Life is an adventure, an ongoing adventure, a continuous adventure into the unknown. That’s where logic and life part ways. Logic remains with the old. Logic cannot have any leap, it doesn’t allow any quantum leap – by its very nature it cannot allow it. It has to move step by step, it has to follow the premises. The conclusion is nothing but something that was contained in the premises and has become manifest; it is nothing new. Logic never arrives at the new, it only makes the old manifest. It makes the old understood, it makes the old clear, it makes the old transparent, but it never arrives at the new. It cannot, because for the new there is no context in the old. That’s why it is new, because it has no roots in the old. It is utterly new. It comes from nowhere, it comes out of nothingness. It has no support from the past.
That’s why I call it a quantum leap. It doesn’t move step by step, it doesn’t move by argumentation. It is not a syllogism, it is a song. And it bursts forth in your being if you allow it. It is mysterious – it cannot be explained, because all explanations come from the past. It remains unexplained. But that’s the beauty of it, the mystery of it, the wonder of it, the awe of it. It is an Aha! experience. You can have it, but you cannot make a theory out of it. The moment you make the theory you have converted life into death, you have reduced life into death.
The moment you try to analyze something – and explanation means analysis, dissection – you destroy its organic unity. You see a roseflower – it is there in all its beauty, but unexplained, unexplainable. It is there to be loved, to be celebrated. You can have a dance around it, you can sit in silence with it and there will be great joy and great insight; but your mind demands explanations. Your mind says, “What is the meaning of this roseflower?” There is none. It is beyond meaning. You want to have an explanation – why does it exist, for what? And you are losing track of its reality, you are getting absorbed in the mind which comes from the past. You may compare it now with other flowers that you have known. Or you may dissect it, you may try to get into its reality by logic.
By the time you understand it – you can understand its chemistry not its poetry – by the time you have understood its chemistry, by the time you have some explanations for it, it is gone. The flower is no more. You have a few chemicals in your hands – they are not the flower. They may have been the constituents of it but they are not its organic unity. And a flower is not just a sum total of its parts, it is more than the sum total of its parts.
That’s what I mean by poetry. When something is more than the sum total of its parts it is poetry. You cannot reduce the whole to its parts, because the whole has something which the parts can never have – it has an organic unity. You cannot grasp it, you cannot hold it in your hand, you cannot put it down into a theory, you cannot write a scientific paper about it. It is beyond grasp, it is very elusive. The more you chase it, the more you will miss it. You have to enjoy it to know it truly, you have to love it to know it truly.
But love never gives any explanation. It gives great insight, great intuition, it brings a great vision to you, but there is no explanation. You cannot create a doctrine, a dogma.