Once a Master of Zen invited questions from his students. A student asked. "What future rewards can be expected by those who strive diligently with their lessons?"
Answered the Master, "Ask a question close to home."
A second student wanted to know, "How can I prevent my past follies from rising up to accuse me?"
The Master repeated, "Ask a question close to home."
A third student raised his hand to state, "Sir, we do not understand what is meant by asking a question close to home."
"To see far, first see near. Be mindful of the present moment, for it contains answers about future and past. What thought just crossed your mind? Are you now sitting before me with a relaxed or with a tense physical body? Do I now have your full or partial attention? Come close to home by asking questions such as these. Close questions lead to distant answers."
THIS is the yoga attitude towards life. Yoga is not meta-physical. It does not bother about the distant questions - faraway questions - about past lives, future lives, heaven and hell, God, and things of that sort. Yoga is concerned with questions close at home. Closer the question, the more is the possibility to solve it. If you can ask the question closest to you, there is every possibility that just by asking, it will be solved. And once you solve the closest question, you have taken the first step. Then the pilgrimage begins. Then by and by, you start solving those which are distant -- but the whole yoga inquiry is to bring you close to home.
So if you ask Patanjali about God, he won't answer. In fact, he will think you a little foolish. Yoga thinks all metaphysicians foolish; they are wasting their time about problems which cannot be solved because they are so far away. Better start from the point where you are. You can only start from where you are. Each real journey can begin only from where you are. Don't ask intellectual, metaphysical questions of the beyond; ask the questions of the within.
This is the first thing to be understood about yoga. It is a science. It is very pragmatic, empirical. It fulfills all the criteria of science. In fact what you call science is a little far away, because science concentrates on objects. And yoga says unless you understand the subject, which is your nature, closest to you, how can you understand the object? If you don't know yourself, all else that you know is bound to be erroneous, because the base is missing. You are on faulty ground. If you are not enlightened within, then whatsoever light you carry without is not going to help you. And if you carry the light within then there is no fear: let there be darkness outside; your light will be enough for you. It will enlighten your path.
Metaphysics does not help; it confuses.
It happened When I was a student in the university. I joined the subject of moral philosophy, ethics. I attended only the first lecture of the professor. I could not believe that a man can be so outdated. He was talking almost a hundred years back, as if he was completely unaware of what new growth has happened to the subject of moral philosophy. But that could have been forgiven. He was tremendously boring, as if he was making all efforts to bore you.
But that was also not a big problem; I could have slept. But he was annoying also, jarring -- his voice, his manners.... But that, too, one can become accustomed to. He was very much confused. In fact I have never come across a man with so many qualities all joined in one person.
I never went again to his class. Of course, he must have been annoyed by that, but he never said anything. He waited for his time, because he knew one day I will have to appear in the examination. I appeared. He was even more annoyed because I got ninety-five percent marks. He could not believe it.
One day when I was coming out of the university cafeteria and he was going in, he caught hold of me. He stopped me and said, "Listen. How did you manage? You only attended my first lecture, and for two years I have not seen your face. How did you manage to get ninety-five percent marks?"
I said, "It must be because of your first lecture."
He looked puzzled. He said, "My first lecture! Just out of one lecture?" "Don't try to befool me," he said. "Tell me the truth."
I said, "Propriety won't allow it."
He said, "Forget all about propriety. Just tell me the truth. I will not mind."
I said, "I have told you the truth, but you have misunderstood it. If I had not attended your lecture I would have got a hundred percent. You confused me! That accounts for those five percent I lost."
Metaphysics, philosophy, all distant thinking simply confuse you. It leads you nowhere. It muddles your mind. It gives you more and more to think, and it doesn't help you to become more aware. Thinking is not going to help: only meditation can help. And the difference is: while you think, you are more concerned with thoughts; while you meditate, you are more concerned with the capacity of awareness.
Philosophy is concerned with the mind; yoga is concerned with consciousness. Mind is that of which you can become aware: you can look at your thinking, you can see your thoughts passing, you can see your feelings moving, you can see your dreams floating like clouds. Riverlike, they go on and on; it is a continuum. The one that can see this is consciousness.
The whole effort of yoga is to attain to That which cannot be reduced to an object, which remains irreducible, to be just your subjectivity. You cannot see it because it is the seer. You cannot catch hold of it, because all that you can catch hold of is not you. Just because you can catch hold of it, it has become separate from you. This consciousness, which is always elusive and always stands back and whatsoever effort you make all efforts fail... to come to this consciousness -- how to come to this consciousness -- is what yoga is all about.
To be a yogi is to become what you can become. Yoga is the science of stilling what has to be stilled and alerting what can be alerted. Yoga is a science to divide that which is not you from that which is you, to come to a clear-cut division so that you can see yourself in pristine clarity. Once you have a glimpse of your nature, who you are, the whole world changes. Then you can live in the world, and the world will not distract you. Then nothing can distract you; you are centered. Then you can move anywhere you like and you remain unmoving, because you have reached and touched the eternal, which never moves, which is unchanging.
Yoga: The Alpha and The Omega Vol. 7
Discourses on the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali
Talks given from 01/001/76 am to 10/01/76 am
Chapter Title: Ask a Question Close to Home
Today we start the third step of Patanjali's YOGA SUTRAS, "Vibhuti Pada." It is very significant because the last, the fourth, "Kaivalya Pada," will be just attaining to the fruit.
This third - "Vibhuti Pada" - is the ultimate as far as means are concerned, techniques are concerned, methods are concerned. The fourth will be just the outcome of the whole effort.
Kaivalya means aloneness, absolute freedom of being alone, no dependence on anybody, on anything -- so contented that you are more than enough. This is the goal of yoga. In the fourth part we will be talking only about the fruits, but if you miss the third you will not be able to understand the fourth. The third is the base.
If the fourth chapter of Patanjali's YOGA SUTRAS is destroyed nothing is destroyed, because whosoever will be able to attain to the third will attain to the fourth automatically.
The fourth can be dropped. It is in fact, in a way, unnecessary because it talks about the end, the goal. Anyone who follows the path will reach to the goal, there is no need to talk about it.
Patanjali talks about it to help you, because your mind would like to know, "Where are you going? What is the goal?" Your mind would like to be convinced, and Patanjali does not believe in trust, in faith, in belief. He is a pure scientist. He simply gives a glimpse of the goal, but the whole basis, the whole fundamental basis is in the third.
Up to now we were getting ready for this Vibhuti Pada, the ultimate in means. Up to now in two chapters we have been discussing means which help, but those means were outer. Patanjali calls them "bahirang." -- 'on the periphery'. Now these three -- dharana, dhyan, samadhi -- concentration, meditation, samadhi -- these three he calls "antarang" -- internal.
The first five prepare you, your body, your character -- you on the periphery -- so that you can move inwards. And Patanjali moves step by step: it is a gradual science. It is not a sudden enlightenment; it is a gradual path. Step by step he leads you.
The first sutra:
The object, the subject, and the beyond -- these three have to be remembered. You look at me I am the object; the one who is looking at me is the subject. And if you become a little more perceptive, you can see yourself looking at me that is the beyond. You can see yourself looking at me. Just try. I am the object, you are looking at me. You are the subject who is looking at me. You can stand by the side within yourself. You can see that you are looking at me. That is the beyond.
First, one has to concentrate on the object. Concentration means narrowing of the mind.
Ordinarily, mind is in a constant traffic -- a thousand and one thoughts go on moving, like a crowd, a mob. With so many objects, you are confused, split. With so many objects you are moving in all directions simultaneously. With so many objects you are always, almost, in a state of insanity, as if you are being pulled from every direction and everything is incomplete.
You go to the left, and something pulls you to the right; you go to the south, and something pulls you to the north. You are never going anywhere, just a muddled energy, a whirlpool, constant turmoil, anxiety.
This is the state of ordinary mind -- so many objects that the subjectivity is almost covered by them. You cannot have a feel who you are, because you are so much concerned with so many things you don't have a gap to look into yourself. You don't have that stillness, that aloneness. You are always in the crowd. You cannot find a space, a corner, where you can slip into yourself. And the objects continuously asking for attention, every thought asking for attention, forcing exactly that the attention should be given to it. This is the ordinary state.
This is almost insanity.
In fact to divide mad people from non-mad people is not good. The distinction is only of degrees. It is not of quality: it is only of quantity. Maybe you are ninety-nine percent mad and he has gone beyond -- a hundred and one percent. Just watch yourself. Many times you also cross the boundary in anger you become mad -- you do things you cannot conceive of yourself doing. You do things for which you repent later on. You do things for which you say later on, "I did it in spite of me." You say, "... as if somebody forced me to do it, as if I was possessed. Some evil spirit, some devil forced me to do it. I never wanted to do it." Many times you also cross the boundary, but you come back again and again to your normal state of madness.
Go and watch any madman. People are always afraid of watching a madman because, suddenly, watching a madman you realize your own madness also. Immediately it happens because you can see at the most the difference is of degrees. He has gone a little ahead of you, but you are also following, you are also standing in the same queue.
William James once went to a madhouse, came back, became very sad, covered himself with a blanket. The wife could not understand. She said. "Why are you looking so sad?" He was a happy man.
He said, "I have been to the madhouse. Suddenly the thought occurred that between these people and me there seems to be not much difference. There is a difference, but not much.
And sometimes I have also crossed the boundary. Sometimes in anger, sometimes in lust, sometimes in anxiety, depression. I have also crossed the boundary. The only difference seems to be that they are stuck and they cannot come back and I am still a little flexible and I can come back. But who knows? Someday the flexibility may be lost. Watching those madmen in the madhouse I became aware that they are my future. Hence. I am very much depressed. Because the way I am moving, sooner or later I will overreach them."
Just watch yourself, and go and watch a madman the madman goes on talking alone. You are also talking. You talk invisibly, not so loud, but if somebody watches you rightly he can see the movement of your lips. Even if the lips are not moving, you are talking inside. A madman talks a little louder; you talk a little less loudly. The difference is of quantity. Who knows? Any day you can talk loudly. Just stand by the side of the road and watch people coming from the office or going to the office. Many of them, you will feel, are talking inside, making gestures.
