Junayd was asked: “Do you wish to see God?” He said: “No.” They asked why. He answered: “When Moses wished, he did not see Him, and when Muḥammad did not wish, he saw Him.” Our wishing is the greatest of the veils that hinder us from seeing God, because in love the existence of self-will is disobedience, and disobedience is a veil. When self-will vanishes in this world, contemplation is attained, and when contemplation is firmly established, there is no difference between this world and the next. Abú Yazíd says: “God has servants who would apostatize if they were veiled from Him in this world or in the next,” i.e. He sustains them with perpetual contemplation and keeps them alive with the life of love; and when one who enjoys revelation is deprived of it, he necessarily becomes an apostate. Dhu ´l-Nún says: “One day, when I was journeying in Egypt, I saw some boys who were throwing stones at a young man. I asked them what they wanted of him. They said: ‘He is mad.’ I asked how his madness showed itself, and they told me that he pretended to see God. I turned to the young man and inquired whether he had really said this. He answered: ‘I say that if I should not see God for one moment, I should remain veiled and should not be obedient towards Him.’” Some Ṣúfís have fallen into the mistake of supposing that spiritual vision and contemplation represent such an idea (_ṣúratí_) of God as is formed in the mind by the imagination either from memory or reflection. This is utter anthropomorphism (_tashbíh_) and manifest error. God is not finite that the imagination should be able to define Him or that the intellect should comprehend His nature. Whatever can be imagined is homogeneous with the intellect, but God is not homogeneous with any _genus_, although in relation to the Eternal all phenomenal objects—subtle and gross alike—are homogeneous with each other notwithstanding their mutual contrariety. Therefore contemplation in this world resembles vision of God in the next world, and since the Companions of the Apostle (_aṣḥáb_) are unanimously agreed that vision is possible hereafter, contemplation is possible here. Those who tell of contemplation either in this or the other world only say that it is possible, not that they have enjoyed or now enjoy it, because contemplation is an attribute of the heart (_sirr_) and cannot be expressed by the tongue except metaphorically. Hence silence ranks higher than speech, for silence is a sign of contemplation (_musháhadat_), whereas speech is a sign of ocular testimony (_shahádat_). Accordingly the Apostle, when he attained proximity to God, said: “I cannot tell Thy praise,” because he was in contemplation, and contemplation in the degree of love is perfect unity (_yagánagí_), and any outward expression in unity is other-ness (_bégánagí_). Then he said: “Thou hast praised Thyself,” i.e. Thy words are mine, and Thy praise is mine, and I do not deem my tongue capable of expressing what I feel. As the poet says: