And sometimes ecstasy can be expressed through small words. Just the other day I was reading William Samuel. He writes:
Pondering the enigma of communication one day out in the backcountry of my hills, I witnessed the happy reunion of a father and his five-year-old son who had been lost in the woods for many hours. I knew the boy would be found – and I knew I knew – but despite the positive knowing, I was unable to allay the father’s fears or bring him to understand the truth I saw. Then, even as I wondered – even as I asked about this inability to communicate when it seemed so important to do it – I saw the little boy and the father find each other.
Oh, such a reunion! A barefoot ragamuffin came running out of the woods shouting with all his might, “Daddy! Daddy!” and I saw the father, unashamedly sobbing, sweep the child into his arms. All he could say was, “Hallelujah! Praise God!” again and again. “Hallelujah! Praise God!”
There are moments when something has to be said and nothing can be said. There are moments when tears say much more than words. There are moments when laughter says much more than words. There are moments when gestures say much more than words. There are moments when silence speaks more than words. All the laughter, all the tears, all the gestures, silences, they are contained in the second language – the language of poetry.
William Samuel also writes:
Once in China, I was given a simple verse to read and then to give my interpretation. I was ready to give an answer immediately but was informed that I had twenty-eight days to think about it. “Why so long?” asked I, with the usual impatience of a Westerner.
“Because nothing has been read once until it has been read twelve times,” Was the answer. “Read and re-read.”
I did. Twelve times twelve to make twelve readings – and I heard a melody I could not have heard otherwise. Since then, I have known why it is that certain lines in the Bible, or any other book, that have been read countless times will one day, upon just one more reading, suddenly take on a grand new significance.
That is the whole secret of mantras. A mantra is a condensed poem; it is essential poetry. Just by reading it, you can’t understand it. Not that you don’t understand intellectually – it is simple, the meaning is apparent – but the apparent meaning is not the real meaning. The apparent meaning comes from the first language, and the hidden meaning will have to be waited for. You will have to repeat it in deep love, in great prayerful moods . . . some time it will suddenly erupt from your own unconscious, it will be revealed to you. A melody will be heard. That melody is the meaning – not the meaning that you had deciphered from the first reading, on the first reading. And one never knows when it will happen.
Hence, in the East, people have been reciting the Koran, the Bhagavad Gita, the Dhammapada; they go on reciting. Every day, morning and evening, they go on reciting. They recite as many times as possible. They don’t even keep count; what is the point of keeping count? But with each reciting, something goes deeper into you; the groove is deepened. And one day the melody is heard. When you have heard the melody, you have come to know the real mantra. You have stumbled upon the second hidden layer, the real poetry in it. That cannot be understood: that can only be heard. That cannot be understood: that can only be experienced.
-Osho
From Take It Easy, Discourse #1
Here you can find read more about William Samuel.
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