Lings was able to convey tiers of profundity in a short passage (even one sentence) and to do so with uncanny consistency.
Once again, I was awestruck by the ease with which Mr. Lings passed, I happened to have been reading one of his books that my wife had ordered and just received, Symbol and Archetype: A Study in the Meaning of Existence. In Islamic tradition (and I'm pretty sure the tradition is widespread), when a great person dies, whether a saint or scholar or sage, the whole world is somehow effected, even the fish in the sea. Our sense of sacred connection is so co-opted by Starbuck casualness, essential spiritual accoutrements within us are disabled from perceiving the depth of loss that humanity suffered recently with the passing of Martin Lings. One of the damned things about this world is the ease with which we can go through a day and not feel the dimming of light.
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