I was reading someone’s biography. She was describing one day after just coming out of her bed. The woman writes that “One day, in the morning, I opened my eyes.” Then immediately, she says, “But it is not right to say that I opened my eyes. ‘I’ didn’t do anything. The eyes opened by themselves.” She changes the sentence and she writes, “No, it is not good to say that I opened my eyes. I did not do anything. There was no effort on my part; it was not an action at all.” Then she writes, “The eyes opened by themselves.” But then she feels this is too absurd because the eyes belong to her, so how can they open themselves? So what to do?
Language never says what is. If you say, “I opened my eyes,” it is a lie. If you say, “The eyes opened by themselves,” it is a lie again, because eyes are just fragments. They cannot open themselves. The whole organism is involved. And whatsoever we say is like that. If you go to aboriginal societies in India – and there are many aboriginal tribes – they have a different language structure. Their language structure is more basic and more real, but they cannot create much poetry. Their language structure cannot be helpful for dreaming.
If it is raining, we say, “It is raining.” They ask, “What do you mean by ‘it’? What do you mean by ‘it’?” They have simply the word rain. What do you mean by “it”? What is raining? They just say “rain.” Rain is the reality, but we go on adding things – and the more words are added, the more we are lost, far away, thrown far away from reality.
Buddha used to say, “When you say, ‘A man is walking,’ what do you mean? Where is the man? Only the walking is. What do you mean by ‘the man’?” When we say, “A man is walking,” it appears that there is something like a man and something like walking – two things added together. Buddha says there is walking.
When you say, “The river is flowing,” what do you mean? There is just flowing, and that flowing is the river. The walking is the man, the seeing is the man, standing and sitting is the man. If you eliminate all these – walking, sitting, standing, thinking, dreaming – will there be a man left behind? There will be no man behind. But language creates a different world, and by constantly moving into words we go on moving away.
So the first thing to remember is how not to allow words unnecessarily. When there is a need, you can use them, but when there is no need remain empty, remain non-verbal, mouna, remain silent. There is no need to be constantly verbalizing things.
Secondly, don’t project. Don’t verbalize, don’t project. Look at what is there. Don’t add things and then look. You see a face. When you say, “It is beautiful,” you are putting something into it, or if you say, “It is ugly,” you are again putting something into it. A face is a face. Beauty and ugliness are your interpretations. They are not there, because the same face may be beautiful to someone and ugly to someone else, and to a third it may be neither. He may be indifferent; he may not even look at it – at the same face. The face is simply a face. Don’t put things into it; don’t project. Your projections are your dreams, and if you project then you miss. And this is happening every day.