Chapter 2 : Sutra 2
So it is that existence and non–existence give birth the one to the idea of the other; that difficulty and ease produce the one the idea of the other; that length and shortness fashion out the one the figure of the other; that the idea of height and lowness arise from the contrast of the one with the other; that the musical notes and tones become harmonious through the relationship of one with another; and that being before and behind give the idea of one following another.
Chapter 2: Sutra 2
Thus existence and non-existence together give birth to each other's idea; the abstract and the simple create each other's idea; extension and abstraction shape each other; the idea of highness and lowness depends on each other's opposition; musical notes and sounds become harmonious only through mutual connection, and the idea of order arises from precedence and succession.
The one who is an opponent, the one who is opposite, is also a companion, a friend. The one who is an enemy, the foe, is also a friend, a relative.
Lao Tzu doesn't see the opposite as the opposite, doesn't consider distance as distance, doesn't consider the opposite as the opposite. Lao Tzu says, all distances are measured by proximity. And all proximity is merely a smaller form of distance. To draw a white line, a dark, black background is needed.
Therefore, anyone who says that white is in opposition to black is mistaken; for to highlight white, black must be used. Anyone who says that morning destroys night is mistaken; the truth is that morning is born from night.
What we see as opposition, Lao Tzu sees as coincidence. Lao Tzu's entire gestalt, his way of seeing, is the opposite of ours. Where we see tension in things, Lao Tzu sees attraction. Where we clearly see that someone is trying to destroy us, Lao Tzu says, "We cannot exist without that person. There is no possibility of our existence without that which is trying to destroy us." He takes this as an example, in each thing.
He says, if there were no two, there would be no room for one. He uses a mathematical example. Mathematicians admit that if we want to preserve the number one, we must preserve all the numbers after two. If we erase all the numbers after two, one will lose all meaning. Whatever meaning one has is due to two.
Let's think about it: if we had a single number, what meaning would it have? What would it mean? It would have no meaning at all. It would be meaningless. Whatever meaning it possesses comes from the expansion of two, three, four, all the way up to nine. If we removed all the numbers after one, one would become meaningless.
Lao Tzu says, one is not separate from the other; it is a part of the other. He says, if we remove the height, what will become of the low? If we erase the mountain peaks, where will the valleys remain? How will they survive? Although the valleys seem to be the opposite of the mountain peak. The peak of the mountain seems to touch the sky; the valleys seem to touch the underworld. But Lao Tzu says, the valleys are formed near the mountain because of the mountain itself. In fact, the valley is another part of the mountain peak, its other aspect. If we erase one, the other will disappear. If we want to save the peaks, erase the valleys, then the peaks will not survive.
We always see that the ditch is upside down, the peak is upside down.
Lao Tzu says, "The abyss is the base of the peak; the peak is the creator of the abyss. They are both united; there is no way to separate them." Lao Tzu says, "Why call opposites what we cannot separate? Why call opposites what we cannot separate?"
One of Napoleon's sworn enemies had died. Tears welled up in Napoleon's eyes. A friend sitting nearby asked, "You should be happy that your sworn enemy is dead!"
Napoleon said, "I never imagined this. But now that my natural enemy, the one with whom I had always held a grudge and with whom I never had any hope of friendship, is dead, I feel that a part of me has been diminished. I will never be the same person I was in his presence."
Napoleon's realization clarifies Lao Tzu's understanding. Napoleon says, "With the death of my enemy, something within me has also died, something that will never exist without his presence. I have become less. There was something within me that existed because of him. Now that he is gone, that thing within me is gone."
So this means that even enemies make you, not just friends. And without enemies, you will also be diminished, empty.
Lao Tzu says, there is no opposite in the world; the opposite only appears.
Illness is not the opposite of health. And if we ask medical science, it too will say that illness is a part of health. Health is essential to becoming ill. We cannot become ill without being healthy. Therefore, a dead person cannot become ill. And that is why it often happens that after a certain age, even death becomes difficult. Because if a person lacks even the necessary health to die, it becomes very difficult. Death often comes very slowly after the age of eighty or ninety.
Luqman said that if a person has never been sick, they die at the first illness. Because they are so vibrant that the first illness itself can become death. A person who has been very sick does not die so quickly. To die, to die instantly, requires extremely vibrant health.
These seem contradictory. We see illness as the opposite of health. But if we look within, we will realize that illness is a means of protecting health. When you are sick, the hard work your body is putting in to protect your health is your illness. A person has a fever. Fever is nothing more than the body trying so hard to stay healthy that it becomes heated, hot; it is fighting so hard to be healthy that it becomes sick.
In existence, illness and health are two parts of the same thing. And whatever contradictions there are, whatever contrasts there are, according to Lao Tzu, they are not opposites at all. If a person thinks that he will never be insulted, then he should remember that he will never be respected. One who wants to be respected has to be prepared to be insulted. And one who is respected can do so only after going through many kinds of insults. So Lao Tzu says that if one does not want to be insulted, he should do one thing: he should not try to be respected. Then no one will be able to insult him.
Lao Tzu has said that I always sat at a place from where no one could lift me. I sat at the last place; I sat where people took off their shoes. Because even if someone lifted me and threw me, there was no place to throw me further. No one could ever insult me, Lao Tzu has said, because I never wanted respect. If I wanted respect, then insult would come. If one is not prepared for insult, then there is no way to get respect. One who wants to rise high will fall down. And one who is afraid of falling down, should not try to rise high. And one who has the courage to fall down, can rise up happily.
Lao Tzu is saying that if we try to avoid the opposite, we will fall into error, and we will get into trouble. Either avoid both, or be prepared for both. Existence is duality. The existence we know, the place we live, the world of our minds, is duality. Everything there is handled just like an architect builds an arch on a door. In fact, the very name of architect originated from building an arch. Anyone who can build an arch is an architect. The art of an arch on a door is simply that we place opposite bricks in it. Round—half the bricks face one way, half the bricks face the other. Nothing else. But opposite bricks can hold up even the largest buildings. Opposite bricks press each other, come into conflict with each other. Their conflict generates power; that power supports the entire building.
One might think that if opposite bricks have so much strength, it would be even better if we used bricks with the same orientation, leaning in the same direction. But then the arch would not form, and the building would not stand. Opposite bricks form archways. Then, however large a building can be supported, no matter how strong or heavy.
The door to all life, the foundation of all life, rests on opposites. Wherever something exists, its immediate support is found. Whether it's man and woman; negative electricity and positive electricity; sky and earth; fire or water—the entire organization of life is built by pitting opposites against each other, providing support. Opposites are allies. Those bricks placed upside down are not enemies, they are friends. Their oppositeness is the foundation.
That's why Lao Tzu uses some examples. He says, "So it is that existence and non-existence give birth to the idea of the other. Existence gives birth to the idea of non-existence; non-existence gives birth to the idea of existence." Understand this: life gives birth to the idea of death, and death gives birth to the idea of life. We cannot imagine that existence will ever be such that non-existence will cease to exist. Nor can we imagine that life will ever be such that death will cease to exist. If there is life, there will be death. There is no way for life to exist without death.
Why does Lao Tzu say this? He says this because if you understand this, a unique sense of acceptance will arise in your mind. Then you will no longer fear death. Then you will know that it is an essential part of life. Then you will have the capacity to accept and welcome even death. Then you will know that when life was desired, death was also desired. When I took a step towards life, I already moved towards death. Then you will know that the idea of saving life alone is foolish, stupid. Life will survive only with death. If I want life, then I should want death also. And if I do not want death, then I should not want life either.
And in both situations, extraordinary knowledge arises. Either a person gives up the desire for both life and death, and thus attains supreme detachment. Or else, if one desires and offers life and death simultaneously, then also attains supreme detachment. Either the duality is abandoned, or the duality is completely accepted, then you are beyond duality.
