he were firmly settled, never to budge, busily arranging affairs that will be of no use to him ten years from now, though in as little as ten days he may be under the earth.
Fifth example: Realize that the world, in pampering its people with their cravings and pleasures, ends up confronting them in the Hereafter with scandals they would rather not see. It is like a man who gorges himself on rich, sugary food beyond his need until his stomach rebels. He then beholds the humiliation of his ruined digestion, the stench of his breath, the repulsiveness of his excrement and urgent need. He regrets only after the pleasure has vanished while the disgrace of his damaged stomach remains. Likewise, the more a person grows accustomed to worldly delights, the harsher his ultimate fate. At the moment of death, the agony of the soul’s departure will resemble that very experience: one who owned vast comforts—gold, silver, maid-servants, man-servants, vineyards, orchards—suffers far more at the wrench of separation than someone who owned but little. That pain and torment do not cease with death; they increase, for attachment is a property of the heart, and the heart in its essence does not die.
Sixth example: Know, O Sultan, that when worldly affairs first appear, a person imagines them to be near, limited in scope, and easily finished. Yet a single undertaking may give rise to another, and he can end up spending the capital of his entire lifespan on it. Jesus—peace be upon him—said, “The seeker of the world is like a man who drinks seawater: the more he drinks, the greater his thirst and burning, so he keeps on drinking until he perishes, never quenched.” The Prophet, blessings and peace be upon him, said, “Just as a man who plunges into the sea cannot avoid getting wet, so too one who plunges into worldly affairs cannot avoid being stained.”
Seventh example: The case of one who attains worldly goods is like that of a guest invited to a banquet. The host adorns his house, invites group after group, and sets before the guests a golden platter filled with jewels and a silver censer holding aloeswood and incense so they may perfume themselves and savor its fragrance. Afterwards he takes back the platter and the censer intact so that he may invite others, as he invited them. Whoever is intelligent and versed in the etiquette of invitations places some incense on the fire, perfumes himself, and departs without coveting the platter or the censer. He leaves them gladly behind and thanks the host—