M6:2323 — گر بخویشم هیچ رای و فن بدی / رای و تدبیرم به حکم من بدی

Translation: If I had any counsel or skill within myself, / My will and planning would be at my own command. Meaning: This verse asserts that human beings possess no inherent agency over their own making or destiny; if they did, they would undoubtedly choose to craft themselves differently and manage their own affairs entirely.

This verse, positioned within the exalted Sixth Book of the Mathnawi, is, without question, built upon Rumi’s fundamental understanding of creation: that the world is founded upon divine jūd (generosity), not ʿadl (justice). I have stated repeatedly that ʿadl signifies the rendering of what is due, but jūd is a giving without any prior entitlement. Before our existence, in the realm of ʿadam (non-being), we were nothing and possessed no entitlement for anything to be granted to us. Thus, whatever has come to us—existence, life, knowledge, and every other blessing—is entirely from divine jūd and munificence. Rumi elsewhere explicitly states: “If capability were a condition for God’s act / No non-existent thing would ever have come to be.” This is a crucial point for grasping his perspective on humanity’s inherent poverty and God’s absolute richness.

Here, Rumi, with a blend of irony and wisdom, alludes to humanity’s helplessness in orchestrating its own affairs. He posits that if my will were truly my own, if my counsel and planning were entirely at my command, I would undoubtedly cultivate myself in the most perfect manner: the wisest, the most beautiful, the most learned. Yet, the reality is starkly different. I wish to be the most virtuous, but I cannot; for I have been nurtured in a different fashion and lack absolute self-agency. This lack of agency becomes evident in moments of 'night' (shab) and 'unconsciousness' (bīhūshī); there, when intellect and senses are withdrawn from us, we enter a temporary 'non-being' where God refills us with whatever He wills, and then sends us back. This is precisely the meaning of, “He has carried me into the ocean of the Creator’s mercy, / So that He may refill and send me back with whatever art He chooses.”

The paradox, then, lies in the fact that despite this inherent powerlessness and existential poverty, human beings are often afflicted by muʿjibī (self-admiration or conceit). Rumi queries: “Since my hand is empty of His solving and binding, / O wonder, from whom is this self-admiration of mine?” How can one whose hand is bereft of the power to untie and tie, to manage their own knots, be so full of self-regard? This self-conceit stems from ghaflat (heedlessness), as he illustrates with the analogy of the letters alif and mīm: “That alif has nothing, it is heedless; / The mīm of the disheartened is the time of sagacity.” The alif, lacking any point or serif, in its simplicity, is oblivious to its own poverty and thus acts imperiously. However, the mīm, being constricted and 'disheartened,' is aware of its weakness and poverty, and this is a sign of its sagacity. This verse, beyond any doubt, calls us to a profound understanding of the nature of existential poverty and the munificence of creation.

Key takeaways

• Creation is founded on divine jūd (generosity), not ʿadl (justice); our existence is a gift without prior entitlement.
• Human beings possess no ultimate agency or control over their being and destiny; their aspiration for perfection is futile without divine grace.
• Human powerlessness and existential poverty become evident in moments of heedlessness and night-like surrender, when the self enters a temporary state of 'non-being'.
• Despite inherent limitations, humans are often afflicted by muʿjibī (self-admiration), which stems from their ghaflat (heedlessness).
• True wisdom lies in recognizing one's existential poverty and complete dependence on the source of divine munificence.