One is a mechanical unity, for example your car or your bicycle or your typewriter. They have a certain unity, but it is mechanical – you can take them apart. You can separate each part of your car: that does not mean that the car has died, it simply means that you have to put all those parts together again. And if you do, that will not mean that the car has come back to life, it is not a resurrection! The car does not have any life, it is only a mechanical unity. You can pull parts apart, you can put parts together: the car is not more than the sum total of its parts.
The organic unity differs in the sense that it is more than the sum total of its parts. Once you have taken it apart, something invisible disappears. Then you may try hard to put all the parts back together, but you will not bring it to life again. You may again have a skeleton, but the skeleton is not what the man used to be. You have simply taken parts apart, and you have not seen anything disappearing. But something invisible to the eyes is no more there. You can put all the parts together perfectly, but it will only be a corpse.
The mechanical unity is a dead thing. The organic unity is a living phenomenon. That’s why I emphasize that existence is an organic unity. We are all one; there is no other.
Master Chang Ching said: “the ultimate truth is wordless.”
It is almost impossible to say something about truth without committing mistakes. However intelligently you try to express it, still you will have to commit mistakes because it is just not possible to bring the ultimate experience into words.
Chang Ching is right when he says, “The ultimate truth is wordless,” – and he is wrong too. If it is really wordless, then why call it ultimate, and why call it wordless? because that too is a word; you are using two words, ultimate and wordless. Although your effort is to indicate something true – your intention is good – the very nature of language is such that you cannot manage not to commit mistakes. Hence many mystics have remained silent.
It is true that truth is wordless – but don’t say it. By saying it you are contradicting yourself. I would prefer a little roundabout way: say that “Where words end, you enter into truth,” or “When you are in absolute silence, whatever you experience is truth.” But you cannot say anything about it. Just the nature of language does not allow it.
Once it is understood that truth becomes available to you when you are in utter silence, how can you manage to bring that which comes in silence to the lowest level of language?
Language is mundane; it has been invented for mundane purposes, for the market-place. But for the temple there is no language. In the temple you have to be silent. It is perfectly right to use language when you are talking about things, but the moment you go beyond things you have simply to leave language behind.