But our mind is like this, save one and leave the other. The mind says, life is worth saving, death is worth giving up. The mind says, love is worth saving, hatred is worth giving up. The mind says, friends should be saved, enemies should be left behind. The mind says, respect should be received, disrespect should not be met. The mind says, there should be health, illness should never come. The mind says, youth should be there, old age should not come. The mind says, happiness should be saved, sorrow should be avoided.
And when the mind makes such choices, life becomes a crisis, a worry, and a pointless tension. Choosing between these two is suffering. Either abandon both or accept both, and then a state of supreme bliss and ultimate fulfillment arises.
Lao Tzu wants to show that no matter what you do, whether you hold on or let go, the duality cannot be separated. They are united. We even say united in language, but they are one. They are two ends of the same thing. It's like if a man decides to inhale but not exhale, then that man will die. Because what we call the outgoing breath, the outgoing breath, and the incoming breath are two names for the same breath. Either let go of both, or save both. There is no facility in saving one and letting go of the other. That's why Lao Tzu uses all these examples.
He says, 'Existence and non-existence together give birth to each other's feelings.'
They are companions, not enemies. They are not opposites, but a pair.
‘The raw and the simple create each other's feelings.’
If someone wants to be simple, they should try, as sages do, and therefore the more sages try to be simple, the more complicated they become. If someone tries to be simple, they will become complicated. Yes, it is possible that in becoming simple they may save two clothes, a loincloth, eat only once a day, sleep under a tree; all this is possible, but still there will be no simplicity. Sleeping under a tree requires so much purpose and planning, sleeping under a tree requires so much arrangement and discipline, sleeping under a tree requires so much practice that the mind behind this practice will become complex, it will become difficult.
The meaning of simplicity is that even inside a palace a person should sleep just like under a tree.
We easily perceive one kind of difficulty. If we suddenly made an emperor, accustomed to living in palaces and wearing expensive clothes, stand wearing a loincloth, he would face great difficulty. But have you ever considered that if we made someone, accustomed to wearing a loincloth and sitting under a tree, sit on a throne and dress him in expensive clothes, would the difficulty be any less?
It will be just as difficult. It could even be more so! It could be even more so, because living in a palace doesn't require special practice, but living under a tree requires special practice. Wearing beautiful clothes doesn't require any planning or practice, but being naked requires practice and planning. So, if we suddenly give clothes to someone who is standing naked, our clothes will cause him great discomfort. There will be difficulty within him.
Diogenes, a mystic, went to meet Socrates. Socrates was a very simple man—a simple man who hadn't cultivated simplicity. Because those who did, became complex. Even simplicity becomes complex if it has to be cultivated.
Socrates was a simple man. He had never cultivated simplicity. He had never grasped any simplicity that was contrary to simplicity. Diogenes was complex. He had cultivated simplicity. He often remained naked, or if he ever wore clothes, he would wear them by stitching them together from rags. If someone ever gifted him new clothes, he would first cut them, get them to pieces, stitch them together again, only then wear them. If someone gifted him new clothes, he would first dirty them, rot them, spoil them, then make them into rags, then stitch them together. He was a practitioner of simplicity.
He came to meet Socrates. He said to Socrates, "Seeing you in such beautiful clothes, I wonder, what kind of a sage are you? What kind of simplicity are you?" Socrates laughed and said, "I may not be simple; what you say may be right."
Diogenes must not have understood that this was the characteristic of a simple person. So Diogenes said, "Do you admit it yourself? This is what I told people, that Socrates is not a simple man. Do you admit it yourself, do you endorse my words?" Socrates said, "If you say so, I find no reason to deny it; I must be simple." Diogenes burst out laughing.
As he was descending, Socrates' disciple Plato met him at the door. He said to Plato, "Listen, your teacher has admitted in front of everyone that he is not simple."
Plato looked him up and down and said, "Through the holes in your tattered rags, nothing is visible except your ego. Please never go naked, otherwise nothing will be visible except your ego. Only your ego is visible through the holes." Plato said, "You don't understand. This is the sign of a simple man: if you go and tell him that he is not simple, he will accept it. And this declared simplicity of yours is very subtle, very complex."
Simplicity becomes complex if it is active. And complexity also becomes simple if it is passive.
The real question isn't about choosing between two things. Whenever we choose one of the two, the most interesting thing is that its opposite immediately becomes present. If we practice nonviolence, the element of violence immediately becomes present within us. Therefore, anyone who practices nonviolence will become violent in a very subtle way. It will be difficult to recognize this violence, but it will become violent. Anyone who practices celibacy will become sexually aroused at a very deep level. We cannot achieve anything without the opposite. Because to achieve something, we have to fight the opposite.
And the interesting thing is, we become like the person we fight. It is possible for a friend to have no influence on you, but it is impossible to remain unaffected by an enemy. You may remain unaffected by a friend, but it is impossible to remain unaffected by an enemy. The enemy will definitely inculcate the conditioning. If someone decides that he is an enemy of violence, then no matter how much non-violence he practices, deep down he will remain violent. And if someone decides that he will live without ego, will wipe out ego, then he will be in a situation like Diogenes; nothing but ego will be visible through the holes in the rags.
Lao Tzu is saying, 'The simple and the abstract create the essence of each other.'
If you realize that you are simple, then you should know that you have become simple. If you realize that you are non-violent, then you should know that your violence has been strengthened. If you start saying that you have attained celibacy, then you should know that you have fallen into the abyss of non-celibacy. If you declare somewhere that you have found God, then you should be sure that you have lost touch with God. We are making these declarations only for the opposite. And the opposite cannot be avoided. Therefore, simplicity is undeclared. It happens, even the one in whom it happens is not aware of it.
Understand it this way. When you are healthy, you have no idea of health. Only a sick person knows about health. It sounds very strange, but this is the truth. If you are completely healthy, then you have no idea about health. When illness knocks, then you become aware of health. When illness knocks at the door, then you become aware of health. Only sick people are filled with awareness of the body; a healthy person is not aware of the body. Therefore, in Ayurveda, the characteristic of a healthy person is Videha Bhaav - the feeling of bodylessness. Only that person is healthy who is not aware of the body. If he is aware, then he is sick.
In fact, the part of the body that you become aware of is the one that is sick. If you become aware of the stomach, it means the stomach is sick. If you become aware of the head, it means the head is sick. Have you ever become aware of the head? Without a headache, there is no awareness of the head. If you become aware of it even a little, there is a headache present to that extent. Health is a natural state; there is no awareness of it.
The day a person truly becomes simple, he doesn't even realize he's simple. He becomes so simple that if others come and tell him, "You seem innocent," he'll accept it. He becomes so attuned to God that if others come and tell him, "You don't know anything," he'll agree to that too. He becomes so nonviolent that he doesn't even realize he's nonviolent. Because only a violent person can have such a thought.
‘Extension and abstraction shape each other.’
Expansion seems like a big deal, brevity seems like a small thing; the universe is a very big deal, and a tiny molecule is a very small thing. But molecules together create the universe. Remove the molecules, and the universe becomes nothing. Remove the drop, and the ocean becomes empty. Although the ocean never knows that it is the drop that creates it. And if there is a discussion between the drop and the ocean, the ocean will not even accept the drop as creating it. Although it is the combination of drops that makes the ocean. The ocean is nothing but a combination of drops. And if the combination of drops makes the ocean, then the drop itself is a small ocean. It is not appropriate to call the drop anything else; it is a small ocean. That is why the combination of drops must make the big ocean.
