M6:3318 — آن طرف که دل اشارت می‌کند / چون زبان یا هو عبارت می‌کند

Translation: That direction where the heart points, / As the tongue utters "Ya Hu." Meaning:* Rumi suggests that when the tongue engages in verbal remembrance of God, the heart, in its inner depth, is simultaneously gesturing towards the hidden Beloved that lies beyond mere words and outward forms.

In this couplet, Rumi touches upon one of the most subtle truths of the mystical journey. Prior to this verse, the discussion revolved around the 'where' (کو) that all seekers of perfection and mercy, like the turtledove, pursue; that very station where divine attributes of mercy, power, and acumen are manifest. It is towards that 'direction' that hopes gravitate in times of sorrow, and eyes flutter in illness hoping for recovery. It is the source from which a parched field begs for wind and rain. But with this beyt, Rumi delves deeper, illuminating the relationship between verbal remembrance and the heart's intuitive gesture.

I have always emphasized that in our mysticism, there are two types of remembrance: dhikr qalibi (formal or verbal remembrance) and dhikr qalbi (heartfelt remembrance). Dhikr qalibi is that which is uttered with the tongue, such as 'Ya Allah' or 'Ya Hu'. Dhikr qalbi, however, is a state where the tongue is silent, and the heart is engaged in the remembrance of God without letting any words pass through the mind. Yet, the ultimate stage of dhikr qalbi is when even words become veils to presence. This means one becomes so immersed that there is no longer a need to repeat names or words. It's like seeing a beloved friend in person; you no longer call them by name, but are submerged in the very connection with them, perceiving their presence directly. In such a state, excessive speech can itself become a barrier to presence.

Rumi states: "That direction where the heart points, / As the tongue utters 'Ya Hu'." This signifies that when the tongue pronounces the utterance 'Ya Hu,' the heart points towards 'Him'—that 'Him' (Hu) who resides behind the verbal 'Hu'. Verbal dhikr, then, acts as a bridge for the heart's indication towards that nameless reality.

I believe Rumi, in these verses, is implicitly comparing himself to the wāṣilīn (those who have arrived) and the perfect human beings. He remarks that the 'saint of God,' the 'perfect human,' is 'maʿ Allah' (with God) without needing to utter 'koo koo' (where, where). For to say 'koo koo' is for one who is distant and seeks a lost one. But one who has no lost one and is with Him, no longer asks 'where are You?' However, Rumi implies his own state of not being 'maʿ Allah,' of not being fully present in His presence, by saying: "Would that I, like a weaver, had said 'māku' (shuttle)." This is a wordplay. 'Māku' is a tool of weavers and a common word in their daily speech. Rumi here expresses a longing: would that I, instead of silence, could at least utter 'māku,' which could be a shadow or a sign of 'koo koo,' and that 'koo koo' itself be a shadow of the presence of 'Hu.' This reveals Rumi's intense yearning, even for the shadow of seeking.

This sentiment is akin to Rumi's account of Zulaikha, who named everything 'Yusuf.' For her, every word, every phenomenon, was an allusion to Yusuf. If she spoke of cold or heat, she meant Yusuf's effect. If she spoke of beauty or ugliness, it meant affirming or negating something for Yusuf. "In love, the name of the friend does this." The name of the friend becomes so dominant that it imbues everything else with its color and points to the Beloved through it. Ultimately, this beyt expresses that even the word 'Ya Hu,' when uttered by a loving mystic, is not merely an expression; it is a profound indication from the heart towards that 'direction' without direction, to which all hopes and aspirations ultimately lead.

Key takeaways

• Verbal remembrance (like "Ya Hu") serves as a bridge for the mystic's heart to be guided towards the hidden Beloved.
• The perfection of the Beloved's presence eliminates the need for even verbal remembrance or heartfelt gestures, as words themselves become veils to presence.
• The "direction" to which the heart points is the ultimate source of all hopes, mercies, and solutions.
• For the lover, every word, even mundane expressions (like 'māku'), can be a shadow of seeking and longing for the Beloved (koo koo and Hu).