M6:133 — ور سوی شهرست دم‌، رویش به ده / خاک آن دم باش و از رویش بجه

Translation: If its tail is towards the city and its face towards the village, / Be dust to that tail, and leap away from that face. Meaning: This verse asserts that true intent and orientation are far more significant than outward appearance; one should align with the hidden direction towards prosperity, even if it seems less prominent, and shun the outwardly pleasing but misguided facade.

Here, in a captivating anecdote, Mawlana unveils one of his deepest insights. The story begins with a preacher asked by a seeker: in a bird perched on a city wall, which part is nobler – its head or its tail? The preacher's reply, which Mawlana notes is delivered 'according to his (the seeker's) understanding,' is profound: 'If its face is towards the city and its tail towards the village, know that its face is nobler than its tail; / But if its tail is towards the city and its face towards the village, be dust to that tail, and leap away from that face.'

Undeniably, Mawlana teaches us here that outward appearance, name, and even physical position hold no intrinsic value. What truly matters is 'direction' and 'alignment.' In my view, the head and tail are utterly unimportant; what truly counts is which way the bird is facing, what its sowdā (aspiration) is, and towards which direction its hemmat (resolve) is set. If a tail points towards the city (prosperity), that tail is superior to a head facing the village (ruin or wilderness). This is Mawlana’s pivotal decree.

Mawlana articulates this same idea elsewhere in the Masnavi through the analogy of the Quran as a rope: 'The rope is not at fault, O stubborn one, since you had no aspiration to ascend.' The rope itself possesses no inherent direction; it is you who, through your sowdā, impart direction to it. You can use it to ascend to the heavens or to strangle yourself. This same principle applies to the Masnavi itself. The Masnavi is a mute text, just like the Quran. It is we who, with our sowdā and hemmat, infuse it with life and extract meaning from it. Human beings, in this context, are vāheb-al-ṣuvar (givers of forms); we give life to the lifeless and form to the formless. It is here that the role of our intention in understanding any text, any phenomenon, and even any religion, becomes vital. Our aspiration is the prerequisite for our religiosity.

I firmly believe that the stature of a human being is measured by the ceiling of their aspirations. This verse, in essence, echoes that very point. A hunting eagle, if it preys on a mouse, becomes debased and falls from its aquiline dignity. However, an owl whose inclination is towards the king is a 'chief of eagles,' and one should not look at its cowl or outward form. In another anecdote, Mawlana states that on a Hajj journey, one should look to a fellow traveler's 'resolve and intention,' not their color, temperament, or ethnicity. These examples all underscore a single principle: the value, nobility, and even the existential truth of any person or thing derive from its inner orientation, its hemmat, and its sowdā, not from its external appearance or form.

Key takeaways

• Outward appearance and external position are devoid of true value; inner orientation and intention are the ultimate criteria for judgment.
• The worth and nobility of any being depend on its sowdā (aspiration and intent) and hemmat (resolve and will).
• Sacred texts, like a rope, are directionless in themselves; it is the reader's 'aspiration for religiosity' (sowdā-ye dīndārī) that gives them direction and meaning.
• Humans are vāheb-al-ṣuvar (givers of forms); we imbue lifeless things with form and meaning, and must strive for truth and beauty in this act of form-giving.
• A person's true stature and dignity are determined by the ceiling of their aspirations and their inner orientations.