So, it wouldn't be a mistake to say that a drop is a small ocean, and the ocean is a big drop. It's closer to the truth that the ocean is a big drop, and the drop is a small ocean. What we call vastness, what we call the universe, is also an atom. And what we call an atom is also the universe.
The sages of the Upanishads have said that they did not see any difference between the body and the universe, they did not find any difference between the small and the big, they saw nothing and everything as the same.
Lao Tzu says that all these differences that we see are illusions.
If we ask a scientist, he too would agree with Lao Tzu's assertion. And you might be surprised to learn that some young Western scientists are very interested in Lao Tzu. And scientists are also wondering whether a new science could ever be born based on Lao Tzu.
And a very valuable thinker and mathematician has written a book: Tao and Science.
Will not Lao Tzu's ideas give rise to another kind of science?
It must be! Because Western science is built on the Greek concept of accepting the opposite. All Western science is Aristotelian, based on Aristotle's principles. And there is no greater opponent of Aristotle than Lao Tzu. If we understand properly, there are only two schools of thought in the world: one is Aristotle's and the other is Lao Tzu's. All Eastern thought is Lao Tzu's, and all Western thought is Aristotle's. So, if we keep in mind the slight difference between these two, then the matter will become easier to understand.
Aristotle says that darkness is darkness, light is light; the two are opposites.
There is no union between the two. And he says, what proof is there for the obvious? Light a lamp, and darkness disappears; extinguish a lamp, and darkness comes. Darkness comes when there is no light. When there is light, darkness disappears. So Aristotle says that darkness is darkness, light is light; there is no union between the two. Aristotle's entire theory, his entire logic, stands on one foundation. And that is that A is A, B is B; and A cannot be B. A is A, B is B; and A can never become B. If we want to put Lao Tzu's entire theory in Aristotle's language, it is that A is A and also B; and A cannot remain A without becoming B. A is A and also B; and A cannot remain A without becoming B. Aristotle's theory is of solid concept; Lao Tzu's theory is of fluid concept.
Lao Tzu says, things are so fluid that they flow into their opposite. The chasm becomes a peak, the peak becomes a chasm. Where there was a chasm yesterday, there is a peak today. Where there is a peak today, there will be a chasm tomorrow. Life becomes death, life is reinvented from death. Youth becomes old age, old people are reborn as new children. No, darkness is not darkness, light is not light. Darkness is a dim form of light, and light is a brighter form of darkness.
Lao Tzu and Aristotle – such is the decisive situation in the world.
So Western scientists believe that if science were to develop based on Lao Tzu, it would take on a different dimension. Currently, science has evolved based on Aristotle. Western science is entirely founded on Greek thought. Aristotle is its father. The principles Aristotle proposed have expanded over the past two thousand years. Aristotle and Einstein are not separate entities, but part of the same chain. Their logic is the same; their way of thinking is the same.
Lao Tzu is completely the opposite. If Lao Tzu ever becomes the foundation of science, a different science will emerge, one whose vision we cannot even imagine. If—to understand this with an example—if Aristotle is right, then we will be able to save life by destroying death. In fact, the more we destroy death, the more life will be saved. And if one day we destroy death completely, then the ultimate life will remain, only life will remain. According to Lao Tzu, the situation is the opposite. If we destroy death, we will destroy life. And if death is destroyed completely, then life will become absolutely nothing.
Now let's examine what has actually happened. It's fascinating that the more diseases we've eradicated, the more human health has declined. Human health hasn't improved because of the decline in illness. We are not as healthy as the people of Lao Tzu's time. However, in Lao Tzu's time, there weren't as many means of combating disease as we have now.
Even today, the tribal people of the jungle don't have many ways to fight disease. Diseases are numerous, but remedies are simply nonexistent. They are much healthier than us. And their evidence of health is astonishing. Even today, among the uncivilized tribes of the African jungle, any wound inflicted on their bodies heals within forty-eight hours without any treatment. Without any treatment! If you hit your leg with an axe, the wound will heal within forty-eight hours. Scientists say their health is extraordinary. That same energy, that same vitality of health heals any kind of wound within twenty-four hours—without any treatment! And the treatments that exist are no treatments at all. Tying a leaf, doing something, has nothing to do with it. There's no scientific connection between the leaf and the wound healing. The leaf is just an excuse; the body itself heals the wound.
The tribal people of the African jungle have a lot of diseases all around them; they have no cure, no understanding of medicine, no medical college, no doctor; yet their health is extraordinary.
Lao Tzu may be right. Lao Tzu says, "The more you try to eliminate disease, the more you will destroy health." Because this world depends on duality; if you knock down one brick, the opposite bricks on the other side will immediately fall. And now even Western scientists are beginning to think that there may be some truth to what Lao Tzu said.
There's an old story about an old man who followed Lao Tzu, along with his young son—the old man was about ninety years old—both of them were yoked to a watering can and drawing water in their garden, where oxen or horses should be plowed. Confucius passed by. Confucius and Lao Tzu were as contrasted as Aristotle and Lao Tzu. Confucius was an Aristotelian, and his way of thinking was like Aristotle's. That's why the West has given Confucius great respect over the last three hundred years. Respect for Lao Tzu is growing now, it's only now dawning on us, because science has found itself in a very strange situation and in great difficulty.
Confucius passes by the garden. He sees a ninety-year-old man and his thirty-year-old son, both yoked, drenched in sweat, drawing water. Confucius felt pity for him. He said, "You fool, you don't seem to know." Going to the old man, he said, "Do you know that in cities we have started drawing water with horses or oxen? Why are you yoked inside?"
The old man said, "Speak softly, my young son might hear." Confucius was very surprised. He said, "Come back a little later, when my son goes home to eat."
When the son left, Confucius came back and said, why didn't you let the son listen?
The old man said, "I'm ninety years old and can still fight a thirty-year-old. But if I make my son harness horses, he'll never have my health at ninety. Horses will, but my son won't. Don't mention this. If my son hears it, his life will be ruined. We know, we know, that horses are being harnessed in cities. And we also know that machines have been developed to draw water from wells. And my son will want to use machines. But when machines draw water from wells, what will he do? What will happen to his body? What will happen to his health?"
Whatever we do on one hand, it immediately has consequences on the other. And if Lao Tzu is right, the consequences can be dire.
For example, we want to sleep deeply. So, the person who wants to sleep deeply is a lover of rest. And the one who loves rest will not work hard. And the one who does not work hard will not be able to sleep deeply. Lao Tzu says, work and rest are combined. If you want rest, then work hard; work so hard that rest descends upon you.
But if we think along Aristotle's lines, rest and labor are opposites. If I love rest and want a deep sleep, I may sit comfortably all day. But one who sits comfortably all day will lose his night's rest. Because rest has to be earned through labor. If you want to attain rest, you must earn it through labor. Or else you will have to be content with no rest.
So, a very interesting phenomenon occurs: a person who loves rest rests all day and loses sleep at night. And to the extent that he loses sleep at night, he rests the next day to make up for it. The more he makes up for it, the more he loses his sleep at night. One day, he finds himself caught in a rut where rest becomes impossible.
Lao Tzu says, "If you want rest, go the other way—work." Because work and rest are not opposites; they are allies, companions, and companions. The deeper you work, the deeper you will rest. And the opposite is also true: the deeper you rest, the greater the capacity for work you will awaken the next day. If this thought comes to mind, Lao Tzu would say that the question is not about destroying the opposite, but about harnessing the opposite.
Aristotle says that nature gives diseases, so fight nature. Therefore, all Western science is a struggle against nature. Its entire language is that of war. Russell wrote a book: Conquest of Nature – Victory over Nature. It is all the language of struggle.
