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professors in the university? He wrote to me a letter of apology. I answered him that "There is no question of apology. You have not insulted me, you have only insulted yourself. You have been insulting yourself your whole life -- by your worshipping, by your so-called religiousness, by all kinds of belief systems. And not knowing a single thing. It is good that I accepted your invitation and created a chaos in your mind. Perhaps, seeing the chaos, you will come out of the mind. And that is the world I had come to discuss with you -- the world beyond mind." But for the scholars mind is all.
When all the conditions collapse, Torei is saying, nothing remains. This word `nothing' has very strange connotations. When a buddha says "nothing" he means no-thing, and when a scholar says "nothing" he simply means emptiness. When a buddha says "nothing" he says there is no-thing anymore: pure space, utter silence...
We all speak the same language. The master has also to use the same language but he gives new meanings to words, new fragrances to words, new poetry to words. They go dancing into your heart, the same ordinary words, with such extraordinary radiance, penetration. But one has to be a knower himself.
This gathering is not for those who are interested in studying religion. This gathering is only for those who are interested in experiencing what religion is all about. It is an existential, experimental lab. It is as scientific as any science. No question of belief -- you are not asked what you believe. No question of your mind -- whatever kind of mind you have, just put it aside.
You may have a great learned mind; that is perfectly okay, put it aside. You may have a very ordinary mind, uneducated; no matter, just put it by the side of the great scholar's mind. Mind has no value here. The value arises only when mind is no more there. Then you start growing into a different dimension which can only be called existential.
Before we do our meditation, a few words from some authentic masters.
A haiku by Issa:
LISTEN,
ALL CREEPING THINGS --
THE BELL OF TRANSIENCE.
Nothing to be done, just listen... everything
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