Even people who are trying to help you -- psychoanalysts, therapists -- they are also in the same boat. In fact, more psychoanalysts become mad than do people of any other profession.
No other profession can compete with psychoanalysts in going mad. It may be because living in close quarters with mad people, by and by, they also become unafraid of being mad; by and by the gap is bridged.
I was reading an anecdote:
One man was attending his local doctor for an examination. "Tell me. Do you get spots before the eyes?" asked the doctor.
"Frequent headaches?" asked the doctor.
"Yes." said the patient.
"Pains in the back?" Yes, sir.
"So do I," declared the doctor. "I wonder what the heck it can be."
The doctor and the patient, they are all in the same boat. Nobody knows what the heck it can be.
In the East we never created the profession of psychoanalysts, for a certain reason. We created a totally different type of man the yogi. Not the therapist. The yogi is one who is qualitatively different from you. The psychoanalyst is one who is not qualitatively different from you. He is in the same boat; he is just like you. He is not different in any way. The only difference is that he knows about your madness and his madness more than you know. He is more informed about madness, about insanity, neurosis, psychosis. Intellectually he knows much more about the normal state of human mind and humankind, but he is not different.
And the yogi is totally a different man, qualitatively. He is out of the madness you are in: he has dropped that.
And the way in the West you are looking for causes, for ways and means how to help humanity, seems to have from the very beginning gone wrong. You are still looking for causes outside -- and the causes are within. The causes are not outside, not in relationship, not in the world; they are deep in your unconsciousness. They are not in your thinking: they are not in your dreams. The analysis of dreams and the analysis of thoughts is not going to help much. At the most it can make you normally abnormal, not more than that. The basic cause is that you are not aware of the traffic and the traffic noise of the mind, that you are not separate, distant, aloof -- that you cannot stand as a witness, as a watcher on the hill. And once you look for a cause in a wrong direction, you can go on piling up case histories upon case histories, as it is happening in the West.
Psychoanalysis goes on piling up case histories upon case histories... and nothing seems to come out of it. You dig up the mountain and not even a mouse is found. You dig up the whole mountain -- nothing comes out of it. But you become experts in digging, and your life becomes an investment in it, so you go on finding rationalizations for it. Always remember, once you miss to look in the right direction, you can go on infinitely -- you will never come back home.
Two Irishmen landed in New York. They had not been around very much, so they decided to take a train trip. As they were riding along, a boy came through selling fruit. They recognized oranges and apples, but there was a strange fruit they had never seen before, so they asked the boy. "What is that?"
He answered, "That is a banana."
"It is good to eat?"
He said, "Sure."
"How do you eat it?" they asked.
The boy showed them how to peel a banana, so each bought one. One fellow took a bite out of it, and just then the train went into a tunnel. He said, "Great heavens! Pat, if you haven't eaten the darn thing, don't do it! I ate mine, and I have gone blind!"
Coincidences are not causes: and the Western psychology is looking into coincidences.
Somebody is sad: you start immediately looking into coincidences why he is sad. There must have been something wrong in his childhood. There must have been something wrong in the way he was brought up. There must have been something wrong in the relationship between the child and the mother or the father. There must have been wrongs, something wrong in the environment. You are looking for coincidences.
Causes are within; coincidences without. That is the basic emphasis of yoga, that you are looking wrongly now and you will not ever find a real help. You are sad because you are not aware. You are unhappy because you are not aware. You are in misery because you don't know who you are. All else is just coincidences.
Look deep down. You are in a misery because you have been missing yourself, you have not yet met yourself. And the first thing to be done is dharana. Too many objects are there in the mind; the mind is much too overcrowded. Drop those objects by and by; narrow down your mind; bring it to a point where only one object remains.
Have you ever concentrated on anything? Concentration means your whole mind is focused on one thing. On a rose flower. You have looked at a rose so many times, but you have never concentrated on a rose. If you concentrate on a rose, the rose becomes the whole world. Your mind becomes narrowed down, focused like a torchlight, and the rose becomes bigger and bigger and bigger. The rose was one in a million objects, then it was a very small thing. Now it is the all, the whole.
If you can concentrate on a rose, the rose will reveal qualities that you have never seen before. It will reveal colors that you have been missing always. It will reveal to you fragrances that were always there but you were not sensitive enough to recognize. If you concentrate totally then your nose is only filled with the fragrance of the rose -- all else is excluded, only the rose is included in your consciousness, is allowed in. Everything excluded, the whole world drops out, only the rose becomes your world.
There is a beautiful story in Buddhist literature. Once Buddha said to his disciple. Sariputra, "Concentrate on laughter." He asked. "For what am I to look into it?" Buddha said. "You are not to look for anything specially. You simply concentrate on laughter, and whatsoever laughter reveals, you report."
Sariputra reported. Never before and never after has anybody looked so deeply in laughter. Sariputra defined and categorized laughter in six categories "They are arranged in hierarchical fashion from the most sublime to the most sensuous and unrefined." The laughter revealed its inner being to Sariputra.
First he called SITA: "a faint, almost imperceptible smile manifest in the subtleties of the facial expression and countenance alone." If you are very, very alert, only then can you see the laughter he called sita. If you watch Buddha's face you will find it there. It is very subtle, very refined. If you are very, very concentrated, only then will you see it, otherwise you will miss it, because it is just in the expression. Not even the lips are moving. In fact, there is no visible thing, it is invisible laughter. That may be the reason Christians think Jesus never laughed: it may have been sita. It is said that Sariputra found sita on Buddha's face. It was rare. It was very rare because it is one of the most refined things. When your soul reaches to the highest point, only then sita. Then it is not something that you do it is simply there for anybody who is sensitive enough, concentrated enough, to see it.
Second, Sariputra said, HASITA: "a smile involving a slight movement of the lips and barely revealing the tips of the teeth." Third he called VIHASITA: "a broad smile accompanied by a modicum of laughter." Fourth he called UPAHASITA: "accentuated laughter, louder in volume, associated with movements of the head, shoulders and arms.” Fifth he called APAHASITA: "loud laughter that brings tears." And sixth he called ATIHASITA: "the most boisterous, uproarious laughter, attended by movements of the whole body, doubling over in raucous guffawing, convulsions, hysterics."
When you concentrate even on a small thing like laughter, it becomes a tremendous, a very big thing -- the whole world.
Concentration reveals to you things which are not ordinarily revealed. Ordinarily, you live in a very indifferent, mood. You simply go on living as if half asleep -- looking, and not looking at all; seeing and not seeing at all; hearing, and not hearing at all. Concentration brings energy to your eyes. If you look at a thing with a concentrated mind, everything excluded, suddenly that small thing reveals much that was always there waiting.
The whole of science is concentration. Watch a scientist working; he is in concentration.
There is an anecdote about Pasteur:
He was working. Looking through his microscope, so silent, so unmoving that a visitor had come and waited for long, and he was afraid to disturb him. Something sacred surrounded the scientist. When Pasteur came out of his concentration, he asked the visitor. "How long have you been waiting? Why didn't you tell me before?"
He said, "I was going to tell you many times -- in fact. I am in a hurry. I have to reach somewhere, and some message has to be delivered to you, but you were in such deep concentration -- almost as if praying -- that I could not disturb. It was sacred."
Pasteur said. "You are right. It is my prayer. Whenever I feel disturbed and whenever I feel too many worries and whenever I feel too many thoughts. I simply take my microscope. I look through it -- immediately, the old world drops I am concentrated."
A scientist's whole work is of concentration, remember this. Science can become the first step towards yoga because concentration is the first inner step of yoga. Each scientist, if he goes on growing and does not get stuck, will become a yogi. He is on the way because he is fulfilling the first condition - dharana - concentration.
Yoga: The Alpha and The Omega Vol. 7
Discourses on the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali
Talks given from 01/001/76 am to 10/01/76 am
Chapter Title: Ask a Question Close to Home
First is concentration - dropping the crowd of objects and choosing one object. Once you have chosen one object and you can retain one object in your consciousness, concentration is achieved. Now the second step - the uninterrupted flow of consciousness towards the object.
As if light is falling from a torch, uninterrupted. Or, have you seen? You pour water from one pot to another pot the flow will be interrupted; it will not be uninterrupted. But if you pour oil from one pot to another pot: the flow will be uninterrupted, continuous; the thread will not be broken.
Dhyan, contemplation, means your consciousness falling on the object in continuity, with no break -- because each break means you are distracted, you have gone somewhere else. If you can attain the first - concentration, the second is not difficult. If you cannot attain the first, the second is impossible. Once you drop objects, you choose one object, then you drop all loopholes in your consciousness, all distractions in your consciousness, you simply pour yourself onto one object.
When you look at one object the object reveals its qualities. A small object can reveal all the qualities of God.
There is a poetry of Tennyson. He was going for a morning walk and he came across an old wall, and in the wall there was grass growing, and a small flower had bloomed. He looked at that flower. The morning, he must have been feeling relaxed, happy, energy must have been flowing, the sun was rising.... Suddenly the thought occurred to his mind -- looking at this small flower he said. "If I can understand you root and all. I will understand the whole universe." Because each small particle is a miniature universe.
Each small particle carries the whole universe as each drop carries the whole ocean. If you can understand one drop of ocean you have understood all oceans; now there is no need to go to understand each drop. One drop will do. Concentration reveals the qualities of the drop, and the drop becomes the ocean.
Meditation reveals the qualities of consciousness, and the individual consciousness becomes cosmic consciousness. First reveals the object: second reveals the subject. An uninterrupted flow of consciousness towards any object.... In that uninterrupted flow, in that unfrozen flow, just in that flow... you are simply flowing like a river, with no interruption, with no distraction... suddenly you become for the first time aware about the subjectivity that you have been carrying all along who you are.
In an uninterrupted flow of consciousness ego disappears. You become the self, egoless self, selfless self - the no-self. You have also become an ocean.
The second, contemplation, is the way of the artist. The first, concentration, is the way of the scientist. The scientist is concerned with the outside world, not with himself. The artist is concerned with himself, not with the outside world. Then a scientist brings something, he brings it from the objective world. When an artist brings something he brings it out of himself. A poem: he digs deep in himself. A painting he digs deep in himself. Don't ask the artist about being objective. He is a subjectivist.
