Rule The Hearts of Men
What's constantly gone missing from Westerns and Eastern cultures of today is the love of friendship in personal and business endeavors. We work, live and play like automatons, constantly scheming and planning to get ahead. We wrap gifts in beautiful covers but what's inside doesn't touch hearts. Even a small pinch of unconditional love in business matters, creates partnerships that lasts well beyond the expiration date of a deal.
The trick is that you do it for no reason at all other than for the love of doing it. If you did it to gain any advantage, it won't work. Let this unconditional love be your secret "competitive advantage."
Napoleon Hill wrote in his masterpiece "Think and Grow Rich" about the the Muslim's prophet Muhammad. Hill notes that Muhammad career was excelled in short 22 years, from a sales rep to an undisputed dictator of Arabia. This was late-seventh century. There was no twitter or facebook or linkedin to grow your message fast. How Muhammad did it: by ruling the hearts of men. Coleman Barks writes (interprets Rumi) in a beautiful story worth reading.
From Delicious Laughter by Coleman Barks. Page 77..
.... A large group of unbelievers
once came to see Muhammad,
knowing he would feed them.
Muhammad told his Friends,
"Divide these guests among you and tend to them.
Since you are all filled with me,
it will be as though I am the host."
Each Friend of Muhammad chose a guest,
but there was one huge person left behind.
he sat in the entrance of the mosque
like thick dregs in a cup.
So Muhammad invited the man to his own household,
where the enormous son of a Ghuzz Turk ate everything,
the milk of seven goats and enough food
for eighteen people!
The others in the house were furious.
When the man went to bed, the maid slammed the door
behind him and chained it shut, out of meanness
and resentment. Around midnight, the man
felt several strong urges at once.
But the door! He works it
puts a blade through the crack. Nothing.
The urgency increases. The room contracts.
He falls back into a confused sleep and dreams
of a desolate place, since he himself is
such a desolate place.
So, dreaming he's by himself,
he squeezes out a huge amount,
and another huge amount.
But he soon becomes conscious enough
to know that the covers he gathers around him
are full of shit. He shakes with spasms of the shame
that usually keeps men from doing such things.
He thinks, "My sleep is worse than my being awake.
The waking is just full of food.
My sleep is all this."
Now he's crying, bitterly embarrassed,
Waiting for dawn and the noise of the door opening,
hoping that somehow he can get out
without anyone seeing him as he is.
I'll shorten it. The door opens. He's saved.
Muhammad comes at dawn. He opens the door
and becomes invisible so the man won't feel ashamed,
so he can escape and wash himself
and not have to face the door-opener.
Someone completely absorbed in Allah like Muhammad
can do this. Muhammad had seen all that went on
in the night, but he held back from letting the man out,
until all happened as it needed to happen.
Many actions which seem cruel
are from a deep Friendship.
Many demolitions are actually renovations.
Later, a meddlesome servant
brought Muhammad the bedclothes.
"Look what your guest has done!"
Muhammad smiles, himself a mercy given to all beings,
"Bring me a bucket of water."
Everyone jumps up, "No! Let us do this.
We live to serve you, and this is the kind of hand-work
we can do. Yours is the inner heart-work."
"I know that, but this is an extraordinary occasion."
A Voice inside him is saying, "There is great wisdom
in washing these bedclothes. Wash them."
Meanwhile, the man who soiled the covers and fled
is returning to Muhammad's house. He has left behind
an amulet that he always carried.
He enters and sees the Hands of God
washing his incredibly dirty linen.
He forgets the amulet. A great love suddenly enters him.
He tears his shirt open. He strikes his head
against the wall and the door. Blood
pours from his nose.
People come from other parts of the house.
He's shrieking, "Stay away!"
He hits his head, "I have no understanding!"
He prostrates himself before Muhammad.
You are the Whole. I am a despicable tiny,
meaningless piece. I can't look at You."
He's quiet and quivering with remorse.
Muhammad bends over and holds him and caresses him
and opens his inner knowing.
The cloud weeps, and then the garden sprouts.
The baby cries, and the mother's milk flows.
The Nurse of Creation has said, Let them cry a lot.
This rain-weeping and sun-burning twine together
to make us grow. Keep your intelligence white-hot
and your grief glistening, so your life will stay fresh.
Cry easily like a little child.
Let body-needs dwindle and soul-decisions increase.
Diminish what you give your physical self.
Your spiritual eye will begin to open.
When the body empties and stays empty,
God fills it with musk and mother-of pearl.
That way a man gives his dung and gets purity.
Listen to the Prophets, not to some adolescent boy.
The foundation and the walls of the spiritual life
are made of self denials and disciplines.
Stay with Friends who support you in these.
Talk with them about sacred texts,
and how you're doing, and how they're doing,
and keep your practices together.