O man you are busy working for the world, and the world is busy

The words of Abu Bakr, the first Caliph of Islam and companion of the Prophet, resound with eternal gravity: “O man you are busy working for the world, and the world is busy trying to turn you out.” At first, they sound like a lament, but in truth they are a warning, spoken from the deep well of wisdom. He calls to humanity across the ages, reminding us that the world we so desperately serve is not loyal to us. While we chase wealth, position, and glory, the world prepares to cast us aside, for we are mortal, and the soil of the grave waits for all.

Abu Bakr’s words rise from the ancient soil of spiritual reflection. He had seen men fight for treasure, land, and power, only to perish, leaving all behind. He had seen emperors and tribes labor for supremacy, only to be forgotten. What he reveals is the paradox of existence: man gives his life to serve the world, but the world has no love for him, only the endless cycle of replacing the old with the new. The worker, the ruler, the scholar—all will one day be “turned out” by time itself.

The ancients have long taught this lesson. The Stoics of Greece and Rome said much the same: Marcus Aurelius, the emperor-philosopher, wrote that the names of conquerors fade as swiftly as those of the lowly. He urged men not to waste their energy in vain pursuits of fame or wealth, for death swallows all. Abu Bakr’s words echo this same truth, but with a sharper edge, reminding us that while we labor tirelessly for the world, the world itself labors tirelessly to erase us.

History gives us endless mirrors of this wisdom. Think of Alexander the Great, who conquered from Macedonia to India, dreaming of eternal empire. He built cities, raised monuments, and carried the pride of a god-king. Yet at thirty-two, he was struck down, his vast empire crumbling, divided among generals who tore it apart. Alexander gave himself to the world, but the world turned him out. His story, like so many others, proves Abu Bakr’s solemn warning.

But this teaching is not a counsel of despair. It is a call to awaken. If the world is not loyal to us, then why should we be enslaved to it? If our labor for the material vanishes like mist, then let us labor for what endures: virtue, faith, kindness, and the eternal soul. Abu Bakr, who lived a life of humility and service, sought to free men from bondage to the temporary, and to turn their eyes toward the everlasting. His words are both a rebuke and an invitation—to stop chasing the dust and instead pursue the light.

The lesson, O seeker, is this: remember the end while you live in the present. Work, but do not worship work. Build, but do not cling to what is built. Love others not for their wealth or their beauty, but for the soul within them, for only the soul journeys beyond the reach of the world. Do not let yourself be deceived by the glitter of riches or the illusion of permanence. Live in the world, but do not belong to it.

Practical wisdom flows from this: take time each day to reflect on mortality. Ask yourself if what you labor for will last beyond the grave. Invest your efforts in acts of goodness, in words of kindness, in service that uplifts others. Use the tools of the world, but do not let them rule your heart. For when the world finally turns you out, as it will, what will remain is not your gold or your title, but the deeds of your soul.

So let Abu Bakr’s words echo through the corridors of time: “O man you are busy working for the world, and the world is busy trying to turn you out.” Let them shake us from our illusions and lead us to wisdom. For the world is fleeting, but the eternal remains. Strive not for the love of the world, but for the love of what is everlasting, and then even when the world casts you out, you shall not be lost.