And it is at “this point” that some people have gone astray, imagining that this is union, and that the lover becomes united with the beloved until there is no distinction between their very existences. This is an error, for nothing whatsoever can become united with the Creator. Indeed, nothing becomes united with anything else unless both are transformed and lose their original natures, their union producing a third thing that is neither the one nor the other—as when water and milk, or water and wine, are mixed together, and so forth. Rather, their objects of desire, love and aversion may be one and the same, and their willing and aversion may accord: one loves what the other loves, hates what the other hates, is pleased with what pleases the other, resents what the other resents, dislikes what the other dislikes, befriends those whom the other befriends, and opposes those whom the other opposes. All such annihilation involves some deficiency.

The greatest friends of Allah—such as Abū Bakr, ‘Umar, and the earliest forerunners among the Emigrants and the Helpers—did not experience this annihilation, let alone the Prophets, who rank above them. Something of this occurred only after the time of the Companions. The same applies to all experiences of this kind in which reason and discernment are lost because of states of faith that come upon the heart. The Companions, may Allah be pleased with them, were too complete, strong and steadfast in their states of faith to lose their reason or experience fainting, swooning, intoxication, annihilation, bewilderment or madness. These phenomena first appeared among the devout worshippers of Basra belonging to the generation of the Successors. Some would faint upon hearing the Quran.

Some would even die, such as Abū Juhayr the Blind and Zurārah ibn Awfā, the judge of Basra. Likewise, some Sufi shaykhs later experienced annihilation and intoxication to such a degree that