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-- magical. He was in awe. After a long silence he asked the painter only one question: "I am very much interested in this little footpath that goes around the forest, is seen sometimes around the mountains and then disappears. Where does it go?"
The painter said, "There is no other way to know unless you walk on it."
The king completely forgot that it was only a painting. He was so overwhelmed by the beauty that he took the hand of the painter in his hand and they both walked on the path and disappeared into the mountains. They have not returned yet.
This is the way of the mystic.
He disappears into existence not to return.
The scientist remains always an outsider, speculating, dissecting, analyzing, but he is not part of what he is doing. He is just a neutral objective observer.
The mystic is not an observer.
The mystic joins the dance. He dances with the trees, he dances in the rain, he dances with the peacocks. He sings songs with the birds. He slowly, slowly merges and melts into existence. He does not demystify it, he makes it more mysterious. He glorifies it, he gives it its splendor, its majesty. He makes it the most profound orgasmic experience.
The mystic is a lover, not a knower. His path is of love, not of knowledge. Love is his God, not logic. Through his love he has come to realize three things: satyam, shivam, sundram -- the truth, the godliness of existence and the tremendous beauty... the unbelievable poetry, the song of the silence, the music without songs.
Only the mystic knows without any knowledge.
The scientist has knowledge but knows nothing. A man of the caliber of Albert Einstein said to his friends before dying, "If there is another life, I would not like to be a scientist or a physicist again. This has been a sheer wastage. I have known so much, but I know nothing about myself. What is the use of all this knowledge? My inner world remains dark and I have been watching faraway stars and the galaxies and the nebulas and I have not looked at myself."
Only a man of tremendous intelligence can see the point: Albert Einstein was not dying with contentment, with joy,
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