake of mankind, it can be assumed their music was intended for humans, rather than God. However, in order to benefit from this music, each person must first learn how to hear it.

3. Hearing the Music of the Spheres

Sufis and philosophers in the Arabic intellectual milieu have long thought that auditory perception is more reliable than visual perception. Ibn ʿArabī also sided with this opinion in Chapter 182 of al-Futūḥāt, for God described Himself in the Qur’an as “the All-Hearing, the All-Knowing” (Q. 2: 181) and “the All-Hearing, All-Seeing” (Q. 22: 61). The phrasing of these verses led Ibn ʿArabī to the conclusion that the sense of hearing takes precedence over rational knowledge and visual perception. Hence, one could safely assume Ibn ʿArabī would have advised his students to rely (more) on their ears when searching for musica universalis.23 Pythagoras’s writings on the topic were also based auditory perception. According to Iamblichus,

Through some unutterable, almost inconceivable likeness to gods, [Pythagoras’s] hearing and his mind were intent upon the celestial harmonies of the cosmos. It seemed as if he alone could hear and understand the universal harmony and the music of the spheres of the stars which move within them, uttering a song more complete and satisfying than any human melody, composed of subtly varied sounds of motion and speeds and sizes and positions.24

Similar reports can also be found it the works of Suhrawardī (d. 1191) and Ṣadr ad-Dīn Shīrāzī (d. 1640). Both of these scholars surmised that the purity of Pythagoras’s soul allowed him to ascend to the higher world, where he heard the music of the spheres—with Suhrawardī claiming to have made a similar ascent himself.25 Such claims were not unheard of in Classical Antiquity. For instance, Simplicius of Cilicia (d. 560) noted every human would get to hear what is inaudible to others, “just as is recounted of Pythagoras”, once they have purified their senses.26 Celestial realms have been almost universally associated with purity and divinity in Greek and Arabic culture. Similar notions can also be found in Ibn ʿArabī’s works. For instance, in Chapter 15 of al-Futūḥāt, Ibn ʿArabī claimed that the purity of the spheres, elements, living beings and objects increases proportionally to their distance from Earth.

As gross matter descends towards Earth until it reaches it and its thickness and coarseness increase [proportionally]. This is akin to water, olive oil or any other fluid in an earthenware jug: sediment accumulates at the bottom and the liquid is clearer near the surface.27

Whereas protracted contact with gross matter corrupts people, reaching the heavenly spheres leads to spiritual realizations and knowledge. All spheres have been associated with the knowledge of life force, sexuality and the power to revive the dead, among other things. The knowledge of musica universalis was, however, linked to the Sphere of Sun in Ibn ʿArabī’s works. Spiritual practitioners who reached this sphere were occasionally blessed with understanding the relationship between the melodies of the heavenly spheres, musical instruments, chordophones, plants and animals.28 Ibn ʿArabī taught that no person could compare to imam Mudāwī al-Kulūm29 with regard to his knowledge of the spheres. The imam gained this knowledge directly by the means of the Divine revelation, without having to struggle to reach advanced states of spiritual development (aḥwāl) first.30 That said, Ibn ʿArabī was adamant that no person, no matter how spiritually advanced, can dictate the content of the Divine revelations they receive. Independent scientific observations and reading the works of saints and prophets are always an option for those who wished to gain specific knowledge. Those aiming to compete with Mudāwī al-Kulūm in knowledge were expected to focus on the mysteries of prayer. In other words, whereas Pythagoras made himself akin to gods to reach the heavenly spheres, Ibn ʿArabī advised his students to pray to God instead. Hearing the music of the spheres was listed among the signs and benefits of a properly executed prayer in Chapter 69 of al-Futūḥāt. Yet, as Ibn ʿArabī noted:

How many pray and have from their prayer

Nothing but a vision of the wall before them,

Of toil and trouble?

