The first question:
To what extent does life have relevance to logic?
Logic is a very small thing, life is vast. Logic is utilitarian, it is an invention of man. Life is non-utilitarian, it is not an invention of man; on the contrary, man is life’s invention. Logic is one-dimensional, life is multidimensional. But for thousands of years man has been conditioned to believe that logic and life are synonymous.
This has destroyed the whole joy of the human heart, it has destroyed the most precious thing in existence: it has poisoned man’s capacity to love, because logic goes against love, logic goes against bliss, logic goes against meditativeness, logic goes against godliness. But logic is good in a marketplace – it is calculative, mathematical. Logic is good with things but not good with persons.
If you want to live with things logic is enough, but that is not going to be much of a life. When you live with persons, when you relate with persons, logic is not enough at all; in fact you have to put logic aside.
To relate to a person is to relate to an infinity. Logic cannot contain infinities. To fall in love means you are moving into the world of the uncalculated, the incalculable, the immeasurable, the uncharted. Logic will tell you, “You are going mad. Stop before it is too late!” Logic always creates a prison around you. Of course, it convinces you that it is for your own sake, it is for your safety, security, comfort. And in a certain sense it does give a certain security to you – but that security is the security of death not of life.
If you want to be absolutely secure the grave is the best place; then there is no insecurity, no discomfort, no illnesses, no problems, no anxieties, no calamities, no death even! Once you have died you have died; it is all finished. Now you can rest forever. That’s why on graves you will find these words: Now Rest in Peace. What else can you do in a grave?
One woman made a beautiful marble stone for her husband’s grave: “Rest in Peace” was written on it in golden letters. After three days the will was opened and the husband had not left anything for the woman. She was furious. She rushed to the grave and underneath the golden letters “Rest in Peace” she wrote in her own hand “Till I Come!”
Life is insecure. There are wives and there are husbands, and there are children and whatnot. Life is insecure but that’s the beauty of life, that’s its adventure, that is its exhilaration, ecstasy. Logic makes everything dull, boring – two plus two is always four.