The scientist would say that there is nothing spiritual in the throbbing of our heart. It is a kind of system, nothing more. The scientist would say that any heart about which we talk can be seen by dissecting it; and what we will find is a pump which circulates blood, by the pressure of air, throughout the body. There is nothing more to it than that. And if this is how the scientist sees his own heart and source of life, then he can have no experience of life, and no consciousness of the world outside. If heart means for a man only a machine to push blood around within, then he will see only a mechanical expanse in the outside world: then the whole system is complete. The world is merely a mechanical thing. The world outside is only stones.
No, there are other ways to go within. It would have meant great difficulty if the way of science was the only way to go within. Then the scientist would have won. But he cannot win, his defeat is sure. It is possible there will be some delay in finding ways to go within, because there are many possibilities. For example, someone wants to learn to play a veena. Now, it is possible to find out what a veena is by breaking it open and looking into it. One could tear off all its strings, smash it into pieces, examine the pieces, and finally declare, “There is no music at all in it. Who said this was a musical instrument? Here it is in front of me separated into parts, and there is no music in it at all.”
If this is the only way to know what a veena is then the musician is already defeated. But there is also another way to find out what the veena is. Certainly it is a hard way; it is easy to destroy it, but to know what it really is, is very arduous. Only by playing it can one know what is hidden in the heart of the veena. It is so subtle that it is difficult to grasp, certainly, and if you are deaf you will not grasp it at all. If you are only intellectually efficient, but deficient in sensitivity, deficient in sentiment, then you will not understand even if you hear it. When one listens to music one hears only sounds – a profusion of sounds. But music means something more than just hearing. In hearing it, something else is added. We have to pour our heart into it; then and then only, the sounds turn into music. Otherwise there are only confused sounds, there is only noise.
If there was only one way of knowing the heart – that of the surgeon who dissects it on his operating table – it would have been no good; but there is one more way also. A spiritual person knows it, a saint knows it. He has come to know it by playing upon the heart, not by taking it apart. He has known it by producing music in the heart. So he asks, “Which heart within are you talking of? You are as mad and idiotic as a person who breaks an electric bulb, takes the pieces of glass home and says, ‘This is light.’” It is true that light was produced through it, but the glass pieces which you carried home are not and were not light. That the light vanished when the bulb was broken is a fact. So the logical reasoning behind this happening seems correct – that when the bulb was broken the light went away, so the bulb was the light; otherwise the light should not have gone out when the bulb was broken. The pieces we have brought home make up the total light. This is true, that when a bulb is broken the light disappears; it is not lost or destroyed, it simply disappears, becomes invisible. The medium that makes it visible is broken.