I trust you unconditionally. At the same time, I don’t believe you. Can you speak about trust and belief?
Baby, that is really great! Just groovy. I don’t believe in my own statements either! We are in perfect agreement. I trust myself, I trust you, because I trust love.
Trust is of the heart, belief is of the mind. They are diametrically opposite, they never meet. They can run parallel to each other, but they will never meet. Belief will remain hollow, without any content, and trust is overflowing with joy, blissfulness.
You say you trust me. That’s enough, more than enough. I don’t want you to believe in my statements, because my statements go on changing every day. If you believe in my statements you are going to be crazy. They are so contradictory, you will not be able to figure out what I actually want to say to you.
But trust remains the same – the same flavor, the same grace, the same beauty, because it is not a statement of the mind. It is not a statement at all. It is a silent communion between two hearts, a silent communion in which two hearts synchronize; their beats become a rhythm, their vibe takes the same color and aroma.
I am not a man who wants you to believe in anything, including me. I am against belief as such.
That’s why I have been continuously contradicting myself, so nobody can make any belief out of my statements. No scholar, no theologian is going to make any system out of my statements. In thirty years I must have contradicted myself thirty thousand times. Anybody working on me for a PhD will soon be found in a madhouse. And my reason for doing so is crystal clear. If I were making statements consistent with each other, you would not listen to me, you would make a belief system out of it. I am a little outlandish.
In the forty-two years Buddha spoke, you cannot find a single inconsistency, no contradiction. Now it is so easy to make the whole living religion into a dead belief, a dogma. The religion becomes a cult.
Religion is religion only when the master is there continuously watching that you don’t get into the head, that you remain centered in the heart. But when the master is gone, all that you have left with you is his statements. If they are consistent, then it is very easy for you to make a theology, a Christianity, a Buddhism, a Hinduism, Mohammedanism, and then cling to it. You have forgotten the master; now you have only words, which mean nothing. It was the man behind the words who had meant something to you. Can’t you see the difference?