Chapter 7: Not a Dead One
Religion is a de-structuring of the whole mind. Philosophy is a structure of the mind about the reality, a creation of a system. The mind remains there and helps you to choose, to project, to find. In religion you have to de-structure the mind. The reality remains as it is, you don’t do anything to the reality - you simply drop the mind, and then you look. If the mind is there, it won’t allow you to look at the whole. The mind is obsessed with consistency, it cannot allow the contradictory.
So, whenever you come near a person who is enlightened, your mind will be in difficulty, you will feel many contradictions in him. Your mind will say, “This man says this, and then he contradicts. And sometimes he says this, and then again something else - he is inconsistent.” A religious man is, by the very nature of the case, contradictory; he has to be, because he is not in search of consistency, he is in search of the truth. He is in search of the real, and he is ready to drop everything for the real, whatsoever the real is. He has no preformulated structure for the real - he has no idea how the real should be. If it is inconsistent, it is inconsistent. Okay. He has nothing to impose on it. A religious mind simply allows the real to reveal itself. He has no idea how it should be.
A religious man is passive; a logical, philosophical, scientific man is aggressive. He gets some idea and, through that idea, he structures reality. Around the idea he tries to discover the real. The idea won’t allow you to discover the real - the very idea is the hindrance.
So one path is logic, another path is poetry. Poetry is against logic. Logic is rational, poetry is irrational. Logic is logical, poetry is imagination. And this distinction has to be remembered because religion is neither - neither logic, nor poetry.
Logic is of the mind and imagination is also of the mind. A poet imagines reality. Of course, his reality is more colorful than a logician’s reality, because he imagines, and he is not afraid. He is completely free in his imagination, he has not to follow any idea. He simply dreams about reality: but it is again “about.” He dreams about reality, he makes a beautiful whole out of his dreaming. He is colorful, because deep down is fantasy. Logic is plain, colorless, almost gray; there is no poetry in it because there is no imagination in it. Poetry is almost contradictory, because it is imagination. It doesn’t bother. You never ask the poet to be consistent. If a poet writes one poem today, another tomorrow, and contradicts himself, nobody bothers. People say this is poetry.
If a painter paints a certain thing today, and just the opposite tomorrow, you don’t ask for any consistency, you don’t say, “What are you doing? Yesterday you painted the moon yellow and today you are painting the moon red. What are you doing? You are contradicting.” No! Nobody asks - it is poetry, painting is poetry, sculpture is poetry, and you allow the poet all freedom. But poetry is imagination.