M6:3711 — کمترین عیب مصور در خصال / چون پیاپی بینیش آید ملال

Translation: The least fault of anything formed, in its qualities, is that when you see it repeatedly, weariness comes. Meaning: This verse states that anything possessing a form or image, no matter how appealing, inevitably leads to boredom and vexation when encountered or observed repeatedly.

This verse articulates a fundamental truth about the world of forms and its inherent flaw. In my view, this couplet lies at the very heart of Rumi's ontology, distinguishing sharply between ṣūrat (form) and bi-ṣūratī (formlessness). Muṣawwir here refers to any object or phenomenon that has manifested in a specific shape or guise. The least fault of these formed entities, no matter how beautiful or captivating they might be, is that through repetition and continuous observation, they inevitably induce malāl—weariness or boredom.

We observe this phenomenon clearly in our daily experience: the most beautiful faces, the most enchanting melodies, the most delicious foods. Each is initially astonishing and desirable. Yet, it isn't long before repetition strips them of their allure, rendering them stale and tedious. The initial enchantment fades, never to fully return. This is the characteristic of the bā-ṣūrat (formed) world, which is inherently limited and bound; and every limitation brings with it decay and obsolescence. This stands in stark contrast to pure bi-ṣūratī (formlessness), which is free from all constraints and limitations, and thus never breeds weariness. Instead, it perpetually generates ḥayrat-i maḥz (pure wonder) and, from its very bi-ālatī (being without means), creates a hundred kinds of ālat (instruments or means).

Humans adopt two primary strategies to cope with this inherent weariness of forms. One group, the mystics (ʿārifān), constantly seeks now (newness) and freshness. Rumi himself was a now-andīsh ʿārif (a mystic of new thought); he not only fled from the old but even disdained an "old God," seeking to discover new facets of the Divine Being and a fresh relationship with the Beloved. These individuals perceive obsolescence and, with keen insight, seek new experiences, fresh emanations, and novel forms to alleviate boredom.

However, the other group, comprising the majority of people, either falls into ghaflat-i maḥmūd (praiseworthy heedlessness)—meaning they fail to perceive the world's staleness and instead perceive each day as new, an unconscious heedlessness that sustains their daily lives. Were it not for this ghaflat, and if everyone, like Khayyam, were acutely aware of the world's weariness, they would fall into profound malāl. Some, to escape this ranj-i hastī (anguish of existence) and the weariness of repeated forms, turn to intoxicants (bang o khamr) or excessive preoccupations (shoghl-i moʿtaddī) to momentarily flee themselves and the repetition of existence. They consciously surrender to heedlessness to find an escape from this "disgrace of existence" and its accompanying tedium.

Ultimately, Rumi's message is that this world's forms are but "the foam of the sea." Forms are mere appearances floating upon formless meaning. Ghadhāʾīyat (nutritiveness), for instance, is a formless meaning that can manifest in wheat or, by divine miracle, in pebbles. Wheat is merely a form that carries this meaning, and if we rely solely on it, it will eventually become tedious. We must transcend these forms to reach the maʿnā-yi delband (beloved meaning) and bi-ṣūratī, which is immune to weariness and continuously inspires wonder.

Key takeaways

• The world of forms is inherently tedious due to repetition, unlike absolute formlessness.
• Earthly beauties lose their charm with repeated exposure.
• Mystics overcome the tedium of forms by constantly seeking "newness" (in God and the world).
• Ordinary people escape boredom through "praiseworthy heedlessness" (ignoring staleness) or resorting to intoxication and excessive occupations.
• One must transcend appearances (forms) to reach hidden, formless meanings, thereby achieving perpetual wonder.