M6:1121 — دم این استور نفست شهوتست / زین سبب پس پس رود آن خودپرست

Translation: The tail of this beast, your nafs (self/ego), is your shahwat (desire); For this reason, that self-worshipper perpetually moves backward. Meaning: This verse asserts that carnal desire (shahwat) acts as a backward-pulling force, causing the self-absorbed individual to regress spiritually instead of progressing forward on their path.

I interpret this couplet in the context of Rumi's parable of the backward-going horse, which perpetually moves in reverse instead of advancing. Here, Rumi delivers a profound psychological and mystical lesson: "The tail of this beast, your nafs (self/ego), is your shahwat (desire); / For this reason, that self-worshipper perpetually moves backward." Our lower self, this unruly animal within, has its tail in our raw desires. And because the tail points backward, self-absorption inevitably pulls us toward spiritual regression.

This insight from Rumi stands in stark contrast to the approach of certain Sufis who advocated for the eradication of instincts and desires. It's as if the backward-going horse should be killed or discarded. But Rumi argues against this; the horse should not be killed, but rather tamed and utilized. If the horse, instead of moving forward with its head, moves backward with its tail, then one merely needs to redirect its tail towards the desired destination. This is the art of "wise utilization." Nothing should be treated with harshness, cruelty, or surgically removed; rather, it should be treated, cultivated, and reformed. Desire, anger, and every element within us can be constructively employed, provided its orientation is shifted.

This point reminds me of Freud's theory of "sublimation," where a repressed urge can re-emerge at a higher level and in a different direction. Rumi himself alludes to this meaning: "When you cut off its desire for bread (physical sustenance), / That desire will emerge from noble intellect." This means that when we transcend gluttony and material desires, that same energy and inclination can be channeled towards noble intellect and the pursuit of higher knowledge. It's precisely like pruning a tree: "Just as a branch you cut from a tree, / Strength will surge into the fortunate branch." When superfluous branches are removed, vigor is transferred to the fruit-bearing and more valuable ones.

Rumi here draws a clear line with teachings that advocate for the absolute negation of desire and longing. Buddhism, and some similar doctrines, identify the root of suffering in craving and propose non-desire and detachment as the path to salvation. Sa'di famously said, "A dervish was asked what his heart desired; he replied, 'That it desire nothing at all.'" And Sa'eb Tabrizi writes, "The ascetic's life passed in longing for paradise; / He knew not that paradise lies in abandoning longing." This could be termed the Buddhist paradise, achieved through the cessation of craving. But Rumi, instead of completely negating desire, emphasizes changing its object. He prays, "O Transformer, turn its desire toward the hereafter." That is, redirect my inclinations and desires from transient worldly aspirations towards the enduring and eternal realities of the spiritual realm.

Key takeaways

• Desire (shahwat) should not be eradicated but rather re-directed and refined.
• The self-absorbed nafs, driven by unguided desires, tends towards spiritual regression.
• The seeker's skill lies in utilizing their instincts, even those initially perceived as base, to reach their true spiritual destination.
• Rumi's approach contrasts with the absolute negation of desire found in some doctrines like Buddhism; he emphasizes changing the object of desire.
• The transformation of material desires into a quest for higher knowledge is akin to Freudian sublimation or pruning a tree to strengthen its fruitful branches.