June 11, 1960

When a question is put to me, the answer does not come from a will; what happens is that materials come which I then use to give shape to the answer, but it's only a shape. The thing itself is there, but it needs to be shaped. The difference between one and the other is rather like the difference between a picture and an apparition.

Sometimes the Force comes direct. And it picks up words, any words at all, that makes no difference; the nature of the words changes, and they become expressive BECAUSE of the power entering into them. This happens when I look directly at the thing.

But when a question is put to me, it comes coated with all the mental atmosphere of whoever is asking the question. And this coating is often a mere reflection—much of the life has been removed.

The same thing occurs, there is the same difference, when I say something and when I see it (for example, when I look at one of those essential problems that will be solved only when the world changes). When I look at that in silence, there is a power of life and truth—which evaporates when it's put into words. It becomes diminished, impoverished and of course distorted. When you write or speak, the experience disintegrates, it's inevitable.

We need a new language.

For instance, if I have a vision (not a vision with pictures, not that, but something without any form or sound or words or ... the THING itself, when I live the thing), and then later I speak of it to someone ... I have a very tangible feeling of having to pull something to make it visible, perceptible and communicable—the splendor goes.

We need new organs of expression... It will come.