Have you seen Van Gogh's trees? They almost reach to the heavens; they touch the stars. They overreach. Trees like that exist nowhere -- except in Van Gogh's paintings. Stars are small and trees are big. Somebody asked Van Gogh, "From where do you create these trees? We have never seen such trees." He said, "Out of me. Because, to me, trees always seem desires of the earth to meet the sky." "Desires of the earth to meet the sky" -- then the tree is totally transformed, a metamorphosis has happened. Then the tree is not an object; it has become a subjectivity. As if the artist realizes the tree by becoming a tree himself.
There are many beautiful stories about Zen Masters, because Zen Masters were great painters and great artists. That is one of the most beautiful things about Zen. No other religion has been so creative, and unless a religion is creative, it is not a total religion -- something is missing.
One Zen Master used to tell his disciples, "If you want to paint a bamboo, become a bamboo." There is no other way. How can you paint a bamboo if you have not felt it from within?... if you have not felt yourself as a bamboo standing against the sky, standing against the wind, standing against the rains, standing high with pride in the sun? If you have not heard the noise of the wind passing through the bamboo as the bamboo hears it, if you have not felt the rain falling on the bamboo as the bamboo feels it, how can you paint a bamboo? If you have not heard the sound of the cuckoo as the bamboo hears it, how can you paint a bamboo? Then you paint a bamboo as a photographer. You may be a camera, but you are not an artist.
Camera belongs to the world of science. The camera is scientific. It simply shows the objectivity of the bamboo. But when a Master looks at the bamboo he is not looking from the outside. He drops himself by and by. His uninterrupted flow of consciousness falls on the bamboo there happens a meeting, a marriage, a communion, where it is very difficult to say who is bamboo and who is consciousness -- everything meets and merges, and boundaries disappear.
The second, dhyan, contemplation, is the way of the artist. That's why artists sometimes have glimpses as of the mystics. That's why poetry sometimes says something which prose can never say, and paintings sometimes show something for which there is no other way to show. The artist is reaching even closer to the religious person - to the mystic.
If a poet just remains a poet, he is stuck. He has to flow, he has to move: from concentration to meditation, and from meditation to samadhi. One has to go on moving. Dhyan is uninterrupted flow of the mind to the object. Try it. And it will be good if you choose some object which you love. You can choose your beloved, you can choose your child, you can choose a flower -- anything that you love -- because in love it becomes easier to fall uninterruptedly on the object of love. Look in the eyes of your beloved. First forget the whole world; let your beloved be the world. Then look into the eyes and become a continuous flow, uninterrupted, falling into her -- oil being poured from one pot into another. No distraction. Suddenly, you will be able to see who you are; you will be able to see your subjectivity for the first time.
But remember, this is not the end. Object and subject, both are two parts of one whole. Day and night: both are two parts of one whole. Life and death: both are two parts of one whole existence. Object is out, subject is in -- you are neither out nor in. This is very difficult to understand because ordinarily it is said, "Go within". That is just a temporary phase. One has to go even beyond that. Without and within -- both are out. You are that who can go without and who can come within. You are that who can move between these two polarities.
You are beyond the polarities. That third state is samadhi.
Yoga: The Alpha and The Omega Vol. 7
Discourses on the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali
Talks given from 01/001/76 am to 10/01/76 am
Chapter Title: Ask a Question Close to Home
When the subject disappears in the object, when the object disappears in the subject, when there is nothing to look at and there is no looker-on, when simply the duality is not there, a tremendously potential silence prevails. You cannot say what exists, because there is nobody to say. You cannot make any statement about samadhi, because all statements will fall short. Because whatsoever you can say either will be scientific or will be poetic. Religion remains inexpressible, elusive.
So there are two types of religious expression. Patanjali tries the scientific terminology. Because, religion in itself has no terminology -- the whole cannot be expressed. To express, it has to be divided. To express, either it has to be put as an object or as a subject. It has to be divided to say anything about it is to divide it. Patanjali chooses the scientific terminology.
Buddha also chooses the scientific terminology. Lao Tzu, Jesus, they choose the poetic terminology. But both are terminologies. It depends on the mind. Patanjali is a scientific mind, very rooted in logic, analysis. Jesus is a poetic mind; Lao Tzu is a perfect poet, he chooses the way of poetry. But remember always that both ways fall short. One has to go beyond.
When the mind becomes one with the object, there is no one who is a knower and there is none who is known. And unless you come to know this -- this knowing which is beyond the known and the knower -- you have missed your life. You may have been chasing butterflies, dreams, maybe attaining a little pleasure here and there, but you have missed the ultimate benediction.
A jar of honey having been upset in a housekeeper's room, a number of flies were attracted by its sweetness. Placing their feet in it they ate greedily. Their feet, however, became so smeared with honey that they could not use their wings nor release themselves and were suffocated. Just as they were expiring, one of them exclaimed, "Ah, foolish creatures that we are, for the sake of a little pleasure we have destroyed ourselves."
Remember, this is the possibility for you also. You may get smeared with the earth so much that you cannot use your wings. You may get loaded with your small pleasures so much that you forget all about the ultimate bliss, which was always yours just for the asking.
In collecting pebbles and shells on the seashore you may miss the utterly blissful treasure of your being. Remember this. This is happening. Only rarely somebody becomes aware enough not to be caught in this ordinary imprisonment of life.
I am not saying don't enjoy. The sunshine is beautiful and the flowers also and butterflies also, but don't get lost in them. Enjoy them, nothing is wrong in them, but always remember, the tremendously beautiful is waiting. Relax sometimes in the sunshine, but don't make it a life-style. Sometimes relax and play with pebbles on the seashore. Nothing is wrong in it. As a holiday, as a picnic, it can be allowed, but don't make it your very life then you will miss it.
And remember, wherever you pay your attention, that becomes your reality of life. If you pay your attention to pebbles, they become diamonds -- because wherever is your attention, there is your treasure.
I have heard, it happened once:
A railway employee accidentally trapped himself in a refrigerator car. He could neither escape nor attract the attention of anybody to his sad plight, so he resigned himself to a tragic fate. The record of his approaching death was scribbled on the wall of the car in these words:
"I am becoming colder. Still colder now. Nothing to do but wait. These may be my last words." And they were.
When the car was opened, the searchers were astonished to find him dead. There was no physical reason for his death. The temperature of the car was a moderate fifty-six degrees. Only in the mind of the victim did the freezing apparatus work. There was plenty of fresh air; he had not suffocated.
He died of his own wrong attention. He died of his own fears. He died of his own mind. It was a suicide.
Remember, wherever you pay your attention, that becomes your reality. And once it becomes a reality, it becomes powerful to attract you and your attention. Then you pay more attention to it: it becomes even more of a reality and, by and by, the unreal that is created by your mind becomes your only reality and the real is completely forgotten.
The real has to be sought. And the only way to reach it is, first, drop too many objects, let there be one object: second, drop all distractions. Let your consciousness fall on that object in an uninterrupted flow. And the third happens by itself. If these two conditions are fulfilled, samadhi happens on its own accord. Suddenly one day the subject and object both have disappeared: the guest and the host both have disappeared: silence reigns, stillness reigns. In that stillness, you attain to the goal of life.
Patanjali says:Such a beautiful definition of samyama. Ordinarily, samyama is thought to be a discipline, a controlled state of character. It is not. Samyama is the balance which is attained when subject and object disappear. Samyama is the tranquillity when the duality is no more within you and you are not divided and you have become one.
Sometimes it happens naturally also, because if it were not so, Patanjali would not have been able to discover it. Sometimes it happens naturally also -- it has happened to you also.
You cannot find a man to whom there have not been moments of reality. Accidentally, sometimes you fall in tune not knowing the mechanism, how it happens, but sometimes you fall in tune and suddenly it is there.
One man wrote me a letter and he said. "Today I attained five minutes of reality."
I like the expression "five minutes of reality."
"And how did it happen?" I inquired. He said that he had been ill for a few days.
And this is unbelievable, but this is true that, to many people in illness, sometimes the tranquillity comes -- because in illness your ordinary life is stopped.
For a few days he was ill and he was not allowed to move out of the bed, so he was relaxing -- nothing to do. Relaxed, after four, five days, suddenly one day it happened. He was just lying down, looking at the ceiling and it happened -- those five minutes of reality. Everything stopped. Time stopped, space disappeared. There was nothing to look at, and there was nobody to look. Suddenly there was oneness, as if everything fell in line, became one piece.
To a few people it happens while they are making love. A total ogasm, and after the ogasm everything silences, everything falls into line... one relaxes. The frozenness is gone, one is no longer tense, the storm is gone, and the silence that comes after it... and suddenly there is reality.
Sometimes walking in the sun against the wind, enjoying. Sometimes swimming in the river, flowing with the river. Sometimes doing nothing, just relaxing on the sand, looking at the stars, it happens.
But those are just accidents. And because they are accidents, and because they don't fit in your total style of life, you forget them. You don't pay much attention to them. You just shrug your shoulders, and you forget all about them. Otherwise, in everybody's life, sometimes, reality penetrates.
Yoga is a systematic way to reach to that which sometimes happens only accidentally. Yoga makes a science out of all those accidents and coincidences.
The three taken together constitute samyama. The three -- concentration, meditation, and samadhi -- are as if they are the three legs of a three-legged stool, the trinity.
Those who attain to this trinity of concentration, meditation and samadhi, to them happens the light of higher consciousness.
"Climb high, climb far, your goal the sky, your aim the star." But the journey starts where you are. Step by step Climb high, climb far, your goal the sky, your aim the star. Unless you become as vast as the sky, don't rest; the journey is not yet complete. Unless you reach and become an eternal light, the star, don't become complacent, don't feel contented. Let the divine discontent burn like a fire, so that one day, out of all your efforts the star is born and you become an eternal light.
"By mastering it, the light of higher consciousness." Once you master these three inner steps, the light becomes available to you. And when the inner light is available you always live in that light: "At dusk the cock announces dawn. At midnight, the bright sun." Then even in the midnight there is bright sun available; then even at dusk the cock announces dawn.
When you have the inner light there is no darkness. Wherever you go your inner light moves with you -- you move in it, you are it.