Lao Tzu would laugh. Lao Tzu would say, "You don't even know that you are a part of nature. How can you conquer it? What if my hand sets out to conquer me? What if my foot thinks it can conquer me? That would be foolish." Lao Tzu says, "Nature cannot be conquered, because you are nature. And the one who sets out to conquer is a part of nature. In trying to conquer, you will only become filled with tension and anguish. Live nature, don't go for victory. Don't fight nature to ask for its secrets. Love nature, immerse yourself in it; it reveals its secrets."
If one day the entire structure of science is built on Lao Tzu, then science will be completely different. It will not be in the language of fighting, but in the language of cooperation. Not conflict, but cooperation! Not conflict, but cooperation! Then we will think differently. And the person who thinks in the language of conflict, his logic is the same: A is A, B is B; therefore, if you want to attain A, then remove B, and A will increase. If you want to attain health, then fight disease. Remove disease, and health will increase. No.
I used to read Rothschild's memoirs. He has air-conditioned his entire house. Even his porch is air-conditioned. When a car comes in, the door opens automatically; when the car goes out, it closes automatically. It is an air-conditioned car. He gets in it and goes down to the air-conditioned porch of his office, then goes to his air-conditioned office. Then he starts suffering from twenty-five diseases. Then the doctor tells him to sit in a hot tub for two hours. Then he sits in a hot tub for two hours and sweats it out.
Then he thinks, what am I doing? By air-conditioning everything, I'm preventing sweating. Then, after preventing sweating, I sit in the tub for two hours to sweat it out. Then, I sweat too much, I feel hot, so I sit in the air-conditioned room to cool myself down. Then, it gets too cold, I can't sweat anymore, I get sick, so...what am I doing?
Almost, the language of conflict puts us in such a dilemma.
Lao Tzu says that what we call opposites is not actually opposite. And if you want to enjoy the coolness, it cannot be done without enjoying the sunshine. This may seem contradictory, but I also say that Lao Tzu is right. If you want to enjoy the coolness, it cannot be done without enjoying the sunshine. And one who has not experienced the pleasure of sweat will not be able to enjoy the coolness. For one who has not experienced the pleasure of sweat, even coolness will become a disease. And only one who has experienced the pleasure of flowing sweat will be able to sit in the coolness and enjoy it. In reality, one who does not know how to be hot will not be able to cool down. These are not opposites; they are combined. And the combination of both is the music of life.
Therefore, Lao Tzu says, "The sense of highness and lowness depend on their opposition to each other; the notes and sounds of music become harmonious only by being connected to each other."
Musical notes—contrasting notes, opposing notes—combine and harmonize, creating superior music. What we call harmony, musical rhythm, is a collection of contrasting notes. When we make noise, we use the same sounds we use to create music. What's the difference? In noise, those same sounds are chaotic, lacking any harmony. In music, those same sounds become rhythmic; they become bound together in cooperation.
Even if we demolish this house and pile up bricks, the material will still be the same, the bricks will still be the same. Then, by spreading these same bricks, we build a beautiful house. The notes and sounds are the same as those heard in the noise of the marketplace. They are the same notes, they are the same sounds. What happens in music? We remove their chaos, their mutual conflict, and establish friendship even between opposites. Those same notes, those same sounds become wonderful music. And if anyone thinks we can create music from a single note, he is crazy. Music will not be created from a single note. Music requires many notes, different notes; opposite, seemingly contradictory notes; only then will music be created.
It's very difficult to understand Lao Tzu without breaking free from this Aristotelian notion that has been ingrained in our minds since childhood. We always have this notion: our gestalt, our way of seeing things, is always in contradiction. We see something anywhere and immediately break it down and think in terms of the opposite—anywhere! If a person is criticizing you, you immediately think of them as an enemy. But they could also be a friend. And those who know them will say, "They're a friend." Kabir says, "Keep the critic close, let him clean your courtyard and hut." If someone criticizes you, keep him close by, make him a good place in your own courtyard and hut. Because he will say such useful things that no one else would say to you. At least your friends never will. He can say things that will be useful to you in your own self-reflection. He can say things that will become a path to connecting you with yourself. Keep him with you.
Now Kabir is quoting Lao Tzu. Don't feel any hostility towards the one who is criticizing you. There is no need for that. His criticism can also be useful. His criticism can also become a harmonious music. But we are strange people! Criticism is a different matter, if someone suddenly comes and praises us, then also we get shocked thinking that there must be something wrong. Otherwise, when does someone praise someone! There must be some motive. There must be some motive behind the flattery. If he is praising, then he will definitely ask for something. He might have come to take a loan, or who knows what else will come up next! We get shocked even on hearing praise, criticism is a far cry.
Lao Tzu...Our way of looking at life is that we are facing the hostility of the entire world. Illness is our enemy, death is our enemy, old age is our enemy. The people around us are our enemies, nature is our enemy, society is our enemy. The entire universe, the entire divine, is against us. And we are the only ones. We have to live through all this struggle. This is one gestalt. This is one way.
And the other way is that the moon, the stars, the sky, the earth, God, society, animals, birds, trees, plants, and all—even illness, enemies, and even death—are my companions, my companions. All are part of my life. I exist with them all. I would not be able to exist without them. This is the second Gestalt. This is the second way of life.
Of course, the end result of the first type will be worry and anxiety. If we have to fight the whole world, 24 hours a day, from morning till evening, then life cannot be joyful. And we will have to die fighting. We will have to lose every day. Because who wins even after fighting? Death will come, old age will come, disease will come; everything will come even after fighting. And if we keep fighting, and all this will keep coming, then what will be the end result? We will simply become hollow, and nothing will remain within us except worry.
Western scientific thinking has created a situation similar to this: one has to fight everything, one has to fear everything. Because when one has to fight, one has to be afraid. And when one has to fight, one has to organize defenses against everything. Hitler didn't marry because, if he did, he would at least have the right to sleep with a woman in the room. And at night, he would strangle her!
If there is conflict with the entire world... According to Freud, the relationship between husband and wife is a strife, a conflict. It is an extension of Aristotle's thought, the entire Western thinking! Freud calls the relationship between husband and wife a sexual war. It is not love or anything else. It is simply a sexual war, in which the husband is trying to dominate the wife, and the wife is trying to dominate the husband. Those who are intelligent, they try to assert this authority and domination in a polite manner. Those who are ignorant, they are simply fighting with sticks. The rest is conflict.
This is a gestalt in which all relationships will become like this. It is not that only the relationship between nature and man will be distorted. When there is a view of a distorted relationship, no relationship will remain. There is then conflict between father and son. Turgenev's book is very famous: Fathers and Sons. In it, Turgenev says that there is a constant conflict between father and son. There is no relationship except conflict. The son, being the one who is entitled to the father, is therefore trying to remove the father. He should leave his place, and the son should take his place.
It's a gestalt. If you look closely, you'll see that the son is trying to dislodge his father, saying, "Move aside, give me one key, give me another, give me a third key. Now you go home, now retire, now let me work at the shop, let me work at the office." The son is trying one thing. The father is trying one thing, trying to stay firmly planted, to stay there as long as possible, not letting his son in. It's easy to see it this way. It can be seen; it is. It's the way we've built our lives, the way we've built them.
And it's a funny thing: the father is raising his son, nurturing him, and nourishing him. And all because he will usurp his place tomorrow. He's educating him because he will take over his books and accounts. He's protecting him from illness, educating him, and raising him, so that tomorrow he will snatch away the keys. The mother is hell-bent on getting her son married. Tomorrow his wife will come, and she will start snatching everything. And then the conflict will begin. And that conflict will continue.
What is the Gestalt of our seeing?
If we view life in terms of strife, conflict, struggle, then gradually conflict will arise in all layers of life and in all relationships. Then the individual is left alone, with the entire world standing against him like an enemy. The entire world is in competition, and I am the only one left.
