“I myself have been wondering. Many times I have read it and wondered: what is the meaning? It is groovy – but very slippery. You feel that you are just about to catch it and it has gone just like a breeze. I am sorry. I have certainly written these lines, and I know there is some meaning, and I feel it, but you will have to forgive me. I cannot even explain it to myself, how can I explain it to you?”
It is not only so about poetry. Anything significant in life…
Picasso used to get very angry whenever anybody would ask the meaning of his paintings. And he was not an angry man. He was a very beautiful, loving person. But the moment you ask the meaning of his painting, you have touched him from the wrong side. He would immediately get very angry. He would say, “This is strange. Nobody asks a roseflower what its meaning is. Nobody asks the stars what their meaning is. Nobody asks a bird on the wing what its meaning is. Nobody asks a sunrise or a sunset what its meaning is. People simply enjoy the beauty; nobody bothers about the meaning. Why are people after me? I am a poor painter. All that I can say is that it is beautiful. But that is not its meaning; it is its impact on a sensitive being.”
Meaning is rational, and the experience of mystery is supra-rational.
Your question is significant, and it must be the question of many other disciples. People ask you what the relationship is between you and me. Just to say that I am your master neither satisfies them nor satisfies you. How can it satisfy them when it does not even satisfy you? – because it is not just a relationship like somebody is your father and somebody is your mother and somebody is your brother. Once you have said that somebody is your father, everything is explained. Nobody bothers you anymore that, “What do you mean by father?” and…
The relationship with the master is not of the same category as all other relationships. It is intrinsically different. It is love, but not only love. It is love with a center of trust. Love alone is unexplainable, and now it has joined hands with an even greater mystery. Trust is absolutely something of another world.
In this world, there is distrust in everybody. Even in people who love each other, there is no trust. There are friends who can, if there is need, die for each other – but there is no trust.
In the Middle Ages it used to happen:
A very strange and ugly thing was in existence in Europe. Whenever a warrior would go to war, he would put a lock on his wife so that she could not make love to anybody, and take the key with him. A strange device it was – those locks are still exhibited in the museums of Europe. You cannot even trust your wife! And if you cannot trust your wife, do you think a master key cannot be found? The goldsmiths who made the locks also made extra keys.