A wise man has no armor. He is unprotected, he is vulnerable, he is open. He is not defending himself against nature in any way – he is available, he is ready to go the whole way with it. He does not push the river, he flows with it. He need not have any mind because the mind of the whole is enough. He need not have a private mind of his own because he has no private goal. He is not going anywhere, he is not an achiever, he has no ambition – that’s what I mean when I say that he has no private goal. So what is the need of having a private mind? The universal mind is enough.
Either call it no-mind or call it Mind with a capital M. Zen people do both. They call it “no-mind” if they simply want to deny the mind that you have; and they call it the universal Mind, the cosmic Mind, Mind with a capital M, when they want to show its positivity.
What exactly is it? When we call it “no-mind” we are simply saying that it is not what you have got; when we call it the universal, cosmic Mind, we are showing exactly what it is. Calling it “no-mind” says something negative about it – it is not the mind that you are acquainted with. Calling it Mind, great Mind, indicates its nature. A wise man is no-minded or a wise man is a cosmic Mind.
Yes, he is simple like a child but he is not a simpleton. He is simple like a child but he is not childish, remember. There is a vast difference between being childish and being childlike. When Jesus says, “Only those who are like small children will be able to enter into my kingdom of God,” he is talking about the simplicity, the innocence of childhood – but he is not talking about childishness, he is not talking about immaturity. A wise man is not childish although he is like a child. He is not complex in the sense that a philosopher, a logician, a theologian is complex; he is not complex in the sense that he has many doctrines and ideologies and he goes on spinning theories – he is not complex in that sense. His mind is at rest. There is no crowd. His mind is empty. He need not think.
Thinking is a substitute. When you don’t know, you think. When you know, what is the point of thinking? You know it already. Thinking is a state of blindness. If you are sitting here and you are blind and you want to go outside, then you will have to think about where the door is. You will have to inquire of other people where the door is. You will be afraid to stumble, you will be afraid to knock against the wall and you will become worried about where the door is. But a man who has eyes does not inquire. He knows where the door is, he can see it, so he does not think about it. The question “Where is the door?” is irrelevant because he sees it. A wise man has eyes, he can see, so there is no need to think. Only blind people think.
In the West the idea of a thinker is utterly different to the Eastern idea of the seer. You must have seen Rodin’s statue of “The Thinker,” or at least a picture of it, a photograph. We don’t call it a thinker. Rodin’s “Thinker” seems to be ill, worried. You can look into the statue and you can see millions of thoughts rushing about in his mind – it is rush-hour traffic. You can see them in the marble statue – in the way he is sitting, his head in his hand, the lines of worry on his forehead. You can almost feel that if this man continues in this same posture he will go mad.