Naturally, what can one achieve by competing against such a vast world except a mountain of worry? And even with worry, there's no way to victory, because defeat is inevitable. Old age will come, death will come, and everything will be lost. No matter how much a father fights, he will have to give up his son. No matter how much a mother-in-law fights, power will eventually flow into the hands of the daughter-in-law. And no matter how much a guru struggles, the disciple will take his place sooner or later.
Bayazid wrote a sutra. He wrote that I became the last target of everyone I taught archery. Whoever learned archery, they started targeting me as their last target.
He's right! If there's a conflict between a teacher and a student, this is what will happen. The teacher is preparing the student so that tomorrow the student will replace him.
This whole life is a struggle to remove others. And there are enemies everywhere, no friends. Those who appear to be friends are only slightly less enemies, that's all. Some are enemies from afar, some from a closer distance. Those who are nearby take some care. Those who are from a distance take no care at all. The rest of the enmity is constant.
Lao Tzu proposes a different Gestalt. And if only man could ever understand the way Lao Tzu has put it, we would create a different culture and a different world. He says, "You are not separate at all. So where is the question of enmity? You are not an individual at all. Because you appear to be an individual only because you have no knowledge of the whole. But wherever there is an individual, there is a connection to the whole. The individual cannot exist without the whole. You exist because everything else exists. That tree standing at the door is also a partner in your existence."
Lao Tzu said that one of his disciples, sent by someone to pluck a few leaves from a tree in front of him, was breaking off an entire branch and taking it away. Lao Tzu stopped him and said, "You don't know, you fool, that if this tree is incomplete, you too are diminished. It was standing here in front of you, complete, and we were green in a different sense. Today, its wound has become a wound within us as well."
We are not so separate; we are all connected. We cut down trees from the earth. Lao Tzu says this about a single branch breaking. We cut down entire trees; we destroyed entire forests. Now we realize we made a mistake. We cut down forests because we thought the forest was man's enemy. Because man feared the forest. There were wild animals, there was fear, there was panic. By cutting down forests, we cleared the land and built our cities.
We have forgotten that the rain that used to fall in our cities would not fall without forests; that the winds that used to blow over our cities would not blow without forests; that the coolness that used to prevail over our cities would not prevail without forests; that if we cut down all the forests, all our cities would be ruined.
Now, there is a movement all over Europe. And that movement is to stop cutting trees; cutting even a single leaf is a serious crime. Because if trees fall, humanity will fall.
So Lao Tzu, two and a half thousand years ago, when a branch broke, said, "You don't know, crazy man, we have become less than we are. That tree was a part of us, of our existence."
It's as if someone were to remove a tree from a corner of a photograph, a painting, and the photograph ceases to be the same; it becomes something else! A tiny brush, a tiny line of color, completely transforms a painting. Just a hint! If we remove even a single tree from a painting, the painting ceases to be the same. Because its total form changes. The entire relationship changes. The tree that stood between the sky and the hut is no longer there. Now the sky and the hut stand completely bare.
We cut down trees. We thought we'd created a better place for humans to live. We wiped out animals, we completely wiped out some species. Now, ecology—this ongoing movement called ecology—says that humans are suffering the consequences of all the things we've cut off. The birds that sing in the forest are also a part of us. And the day no bird sings in the forest, we are disrupting nature's music. After that disruption, our minds will no longer be as peaceful as they were with that music. But we don't realize it. Because we are big; humans live in their own small homes, in their own corners. They don't know whether clouds move in the sky or not, whether flowers bloom on trees or not, whether birds sing in spring or not.
Three years ago, a book was published in England: The Silent Spring. Three years ago, England's spring suddenly underwent a surprising change. Millions of birds suddenly fell from trees and died during the spring season. Millions! They littered the roads. The entire spring became silent. And there was great difficulty in wondering what had happened? What had happened? It had happened because of some mistake in the radiation and atomic energy experiments that were being conducted in England. But England faded away after that spring! There will never be another spring like that again. A large proportion of the singing birds disappeared completely. It will be difficult to replace them.
But if that spring doesn't come, we'll wonder, "Does it matter to us? What difference will it make to our shop? What difference will it make to our office? No, the birds won't sing."
If only life were so different! It's not so different. Everything is united there, everything is connected. Even if a star were destroyed billions of light years away, something would be lost on this Earth. If the moon were to disappear tomorrow, there would be a difference on this Earth! Your oceans would be devoid of waves; your women's menstruation would become irregular; it wouldn't come every twenty-eight days anymore. It comes every twenty-eight days because of the moon. Everything would become different. A small difference and the state of everything would change.
Lao Tzu used to say, "Let things be as they are. Accept them; they are companions. Don't remove even the opposite. Let even what seems like an enemy remain. Let it remain, because the web of nature is deep and mysterious. Everything is connected within. You don't know what havoc you will cause by removing one thing."
Now that discussions about ecology have begun worldwide and human understanding has increased, it's becoming clear how interconnected we are—it's difficult to say! It's very difficult to say how interconnected we are! For example, if we cut down forests and remove trees, the very essence of life that trees provide for us disappears.
Trees transform the sun's rays, making them suitable for our bodies to digest. Direct sunlight cannot be digested by our bodies. Trees absorb it, transform it, and make it suitable for our food. Trees draw soil from the ground and create food. You never even think that the vegetables you are eating, if the trees that created them had not created them, there would have been only a pile of soil below. That pile of soil has become a vegetable; by becoming a vegetable, it has become suitable for your digestion.
You're exhaling your breath twenty-four hours a day, digesting oxygen and exhaling carbon dioxide. Trees absorb all the carbon dioxide and exhale oxygen. If the Earth's trees become fewer, you'll exhale more carbon dioxide, and oxygen will diminish daily. One day, you'll find life has become quiet because the oxygen-providing trees have been cut down.
Lao Tzu didn't even know about oxygen. Lao Tzu didn't even know what trees were doing. Yet he says that everything is connected; you are not alone. And if you make even the slightest change, you too will be changed. There is an integrated existence, a united existence. Non-existence is also connected to it. Death is also connected to it. Disease is also connected to it. Everything is connected to it. Lao Tzu says that if there is a concept of cooperation among all these things—not of victory, but of togetherness, of being together, of unity—then a music is born in life. That music is Tao, that music is religion, that music is rita.
It seems that the more we understand ecology, the deeper our understanding of Lao Tzu will become. Because the more we understand that things are connected, the more we will have to let go of our haste to change.
Now, I was just noticing that in just sixty years, in the next sixty years, the amount of oil we're dumping on the ocean surface—in a thousand ways, through factories, through ships—if this continues for sixty years, there will be no need for war; the oil will simply spread over the ocean water and kill us. Because sea water, absorbing the sun's rays, produces certain life-giving elements, without which life on Earth would become impossible. That's the latest discovery. And when a layer of oil forms on the ocean surface, that element stops being produced.
We're now using detergent powder instead of soap. Ecological research suggests that if we used the new laundry powders for just fifty years instead of soap, there would be no need for a world war; humans would simply die from using them. When you wash clothes, soap is reabsorbed into the soil within fifteen days; it then dissolves back into nature. But detergent powder takes one hundred and fifty years to dissolve. For one hundred and fifty years, it will remain in the soil; it cannot dissolve. And after fifteen years, it will begin to become poisonous. And it cannot be destroyed for another one hundred and fifty years. That means it will remain in the soil like poison for one hundred and thirty-five years. And given the amount of detergent powder the world is using, scientists say that in another fifty years, everything produced on the entire planet will become toxic. If you drink water, you will drink poison. And if you cut vegetables, you will consume poison.