Remember that your mind always tries to make you satisfied wherever you are; the mind says there is nothing more to life. The mind goes on trying to convince you that you have arrived. The mind does not allow you to become divinely discontent. And it always can find rationalizations. Don't listen to those rationalizations. They are not real reasons, they are tricks of the mind, because the mind does not want to go, to move. Mind is basically lazy. Mind is a sort of entropy: the mind wants to settle, to make your home anywhere but make your home; just settle, don't be a wanderer.
To be a sannyasin means to become a wanderer in consciousness. To be a sannyasin means to become a vagabond -- in consciousness -- go on searching and wandering. "Climb high, climb far, your goal the sky, your aim the star." And don't listen to the mind.
It happened one night:
A policeman was watching a very drunken man vainly trying to fit his house key into a lamp post.
"It is no use, old chap," he said. "There is nobody at home."
"That is where you are wrong," replied the fuddled man. "There is light upstairs."
The mind is very much fuddled and drunken. It goes on giving reasons. It says, "What more is there?"
Just a few days before, a politician came to me. He said, "Now what more is there? I was born in a small village to a poor family, and now I have become a Cabinet Minister. What more is there to life?"
Cabinet Minister? What more is there to life he asks, and he is satisfied. "Born in a village to a poor family, what more can one expect?" While the whole sky was available, he is satisfied in being a Cabinet Minister. Don't get finished that way.
Unless you become a god! Take rest sometimes by the way, but always remember: it is only a night's rest; by the morning we go.
There are a few people who are satisfied with their worldly achievements. There are a few more who are not satisfied with their worldly achievements but who are satisfied by the promises of the priests. Those, the second category, you call religious. They are also not religious -- because religion is not a promise. It has to be attained. Nobody else can promise you; you have to attain it. All promises are consolations and all consolations are dangerous, because they are like opium. They drug you.
At an examination of a class in first-aid, a priest was asked (he was also taking the training of first-aid), "What would you do if you found a man in a fainting condition?"
"I would give him some brandy," was the answer.
"And if there was no brandy?"
"I would promise him some." said the priest.
The priest has always been saying that. The priests are the great promisers -- they go on issuing promissory notes. They go on saying, "Don't be worried. Donate, make a church, give money to the poor, make a hospital, this and that, and we promise you."
Yoga is self-effort. Yoga has no priests. It has only Masters who have attained by their own effort -- and in their light you have to learn how to attain yourself. Avoid the promises of the priests. They are the most dangerous people on earth, because they don't allow you to become really discontent. They go on consoling you; and if you are consoled before you have attained, you are cheated, you are deceived. Yoga believes in effort, in tremendous effort.
One has to become worthy. One has to EARN God; you have to pay the cost.
Someone once asked the former Prince of Wales, "What is your idea of civilization?"
"It is a good idea," replied the prince. "Somebody ought to start it."
The yoga is not just an idea it is a practice, it is abhyas, it is a discipline, it is a science of inner transformation. And remember, nobody can start it for you. You have to start it for yourself. Yoga teaches you to trust yourself; yoga teaches you to become confident of yourself. Yoga teaches you that the journey is alone. A Master can indicate the way, but you have to travel it.
Discourses on the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali
Talks given from 01/001/76 am to 10/01/76 am
Chapter Title: Ask a Question Close to Home
WHAT CAN I DO WITH A BEGGAR?
WHETHER I GIVE HIM A RUPEE OR NOT, HE WILL REMAIN A BEGGAR ALL THE SAME.
THE beggar is not the problem. If the beggar was the problem then everybody who passes by would feel the same. If the beggar was the problem then beggars would have disappeared long ago. The problem is within you: your heart feels it. Try to understand it.
The mind interferes immediately whenever the heart feels love, the mind immediately interferes. The mind says, "Whether you give him something or not, he will remain the beggar all the same.'' Whether he remains the beggar or not is not your responsibility, but if your heart feels to do something, do it. Don't try to avoid. The mind is trying to avoid the situation. The mind says. "What is going to happen? He will remain the beggar, so there is no need to do anything." You have missed an opportunity where your love could have flown.
If the beggar has decided to be a beggar, you cannot do anything. You may give him: he may throw it. That is for him to decide.
The mind is very clever.
Then the question, it says: WHY ARE THERE BEGGARS AT ALL?
Because there is no love in the human heart. But again, the mind interferes:
HAVE NOT THE RICH TAKEN AWAY FROM THE POOR?
SHOULD NOT THE POOR TAKE BACK WHAT THE RICH HAVE STOLEN FROM HIM?
Now you are forgetting the beggar and the heartache that you felt. Now the whole thing is becoming political, economical. Now the problem is no more of the heart: it is of the mind.
And mind has created the beggar. It is the cunningness, the calculativeness of the mind that has created the beggar. There are cunning people, very calculative: they have become rich. There are innocent people, not so calculative, not so cunning: they have become the poor.
You can change the society -- in Soviet Russia they have changed. That makes no difference. Now the old categories have disappeared -- the poor and the rich -- but the ruler and the ruled, a new category, has come up, Now the cunning are the rulers and the innocent are the ruled. Before, the innocent used to be poor and the cunning used to be rich. What can you do?
Unless the division between mind and heart is dissolved, unless humanity starts living through the heart and not through the mind, the classes are going to remain. The names will change, and the misery is going to continue.
The question is very relevant, very meaningful, significant "What can I do with a beggar?" Beggar is not the question. The question is you and your heart. Do something, whatsoever you can do, and don't try to throw the responsibility on the rich. Don't try to throw the responsibility on history. Don't try to throw the responsibility on the economic structure. Because that is secondary if humanity remains cunning and calculative it is going to be repeated again and again and again.
What can you do for it? You are a small part of the total. Whatsoever you do will not change the situation -- but it will change you. It may not change the beggar if you give something to him, but the very gesture, that you shared whatsoever you could, will change you. And that is important. And if this goes on -- the revolution of the heart -- people who feel, people who look at another human being as an end in itself if this goes on increasing, one day, the poor people will disappear, the poverty will disappear -- and it will not be replaced by a new category of exploitation.
Up to now all the revolutions have failed, because the revolutionaries have not been able to see the basic cause why there is poverty. They are looking only at superficial causes. Immediately they say, "Some people have exploited him, that's why their possibility. This is the cause; that's why there is poverty."
But why were some people able to exploit? Why could they not see? Why could they not see that they are gaining nothing and this man is losing all? They may accumulate wealth, but they are killing life all around. Their wealth is nothing but blood. Why can they not see it?
The cunning mind has created explanations there also.
The cunning mind says. "People are poor because of their karma. In the past lives they have done something wrong, that s why they are suffering. I am rich because I have done good deeds, so I am enjoying the fruit." This is also mind. And Marx sitting in the British Museum is also a mind: and thinking about what is the basic cause of poverty comes to feel that there are people who exploit. But these people will be there always. Unless cunningness disappears completely, it is not a question of changing the structure of the society. It is a question of changing the whole structure of human personality.
What can you do? You can change, you can throw out the rich people -- they will come back from the back door. They were cunning. In fact, those who are throwing, they are also very cunning; otherwise they cannot throw. The rich people may not be able to come from the back door, but the people who call themselves revolutionaries, communists, socialists -- they will sit on the throne and then they will start exploiting. And they will exploit more dangerously because they have proved themselves more cunning than the rich. By throwing out the rich, they have proved one thing absolutely: that they are more cunning than the rich.
The society will be in the hands of more cunning people.
And remember, if someday some other revolutionaries are born -- which are bound to be, because again people will start feeling the exploitation is there, now it has taken a new form -- again there will be a revolution. But who will throw the past revolutionaries? Now more cunning people will be needed.
Whenever you are going to defeat a certain system, and you use the same means as the system has used for itself, just names will change, flags will change, the society will remain the same.
Enough of this befooling. The beggar is not the question: the question is you. Don't be cunning, don't be clever. Don't try to say that this is his karma -- you don't know anything about karma. That is just a hypothesis to explain certain things which are unexplained, to explain certain things which cause heartache. Once you accept the hypothesis, you are relieved of the burden. Then you can remain rich and the poor can remain poor and there is no problem. The hypothesis functions as a buffer.
That's why in India poverty has remained so ingrained and people have become so insensitive towards it. They have a certain theory which helps them. Just as you move in a car and the car has shock absorbers, the roughness of the road is not felt, the shock absorbers go on absorbing this hypothesis of karma is a great shock absorber. You come constantly against poverty, but there is a shock absorber -- the theory of karma. What can you do? It has nothing to do with yourself. You are enjoying your riches because of your virtues -- good deeds done in the past. And this man is suffering from his bad deeds.
There is in India a certain sect of Jainism, Tera-Panth. They are the extremist believers of this theory. They say, "Don't interfere, because he is suffering his past karmas. Don't interfere. Don't give him anything, because that will be an interference, and he could have suffered in a short time -- you will be delaying the process. He will have to suffer."
For example, a poor man you can give him enough to live at ease for a few years, but again the suffering will start. You can give him enough to live at ease in this life, but again in the next life the suffering will start. Where you stopped it, exactly from there the suffering will start again. So those who believe in the Tera-Panth, they go on saying don't interfere. Even if somebody is dying by the side of the road, you simply go on indifferent on your path. They say this is compassion; interfering, you delay the process.
What a great shock absorber.
In India people have become absolutely insensitive. A cunning theory protects them.
In the West they have found a new hypothesis: that it is because the rich have exploited -- so destroy the rich. Just look at it. Looking at a poor man, love starts rising in your heart. You immediately say this poor man is poor because of the rich. You have turned love into hate now hate arises towards the rich man. What game are you playing? Now you say. "Destroy the rich! Take everything back from them. They are the criminals." Now the beggar is forgotten; the heart is full of love no more. On the contrary, it is full of hate... and hate has created the society in which beggars exist. Now again hate is functioning in you. You will create a society in which categories may change, names may change, but there will be the ruled and the rulers, the exploited and the exploiters, the oppressors and the oppressed. It will not make much difference; it will remain the same. There will be masters and there will be slaves.