But some are graced with intimate conversations with God,

Ever and ever, even if they had already

Prayed a required prayer, they meet the Convener.31

True prayer was described by Ibn ʿArabī as pure light. The outside world disappears by the means of this light, and a believer finds themselves alone with God. In other words, the act of praying is equal to an intimate conversation with God in Ibn ʿArabī’s eyes.32 Ibn ʿArabī identified seven elements of each prayer. These include (1) the first standing, (2) bowing down (rukūʿ), (3) the second standing, as a person rises from rukūʿ, (4) prostration (sujūd), (5) sitting between prostrations, (6) the second prostration and (7) sitting in tashahhud. Each of these elements was thought to have an impact on the human body and soul.33 In general, Ibn ʿArabī associated the aforementioned elements of prayer with the seven planetary spheres and the seven circumambulations pilgrims make around the Kaaba. Musica universalis was explicitly linked to the act of sujūd and to sujūd al-tilāwa in particular.34 The latter was usually identified as a recitation from the Qur’an during prayer. Sujūd al-tilāwa was practiced based on the assumption that certain verses made the Prophet prostrate himself on the ground. Scholars were never unanimous on the number of these verses and Ibn ʿArabī noted there was also no general consensus among scholars on whether sujūd al-tilāwa is obligatory for believers. On his side, Ibn ʿArabī was adamant that al-Fātiḥa, the opening surah of the Qur’an, must be recited during each prayer. One is not obliged to recite more, though it would be beneficial for each person to do so, for Ibn ʿArabī reasoned that prayer is an intimate conversation between God and humans. A person is addressing God in His own words when reading from the Qur’an during prayer. This is something Ibn ʿArabī recommended to his readers, as one would otherwise risk letting their ego speak with God. Not only would this be improper—but, as Ibn ʿArabī pointed out, only those who read from the (Qur’anic) revelation could hope to receive the Divine revelation in return. Praying in one’s own words would thus defeat the purpose of a prayer.35 Ibn ʿArabī taught that there are fifteen verses which inspired the Prophet to prostrate himself on the ground.36 These can be found at: Q. 7: 206, 13: 15, 16: 50, 17: 109, 19: 58, 22: 18, 25: 60, 27: 26, 32: 15, 41: 38, 38: 24, 22: 77, 53: 26, 25: 21 and 96: 19. Chapter 69 of al-Futūḥāt contains a section dedicated to each of the fifteen prostrations, with each section providing a criterion to determine whether a prostration was properly executed. The fourteenth prostration is of special importance to us since, when properly executed, it enables a Seeker to hear the music of the spheres:

The fourteenth prostration is the prostration of totality (jamʿ) and existence (wujūd). If a person bows down in this prostration and does not gain the knowledge of the tones and melodies of the spheres, if that person does not get to see the sound of each of these tones as the melodies of the True in the universe—if they do not witness David, peace be on him, in this kashf, and if they do not see the sounds and letters articulating every wondrous meaning, jolting unshakable mountains with music and the mother who lost her child laughing with delight and joy—then, that person did not bow [sincerely].37

The quoted paragraph indicates that a spiritual Seeker might be able to hear and see the music of the spheres. This evokes the Pythagorean notion that the human eye and ears are equally important in cosmological studies.38 The fourteenth prostration was also linked with the recitation of the twenty-first verse of the surah The Sundering (ar. al-Inshiqāq). As a matter of fact, Ibn ʿArabī associated the fourteenth prostration with reading from the Qur’an in general. The fourteenth prostration was referred to as the Prostration of Totality (sajdat al-jamʿ) in al-Futūḥāt. Ibn ʿArabī associated this prostration with the Qur’an, since the word “Qur’an” implies the totality (jamʿ) of surahs and verses. The fourteenth prostration was also linked with the Oneness of God (aḥadīyya) in al-Futūḥāt, for Ibn ʿArabī believed that, when properly executed, the fourteenth prostration could grant a Seeker familiarity with all qualities of the Divine. Since the fourteenth prostration is the Prostration of Totality, Ibn ʿArabī reasoned it could also grant a Seeker the knowledge of life and procreation, which was typically associated with all heavenly spheres.39 The aforementioned power of sujūd was based on the fact that prostrations bring a person closer to their roots, as their face touches the ground God used to create Adam. Ibn ʿArabī felt a human standing and sitting appears tall, proud and distant from God, even when they pray. In contrast, a human performing sujūd looks as if they are leaning on God for support. To emphasize further on their intent to entrust themselves to God, Ibn ʿArabī advised believers to place their knees on the ground first when prostrating. His advice should be read in the light of the fact that Ibn ʿArabī believed hands are the place of power in humans. Knees, however, were seen as the place of support. By going down on their knees first, before placing their hands on the ground, a spiritual Seeker declares they are relying on God’s power to hear the music of the spheres. As their body lowers itself to the ground, the soul of a Seeker bows with the Universal Soul (al-nafs al-kulliyya). It is at this moment that the True descends to “their level”40—and musica universalis rings in the ears of a Seeker.

