M6:2716 — گفت دی نیم درم راضی‌ترم / زانک امروز این و فردا صد درم

Translation: He said: "Yesterday I was more content with half a dirham, Than with one dirham today and a hundred tomorrow."

Meaning: This verse highlights the Sufi's preference for immediate certainty over uncertain future gain, no matter how substantial the promised future reward might be, because the present moment is the only guaranteed reality.

This verse, uttered by a Sufi, encapsulates a profound wisdom regarding time and the value of the present. A wealthy patron asks the Sufi: "Would you like one dirham today, or three dirhams tomorrow?" The Sufi responds: "Yesterday I was more content with half a dirham, than with one dirham today and a hundred tomorrow." This statement is a profound rendering of the ancient adage, "Cash is better than credit," but Rumi elevates it to a transcendent level.

On a foundational level, this anecdote serves as a potent reminder of the impermanence of time and its promises. Who can guarantee tomorrow? Neither we, nor the gold and silver, will necessarily be the same. Why, then, should we cling to a promise whose realization remains shrouded in uncertainty? The Sufi's perspective compels us to appreciate the immediate present (naqd-i hāl) and to cultivate mindfulness (ḥuẓūr-i qalb) in every moment.

However, Rumi, the unparalleled master of hermeneutics, transforms this simple transaction into a dialogue between the lover and the Beloved (God and the devotee). He states: "Especially that slap which is from Your hand / For its nape and its slap are intoxicating from You." This implies that even a harsh gesture from the Beloved becomes sweet because it emanates from Him. The lover, with every fiber of their being, embraces both the wrath (qahr) and the grace (luṭf) of the Beloved, for both are manifestations of His presence. Here, the value of the present (naqd) transcends a mere material exchange and transforms into the immediate and unconditional presence of the Beloved. For the gnostic (ʿarif), what holds ultimate authenticity is the ever-present, unquestionable presence of the Beloved in every moment, even if this presence is accompanied by hardship or a "slap," because it is from His hand.

This embrace of the present, this 'nowness,' is what I have often referred to as Ibn al-Waqt (child of the moment) or 'mindfulness.' Its lower meaning is complete focus on the task at hand: when we pray, we only pray; when we wash dishes, we only wash dishes. This signifies 'being in the moment' and preventing the mind from wandering between past and future. But the higher meaning of Ibn al-Waqt is to ascend to the state of lāzamān (timelessness), to emulate God who is sarīʿ al-ḥisāb (swift in reckoning), whose actions occur instantaneously and timelessly. The mystic endeavors to free themselves as much as possible from the cage of time and approach the timelessness of the higher realm. This is precisely the 'emulation of God.'

Rumi emphasizes that the Beloved's presence, whether sweet or bitter, illuminates our dark night and keeps the field of our heart fresh and green. He perceives the signs of this presence in the world around us, much like the green grass that grows by a stream, indicating the flow of water. When you encounter a gnostic whose spirit is joyful and light, who seems to be soaring, know that there is "news" (khabar) there—that the divine presence flows, much like the hidden rain that makes a garden lush and beautiful.

This perspective, in some respects, differs from that of Hafez. Hafez sometimes says: "Since my wandering heart went to the curl of her locks / From that long journey, it has no intention of returning home." It is as if Hafez has found his home in the "Beloved's locks" and no longer yearns for return. But Rumi, and the Sufi in this narrative, is consistently seeking to return to their "origin" and true "homeland." For Rumi, this world is an exile (ghurbat), and we are travelers. The Sufi in this verse also prefers to grasp the "present" (naqd) to draw closer to reunion, moment by moment, rather than relying on future promises and delaying the journey. This verse, in essence, is a hymn to the immediate presence, both of humanity in the moment and of God in the universe.

Key takeaways

• The Sufi prioritizes the 'cash of the present' (naqd-i hāl) over the 'credit of the future' (nasiya-yi āyanda), as time and destiny are uncertain.
• The concept of Ibn al-Waqt (child of the moment) involves full focus on the present task and, on a higher level, achieving timelessness (lāzamān) and emulating the Divine.
• Rumi elevates the value of 'the present' from a material transaction to the immediate presence of the Beloved, embracing both wrath and grace equally.
• The Beloved's presence, even if accompanied by hardship (the 'slap'), is sweet and intoxicating for the lover due to its divine source.
• Divine signs are visible in the world; just as a green field testifies to hidden rain, the joy of a gnostic indicates the presence of divine grace.
• Unlike Hafez who sometimes finds home in the Beloved's locks, Rumi and the Sufi emphasize exile in this world and the yearning to return to their true homeland.