The only revolution possible is the revolution of the heart. When you see a beggar, remain sensitive. Don't allow any shock absorber to come between you and the beggar.
Remain sensitive. It is difficult because you will start crying. It is difficult because it will be very, very uncomfortable. Share whatsoever you can share. And don't be worried whether he will remain a beggar or not -- you did whatsoever you could. And this will change you. This will give you a new being, closer to the heart and farther away from the mind. This is your inner transformation; and this is the only way.
If individuals go on changing in this way, there may sometime arise a society where people are so sensitive that they cannot exploit, where people have become so alert and aware that they cannot oppress, where people have become so loving that just to think of poverty, of slavery, is impossible.
Do something out of the heart, and don't fall a victim of theories.
Yoga: The Alpha and the Omega, Vol 7
Chapter title: The mind is very clever
2 January 1976 am in Buddha Hall
The questioner goes on:
YOU HAVE SAID WE MUST MOVE TO THE OPPOSITE POLE; WE MUST CHOOSE BOTH SCIENCE AND RELIGION, RATIONALITY AND IRRATIONALITY, WEST AND EAST, TECHNOLOGY AND SPIRITUALITY.
CAN I CHOOSE BOTH POLITICS AND MEDITATION?
CAN I CHOOSE TO CHANGE THE WORLD AND TO CHANGE MYSELF AT THE SAME TIME?
CAN I BE A REVOLUTIONARY AND A SANNYASIN AT ONCE?
Yes, I have said again and again that one has to accept the polarities. But meditation is not a pole. Meditation is the acceptance of the polarities, and through that acceptance one transcends beyond the polarities. So there is no opposite to meditation. Try to understand.
You are sitting in your room full of darkness. Is darkness the opposite of light, or just the absence of light? If it is opposite to light, then it has its own existence. Does darkness have its own existence? Is it real in its own way, or is it Just the absence of light? If it has a reality of its own, then when you light a candle it will resist. It will try to put the candle off. It will fight for its own existence; it will resist. But it gives no resistance. It never fights, it can never put out a small candle.... Vast darkness and a small candle, but the candle cannot be defeated by that vast darkness. The darkness may have ruled in that house for centuries, but you bring a small candle: the darkness cannot say, "I am centuries old and I will give a good fight." It simply disappears.
Darkness has no positive reality, it is simply the absence of light, so when you bring light it disappears. When you put the light off, it appears. In fact it never goes out and never comes in, because it cannot go out and cannot come in. Darkness is nothing but the absence of light.
Light present, it is not there; light absent, it is there. It is absence.
Meditation is the inner light. It has no opposite, only absence.
The whole life is an absence of meditation, as you live it, the worldly life -- the life of power, prestige, ego, ambition, greed. And that is what politics is - an absence of meditation.
Politics is a very big word. It does not include only the so-called politicians, it includes all the worldly people, because whosoever is ambitious is a politician, and whosoever is struggling to reach somewhere is a politician. Wherever there is competition there is politics.
Thirty students studying in the same class and calling themselves class fellows -- they are class enemies, because they are all competing, not fellows. They are all trying to overtake the other. They are all trying to get the gold medal, to come first. The ambition is there: they are already politicians.
Wherever there is competition and struggle there is politics. So the whole ordinary life is politics-oriented.
Meditation is like light when meditation comes politics disappears. So you cannot be meditative and political. That is impossible: you are asking for the impossible. Meditation is not one pole: it is absence of all conflict, all ambition, all ego-trips.
Let me tell you a very famous Sufi story.
It happened A Sufi said, "None can understand man until he realizes the connection between greed, obligement, and impossibility."
"This," said his disciple, "is a conundrum which I cannot understand."
The Sufi said, "Never look for understanding through conundrums when you can attain it through experience directly."
He took the disciple to a shop in the nearby market where robes were sold. "Show me your very best robe," said the Sufi to the shopkeeper, "for I am in a mood to spend excessively."
A most beautiful garment was produced, and an extremely high price was asked for it. "It is very much the kind of thing I would like," said the Sufi. "but I would like some sequins around the collar and a touch of fur trimming."
"Nothing easier," said the seller of the robes, "for I have just such a garment in the workroom of my shop.'' He disappeared for a few moments and then returned having added the fur and the sequins to the selfsame garment.
"And how much is this one?" asked the Sufi.
"Twenty times the price of the first one," said the shop-keeper.
"Excellent," said the Sufi. "I shall take both of them."
Now, the impossibility, because it is the self-same garment. The Sufi was showing that greed has a certain impossibility in it; an impossibility is intrinsic to greed.
Now don't be too greedy, because this is the greatest greed there is to ask to be a politician and a meditator together, simultaneously. That is the greatest greed possible. You are asking to be ambitious and non-tensed. You are asking to fight, to be violent, to be greedy, and yet peaceful and relaxed. If it were possible then there would have been no need for sannyas, then there would have been no need for meditation.
You cannot have both. Once you start meditating, politics starts disappearing. With politics all the effects of it also disappear. The tense state, the worry, the anxiety, the anguish, the violence, the greed -- they all disappear. They are by-products of a political mind.
You will have to decide either you can be a politician or you can be a meditator. You cannot be both, because when meditation comes, the darkness disappears. This world, your world, is an absence of meditation. And when meditation comes, this world simply disappears like darkness.
That's why Patanjali, Shankara, and others who have known, go on saying that this world is illusory, not real. Illusory like darkness: appears to be real, when it is there, but once you bring light in, suddenly you become aware it was not real, it was unreal. Just look into darkness. How real it is. How real it looks. It is there surrounding you from everywhere. Not only that -- you are feeling afraid. The unreal creating fear. It can kill you, and it is not there!
Bring light. Keep somebody by the door to see whether or not he comes to see the darkness going out. Nobody ever sees darkness going out; nobody ever sees darkness coming in, It appears to be and it is not.
The so-called world of desire and ambition, politics, only appears to be and it is not. Once you meditate you start laughing about the whole nonsense, the whole nightmare that has disappeared.
But please don't try to do this impossible thing. If you try you will be in much conflict; you will become a split personality. "Can I choose both politics and meditation? Can I choose to change the world and to change myself at the same time?" Not possible.
In fact, you are the world. When you change yourself you have started to change the world -- and there is no other way. If you start changing others you will not be able to change yourself, and one who is not able to change himself cannot change anybody. He can only go on believing that he is doing great work, as your politicians go on believing.
Your so-called revolutionaries are all ill people, tense people, mad people -- insane -- but their insanity is such that if they are left to themselves they will go completely mad, so they put their insanity in some occupation. Either they start changing the society, reforming the society, doing this and that... changing the whole world. And their madness is such they cannot see the stupidity of it you have not changed yourself -- how can you change anybody else?
Start closer at home. First change yourself, first bring the light within yourself, then you will be capable.... In fact to say then there will be any capacity to change others is not right. In fact, once you change yourself you become a source of infinite energy, and that energy changes others on its own accord. Not that you go on and work hard and become a martyr in changing people, no, nothing of that sort. You simply remain in yourself, but the very energy, the purity of it, the innocence of it, the fragrance of it, goes on spreading in ripples. It reaches to all the shores of the world. Without any effort on your side, an effortless revolution starts.
And the revolution is beautiful when it is effortless. When it is with effort it is violent, then you are forcing your ideas on somebody else.
Stalin killed millions of people because he was a revolutionary. He wanted to change the society, and whosoever was obstructing in any way had to be killed and removed From the way. Sometimes it happens that those who are trying to help you, they start helping even against you. They don't bother whether you want to be changed or not; they have an idea to change you. They will change you in spite of you. They won't listen to you. This type of revolution is going to be violent, bloody.
And a revolution cannot be violent, cannot be bloody, because a revolution has to be a revolution of love and heart. A real revolutionary never goes anywhere to change anybody. He remains rooted in himself; and people who want to be changed, they come to him. They travel from faraway lands. They come to him. The fragrance reaches to them. In subtle ways, in unknown ways, whosoever wants to change himself comes and seeks a revolutionary. The real revolutionary remains in himself, available. Like a pool of cool water. Whosoever is thirsty will seek. The pool is not going to search for you; the pool is not going to run after you. And the pool is not going to drown you because you are thirsty -- that, if you don't listen then the pool will drown you.
Stalin killed so many people. Revolutionaries have been as violent as reactionaries -- and sometimes even more so.
Please don't try to do the impossible. Just change yourself. In fact, that too is such an impossibility that if you can change yourself in this life, you can feel grateful. You can say, "Enough, more than enough has happened."
Don't be worried about others. They are also beings, they have consciousness, they have souls. If they want to change, nobody is hindering the path. Remain a pool of cool water. If they are thirsty they will come. Just your coolness will be the invitation your purity of water will be the attraction.
"Can I be a revolutionary and a sannyasin at once?" No. If you are a sannyasin you are revolution, not a revolutionary. You need not be a revolutionary if you are a sannyasin you are a revolution. Try to understand what I am saying. Then you don't go to change people, don't go to create any revolution anywhere. You don't plan it -- you live it. Your very style of life is revolution. Wherever you will look, wherever you will touch, there will be revolution.
Revolution will become just like breathing -- spontaneous.
Another Sufi story I would like to tell you:
A well-known Sufi was asked. "What is invisibility?" and he said, "I shall answer that when an opportunity for a demonstration occurs."
-- Sufis don't talk much. They create situations. They don't say much; they show through situations.
So the Sufi said, "Whenever an opportunity occurs, I will give you a demonstration" --
Some time later, that man and the one who had asked him the question were stopped by a band of soldiers, and the soldiers said, "We have orders to take all dervishes into custody, for the king of this country says that they will not obey his commands and that they say things which are not welcome to the tranquillity of thought of the populace. So we are going to imprison all the Sufis."
-- Whenever there is a really religious person, a revolution, the politicians become very much afraid, because his very presence maddens them. His very presence is enough to create a chaos. His very presence is enough to create a disorder, a death to the old society. His very presence is enough to create a new world. He becomes a vehicle. Absent, completely absent as far as his ego is concerned, he becomes a vehicle of the divine. The rulers, the cunning people, have always been afraid of religious people because there cannot be more danger than a religious person. They are not afraid of revolutionaries, because their strategies are the same. They are not afraid of revolutionaries, because they use the same language, their terminology is the same. They are the same people; they are not different people.