4. Evaluating the Music of the Spheres

A. Kramaz noted that music was evaluated in Classical Antiquity as either “good” or “bad” based on the effect it had on listeners. Music could be subjected to value judgements on three distinct levels. These were identified by Kramaz as: art (aesthetics), morals and the exterior purpose of music.41 Musica universalis was not deemed problematic on either of these levels in Akbarian Sufism. It was certainly beautiful and elating, for Ibn ʿArabī noted it could make a mother who lost her child laugh and weep tears of joy. Ibn ʿArabī did not find music morally problematic either; arguing that the prophet Muhammad once allowed a woman to play the tambourine for him. Musica universalis was also thought to be powerful: among other things, it could make mountains crumble to dust.42 However, this is not to say musica universalis was treasured among advanced spiritual Seekers. The exterior purpose of musica universalis in Akbarian Sufism cannot be studied apart from Ibn ʿArabī’s writings on samāʻ, for these are directly concerned with the spiritual, practical and moral values of music (of the spheres).

M. Viitamäki described samāʻ as the most controversial of Sufi practices.43 As such, samāʻ remains misinterpreted, misrepresented and widespread in Afro-Eurasia up until today. The Arabic word samāʻ can be directly translated as “listening”. Throughout the centuries, this term has served to denote spiritual gatherings at which devotional music and poetry were sung and heard. Some scholars also used this term for spiritual music and the act of listening in general. Samāʻ thus came to be associated with military and festive music, pilgrimage songs and the like.44 It is, however, worth noting that Ibn ʿArabī did not fully identify samāʻ with music. As a matter of fact, he differentiated between three types of samāʻ. These were identified as the Divine, spiritual and natural samāʻ in al-Futūḥāt. The Divine samāʻ was the most prized of the three. It was linked with the creative word of God (“kun!”), which brought the universe to existence—and with the Sufi attempts to hear this word and harness its power for themselves. “The Divine samāʻ’, Ibn ʿArabī noted, “also means hearing—seeing the Divine words in everything, hearing them from all things in existence”.45 The Divine samāʻ is somewhat similar to the spiritual samāʻ in this regard, for Ibn ʿArabī associated the spiritual samāʻ with the ability to see how the Highest Pen inscribes the words of God on the outspread parchment of existence (al-raqq al-manshūr). Natural samāʻ was the only type of samāʻ to be explicitly identified with music, tones and melodies. Ibn ʿArabī explained:

Wise men do not speak of samāʻ in terms of it being conventionally identified with melodies (naghamāt)—and this is to be attributed to their high spiritual concentration (himma). They only speak of “the absolute samāʻ” and it has no effect on them other than the fact they understand its meanings. This is the Divine, spiritual samāʻ—the greater samāʻ. The limited samāʻ, which is conventionally identified with music, does have a certain effect on people—though this is merely a natural samāʻ.46

The power and impact of music on humans were based on musica universalis and “the principle of the orbiting heavenly spheres”.47 Ibn ʿArabī once compared the tone and melodies of musica universalis to the sound of water wheels:

When the sound descends on spiritual Seekers as they pass the spheres, and on account of the movement of the spheres, there are good, pleasant melodies the hearing delights in, like the sound of a water wheel.48

Ibn ʿArabī enumerated the seven planetary spheres in his works. Yet, he concurrently maintained that there are four, not seven melodies in nature.49 Ibn ʿArabī did not clarify whether this means that only four planetary spheres produce musica universalis. A possible explanation can be found in The Epistles of the Brethren of Purity, which argued against reproducing the music of the Sphere of Mercury, the Sphere of Mars and the Sphere of Saturn. The Brethren believed that hearing the music of these three spheres would only result in misfortune. The heavenly spheres worship God by rotating around Earth, with musica universalis being the sound of their spinning. There are no records indicating that the Sphere of Mercury, the Sphere of Mars and the Sphere of Saturn were seen as “infidels” in Akbarian Sufism. Hence, it is more likely Ibn ʿArabī believed that all seven spheres produce musica universalis—though only four of these melodies get to be reproduced as man-made music (musīqā). Ibn ʿArabī and the Brethren of Purity both linked the four natural melodies and the music of the spheres to the four strings of the lute. The Brethren of Purity however maintained that no musician can accurately reproduce the music of the spheres. They rather taught that man-made music resembles musica universalis at best.50 Chapter 182 of al-Futūḥāt however indicates Ibn ʿArabī thought it possible to reproduce the music of the spheres:

Nature consists of four melodies. It is thus only fitting that there are four [man-made] melodies corresponding to them. Music (mūsīqā) occurs when these melodies are reproduced by musical instruments.51

