Question 2

OSHO,

CONCERNING THIS MORNING'S INSIGHTS ON SCIENCE AND MYSTICISM, THESE WORDS OF D. H. LAWRENCE:

"IT IS EASY TO SEE WHY MAN KILLS THE THING HE LOVES. TO KNOW A LIVING THING IS TO KILL IT. ONE SHOULD BE SUFFICIENTLY INTELLIGENT AND INTERESTED TO KNOW A GOOD DEAL ABOUT ANY PERSON ONE COMES IN CLOSE CONTACT WITH. ABOUT HER. ABOUT HIM. BUT TO TRY TO KNOW ANY LIVING BEING IS TO SUCK THE LIFE OUT OF THAT BEING. ABOVE ALL THINGS, WITH THE WOMAN ONE LOVES. EVERY SACRED INSTINCT TEACHES ONE THAT ONE MUST LEAVE HER UNKNOWN. YOU KNOW YOUR WOMAN DARKLY, IN THE BLOOD. TO TRY TO KNOW HER MENTALLY IS TO KILL HER. BEWARE, O WOMAN, OF THE MAN WHO WANTS TO FIND OUT WHAT YOU ARE. AND, O MAN, BEWARE A THOUSAND TIMES MORE OF THE WOMAN WHO WANTS TO KNOW YOU, OR GET YOU, WHAT YOU ARE. MAN DOES SO HORRIBLY WANT TO MASTER THE SECRET OF LIFE AND OF INDIVIDUALITY WITH HIS MIND. KEEP KNOWLEDGE FOR THE WORLD OF MATTER, FORCE AND FUNCTION. IT HAS GOT NOTHING TO DO WITH BEING.

AND AGAIN:

"LOVE OUGHT NOT TO BE PERFECT. IT OUGHT TO HAVE PERFECT MOMENTS AND WILDERNESSES OF THORN BUSHES, WHICH IT HAS. A PERFECT RELATIONSHIP OUGHT NOT TO BE POSSIBLE. EVERY RELATIONSHIP SHOULD HAVE ITS ABSOLUTE LIMITS, ESSENTIAL TO THE SOUL OF EACH INDIVIDUAL. A TRULY PERFECT RELATIONSHIP IS ONE IN WHICH EACH PARTY LEAVES GREAT TRACTS OF THE OTHER UNKNOWN. "

ISN'T THAT ALSO A DESCRIPTION OF A POET -- A MYSTIC? AH, OSHO, THERE COMES A GLIMPSE OF YOUR MYSTERIOUS, MISCHIEVOUS SMILE. YOU NEVER STOP YOUR LOVING EMBRACE WITH LIFE.

Anand Jerry,

I LOVE these two men immensely: Friedrich Nietzsche and D.H. Lawrence. Both had the capacity to become enlightened Masters, but both missed. Still, they had glimpses -- glimpses of great insight.

D. H. Lawrence is a great poet and has something of the mystic in him too, but the only unfortunate thing is that he never became interested in meditation as such, he never tried to seek and search for his innermost core. And he was very close to it, so close that even not knowing about it something of it has penetrated into his words.

Both these insights are tremendously true. To know a thing certainly means to reduce it to something dead. Life as such is instrinsically mysterious: it cannot be known the way physics knows, it can be known only the way poetry knows. The poet also knows about the roseflower, but his knowing is absolutely different from the knowing of a chemist, of a biologist. of a physicist.

If the physicist tries to know the roseflower he will think in terms of electrons, neutrons, positrons. If the chemist tries to know about the roseflower, then the roseflower is nothing but chemistry, chemicals. The poet does not look at the roseflower in terms of physics or chemistry; in fact, he does not observe the roseflower the way a scientist observes a thing. The scientist remains aloof, detached. He does not enter into the experiment himself -- he is just a watcher; he simply takes notes about what is happening. But the poet becomes a participant.

In the world of poetry, knowing happens not through detachment but through sympathy -- or it will be even better if we use the word "empathy." Empathy is the highest peak of sympathy. In sympathy you feel how the other is feeling. The other is in pain, in misery, sad or joyous; you feel it. Your heart gets in tune with the other; that is sympathy. It is a kind of symphony. But in empathy you become one with the other; it is not only a question of getting in tune, it is merging, it is melting.