Just go to New Delhi and watch the politicians. All the politicians who are in power and all the politicians who are not in power -- they are all the same people. Those who are in power seem to be reactionaries because they have attained power now they want to protect it. Now they want to keep it in their hands, so they seem to be the establishment. Those who are not in power -- they talk about revolution because they want to throw out those who are in power. Once they are in power they will become the reactionaries, and the people who were in power, who were thrown out of power, they will become the revolutionaries.
A successful revolutionary is a dead revolutionary, and a ruler thrown out of his power becomes a revolutionary. And they go on deceiving the people. Whether you choose those who are in power or those who are not in power, you are not choosing different people. You are choosing the same people. They have different labels, but there is not a bit of difference.
A religious person is a real danger. His very being is dangerous, because he brings through him new worlds --
The soldiers surrounded the Sufi and his disciple, and they said they are in search of Sufis, all Sufis have to be imprisoned, because the king has commanded so, saying that they say things which are not welcome and they create such thought patterns which are not good for the tranquillity of the populace.
And the Sufi said, "And so you should...."
-- And the Sufi said to the soldiers, "And so you should" --
"... for you must do your duty."
"But are you not Sufis?" said the soldiers.
"Test us." said the Sufi.
The officer took out a Sufi book. "What is this?" he said.
The Sufi looked at the title page and said, "Something which I will burn in front of you since you have not already done so." He set light to the book, and the soldiers rode away satisfied.
The Sufi's companion asked, "What was the purpose of that action?"
"To make us invisible," said the Sufi. "for to the man of the world, visibility means that you are looking like something or someone he expects you to resemble. If you look different, your true nature becomes invisible to him."
A religious man lives a life of revolution, but invisible -- Because to become visible is to become gross, to become visible is to come to the lowest rung of the ladder. A religious person, a sannyasin, creates a revolution in himself and remains invisible. And that invisible source of energy goes on doing miracles.
Please, if you are a sannyasin there is no need to be a revolutionary you are already a revolution. And I say a revolution because a revolutionary is already dead, a revolutionary already has fixed ideas -- a revolutionary already has a mind. I say revolution it is a process. A sannyasin has no fixed ideas: he lives moment to moment. He responds to the reality of the moment -- not out of fixed ideas.
Just watch. Talk to a communist and you will see that he is not listening. He may be nodding his head, but he is not listening. Talk to a Catholic, he is not listening. Talk to a Hindu, he is not listening. While you are talking he is preparing his answer -- from his old, past, fixed ideas. You can even see on the face there is no response, a dullness and deadness.
Talk to a child he listens, he listens attentively. If he listens at all he listens attentively. If he does not listen then he is absolutely absent, but he is total. Talk to a child and you will see the response, pure and fresh.
A sannyasin is like a child, innocent. He does not live out of his ideas: he is not a slave to any ideology. He lives out of consciousness, he lives out of awareness. He acts here-now! He has no yesterdays and he has no tomorrows, only today.
When Jesus was crucified, one thief, who was at his side, said to him. "We are criminals. We are crucified, that's okay -- we can understand. You look innocent. But I am happy just to be crucified with you. I am tremendously happy. I have never done anything good."
He had completely forgotten something. When Jesus was born, Jesus' parents were escaping from the country because the king had ordered a mass murder of all the children born in a certain period. The king had come to know from his wise men that a revolution is going to be born and there is going to be danger. It is better to prevent it beforehand, take precaution. So he had ordered a mass murder. Jesus' parents were escaping.
One night they were surrounded by a few thieves and robbers -- this thief was one of that group -- and they were going to rob and kill them. But this thief looked at the child Jesus, and he was so beautiful, and he was so innocent, so pure, as if purity itself... and a certain glow was surrounding him. And he stopped the other thieves, and he said. "Let them go. Just look at the child." And they all looked at the child: and they all were in a certain hypnosis. They couldn't do what they wanted to do... and they left them.
This was the thief who had saved Jesus, but he was not aware that this is the same man. He said to Jesus, "I don't know what I have done, because I have never done a good deed. You cannot find a greater criminal than me. My whole life was that of sin -- robbery, murder, and everything you can imagine. But I am happy. I am thankful to God that I am dying by the side of such an innocent man."
Jesus said. "Just because of this gratefulness, you will be in the kingdom of God with me TODAY."
Now, after that statement, Christian theologians have been continuously discussing what he meant by "today." He simply meant now. Because a religious man has no yesterdays, no tomorrows, only today. This moment is all. When he said to the thief, "Today you will be with me in the kingdom of God,'' in fact he was saying, "Look! You are already. This very moment, by your gratefulness, by your recognition of purity and innocence -- by your repentance -- the past has disappeared. We are in the kingdom of God."
A religious man lives not out of past ideologies, ideas, fixed concepts, philosophies. He lives in this moment. Out of his consciousness he responds. He is always fresh like a fresh spring, always fresh, uncorrupted by the past.
So, if you are a sannyasin, you are a revolution. A revolution is greater than all the revolutionaries. Revolutionaries are those who have stopped somewhere the river has become frozen, it flows no more. A sannyasin is always flowing the river never stops -- it goes on and on, flowing and flowing. A sannyasin is a flow.
Yoga: The Alpha and the Omega, Vol 7
Chapter title: The mind is very clever
2 January 1976 am in Buddha Hall
HOW TO SURRENDER IF I AM AFRAID OF MYSELF?
AND MY HEART IS PAINING.
WHERE IS THE DOOR OF LOVE?
There is no "how" to surrender. If you understand the stupidity of the ego, the foolishness of the ego, if you understand the misery of the ego, you drop it. There is no "how." Just the very misery of it you look into it and you find it absolutely miserable, a hell -- you drop it.
You go on clinging to it because, still, you are cherishing a dream through it. You have not understood the misery of it; you are still hoping that there may be some treasure in it.
Watch deep in yourself. Don't ask how to drop it; just see how you are clinging to it. The clinging is the problem. If you don't cling to it, it drops on its own accord. And if you ask me how to drop it and you have not seen that you are clinging to it, I can give you a technique; you will cling to your ego and you will start clinging to the technique also. Because you have not understood the process of clinging.
I have heard an anecdote.
There was a professor of philosophy, a very absentminded man, as philosophers are, almost always tend to be -- absentminded. Not that they have attained to no-mind because their minds are occupied so much that they are absent from everywhere else. They are only in the heads. He mislaid everything. One day he returned home without his umbrella, and his wife tried to get some indication from him of where to look for it: "Tell me," she said, "precisely, when did you first miss it?"
-- Now this is a wrong question to ask to a man who is absentminded "Precisely, where did you miss it?" or "Where did you for this first time become aware that you are missing it?" This is a wrong question, because the person who has forgotten the umbrella, he must have forgotten by now precisely when --
"Tell me." she said. "precisely, when did you first miss it?"
"My dear," he replied, "it was when I put my hand up to let it down after a short shower. Then I realized it is not there."
You are clinging, and you ask how to drop it. And the clinging mind will start clinging to the technique. Please, don't ask the "how"; rather, search with yourself -- why you are clinging. What has it given to you up to now, your ego? Has it given anything except promises? Has it fulfilled any promise ever? Are you going to be deceived by it forever and forever? Have you not been deceived by it enough by now? Are you still not contented? Are you still not aware that it is not leading you anywhere, just in a whirlpool you go round and round and round, hoping the same old dreams? Every time you get frustrated you don't see that from the very beginning the promise was false. The moment you get frustrated, again you start dreaming a new hope and The ego goes on promising you.
The ego is impotent. It can only promise; it can never deliver. Look into it. And on the way, between promise and no delivery, in between the two much suffering, much frustration, much misery.
The hell that you have heard about is not part of geography, it is not underneath earth. It is just underneath your ego. When you become aware of the misery of the ego, you don't cling, that's all. I don't say you drop you don't cling. Immediately surrender happens. Surrender is the absence of the ego.
But you never ask, "Why do I cling to the ego?" You ask. "How to surrender?" You ask a wrong question. And, then, there are a thousand and one things which people go on saying to you. Then you cling to them. You are clinging to so many so-called methods, techniques, philosophies, religions, churches. Just to drop one ego you have created three hundred religions in the world. Just to drop one small ego. And millions of techniques and methods, and thousands and thousands of books are being written continuously how to drop it. And the more you read, the more you become knowledgeable, the less is the possibility to drop it -- because now you have more to cling to. Now your ego is also so much more decorated....
I was reading the autobiography of a very well-known novelist.
Towards the end of his life he used to say to everybody and complain, "I wasted my life. I never wanted to be a novelist -- never." Somebody asked him, "Then why didn't you stop? Because for at least twenty years I have been listening to you, and I know people who say that they have been listening to your complaint even longer. Why didn't you stop?" He said. "How could I? Because by the time I realized that this is not my vocation, I had already become famous. By the time I realized that this is not my vocation, I was already a famous novelist."
You cannot drop the ego if you go on decorating it. Your knowledge decorates it. Your going to the church decorates it -- you become religious. Your reading the Bible every day, or the Geeta, or the Koran decorates it. You can look at others with the look "holier than you." You can look with a condemnation in your eye, that the whole world is going to the hell -- except for you.
You go on trying to become humble, to become simple, but deep down in your simplicity sits the ego, enthroned. And you go on finding rationalizations for it. All rationalizations are decorations.
In India there was one man, he died a few years before - Nizam of Hyderabad. He was the richest man in the whole world. Your Rockefellers and Fords are nothing. He was the richest man in the world. In fact nobody knows how much he had exactly because all his wealth consisted of millions of diamonds. In seven big halls the diamonds were put; the halls were completely full. Even he was not aware of the exact number. But the man was a great miser -- you cannot believe. You will simply say that I am lying. He was such a miser that when guests will come and they will leave their half cigarettes on the ashtray, he will collect them and smoke them. You will not believe me, but this is a truth.
