Looking at a sunset, just for a second you forget your separateness. You are the sunset. That is the moment when you feel the beauty of it. But the moment you say that it is a beautiful sunset, you are no longer feeling it; you have come back to your separate, enclosed entity of the ego. Now the mind is speaking.
This is one of the mysteries, that the mind can speak – and knows nothing; and the heart knows everything – and cannot speak. Perhaps to know too much makes it difficult to speak. The mind knows so little, it is possible for it to speak. Language is enough for it, but is not enough for the heart.
But sometimes, under the impact of a certain moment…a starry night, a sunrise, a beautiful flower…and just for a moment you forget that you are separate. And even forgetting it releases tremendous beauty and ecstasy.
When I say you have to disappear for the realization of the ultimate, I do not mean you; I mean the you that you are not. I mean the you that you think you are.
The second statement, that only in feeling one with existence, totally dissolved in it, do you realize yourself, you realize truth…there is no contradiction for the heart, because this “you” that you realize when you are one with existence is not the old you. That was your personality, and this is your individuality. That was given by the society, and this is nature, reality, a gift of existence. You can forget it, but you cannot destroy it.
The other you, the false you, you can create, but you cannot make it real. It will remain a shadow, a painted face. It will never become your original face.
When I was a professor in the university, in the professors’ campus there used to be a small street. There were very few bungalows and those were the best bungalows – for the deans, and the vice-chancellor, and the heads of the departments. So very silent, empty, no traffic…and the street was not long. It went just half a mile and then there was an end, a dead end, and a deep valley.
Whenever there was rain…. I loved to walk in the rain. The last house had made it a point…because they saw it happening again and again, that whenever it rains, I am certain to appear on the street. And that was the last house; then there was the valley.
They thought I must be mad – without umbrella, soaking with water, with a beard, long hair, and walking so slowly and at ease…as if there is no problem of the rain. And then I used to stand by the side of a big bodhi tree, just at the very end of the street.
The bodhi tree has many beauties. One of the beauties is that its leaves are such that when it is raining you can stand underneath it and save yourself from the rains: the leaves prevent the water from reaching to you. And it has very thick foliage, so the water goes on gathering on the leaves. And the leaves are like cups, so they hold much.