The real poet melts into the rose. The observer and the observed become one; they are no more separate. There is no poet standing aloof, away from the rose; there is no roseflower separate from the poet. They have merged into a deep dance. The poet is the roseflower, the rose flower has become the poet. There is no distinction left; they have trespassed each other. Then a totally different kind of knowing happens: that knowing cannot be called knowledge.

Science is knowledge; the very word "science" means knowledge. But poetry is not knowledge. Of course, it is a kind of knowing, but so different, so qualitatively different, that even to call it knowing looks a little unjustified. But we don't have any other word.

In Sanskrit we have two words: knowledge is called gyan, and knowing is called pragyan. In English we can say that knowing is experiencing -- not experience. mind you, but experiencing. It is a deep merger. When the poet comes back to himself he has brought a beautiful diamond.

Vincent van Gogh has painted trees which reach above the stars. Now nobody has ever seen such trees -- such trees don't exist -- but when he was asked he said, "That's how I feel. Whenever I become one with a tree I feel the ambition of the whole earth to reach beyond the stars in every fiber of the tree. I have felt it, I have experienced it, and not once but always, without any exception. Whenever I see a beautiful tree and I become one with it, I feel the urge of the earth to transcend the stars. My paintings are paintings of that immense urge, that longing, that thirst of the earth."

Of course, scientists cannot know anything about it.

Tennyson has said, "If I could understand a single flower in its totality, then I would have known the whole existence" -- because a single flower contains the whole universe. The whole universe has joined hands together to create this single flower. This flower does not exist as an independent unit, it exists as an expression of the whole universe.

The poet merges with the whole universe, and he reaches the flower in this subjective way. He knows an inner way, a secret path: his approach is intuitive. The scientist observes everything as an object.

The word "object" has to be understood. "Object" means that which stands as an obstruction. It is like a wall confronting you -- it has to be conquered. That's why science speaks in terms of conquering the world. Even a man like Bertrand Russell wrote a book called The Conquest of Nature.

The poet can never speak about conquest; there is no question of it because there is no conqueror and nothing to be conquered. All is one, one organic unity. But the poet knows these moments only once in a while.

D.H. Lawrence was a poet and had the quality of a mystic, but only once m a while; otherwise he was very intellectual, very argumentative. Even Bertrand Russell was very much irritated by him. Bernard Russell himself was one of the greatest intellectuals of this age, but the way D. H. Lawrence argued made him angry. He was very argumentative, very much in the head, but once in a while he slipped out of the head and then there were great insights.

This must have been such an insight:

IT IS EASY, HE SAYS, TO SEE WHY MAN KILLS THE THING HE LOVES...

because when you love someone, some deep instinct in you starts hankering to know the person. And remember, knowledge is always an effort to conquer, to possess. Because you want to possess the person you love you want to know all the secrets, because that is the only way to possess. If something of the person remains unknown, that unknown part is not in your possession.

That's why husbands and wives and lovers go on playing detective with each other: they want to know everything. They go on goading each other, "Open your heart. Say it, whatsoever it is. Bring it out!" That is really ugly because you may be able to know a little more about the person, but at the same time the love is dying because love can exist only between two mysteries -- two persons who are mysteries to each other.

IT IS EASY TO SEE WHY MAN KILLS THE THING HE LOVES. TO KNOW A LIVING THING IS TO KILL IT.

If you really want to know you have to dissect. If the chemist wants to know the rose he has to dissect it; he has to reduce it to the basic elements from which it has arisen. The earth has to be separated, every chemical has to be separated~ the water has to be separated; only then will he be able to know it. He has to decompose it so that he can know how it was composed in the first place. The poet does not even touch the flower. There is no question of dissection, analysis; he simply loves. He can dance around it, he can sing a song to the rose, he can put his cheek close to it. Sometimes he may even close his eyes while looking at the rose; that will be impossible for the scientist to understand. "What is going on? If you want to know the rose you have to keep your eyes open!" But the poet's way is totally different: it is not the way of knowledge, it is the way of love. And love enhances life just as knowledge kills it.

