We get rid of illusion and acquire the truth,
but this is discrimination; our mind is cleverly false.
All principles are no principles;
they have no relation to spiritual perception.
It never leaves this place, and is always perfect.
When you look for it, you find you can’t see it.
You can’t get at it, you can’t be rid of it.
When you do neither, there it is!
When you are silent, it speaks;
when you speak, it is silent.
What is religion? This is the most baffling question of all. The definition of religion seems to be impossible, and yet it has to be defined. Without definition a word becomes meaningless.
Religion is a strange word; it has meaning but it is very elusive, you cannot catch hold of it. The moment you succeed in defining, it you have killed it. It remains undefinable – the very nature of it is such. Millions of definitions have been given, but no definition has yet been able to do justice to religion. It is vast, and definitions necessarily have to be definite, that’s why they are definitions. The vastness is such that it contains vagueness; the moment you have made it definite, it is something else, it is no more the same vast infinity.
I have heard about an artist:
He had gone to the forest. It was a beautiful day; the birds were singing songs, and in the background the noise of the insects was like a continuous melody. And the earth was wet, and the freshness of the air, and the smell of the wet earth…he was infinitely enchanted. And the trees and the greenery, and then the sudden appearance of the sun out of the clouds, and then a cuckoo started calling from a distant valley, and then a rainbow…and he was so happy, he was in such a delirium of joy, that he wanted to make this moment eternal. He wanted to paint it or carve it on wood or do something, write a poem or sing a song or compose music. But nothing was available there, and he did not want to miss the moment and the beatitude of it, so he started carving on wood. He had a knife so he started carving. But how do you carve the constant melody of the insects? How do you carve the singing of the birds? And how do you carve the sudden burst of the sun? And how do you carve a bird on the wing balancing itself in the sky? And how do you carve the smell of the wet earth? And how do you carve the sharpness, the freshness, of the air? Soon he was disappointed. He tried hard, but there was no way to carve it, and whatsoever he carved looked silly.