But we don't understand how things are connected. Soap is expensive, detergent powder is cheap. Okay, that's it. It's cheap, so we use it. Everything we do is connected. And even a small, even an inch-long difference can make a huge difference.
Lao Tzu was not in favor of any difference. Lao Tzu said, "Accept life as it is. Accept the opposite; it too must have a mystery. Death comes; embrace it; it too must have a mystery. Don't fight; you bow down, yield. Fall at the feet of life; you surrender. Don't get involved in the struggle."
And Lao Tzu used to say, "If you surrender, not even a trace of worry arises in your life." What worry can a surrendered mind have? What worry can one have that has not harbored enmity with nature? Why should one who is not going to fight fear defeat? His victory is assured. Defeat itself is his victory. Lao Tzu is offering all these principles for surrendering, for surrendering.
In the last sutra he says, 'And from precedence and succession arises the sense of order.'
We create order by the one who went first and the one who will come next. If the one who went first doesn't go, the one who comes next won't come. Think of it like this: an old man passes away in the house. We never connect it to the fact that the old man's passing is necessary for a child to be born in the house! But when an old man passes away, we cry and wail. And when a child is born in the house, we play music! However, we never see the connection that the old man's departure from the house is merely an event to clear space for a child. The one who went first is necessary for the one who comes next.
We want to restrain the elderly and also attract the children. Both are impossible. Imagine what would happen in a household if the elderly didn't die for two, three, or four generations. The children in that household would go mad the moment they were born. Born one way or the other, they would go mad the next! If four or five generations of elders were present in the household, it would be impossible for the children to survive. Elders from a single generation would make things very difficult. And if there were four or five generations of elders, the elders from two or three generations would be worthless, just behind them. And they would be so experienced that they wouldn't let the children learn. They would know so much that the child would have no way of learning. They would sit so tightly on the child's neck that the child would have no chance to move. The children would go mad from the moment they were born.
The elderly must leave so that children can come in. And as children come in, the elderly will continue to leave.
Lao Tzu says, everything is bound by order. When youth arrives, childhood must go. When old age arrives, youth must go. And all this is interconnected. We divide even this. And we say, "This is what we love, let this be saved, let youth be saved."
When Bernard Shaw grew old, someone asked him, "What are your thoughts now?" Bernard Shaw replied,
So, he said something surprising. Bernard Shaw said, "When I was young, I used to think, 'I want to remain young forever!' As I grew older, I realized that God has wasted power by bestowing it on the young. If God had given this much power to the old, it would have been fun with experience. By giving it to the young, to people who are completely inexperienced, it was wasted."
But with increasing experience, strength diminishes. The inexperienced have more strength; there is some secret of nature in this. The child is the most powerful; the old man becomes the weakest. If it were in our hands—as Bernard Shaw suggested—if it were in our hands, we would say, the child should be absolutely weak, he should have no strength. The old man should have strength, he has experience. But the tender inexperienced child has the strength to expand, to grow, to develop. And the experienced old man has no strength. What is the matter?
This is something important. In fact, the accumulation of experience means the approach of death. The accumulation of experience means the approach of death. The accumulation of experience means that life's work is complete, and now you are leaving. And when life's work is complete, when the time has come to leave the university—the university of life—you no longer need strength. You don't need any strength to go to the grave. You will go. The inexperienced need strength because experience cannot be gained without strength. They will have to make mistakes, wander, fall and get up. The inexperienced have strength. The experienced has no strength because now they don't even have to make mistakes. Now they know the sure path. They walk on it. They don't deviate from the path. They don't make mistakes, they don't get into trouble, they always do the right thing. They don't need much strength.
The child has more power because the full expanse of experience is still open. He still has to learn. So, the inexperienced have power because experience requires power. The experienced lacks power because for the experienced, there is nothing left but death.
But we try very hard to reverse this order of life. We try to give our son experiences, experiences before his time. We try to give him our experiences before his. That is never possible. It can never be possible. Because we do not realize nature's own rhythmic system, in which there is a sequence; in which the one who went first is connected to the one who came after, in which the one who came last is connected to the one who went first. But we have no understanding of it.
If a person comes to me and gives me faith, I hope that he will give me faith every day. Now I make a mistake. Now I make a mistake because the person who gave me faith has created a great possibility that tomorrow he will disbelieve me. When will disbelief be complete? Because life is made up of opposites. The one who gave me faith will also disbelieve me. If Lao Tzu's understanding is deep, he knows that you should be prepared to receive disbelief from the one from whom you receive faith. But we? We prepare to have more faith in the one who gave us faith! Then we get into trouble. And we expect the one who disbelief to give us more disbelief, although that expectation is equally wrong. The one who disbelief us will be prepared to give us faith, if not today, then tomorrow. Because opposites are combined.
I've always told the story of a Jewish mystic. A Jewish Hasid wrote a book. Hasids are revolutionary mystics. And the Jewish priesthood, as always, opposes them. This Hasid wrote a book and sent it to his chief Jewish priest. He told the person through whom he sent it, "See how they behave! Don't say anything, you don't have to do anything; just watch, be a witness."
He went and gave the book. The high priest and his wife were sitting in their garden that evening. He gave the book and said that such and such Hasid fakir had sent it. He had barely managed to take it in his hands. As soon as he heard that it was a Hasid, he threw the book forcefully towards the road and said, "I would not even want to touch such an unholy book."
His wife said, "But why be so rude? There are so many books in the house, you could have kept this one too! And if you wanted to throw it away, you could have done so after this man left. Why behave so uncivilized? You could have kept it; there are so many books, you could have kept one more. And if you had to throw it away, you could have thrown it behind you at any time. What was the hurry?"
The man stood and listened. The thought came to his mind that his wife was good. Returning, he told his guru that the priest seemed to be a very wicked man. There was no hope that he would ever be able to interest him. But his wife might be interested in him someday.
The mystic said, "First tell me the whole story; don't explain. What happened?"
He said, "What happened was that the priest took the book and threw it away as if it were poison. He said, 'Throw it away, I won't even touch it. I can't even touch something so impure.'" His wife said, "What was the hurry? You could have put it away; there were plenty of books in the house, they would have been lying around. And if you wanted to throw it away, you could have thrown it behind you. There's no need to be so rude."
The Hasid began to say, the fakir began to say, that someday we may be able to have a relationship with the priest, but we will never be able to have one with his wife. The fakir said, "We will someday have a relationship with the priest. How long will someone who is so filled with hatred remain so filled with hatred? After all, love must be waiting; it will return. But the one who is talking so dismissively, saying, 'You could have kept it, let it lie there, indifferent, thrown it behind, there would have been no harm, at least keep the courtesy in mind, that woman has no feelings for us; neither hatred nor love. It is very difficult for us to have a relationship with her. But we will definitely have a relationship with the priest. You will see that the priest must be reading a book by now. You go back."
He said, "What are you talking about! Will he ever study?"
You go back, you don't explain. You go and look again.
When he returned, he saw the doors closed. He peered through the window and saw the priest reading the book.
Life is like this! The one who abuses takes away with him the capacity to love. The one who expresses love takes away with him the capacity to abuse. The opposites are combined. The one who respects begins to accumulate the capacity to disrespect. The one who disrespects begins to accumulate the eagerness to apologize. If one can see life like this, then neither friend is friend, nor enemy is enemy! Then things begin to appear in a vast pattern, a vast structure, a gestalt.
Then if someone comes to me, I know they will go away. When someone moves away from me, I know they will come closer. But there is no need to worry about those who come closer, nor is there any need to worry about those who move away. Such is the law of life. When someone is born, it is to die; and when someone dies, it is to be born. Such is the law of life. If we understand the contradictions of this vast law as a rhythmic, rhymed form of the same system, then it will be easier to understand Lao Tzu. This is the meaning of this sutra.
