Tajdīd al-khalq: Creation renewed at every moment
Ibn Arabi's name for a world remade fresh at every instant. People tend to picture creation as a job finished long ago, which leaves its maker somewhere back in the past and out of reach. In the other picture the maker is still at work, and nothing you stand on or live by is coasting on its own.
Nafas al-Raḥmān: The Breath of the Merciful
Ibn Arabi called existence the outbreath of the Merciful, the way words ride out on a breath. A maker of that scale can sound like raw power, something a person shrinks in front of. His picture puts warmth at the start: room was made for you freely, and everything that exists came out on that breath.
I breathed into him of My spirit: your life is on loan
God's words in the Quran about the making of the first human. Breath and aliveness feel like the most private things anyone owns, the last things a person would call borrowed. Followed back to their source, they turn out to be given, arriving from the same place the sky came from.
Signs on the horizons and in yourselves: outer world and inner life point back the same way
The Quran promises signs shown across the horizons and inside a person at once. People usually split the two, hunting for God in wide scenery while treating their own ordinary breathing as background noise. The pairing sets them level, so the stars overhead and the fact that you are breathing at all come from one hand.
Faqr: Poverty, owning nothing of your own
The Sufi word for it, drawn from the Quran's line that people are the poor ones and God is rich. Being handed something large usually starts a private count of what you have, and the count comes up short every time. Poverty ends the counting, since whatever the work needs comes from the one who supplies the air, and empty hands stop being the problem.