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OSHO Online Library   »   The Books   »   Philosophia Perennis, Vol. 2
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Chapter 3: Don’t Spit on the Ceiling!

But hidden in the mud is a lotus, and one day that lotus arises. Now, the lotus has something which is dream stuff poetry, music, beauty. Now you are moving higher; now something will start looking unreal. Unless you are ready to allow this mysterious to penetrate your being and to permeate you, you will deny it. Then you are trying to reduce the lotus to the mud again. Then you are saying the lotus is nothing but mud.

That’s how scientists go on answering. If you ask, “What is man?” they say, “Man is matter and nothing else - nothing but matter.” If you ask, “What is this world?” “Nothing but matter.” If you say, “What is love?” “Nothing but biology. nothing but the chemistry of the hormones.” If you ask anything, it is reduced immediately to the lowest denominator - because only the lowest is graspable.

The lotus has moved into a dimension which is not available to science but is available only to poetry, is not available to the scientific mind and the scientific approach and the scientific methodology, but is available, immensely available, tremendously available to the poetic vision.

Now the poetic vision is thought to be nothing but a dream. The poet is a dreamer; poets are called ‘lotus eaters’. But the poet has moved a little higher. The scientist lives in the mud. The poet is a lotus eater, he has become a lotus.

But then there are even higher realms. One day the lotus bud has opened, it has blossomed, and great fragrance is released. Now, the lotus was at least visible, touchable; this fragrance is invisible, almost non-existential - but it is there. That is the world of the mystic: the world of fragrance. Even the poet will feel a little suspicious about it, even the poet will hesitate to go with it, even for the poet it will look a little like going too much beyond the human mind.

The poet would like to remain with the lotus, just as the scientist would like to remain with the mud. But the mystic knows no boundaries, no limits. The mystic moves with the fragrance. That is the highest phenomenon, the peak - but now it is utterly dreamlike. From another standpoint it is the essential core, but those who are too much attached to the mud will deny it. Even the poets will hesitate to accept it.

My vision of a total man is that of a scientist, plus a poet, plus a mystic. But the mystic remains the Everest, the highest peak of the Himalayas.

Here, please don’t try to reduce everything to so-called clear understanding. We are talking about things which are essentially unclear, we are talking about things which exist twilight. We are talking about things which are not things at all. but essences. And listening to me and being here with me, being a part of this communion, it is natural that life will start looking like a dream.

“Everything seems so unreal, you say, like a dream. To me you seem to be so unreal, floating in and out of discourse each day.”

Yes, in a certain sense I am unreal. I am just the fragrance.. And unless you are ready to be full of this unknowable fragrance, I will look unreal, like a dream. But something is happening.

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