Ibn ʿArabī linked Sufi attempts to harness the power of music to qawwāli and performances of a qawwāl.52 The term qawwāli is sometimes identified with samāʻ. For instance, R. Qureshi broadly defined qawwāli as a gathering “for the purpose of realizing ideals of Islamic mysticism through the ritual of ‘listening to music’ or samāʻ”.53 This broad definition matches the Akbarian notions of natural samāʻ. However, Qureshi pointed out qawwāli can also be narrowly identified as 1) a music genre and/or 2) a group of songs performed at spiritual gatherings in Pakistan and India.54 Today, qawwāli is typically performed on dholak, sarangi and harmoniums in the Indian subcontinent. Most these performances also include poetry recitations, vocal improvisations and handclapping.55 It was previously suggested Ibn ʿArabī’s writings had a considerable impact on Sufi practices on the Indian subcontinent.56 It is, however, difficult to determine the exact scope of his influence on contemporary qawwāli performances since there are no exhaustive descriptions or definitions of musical performances in the surviving works of Ibn ʿArabī. Hence, one can only speculate about potential correspondences between the Akbarian concept of natural samāʻ and the two-fold definition of qawwāli Qureshi proposed.

The musical performances Ibn ʿArabī was referring to likely had more in common with the musical and poetical practices in the style of Ibn Bājja (d. 1138) and Ziryāb (d. 857) than with the contemporary music genres of the Indian subcontinent.57 That said, the main hopes and goals of qawwāli practitioners have changed little over the course of centuries. Citing Qureshi, J. Newell identified three main goals of contemporary qawwāli performers: to achieve spiritual arousal, transmit knowledge of mystical poetry and satisfy diverse spiritual needs of their audience.58 Invisible and incorporeal, music was long thought to be more suitable than words to convey advanced spiritual knowledge—with W. James going so far as to identify the human experience of music with mystical ascensions in general.59 Christian royalty, nobility and clergy in medieval Spain hoped the music of the spheres will give them an upper hand in their political and military endeavors, and Ibn ʿArabī suggested Sufi shaykhs were also among those who hoped music would grant them spiritual knowledge and help them transcend the world of nature. Greek, Muslim and Christian scholars were all counting on musica universalis to help them subdue their passions and to reach harmony within themselves.60 Ibn ʿArabī noted that few things feel as cruel as crushing these false hopes. Yet, he was adamant only “fake shaykhs, for whom the Path is closed” think that music and poetry could uplift a Seeker from the world of nature. He noted “their words are false since they claim music is something external to the world of nature”.61 In other words, the fake shaykhs Ibn ʿArabī mentioned have confused the Divine samāʻ with natural samāʻ. Their false assumptions were likely based on the premise that the creative word of God—which was commonly linked to the Divine samāʻ—is identical with the Breath of the All-Merciful. Ibn ʿArabī was also among those who identified the Divine Breath with the creative word of God, and he furthermore asserted the Breath of the All-Merciful sets the spheres into motion.62 Hence, one could easily reach the conclusion that musica universalis is the Divine samāʻ: the sound of the Breath moving the heavenly spheres. Ibn ʿArabī rejected this hypothesis on the ground the Divine samāʻ “does not rely on tunes and music. Moreover, the Divine samāʻ does not take one’s senses away”.63

Ibn ʿArabī strongly disapproved of Sufis dancing in ecstasy, blind to the world around them. Such people, Ibn ʿArabī maintained, have traded their religion for amusement and pleasure. There is a possibility Ibn ʿArabī’s condemnation of dancing dervishes was based on the hadith qudsī reading: “He who knows himself knows his Lord”.64 Samāʻ can make a Seeker forget themselves—which would then make them forget their Lord. This is likely the reason why Ibn ʿArabī claimed samāʻ practitioners (ahl al- samāʻ) expose themselves to satanic influences while concurrently veiling themselves from knowledge and religion. He furthermore observed samāʻ practitioners only speak of pleasure and desire. This is due to the fact that natural samāʻ cannot be used to convey knowledge. This also applies to musica universalis, which can cause mountains to crumble to dust. Qawwāl performances can induce humans to sing and dance, with skilled performers being capable of making their audience succumb to joy, agitation and/or sorrow. Ibn ʿArabī, however, maintained there is no knowledge to be gained from such experiences. This is another point of difference between natural samāʻ and the Divine samāʻ: the latter can be used to gain and convey knowledge.65 Ibn ʿArabī suggested that reading from the Qur’an can be beneficial for teaching someone how to differentiate between the Divine and natural samāʻ:

