Müge Galin
The Nobel literature laureate is a seeker and educator in mysticism who uses Sufi ideas to enlarge her and her characters' humanity, says Müge Galin.
October
11, 2007
What a pleasure it is
to learn that Doris Lessing is finally awarded the 2007 Nobel Prize for
literature! The honour, announced two weeks before
her 88th birthday, comes after repeated nominations and short-listings for the
prize over the last forty years. It is indeed well-deserved: for a lifetime's
work of unmatched range and surprise, and especially for her pathbreaking treatment of women's inner lives and sexual
identity in The Golden Notebook (1962).
This novel
established Lessing's renown as a pioneering "feminist" writer, a
designation echoed in the
The mysticist current
It is a relatively
neglected theme in Doris Lessing’s work -- mysticism -- that I would like to
highlight amid the torrent of tributes that have followed the Nobel award.
Lessing never kept
secret her commitment to the mystical branch in Islam known in the west as
Sufism. From the 1960s, she persistently and enthusiastically made known her
mystical proclivities at every opportunity; she made use of Sufi tenets --
especially those drawn from the writings of Idries Shah, whom she regarded as
her teacher -- to enhance her own perception of human beings on earth and of
lives she imagined on other planets. As she once said, "I had an
inclination towards mysticism (not religion) even when being political. It is
not an uncommon combination." Lessing's move into Sufi studies, far from
an abandonment of her earlier political, psychological, or social stands, was a
deepening of her interest in the human being as a seeker and a reaffirmation of
her strong sense of duty to incite conscientious action.
The diverse
locations of Lessing's early life -- she was born in
The Sufi aspect of
Lessing's work might be thought of as didactic as much as literary. In
transmitting the Sufi wisdom that she received from Idries Shah, Doris Lessing
profoundly influenced the way her readers think.
A fundamental
concept in Sufism is the idea of the seeker having direct access to God, with
no intermediary; that is, inner transformation can only be experienced, not
discussed. An equally central notion is the idea of developing a person's potential
(as Lessing stated in a lecture on Sufism: "Man is woefully underused and
undervalued, and he doesn't know his own capacities.")
These and other
Sufi tenets informed such works as The
Four-Gated City (1969), The
Memoirs of a Survivor (1974), and the Canopus
in Argos: Archives series (1979-83), among others; Lessing applied them to
the lives of her characters, holding out the possibility of individual and
global transformation and amelioration. Sufism was the resource that enabled
her both to develop her vision of the earth and (in her experimentation with
space fiction) to extend it to the universe -- it provided increased spiritual
possibilities for her characters who had exhausted their chances on earth.
Here, by adapting traditional narrative methods (such as tales and fables) to
modern fiction, Lessing discovered a creative vehicle to examine the states of
consciousness of the human soul and to warn humanity that it is running out of
time unless we "work" to develop ourselves.
The human touch
Often written from
the point of view of an older woman, the core of Doris Lessing's work evokes
the raw, shared human experience of protagonists who embrace life with gusto,
even heroism. Especially her later writings address themes of time and ageing,
the invisibility and detachment that come with maturity, and the satisfactions
(or more commonly, disappointments) of intergenerational communication.
These
preoccupations are evident in Lessing's autobiographical works, Under my Skin (1994) and Walking in the Shade (1997),
which chart a life's struggle that is both biological and spiritual. In The Summer before the Dark
(1973), The Diary of a Good Neighbour (1983), If the Old Could (1984), Love,
Again (1995), The Sweetest
Dream (2002), and her novella-collection The Grandmothers (2003), she explores her ageing protagonists'
still-unfolding identities in their relation to each other; in particular,
their ability to give and receive love -- sexual, romantic, emotional, or
spiritual -- as they negotiate their capacity to hold themselves together amid
the ravages of time, and live meaningful lives. In these as everywhere, Lessing
is tangibly present in all her work, all her characters, as both seeker and
guide.
In this sense,
Lessing fulfils a complex role which combines the discipline of the novelist
with the more ancient one of a message-bearer. This requires her to infuse her
story-telling with a demand that both her fictional characters and her readers
"surrender" to a higher will than their own, in a process that
entails uncompromising independence (as in her oft-quoted injunction:
"Think wrongly, if you please, but in all cases think for yourself").
There is rigour and risk here as well as compassion. Lessing's understanding of humans and their life-force -- especially the belief that humans evolve through stress -- means that she regards even war and natural calamity, even threats of nuclear catastrophe or a new ice age, as the raw material of human survival and growth. This deep commitment to human evolution in the broadest sense is as much biological as spiritual. It has enabled Lessing to remain detached -- to think for herself -- the better to connect, and thus to illuminate the world and inspire her readers to undertake the difficult task of engaging in the "work" to develop their capacities so that they may properly fulfill their individual destinies. The Nobel award is a just recognition of Doris Lessing's unconfined, protean achievement.
Muge Galin is a lecturer at Ohio State University and is the author of Between East and West: Sufism in Novels of Doris Lessing'.
This article was first published in openDemocracy.net: www.openDemocracy.net"