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    Sat Chit Anand


    Sat Chit Anand


    CHAPTER 1

    Everybody can be a mystic
    22 November 1987 am in Chuang Tzu Auditorium


    Question 1

    BELOVED OSHO,
    IS THERE ANY DEFINITION OF THE ULTIMATE EXPERIENCE OTHER THAN SATYAM-SHIVAMSUNDRAM
    – ”TRUTH, GODLINESS AND BEAUTY”?

    The experience of the ultimate, Maneesha, is always the same. But the expression can be different.
    The expression depends on the mystic; the experience does not depend on him.

    The first definition I gave you is the definition by the poetic, aesthetic, sensitive individual, for whom
    satya can come – the truth can come – only as beauty. And truth and beauty create the ultimate
    peak of godliness. The poet cannot imagine that beauty will not be a part of the ultimate unity. His
    eyes are receptive to beauty. Truth comes to him and is transformed, in his expression, as beauty.
    Beauty is the god of the poet, of the painter, of all creative artists.

    So the first definition was the definition from the artistic soul. Most of the mystics have been poets –
    not ordinary poets, concerned with the mundane, but poets of the sacred. This sensitivity of the poet
    is essential to arrive at the definition of the ultimate experience as ”Truth, Godliness and Beauty.”
    But there are other mystics also, who are not poetic ... because to be a poet takes a certain talent.
    Everybody can be a mystic, because the mystic is our very being, the unfolding of the mystic rose
    within us. But not everybody can be a poet. Poetry is a talent, though it comes very close to mysticism. So either the poet becomes the mystic – then comes the definition satyam-shivamsundram
    – or the mystic suddenly finds himself filled with tremendous beauty and starts singing and
    dancing out of his spontaneity. He may not be linguistically right; that is not his concern ....
    Meera, Kabir, Farid – they were not poets from the very beginning. They became poets when the
    experience happened. Perhaps a talent that was dormant in them became suddenly active as they
    opened their hearts to the universe. Everything opened. An immense poetry – which no poet can
    write, because the poems are not compositions; they are their heartbeats, they are their very life –
    started flowing through them.

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