When he became Nizam of Hyderabad, he was enthroned, he used the same cap for forty years. That was the dirtiest cap in the world. It was never washed because he was afraid it may be destroyed. He lived the life of a very poor man, but he used to say to his people. "I am a simple man. Maybe I am the richest man, but I live the life of a poor man." But he was not poor. He was simply a miser! He used to say that because he is not attached to things and worldly exhibitions, that's why he lives such a simple life. He used to think himself a sadhu, a fakir. He was not. He was the most miserly man ever, the richest and the most miserly. But for his miserliness, He will find rationalizations.
He was so afraid, so superstitious.... He used to pray and he used to pretend that he is a great prayer. But he was not; he was simply afraid. In the night he used to sleep with a peculiar thing. He had a big pot which he used to fill with salt, and in the pot he will put one of his feet -- the whole night. Because Mohammedans have an idea that if your feet are touching salt, ghosts cannot trouble you.
How can this man pray? One who is so afraid of ghosts, how can he love God? Because one who loves God, his fear disappears. But he deceived many people. Or, even if he didn't deceive many people, he deceived himself at least.
Remember, always start from the beginning. Look where you are clinging and why you are clinging. Don't ask for the "how" to surrender. Just watch and find out why you are clinging to the ego, why you are being stubborn.
If you still feel that the ego is going to deliver some heaven for you, then wait -- no need to surrender. If you feel that all promises are false and the ego is a deceiver, then what is the need to ask 'how to surrender?' Don't cling. In fact, once you know that this is fire, you drop it. It is not a question of not clinging. You simply drop it. When you come to know that your house is on fire, you don't ask anybody how to get out.
Once it happened:
I was staying in a house, and just in front of the house a house caught fire. It was a three-storied house, and one fat man who used to live on the third story was trying to jump from the window. The whole crowd was saying, "Don't jump! We are bringing a ladder!" But who listens when the house is on fire? He jumped. He could not even wait for the ladder. And there was no danger yet because the fire was just on the first story. To reach to the third it would have taken time, and the ladder was being brought, and the whole crowd was shouting at him, "Wait!!" But he couldn't listen. He jumped and broke his leg.
Later on I went to see him and I asked, "You did a miracle. You didn't ask how to jump. Have you ever jumped from three-story buildings before?"
He said, "Never."
"Have you ever practiced?"
He said, "Never."
He said, "What are you talking about! This is for the first time!"
"Did you consult any book? You asked for a teacher? You inquired of somebody?"
He said, "What are you talking about? I could not even wait for my wife to come, my children to come, and I couldn't even understand why the people were shouting so much. Only later on, when I was lying on the ground, then I could understand that they were bringing a ladder."
When the house is on fire you jump out of it. You don't ask the "how?" And I tell you, Your house is on fire. Immediately, you ask how to jump out of it. No, you have not
understood the point. Still you don't feel that your house is on fire I say, so my saying creates in you an idea "how to jump out of it?" If really you understand that your house is on fire, even if I should. "I am bringing a ladder! Wait!", you are not going to wait. You will jump. You may even break your legs.
But at ease, comfortably, conveniently, you ask, "How to surrender?" There is no "how" to it. Just look at the misery that the ego creates. If you can feel it you will come out of it. Period.
"And my heart is paining." It is bound to be so. With the ego there is going to be much pain.
And you ask. "Where is the door of love?" Come out of the ego. There is the door of love. Come out of the ego, and there is the door of the heart. The ego prevents you from love, the ego prevents you from meditation, the ego prevents you from prayer, the ego prevents you from God, but still you go on listening to it. Then it is up to you.
This is your choice, remember. Nobody has forced you to listen to the ego. It is your choice. If you choose, it is okay. Then don't ask the "how." If you don't choose it, there is no need to ask the "how?".
Yoga: The Alpha and The Omega Vol. 7
Discourses on the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali
Talks given from 01/001/76 am to 10/01/76 am
Chapter 2: The mind is very clever
2 January 1976 am in Buddha Hall
WHY, WHEN I TRY TO LISTEN TO YOUR LECTURES WITH TOTAL ATTENTION, CAN I AFTERWARDS NOT REMEMBER WHAT YOU HAVE SAID?
There is no need. If you have listened to me with total attention there is no need to remember what I have said. It becomes part of you. You eat something do you remember what you have eaten? What is the use? It becomes part of you -- it becomes your blood; it becomes your bones. It becomes you. Once you eat something, you forget about it. You digest it, not that you remember it.
If you listen totally, I am converting into your blood, I am converting into your bones, I am converting into your being. You are digesting me. There is no need. Whenever there will be a situation, you will respond; and in that response all that you have heard and listened to in totality will be there -- but not as remembered... but as lived. And this difference has to be remembered.
Whatsoever I am trying here is not to make you more knowledgeable, to give you some information. That is not the purpose of my talking or my being here with you. My whole purpose is to give you more being, not more knowledge. So remain with me, listen totally; there is no need to remember afterwards. It becomes part of you. Whenever there will be a need it will arise. And it will not arise as a memory; it will arise as your living response.
Otherwise, there is always a fear it can become your memory. Then you are not changed; only your memory tank becomes bigger and bigger and bigger. Your computer becomes more informed. And whenever there will be a real situation, you will forget: then you will act out of your consciousness, not out of your memory. Then you will forget me. When there will be no real situation and you will be arguing with people and discussing, you will remember.
Watch. If what I say becomes just a memory in you then it will be good for discussion, argument, debate -- showing your knowledge to other people, convincing them that you know -- you know more than anybody. It will be useful for that, but in real life.... If you are talking about love you will be able to talk much from the memory that I have said to you, but when the question arises -- you fall in love -- then you will act out of your self -- not what you have heard -- because nobody can use a dead memory when a real situation arises.
I have heard an anecdote:
One day, while in the jungle, an explorer ran into a tribe of cannibals who were getting ready to sit down to their favorite dish. The head of the tribe, surprisingly, spoke excellent English. When questioned as to the reason, he admitted to having spent a year at college in the United States.
"You have been to college," exclaimed the horrified explorer, "and you still eat humanflesh?"
"Well, yes, I do," admitted the chief. Then he added in conciliatory tones, "But now, of course, I use a knife and fork."
That will be all. If you make me only part of your memory, you will still go on being a cannibal but now you will use a knife and fork. That will be the only difference. But if you allow me to enter your innermost shrine of being, you listen totally -- that is the meaning of listening totally -- then forget about the computer and the memory there is no need.
Your real examination is not going to be in any examination hall of some university. Your examination is going to be in the universe itself. There will be the proof of whether you listened to me or not. Suddenly you will see that you are loving in a different way, that the situation is old but you are responding in a different way. Somebody is annoying you, but you are not annoyed. Somebody is trying to irritate you, but you are silent and tranquil.
Somebody is insulting you, but somehow you are untouched. You are like a lotus flower: in the water, untouched by it. Then you will realize what has happened being with me. It is a transference of being, not a communication of knowledge.
Yoga: The Alpha and The Omega Vol. 7
Discourses on the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali
Talks given from 01/001/76 am to 10/01/76 am
Chapter 2: The mind is very clever
2 January 1976 am in Buddha Hall
I WOULD LIKE TO ASK ONE OF THOSE SHORT, FUNNY QUESTIONS WHICH YOU USE AT THE END OF A LECTURE AND TO HEAR YOU SAY, "THIS QUESTION IS FROM DHEERENDRA."
IF I CONTINUE MEDITATING, WILL IT COME?
Never. Then stop meditating. If you want questions then please don't meditate. If you meditate all questions disappear, only the answer remains. If you want more questions to ask, stop meditating. Then you can go on asking a thousand and one questions.
And all are stupid and funny, so there is no need to be worried about it.
But of only one thing should you be aware: Don't meditate! If you want to ask funny and stupid questions, don't meditate. And I say again, all questions are stupid and funny. If you meditate they all will disappear: only silence remains. And silence is the answer.
Remember, either you have questions or you have answers. You never have both. When you have questions you don't have the answer. I can give you the answer, but it will never reach to you. By the time it reaches you, you will convert it into a thousand and one questions again. When you have questions, you have questions. When you have the answer -- and I say answer, not answers -- because, there is only one answer to all questions when you have the answer, questions do not arise.
Meditate if you want the answer which answers all questions. Stop meditating if you want to go on asking questions.
Meditation is the answer.
Enough for today.
Yoga: The Alpha and the Omega, Vol 7
Chapter title: The inside of the inside
3 January 1976 am in Buddha Hall
I HAVE been told that traditionally there are two schools of thought in Germany. The industrial, practical northern part of the country has this philosophy: The situation is serious but not hopeless. In the southern part of Germany, more romantic and perhaps less practical, the philosophy seems to be: The situation is hopeless but not serious. If you ask me, then the situation is neither -- it is neither hopeless nor serious. And I am talking about the human situation.
The human situation looks serious because we have been taught and conditioned to be serious, for centuries. The human situation looks hopeless because we have been doing something with ourselves which is wrong. We have not yet found that to be natural is the goal, and all the goals that we have been taught make us more and more unnatural.
To be natural, to be just in tune with the cosmic law, is what Patanjali means by samyama. To be natural and to be in tune with the cosmic law is samyama. Samyama is not anything forced upon you. Samyama is not anything that comes from the outside. Samyama is a flowering of your innermost nature. Samyama is to become that which you already are.
Samyama is to come back to nature. How to come back to nature? And what is human nature? Unless you dig deep within your own being, you will never come to know what human nature is.
One has to move inwards; and the whole process of yoga is a pilgrimage, an inward journey. Step by step, in eight steps. Patanjali is bringing you home. The first five steps -- yam, niyam, agan, pranayam, pratyahar -- they help you to go deep in you beyond the body.
The body is your first periphery, the first concentric circle of your existence. The second step is to go beyond the mind. The three internal steps of dharana, dhyan, samadhi, lead you beyond the mind. Beyond the body and beyond the mind is your nature, is your center of being. That center of being Patanjali calls 'seedless samadhi' -- kaivalya. That he calls to come face to face to your own grounding, to your own being, to come to know who you are.
So the whole process can be divided in three parts first, how to transcend the body; second, how to transcend the mind; and third, how to fall into your own being.
We have been taught, almost all over the world, in every culture, in every country, in every climate, to seek goals somewhere outside ourselves. The goal may be money, the goal may be power, the goal may be prestige, or the goal may be God, heaven, it makes no difference: all the goals are outside you. And the real goal is to come to the source from where you come. Then the circle is complete.