Question:
Modern science has distanced humanity from nature and developed many dimensions of life. Please explain how to balance the simplicity of the Taoist era with the complexities of a scientific way of life today.
It's not about establishing balance. It's not about establishing a balance between Lao Tzu and modern science. If Lao Tzu's vision is understood, a completely new science will be born. A completely new science will be born. A completely new science will be born based on Lao Tzu's vision, because the vision of life as a whole is different. The science that has developed based on Aristotle is incomplete and ignorant. It has tried to understand such a small part of life, and has left out the whole. It must be said that it is childish. It has not yet made any attempt to see the whole.
But it couldn't do it until now. Now it has to. After the discovery of nuclear weapons, after the development of atomic energy, science has been forced to reconsider all its old foundations. Why? Because if science were to continue progressing as it has been, there would be no other way but the end of mankind. So science is forced to reconsider its preconceptions, to see if there's a fundamental flaw, a mistake somewhere, that we work so hard and yet the results are bad! We put in so much effort that it's beyond calculation, yet the results are the opposite! All that labor results in suffering! So science is forced to reconsider its preconceptions. And the only mistake it will ever catch is the one that Aristotle made. And then it will be a science not of conflict with life, but of cooperation with life!
Now there will be differences. The entire foundation will change. The science of the struggle against life thinks in the language of destruction. Understand—for example, it will be easy to understand—that there are mosquitoes, malaria occurs. So the Aristotelian mind will think, eliminate mosquitoes, and malaria will not occur. The language of destruction will immediately come to mind: destroy mosquitoes, and malaria will not occur. But something else could have been caused by the presence of mosquitoes; that too will be stopped. The presence of mosquitoes could have been doing something else; that too will be stopped. But it will be discovered late. Perhaps only until mosquitoes are no longer there. And then we will have to take some other measures to replace them!
If Lao Tzu were faced with the question, "There are mosquitoes, what should we do?" Lao Tzu would not think in terms of destroying the mosquito. There are two possible ways to cooperate with the mosquito. Either the human body should be changed so that the mosquito cannot cause harm. There is no need to destroy the mosquito. Or the mosquito's body should be changed so that the mosquito becomes a friend, no longer an enemy. Both of these things are possible.
If we had thought along Lao Tzu's lines, we would have found some kind of balance. If mosquitoes can be killed completely, what difficulty is there in making them non-toxic? If mosquitoes can be killed, made non-toxic, what difficulty is there in increasing human resistance? Lao Tzu would have preferred that human resistance be increased.
There are two solutions. The sun is shining outside. One way is to go with an umbrella. Then I consider the sun as my enemy and stop it. And another way is to go with my body so strong that the sun cannot hurt me. Lao Tzu would say that it is better to go with your body strong; and then the sun will seem like a friend to you. Because neither would there be so much sun, nor would you go with your body so strong. Go with your body so strong that the sun does not seem like an enemy. The sun seems like an enemy to a weak body.
It depends on our thinking and how we find a way to cooperate. A collaboration between life and ourselves is established.
Conflict will ultimately lead us to suicide. Because how far will we continue to fight? Anyway, the language of conflict is to eliminate whatever seems to be harming us. If we eliminate mosquitoes, and tomorrow we feel that the Chinese seem to be harming us, why shouldn't we eliminate them? The day after tomorrow we feel that the Indians seem to be harming us, why shouldn't we eliminate them? The language of war will apply everywhere. Eliminate whatever seems to be harming us. Let America think, eliminate Russia; let Russia think, eliminate America.
But after the atomic discovery, one thing became clear in the minds of both Russia and America: the language of elimination would no longer work. Because now, no one could eliminate anyone with the hope that they would survive. Yes, ten minutes would make a difference in elimination. But it wouldn't make much difference. The one who starts will be eliminated ten minutes later. The one who is aggressive will be eliminated ten minutes later. The one who is defensive will be eliminated ten minutes earlier. But there won't even be time to declare victory. Therefore, over the past ten years, a thought has consistently occurred to Russia and America: think in the language of cooperation. The language of conflict no longer holds any meaning. As partners, think in the language of coexistence, think in the language of coexistence.
But it won't happen if humans only think in the language of coexistence. The complete language of coexistence! Then we must have the same language towards nature. Then we must have the same language towards diseases. Then we must have the same language towards everything. Lao Tzu's language is the language of coexistence—towards the whole. And it cannot be that we say that we have a sense of coexistence only towards this particular person, and we will continue to struggle with the rest. This cannot happen. Because if we continue to struggle with the rest, we will keep looking for an opportunity to eliminate this person too and be free from trouble.
A new science will be born—according to Lao Tzu's understanding. And if we understand Lao Tzu's understanding correctly, Lao Tzu means the Eastern mind, the Eastern mind. Lao Tzu's understanding means the Eastern mind, this is the Eastern way of thinking. Aristotle means the Western way of thinking.
If we put it this way, the Western way of thinking implies logic, while the Eastern way of thinking implies experience. The science that has emerged so far is objective, born from the exploration of objects. If a science ever emerges alongside Lao Tzu, Yoga, Patanjali, and Buddha, it will be through the exploration of the human mind, not the exploration of objects.
There will be no balance, no coordination. Yes, if Lao Tzu's science begins to develop, it will gradually be absorbed into the modern science that has developed to date. Because it is only a fragment. It is a piece. The science of experience will be vast. This fragment can be incorporated into it. And by being incorporated, it will find its meaning. By being absorbed, its sting will be destroyed, and whatever is valuable in it will emerge.
And many signs began to appear in the West, which clearly indicated that attacks had begun from many sides. Lao Tzu enters from many directions. Lao Tzu means the East. Now, for example, there is an American architect named Wright. The new houses he has built are Laotian. The entire plan for his new house is that it should not be separate from the surrounding land, the surrounding mountains, and the surrounding trees; it should be a part of them.
So if Wright builds a house and a large tree grows in it, he won't cut the tree, he will cut the house. He will say, "A house is a human-made thing; it can be cut." If, in the meantime, a tree grows in the middle of a room, Wright will try to save it, even if it means destroying the room a little. The tree cannot be cut; it will remain here. The tree's trunk will remain in this living room as well, and he will design the living room in such a way that it creates a harmony, a synergy, a music with the tree's trunk.
So the houses Wright has built are part of nature. If you look at them from a distance, you won't even know they are houses. Because Lao Tzu says, a house that is visible is violent. It is indeed violent. For example, this house of yours in the woodland is violent. If a building becomes twenty-six stories high, where will the trees remain? Where will the mountains remain? Where will the man remain? All of that will be lost. The house will stand naked. Absurd! It will have no co-existence. It will stand alone, with its own arrogance.
Trees should shade it, mountains should touch it, rivers should murmur near it. When a person passes by it, they should not feel as if the house is an enemy; they should not feel insignificant as they pass by it, as if they are an insect. If a person becomes an insect in front of something they have created, the consequences are dangerous.
The houses Wright builds are such that gardens will be integrated into them, lawns will permeate the interior, trees will grow on the roofs, and if grass grows, it won't be uprooted and thrown away. The house will be as if it has grown naturally—it has grown. It's not as if we built it, or imposed it from above. Just as trees grow, the house has grown.
Wright has had a profound influence in America and Europe. Because his buildings possess a unique beauty. The shadows of his buildings hold a unique charm. Sitting in his buildings is not a break from nature, but a being within nature.
So Laotian thoughts are entering the minds of the West through a thousand ways – through a thousand ways.