Such discussions can be difficult for both parties involved, since a dancer might start complaining: “What do you know about me and what do you know about the things which moved me to dance”? One should say nothing to him in that case since he is overcome with heedlessness. Or, one could merely say: “How fine is the word of God when He says…” and then recite to him a verse from the Qur’an containing the meaning which incited him to move to the sound of a musician and affirm it for him ‘till he sees the truth himself. Bring this issue up with him and discuss it. (…) There is nothing crueller and harsher than exposing such delusions. One could say: “My brother, this meaning is the same meaning you claimed to have moved you yesterday, during samāʻ, when the singer (qawwāl) brought it out by the means of beautiful poetry and singing. Whatever meaning came to you yesterday, when you were in trance—that meaning was already present in what I just quoted to you from in the word of the True, which is higher and truer [than music]. I didn’t see you trembling with appreciation and understanding yesterday, when you were felt and touched by Satan. Natural samāʻ veiled you from the eye of understanding. All you achieved by the means of your samāʻ is to become unaware of yourself. How can one who cannot differentiate between his understanding and his movement hope for any sort of success”?66

Ibn ʿArabī’s advice was likely based on the fact that the Qur’an is the word of God. Reading from the Qur’anic revelation thus prepares a Seeker for recognizing the Divine samāʻ, which was linked to the creative word of God. In other words, Ibn ʿArabī suggested one word of God can be used as a criterion for identifying another. Circular bodily movements are another indicator a Seeker is experiencing a natural, rather than the Divine samāʻ. Ibn ʿArabī said:

Pay attention to a person claiming to have gained spiritual knowledge by the means of samāʻ as they sit in these sessions. As the singer (qawwāl) plays these tunes, inciting movements as one’s nature accepts these tunes and they begin flowing through the animal souls (al-nufūs al-ḥayawāniyya) [of the audience], inciting their skeletons to move in circular form, based on the principles of the orbiting spheres. These circling movements indicate one has experienced a natural samāʻ. This is due to the fact that what is subtle in humans has nothing to do with orbiting spheres. The subtleness in humans is rather associated with the spirit (rūḥ) in the Breath, not space. The spirit makes neither circular nor any other movements in the body since it transcends the orbiting spheres. This is rather what the animal soul does, since the animal soul falls under the scope of influence of the heavenly spheres. One must not be ignorant of the properties of the soul and spirit and of that what is causing them to move. An attender of samāʻ sessions is incited to move, seized by one state [of mind] or another. They start whirling or jumping without circling, they perish and lose their sense of themselves. If one were to ask them what made them move they would say: “Qawwāl said this or that, I understood the meaning of it and this is what made me move”. One should say to such human: “What made you move is nothing but a fine tune. The understanding you reached was in accordance with the hierarchy [of the spheres] since nature has dominion over the animal soul. Hence, there is no difference between you and a camel with regard to the effect of music on you”.67

There are no surviving works of Ibn ʿArabī explaining the impact of musica universalis on inanimate objects: or how it makes mountains crumble to dust. The quoted paragraph, however, indicates the spheres affect the human bodily functions and emotions by the means of the animal soul, which falls under their scope of influence.68 In most cases, the influence of musica universalis on humans amounts to making them:

• dance (in circles);
• lose their senses;
• experience strong emotions;
• realize their prayers were properly executed.

Hence, it can be concluded the music of the spheres had a limited exterior purpose in Akbarian Sufism. Ibn ʿArabī did not recommend relying on music for medical purposes: to heal sicknesses or dispel sadness, melancholy and spleen. He taught that music and the music of the spheres can be dispensed within one’s spiritual practices:

Religion is not to be found in the tambourine,

the sound of the pipe, nor in music;

religion is to be found in the Qur’an,

in courtesy and behaviour (adab).69

A. Hussain erroneously claimed Ibn ʿArabī condemned music and melodies that merely seek to evoke emotions in a Seeker, without conveying any sort of knowledge to them.70 Guided by the example of the Prophet, Ibn ʿArabī did not reject sensual pleasures of the animal soul per se. For instance, the Prophet was said to have enjoyed the taste of honey, pumpkins and the smell of perfumes. Hesitantly, he even allowed a woman to play the tambourine for him (Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī #5431, Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim, #2041; Jāmiʿ at-Tirmidhī #2789). Ibn ʿArabī followed the Prophet’s example when arguing wise men should neither seek nor despise music (of the spheres).71 He furthermore argued it is entirely permissible to enjoy fine tunes and music—for as long as the person does not overestimate them so as to forget themselves completely. As if to prove his point, Ibn ʿArabī famously composed muwashshaḥāt and zajal poetry. Ultimately, however, in the eyes of Ibn ʿArabī, the sound of musica universalis was but a proof that a person was prostrating themselves in prayer in an appropriate manner. This was the main role of musica universalis in Akbarian Sufism.