With foolish people it happens always: the reality fades away and words take its place. The word God becomes more important than the reality of God; the word love becomes more important than the phenomenon of love. Then they can kill each other for the word.
It is unbelievable that for thousands of years people have trusted in words so much – as if the word fire is fire, as if the word water is water! When you are thirsty, the word water is not going to help. Of course, if you are not thirsty then there is no difference between the word water and water itself.
But the philosophers are not thirsty – they are not thirsty for truth. They are really on great ego trips. They are not exploring that which is; on the contrary, they are fabricating, manufacturing systems of thought of their own, and trying to impose their thoughts on reality. Hence they never go beyond the mind. And mind is always mediocre, mind is never intelligent – it cannot be by its very nature
Mind cannot by any process be made intelligent because mind means memory. Mind means a mechanism that accumulates past experiences. Mind means the known, and intelligence means exploration of the unknown – and not only of the unknown: when the intelligence reaches to its ultimate flowering it enters into the world of the unknowable.
So please forgive Dionysius for his way of expressing himself – that is Christian, but his message is absolutely universal. We will have to sort it out, we will have to put the Christian words aside.
Did you hear about the philosopher who went to the local Saturday night dance and noticed a shy girl in the corner? He went over and asked her to dance. They spent the rest of the evening together and when it was time to leave the philosopher said, “How about coming to my place?”
“Oh, I can’t!” replied the girl. “I have my menstrual cycle.”
“Oh, that doesn’t matter,” said the philosopher, “we can take my new Honda 500 and pick up your menstrual cycle in the morning!”
The people who live in words are really ridiculous!
A large swarthy Mexican sauntered into a Tijuana whorehouse. The madam greeted him cordially and directed him to the first room on the right. The man returned shortly, explaining that he couldn’t do it. The madam asked what the problem was. With some embarrassment the Mexican explained, “Because sheez my seezter.”
Understandingly the madam directed him to the second door on the left. Soon he returned. Again he was shaking his head and saying, “I cood not do eet – sheez my seezter.”