Mind means the past, the accumulated past, the accumulated dust of the past. Mind is a rut, a routine. It is never new. It goes on repeating itself: it is like a gramophone record, stuck. The needle is stuck somewhere, and it goes on repeating the same line, the same line. Centuries have passed, but the mind continues behaving in the same pattern. It killed Socrates, poisoned him. It crucified Jesus, it killed Mansur, and nothing has changed yet. If Jesus comes again, he is going to be crucified.