He is a new poet. So the new poet isn't trying to rhyme, isn't worried about grammar. Because Lao Tzu says, "When the winds blow, have you ever heard them worry about grammar? And when the clouds thunder, have you ever heard them try to rhyme? Yet they have their own rhythm; a rhythm without rhyme."
So poetry is descending upon the West, upon the entire world, a poetry that is devoid of rhyme. It has an inner rhythm, but no superficial arrangement. It lacks rhyme, meter, and weight of words. Yet, within it, there is a flow, a current, a current. And within that flow, there is music.
In the West, painters are painting. Some have stopped framing their paintings. Because frames exist nowhere except in things made by man. There is no frame in the sky. The sun rises frameless; there is no frame in it. The stars are frameless. Flowers bloom, trees grow; everything is an endless extension. Nothing seems to end. Everything keeps moving. Keep moving, it keeps moving.
So, painters are creating paintings that they don't frame. They say, "We won't frame them, because the frame is a part of the person who created it. It's not necessary that everything should fit within the painting."
According to Lao Tzu, painting originated in China. Taoist painting is a different kind of painting. Because whenever a person like Lao Tzu is there, work begins in all directions based on his vision. So, according to Lao Tzu, paintings began to be made. The joy of those paintings was different! Those paintings have no frames. Things in those paintings have no beginning or end. Nothing in life has a beginning or end. Everything is endless, beginningless. Only the things we create have a beginning and an end. So, the paintings that Lao Tzu creates can begin anywhere and end anywhere.
That concept is entering the new painting. That concept is entering the new story. Stories begin anywhere. Look at the old story. There was a king—it all started there. There was a beginning. And there was an end: they got married, and then they lived happily ever after. Here, everything was complete within this frame. A new story begins anywhere; a new story ends anywhere. In truth, a new story is never complete, never begins; it is a fragment. Because the Lao Tzu idea is that whatever we say will be a fragment. It cannot be complete. We ourselves are not complete. Everything is fragmented. So let it remain fragmented; don't make a point of trying to complete it. Otherwise, it becomes distorted, everything becomes ugly.
The mind of the East is entering everywhere: poetry, painting, music, architecture, sculpture, science. The West is deeply intimidated, deeply threatened. Hermann Hesse wrote somewhere that the West will soon realize that the victory it achieved by attacking the East proved to be short-lived. But the day the East attacks with its full innermost feelings, its victory may become permanent. The victory it achieved was only superficial, because it was at the butt of a gun. But if the East ever attacks with its entire experience, which it has cultivated over thousands of years... Of course, its attack will be of a different kind. Because experience does not attack; it enters silently from some unknown corner. It is entering.
The West is under attack. And the West is realizing daily that its standards are being shaken. What it had set is shaking. And the East is spreading itself with great force, like clouds suddenly gathering in the sky. It will gradually engulf the entire West. This is natural, because the West's entire hold, if we understand it properly, is superficial, superficial. And it is superficial, that is why the West was able to succeed so quickly. The East's entire hold is so subjective and deep that it cannot succeed so quickly.
Remember, seasonal flowers bloom in four months, or even two months. Permanent flowers take years to grow. The East's grasp is deep. That's why it takes thousands of years, sometimes thousands of years, before one or two Eastern concepts can achieve victory. Western concepts are very superficial. A single concept can triumph and then decline in a hundred years. But the East can wait. The East can wait for a long time, and can watch for the opportunity, that when the opportunity comes and the West is on the brink of defeat, then what the East has learned can spread again. Lao Tzu is the innermost wisdom of the East, the innermost wisdom! The essence of the East is hidden in Lao Tzu.
There will be no balance, no coordination. A new science can be born on Lao Tzu's concept. And it will happen quickly. Because there are many things that cannot come to your mind immediately. For example, Euclid's geometry was the foundation of the West till now. The mathematics that lay beneath all science was Euclidean. And no one could have imagined that non-Euclidean geometry would replace it. No one could have ever imagined. But in the last 150 years, Euclid's foundations have been shaken and non-Euclidean geometry has come in its place. Now non-Euclidean geometry is completely Lao Tzu. No one knows that it is Lao Tzu, it is completely Lao Tzu.
Euclid says two parallel lines never meet. Non-Euclidean geometry says two parallel lines are bound to meet. So now the Laotian formula is this: they are bound to meet! The weakness of your drawing is that you don't draw to the end, otherwise they will meet. You keep drawing, and a time will come when they will meet. You look very near, not far. But far is a part of near. And now we have to accept that if any two parallel lines are extended endlessly, they will meet.
Euclid says that no segment of any circle, any circle, can be a straight line. How can that be? It's a circle. If we break off a piece of it, it will be curved; it can't be straight. Non-Euclidean geometry says that all straight lines are part of a larger circle. No matter how straight a line you draw, if you keep drawing it on both sides, a larger circle will be created.
And now we have to admit that it's true. Because we can draw any straight line on this Earth, since the Earth is round... If I were in this room, our room looks absolutely straight, right? This line is absolutely straight. But the Earth is round, so this line cannot be straight. This round Earth is a very big sphere, it's just a small segment of it. If we keep drawing any straight line in both directions, we'll end up with a circle. This means that all straight lines are segments of circles. And Euclid said that a segment of a circle cannot be a straight line.
Euclid's geometry has been replaced by non-Euclidean geometry.
For the past two hundred years, the fundamental foundation of Western science was certainty. Because if science is not certain, then what is the difference between poetry and science? Science must be absolutely certain; only then is it science. But in the last fifteen years, a new principle has emerged: uncertainty. Because as soon as we broke the atom and reached the electron, we discovered that the electron's behavior is uncertain. It's impossible to say with certainty what it will do.
The behavior of electrons is like that of humans. If a person is truthful, then it cannot be said about him what he will do. Yes, it can be said about false people what they will do. What they will do after waking up in the morning can be said. What they will do in the afternoon can be said. What they will do in the evening can be said. What they will do in the evening can be said. Their entire future can be written: they will get angry three times a day, they will smoke six cigarettes, they will do this seven times; all this can be said. But about an authentic person, it cannot be said what he will do tomorrow. What he will do tomorrow morning cannot be said.
It was impossible to predict that this authentic man would get up that night and leave the sleeping Yashodhara. Yashodhara couldn't even imagine that the man she'd slept with the night before, a one-day-old baby just born, would quietly disappear that night! It was beyond her imagination. There seemed to be no reason why this man would suddenly disappear tomorrow morning.
An authentic man will be uncertain. Uncertain means he will be free. Certain means he will be a slave.
We used to think matter must be certain, because matter is matter. But now matter is no longer matter; matter is energy. And energy is uncertain. Therefore, the most profound discovery of science in the last fifteen years is the Principle of Uncertainty. Now, if science itself is uncertain, then what will be the difference between poetry and science?
Einstein said in his final days that the time would soon come when the statements of scientists would seem to be those of mystics. And Eddington wrote in his memoirs that when I began to think, I thought the world was an object; and now, as I end my life, I can say, the world is not an object, but an idea. It resembles more a thought than a thing.
Now, there's a huge difference between thought and object. And if scientists say that the world appears like a thought, not like an object, then is there any difference between the sages who said that the world is one Brahman? The sages who said that the world is one soul, the world is one consciousness. So, if Eddington, the mathematician, the scientist, says that the world appears like a thought, not like an object! Then there's no difference between Eddington's statement and the sages' statement.
Science is crumbling everywhere, its house is falling apart. And by the end of this century, the edifice of science will gradually collapse. In its place will be a profoundly new life-consciousness. And that life-consciousness will be one of cooperation, of oneness with the infinite! That stream of life will be theistic, not materialistic.
There will be no coordination between the two. This fragment will break and fall. And the emergence of the vast can and should come from within it. There is every possibility of it happening.