There is an invisible strength within us; when it recognizes two

Hear the eternal voice of Rumi, the mystic whose words dance like flame and echo like water: “There is an invisible strength within us; when it recognizes two opposing objects of desire, it grows stronger.” In this teaching, the poet unveils the paradox of the human soul—that its power is not diminished by conflict, but refined by it. The struggle between opposing desires, far from weakening us, awakens the hidden reserves of the spirit, the secret strength that lies beneath our ordinary will.

For what is this invisible strength but the soul itself, forged in tension and awakened in the fire of choice? Without conflict, we remain dormant, like a bow unbent, a string unplucked. It is only when we are torn between two great longings—duty and desire, love and fear, freedom and safety—that the bow is drawn, and the arrow of our true being is loosed. Conflict awakens clarity, and in that awakening we discover depths of resilience and wisdom we did not know we possessed.

The ancients knew this well. The Stoics taught that adversity is the gymnasium of the soul, and Plato described the human heart as a charioteer steering two horses: one noble, the other unruly. To guide them both, the charioteer must cultivate strength, patience, and mastery. So too with us: when confronted by opposing desires, we are given the chance not merely to choose, but to grow. The conflict itself becomes our teacher, sharpening the edge of our spirit.

Consider the story of Mahatma Gandhi. Torn between the desire for peace and the need for resistance, he walked the razor’s edge of nonviolence. Many would have chosen submission or open war, but Gandhi embraced the paradox: to fight without violence, to resist without hatred. In that tension, his inner strength grew vast, until it toppled an empire. His life embodies Rumi’s wisdom—that opposing desires, held and transformed, awaken the might of the unseen self.

So too in our private lives. A mother may long for freedom yet be bound by love for her children. A soldier may desire to return home, yet remain steadfast in duty to his comrades. An artist may crave worldly success, yet yearn to remain faithful to truth. Each conflict is painful, yet within it is the chance to discover strength that lies beyond mere comfort. For it is the soul that grows when the heart is stretched between choices.

The lesson, O seeker, is not to fear conflict, nor to despise the war within. When you find yourself torn, know that the tension is not your ruin but your forging. Do not flee from the weight of two desires, but hold them, wrestle with them, and listen. In the silence between them, your invisible strength will rise, showing you not only what to choose, but who you are becoming through the choosing.

Practical steps are these: when caught between two desires, do not rush to escape the discomfort. Sit with it. Reflect, write, or pray upon it. Ask: “What does each desire reveal about my values, my fears, my hopes?” In the act of wrestling, you will discover a clarity that only conflict can bring. Trust that the struggle itself is strengthening you, even before the choice is made.

Thus remember Rumi’s wisdom: conflict is not the enemy, but the crucible. The invisible strength within you awakens not when life is simple, but when desires collide and you stand trembling at the crossroads. Embrace that trembling, for it is the stirring of your deepest self. And when you emerge, you will find that you are not weakened, but stronger, clearer, and more alive than before.