M6:3793 — اعتمادی کرد بر تدبیر خویش / که برم من کار خود با عقل پیش

Translation:

They trusted in their own counsel, That they would advance their affairs with their own intellect.

Meaning: This verse speaks to the hubris of relying solely on one's own intellect and strategic planning, presuming self-sufficiency, rather than submitting to divine grace or heeding profound wisdom.

This verse, stemming from the narrative of the king's sons who, despite their father's prohibition, trusted in their own stratagems and thus fell into the whirlpool of love for a mere image on a wall, introduces a pivotal teaching in the Mathnawi, especially in Book Six: the concept of enāyat (divine grace or providence). I have observed that Mowlana, in this particular book, emphasizes this idea more than anywhere else. The core issue here is that reliance on one's own intellect (aql), one's own planning (tadbir), and, to Mowlana's specific phrasing, one's own 'cunning' (makr), is the root of many human perils, descents, and falls. Human intellect, however keen, is limited; it cannot grasp all dimensions of existence and destiny. Against this self-reliance, Mowlana posits enāyat.

I say: A mere half-atom of that enāyat is better than three hundred personal plans and schemes. It is here that Hafez, the sweet-tongued poet, echoes Mowlana, stating: "It is better for one to surrender one's affairs to grace." We must entrust our matters to enāyat—that same grace which flows through the very fabric of existence, yet which we heedlessly overlook.

Mowlana provides two stories to illuminate this truth. One is the tale of Sadr-e Jahan of Bukhara, whom we encountered in Book Three as the beloved in the poignant story of the Lover of Bukhara. Here, however, he appears as a generous emir who aids the poor and needy, but under a peculiar condition: no one should articulate their need or lack. Sadr-e Jahan himself discerns, himself perceives, and himself bestows. This is where the story takes on a divine resonance. A certain group of God's saints have their tongues tied from prayer; not because they desire nothing, but because they have reached a station where they know that God Himself is all-seeing, all-knowing, and all-giving. This is precisely the abandonment of self-planning and the surrender of affairs to divine providence. As Saint Augustine remarks, God does not need our cries to hear us; but we need silence to hear Him. This absolute surrender is the zenith of freedom from one's own schemes and trust in enāyat.

Mowlana also introduces another tale to further explain this point, though I must refrain from detailing its specifics. It is a story so explicit and offensive that, frankly, one shies away from recounting it, both in word and meaning. Yet, this is one of Mowlana's wonders: "If a perfect man takes up dirt, it turns to gold." He takes this story, likely a piece of folklore from his era and prevalent among common people, and extracts from its depths profound mystical insights concerning enāyat. This demonstrates that for a discerning mystic, nothing is devoid of content; even in the outwardly most unseemly matters, a trace of truth can be found, if one possesses the eye of insight. The essence is to abandon your own cunning, and happily reside and pass away in the embrace of enāyat.

Key takeaways

• Reliance on one's own schemes and intellect is the root cause of many human errors and downfalls.
• Divine grace (enāyat) surpasses hundreds of personal plans and intellectual cunning.
• One must surrender one's affairs to enāyat, as advised by Hafez and God's saints.
• Mystical insight (like Sadr-e Jahan's) discerns need without explicit request and bestows generously.
• Absolute submission to divine decree and silence in supplication is the epitome of trust in enāyat.
• Even in the most unseemly folk tales, profound mystical truths can be found by a discerning eye.