M6:147 — صورت گرمابه گر جنبش کند / در زمان او از عجوزه بر کند

Translation: Should the bathhouse image stir to life, At once, it would snatch you from the old woman. Meaning: Mowlana states that only a being endowed with soul and consciousness deserves the spirit's attention and comparison, even if that being is frail and aged. If an inanimate painting were to gain life, it would then become worthy of such engagement.

This verse follows Mowlana's assertion that we do not compare ourselves to inanimate images, but we do compare ourselves to other human beings, no matter how old or frail. Mowlana's question is: why? His answer is embedded within this very verse and its preceding lines. I have repeatedly stressed that in Mowlana's view, what truly matters is the "soul" (jān), not the "form" (ṣūrat). This principle constitutes one of the foundational ontological premises of Rumi's thought, where forms are merely the foam upon the sea, and the soul is the underlying water.

Mowlana illustrates this truth perfectly with the example of bathhouse paintings. Public bathhouses of old were adorned with various depictions: heroes, beauties, and sometimes even grotesque figures. No sane person would ever stand before the image of a beautiful houri painted on a wall and declare, "I am more beautiful than you!" This is a futile act, for that image is "lifeless" (bi-jān). On the other hand, you can compare yourself to an elderly woman, even a half-blind one. Why?

Because that "old woman," despite her infirmities, possesses "intellect (ʿaql), sensation (ḥiss), perception (dark), foresight (tadbīr), and soul (jān)." That is to say, she is a conscious being. Spirit compares itself only to spirit. "King speaks only to the king." The soul compares itself to other souls, not to inanimate, hollow forms.

Thus, in this verse, Mowlana introduces a hypothetical impossibility: "Should the bathhouse image stir to life." He states that if this very lifeless, soulless image on the wall were suddenly to "take on life" and "begin to move," then, yes, instantly, you would abandon the old woman and turn towards that living image. Why? Because what suddenly becomes important is "movement" and "life"—jumbish and jān—not merely "beauty of form."

Here, I must emphasize a point I have made elsewhere: the soul (jān) is equivalent to consciousness (āgāhī). The essence of the soul is to be aware and informed. The more aware one is, the more soulful one is. This soul is multi-layered; it can strengthen or weaken, grow lean or robust. When Mowlana says "it stirs to life" (jumbish kunad), it means that consciousness begins in that image, life is breathed into it. This is when a mere form transforms into a soulful being, becoming worthy of comparison and connection with other souls. The beauty of form is transient, but it is the soul and consciousness that are enduring and essential, serving as the criteria for connection and comparison.

Key takeaways

• The essence of humanity and all beings is the "soul" (jān), not their "form" (ṣūrat) or external body.
• The human spirit compares itself only to other spirits and disregards inanimate forms.
• If a lifeless form were to acquire life and consciousness, it would then become worthy of attention and comparison.
• In Mowlana's view, "soul" (jān) is synonymous with "consciousness" (āgāhī) and "awareness"; the greater the awareness, the stronger the soul.