ONE SHOULD BE SUFFICIENTLY INTELLIGENT AND INTERESTED TO KNOW A GOOD DEAL ABOUT ANY PERSON ONE COMES IN CLOSE CONTACT WITH.

It does not mean that you should not be acquainted with the person; if you want to live with a person you have to be acquainted. But acquaintance is totally different. Acquaintance is a must of every relationship.

ABOUT HER. ABOUT HIM. BUT TO TRY TO KNOW ANY LIVING BEING IS TO SUCK THE LIFE OUT OF THAT BEING.

Never try to know. Never try to penetrate the ultimate secret of the person; leave it free. Love gives freedom -- it is not a question of conquering. And the more freedom you give the more knowing happen -- but it is not knowledge. It is a feeling, it is intuitive.

ABOVE ALL THINGS, WITH THE WOMAN ONE LOVES...

because the woman is far more mysterious than the man, in fact the most mysterious phenomenon in the whole existence, and very delicate, very fragile. Love is always very fragile -- handle it with care.

EVERY SACRED INSTINCT TEACHES ONE THAT ONE MUST LEAVE HER UNKNOWN.

Never try to know the woman you love, because the moment you start the effort to know her you have already started destroying her. Soon she will be reduced to a wife, but then she is not the woman you had loved in the first place. The mystery has disappeared -- and you are the cause of it.

YOU KNOW YOUR WOMAN DARKLY, IN THE BLOOD.

IN THE BONES, IN THE MARROW.

TO TRY TO KNOW HER MENTALLY IS TO KILL HER. BEWARE, O WOMAN, OF THE MAN WHO WANTS TO FIND OUT WHAT YOU ARE. AND, O MAN, BEWARE A THOUSAND TIMES MORE OF THE WOMAN WHO WANTS TO KNOW YOU, OR GET YOU, WHAT YOU ARE.

Why a thousand times more? -- because the woman's way of knowing is far deeper than the man's way of knowing. The man's way of knowing is scientific and superficial objective; the woman's way of knowing is intuitive, subjective. She can penetrate to the deeper realms of the man, and that's why she is capable of killing the love more easily than the man is. Hence a deep fear in every man of the woman he loves -- a certain intuitive feeling that the woman represents not only life but death also.

In the East, particularly in India, we have the image of the goddess Kali, the mother goddess, Kali. She is both a great lover and a great destroyer. If you have seen the image or any picture you will be puzzled -- particularly people coming from the West are very much puzzled --  but it has a great psychological insight in it.

Kali is dancing on the chest of her lover, Shiva. In Sanskrit Shiva means one aspect of God, and Shiva -- just a little difference in spelling -- Shiva means God, Shiva means corpse. She is dancing on the chest of Shiva, destroying him, making him into a corpse. Shiva is becoming a Shiva! She has a garland of human skulls around her neck and in one hand she holds a freshly cut head, blood coming out from it.

Why this strange image? It is not  strange, it is tremendously psychological: the woman has great power because she is intuitive. Hence Lawrence is right when he says:

... BEWARE A THOUSAND TIMES MORE OF THE WOMAN WHO WANTS TO KNOW YOU, OR GET YOU, WHAT YOU ARE...

because you may know or may try to know the woman, but your effort is going to remain superficial; but if she starts penetrating you she can reach to the very core. It is not surprising why almost all husbands become henpecked: the woman reduces them to slaves.

MAN DOES SO HORRIBLY WANT TO MASTER THE SECRET OF LIFE AND OF INDIVIDUALITY WITH HIS MIND. KEEP KNOWLEDGE FOR THE WORLD OF MATTER, FORCE AND FUNCTION. IT HAS GOT NOTHING TO DO WITH BEING.

And the second insight is also of tremendous importance:

LOVE OUGHT NOT TO BE PERFECT...

because the moment anything is perfect it dies. Perfection means death.

IT OUGHT TO HAVE PERFECT MOMENTS AND WILDERNESSES OF THORN BUSHES, WHICH IT HAS. A PERFECT RELATIONSHIP OUGHT NOT TO BE POSSIBLE...

because once a relationship is perfect, nothing is left -- nothing is left to explore. All mystery is gone, evaporated.

Every relationship should have its absolute limits, essential to the soul of each individual. A truly perfect relationship is one in which each party leave great tracts of the other unknown.