Drop all the outer goals and move inwards. That's the message of yoga. Outer goals are just forced. You have been just taught somewhere to go. They never become natural; they cannot become natural.
I have heard an anecdote about G.K. Chesterton:
He was on a train, reading earnestly, when the conductor asked for his ticket. Frantically, Chesterton fumbled for it.
"Never mind, sir," the conductor said reassuringly. "I will come later on to punch it. I am certain you have it."
"I know I have it," Chesterton stammered, "but what I want to know is, where in the world am I going?"
Where are you going? What's your destiny? You have been taught certain things to achieve. You have been made into an achiever. The mind has been manipulated, pushed and pulled. The mind has been controlled by the outside -- by the parents, by the family, by the school, by the society, by the government. Everybody is trying to pull you outside your being, and they are trying to fix a goal for you; and you have fallen in the trap. And the goal is already there inside you.
There is nowhere to go. One has to realize oneself, already -- who one is. And once you realize that, wherever you go you will find your goal, because you carry your goal within yourself. Then wherever you go, you will have a deep contentment, a peace surrounding you, a coolness, a collectedness, a calm as a milieu that you carry around you as an aura. That's what Patanjali calls samyama a cool, collected, calm atmosphere that moves with you.
Wherever you go you bring your own atmosphere with you, and everybody can feel it. Almost it can be touched by others also, whether they become aware or not. Suddenly, if a man of samyama comes close to you, suddenly you become aware of a certain calm breeze blowing near you, a fragrance coming from the unknown. It touches you, it pacifies you. It is like a beautiful lullaby. You were in turmoil if a man of samyama comes near you, suddenly your turmoil subsides. You were angry if a man of samyama comes near you, your anger disappears. Because a man of samyama is a magnetic force. On his wave you start riding; on him, with him, you start moving higher than you can move alone.
So in the East we developed a beautiful tradition of going to people who have attained to samyama and just sitting by their side. That's what we call darshan, that's what we call satsang: just going to a man of samyama and just being near him. To the Western mind sometimes it looks almost absurd because sometimes the man may not even speak, he may be in silence. And people go on coming, they touch his feet, they sit by his side, they close their eyes.... There is no conversation, there is no verbal communication, and they sit for hours; and then fulfilled, in some unknown way, they touch the feet in deep gratitude and they go back. And you can watch from their faces that something has been communicated; they have attained to something. And there has been no verbal communication -- nothing visible has been given or taken. This is satsang just being with a man of truth, with an authentic being, a man of samyama.
Just by being close to him, something starts happening in you, something starts responding in you.
But the concept of the man of samyama has also become very muddled because people started to do it from the outside. People started to still themselves from the outside, to practice a certain calmness, a certain silence, to force themselves into a particular pattern and discipline. They will look almost like a man of samyama. They will look almost, but they will not be: and when you go near them, their appearance may be of silence, but if you sit near them silently, you will not feel any silence. Deep down the turmoil is hidden. They are like volcanoes. On the surface everything is-quiet: deep down the volcano is getting ready to explode any moment.
Remember this: never try to force anything upon youself. That is the way to get divided, that's the way to become hopeless, and that's the way to miss the point. Your innermost being has to flow through you. You are only to remove the hindrances on the path. Nothing new is to be added to you. In fact, something minus, and you will be perfect. Something plus -- no. You are already perfect. Something more is there than the spring, some rocks on the path. Minus those rocks, and you are perfect and the flow is attained. These eight steps, ashtang, of Patanjali are nothing but n methodological way of removing the rocks.
But why does man become so obsessed with an outer discipline? There must be a cause to it, a reason for it. The reason is there. The reason is because to force anything from the outside seems easier, cheap, at no cost. It is as if you are not beautiful, but you can purchase a beautiful mask from the market and you can put it on your face. Cheap, not costly, and you can deceive others a little bit. Not long, because a mask is a dead thing and a dead thing can have an appearance of beauty, but it cannot be really beautiful. In fact you have become more ugly than you were before. Whatsoever your original face was, it was at least alive, radiating life, intelligence. Now you have a dead mask and you are hiding behind it.
People become interested in cultivating samyama from the outside. You are a man of anger: to attain to a state of no anger much effort will be needed, and long is the journey, and you will have to pay for it. But just to force yourself, repress anger, is easier. In fact you can use your energy of anger in repressing anger -- immediately. There is no problem because anybody who is a man of anger can easily conquer anger. The only one thing is he has to turn the anger upon himself. First he was angry with others: now he has to be angry with himself and suppress the anger. But if you look into his eyes, anger will be there lurking like a shadow.
And remember, to be angry sometimes is not bad, but to suppress anger and to remain angry constantly is very dangerous. That is the difference between hatred and hate. When you flare up in anger there is hate, but it is momentary. It comes and it goes. Nothing much to be worried about it. When you suppress anger, then hate disappears and hatred arises, which becomes a permanent style of your life. The repressed anger continuously affects you -- your behavior, your relationship. Now it is not that you sometimes become angry, now you are all the time angry. Your anger is not addressed to anybody now: it has become unaddressed, just a quality of your being. Now it clings to you. You cannot exactly say with whom you are angry, because in the past you have been accumulating anger. Now it has become a reservoir. You are simply angry.
This is bad; this is chronic. First the anger was just a flare-up, something happened. It was situational. It was like as small children become angry: they flare up like a flame and then they subside, and immediately the storm is gone and the silence is there and they are again loving and beautiful. But by and by the more you suppress anger, anger enters into your bones, into your blood. It circulates within you. It moves in your breathing. Then, whatsoever you do you do in anger. Even if you love a person you love in an angry way. Aggression is there: destructiveness is there. You may not bring it up, but it is always there. And it becomes a great rock.
To force anything from the outside seems, in the beginning, very cheap, but in the end it proves very fatal.
And people find it cheap because there are experts who go on telling them how to do it. A child is born and parents become the experts. They are not. They have not solved their own problems yet. If they really love the child they will not force the same pattern on him.
But who loves? Nobody knows what love is.
They start forcing their pattern, the same old pattern in which they are caught. They are not even aware what they are doing. They themselves are caught in the same pattern and their whole life has been a life of misery, and now they are giving the same pattern to their children. Innocent children, not knowing what is right and what is wrong, will become victims.
And these experts who are not experts, because they don't know anything -- they have not solved any problem themselves -- simply take it for granted that because, just because, they have given birth to a child they have become, in a certain way, authoritative: and they start molding the soft child into a fixed pattern. And the child has to follow them; the child is helpless. By the time he becomes aware, he is already caught, trapped. Then there are schools, universities, and a thousand and one ways of conditioning all around, and all sorts of experts, and everybody pretending that he knows. Nobody seems to know.
Beware of the experts. Take your life in your own hands if you want to reach someday to your innermost core. Don't listen to the experts; you have listened long enough.
I have heard a small anecdote:
An efficiency expert was checking a government bureau and came to an office where two young men were seated on opposite sides of a desk, neither occupied with work.
"What are your duties?" the expert asked one.
"I have been here six months, and I have not been given any duties yet," the man replied.
"And your duties?" the efficiency expert asked the other man.
"I too have been here for six months and have not been given any duties yet," he replied.
"Well, one of you must go," snubbed the expert. "This is an obvious instance of duplication."
Two persons doing the same duty -- of not doing anything.
The expert always thinks in terms of knowledge. Go to a wise man. He does not think in terms of knowledge. He looks at you through his knowing eyes. The world is ruled by experts too much, and the world has almost forgotten to go to the wise men. And the difference is the expert is as ordinary as you are. The only difference between you and the expert is that he has accumulated some dead information. He knows more than you know, but his information is not his own realization. He has just accumulated it from the outside, and he goes on giving advice to you.
Seek, search for a wise man. That is the search for the guru. In the East people travel for thousands of miles to seek and search for somebody who has really come to know, and to be with him, to be with the man of samyama -- one who has attained, who has not cultivated, who has grown, who has flowered in his inner being. The flower is not borrowed from the outside. It is an inner flowering.
Remember, Patanjali's samyama is not the concept of ordinary cultivation. It is the concept of flowering, of helping and allowing that which is hidden in you to be manifested.
You are already carrying the seed. The seed only needs a right soil. A little care, a loving care, and it will sprout, and it will come one day to flower. And the fragrance that was carried by the seed will be spread to the winds, and the winds will carry it to all the directions.
A man of samyama cannot hide himself. He tries. He cannot hide himself, because the winds will continuously carry his fragrance. He can go to a cave in the mountains and sit there, and people will start coming to him there. Somehow, in some unknown way, those who are growing, those who are intelligent, they will find him. He need not seek them; they will seek him.
Can you watch something similar in your own being, because then it will be easy to understand the sutras? You love somebody, really; and, you show love to somebody. Have you watched the difference? Somebody comes, a guest. You really welcome. It is a flowering; from your very being you welcome him. It is not only a welcome to your home, it is a welcome to your heart. And then some other guest comes and you welcome him because you have to welcome. Have you watched the difference between the two?
When you really welcome, you are one flow -- the welcome is total. When you don't really welcome and you are simply following etiquette, manners, you are not one flow; and if the guest is perceptive, he will immediately turn back. He will not enter your house. If he is really perceptive, he can immediately see the contradiction in you. Your extended hand for a handshake is not really extended. The energy in it is not moving towards the guest; the energy is being withheld. Only a dead hand has been spread out.
You are a contradiction whenever you are following anything outer, just following a discipline. It is not true; you are not in it.
Remember, whatsoever you do -- if you are doing it at all -- do it totally. If you don't want to do it at all, then don't do it -- then don't do it totally. The total-ness has to be remembered because that total-ness is the most significant thing. If you continuously go on doing things in which you are contradictory, inconsistent, in which a part of you moves and another part doesn't move, you are destroying your inner flowering. By and by you will become a plastic flower -- with no fragrance, with no life.
Mulla Nasrudin on leaving a party said to his hostess, "Thank you very much for inviting me. It is the very nicest party I have ever been invited to in all my life." And the party was very ordinary.
Somewhat taken aback the hostess exclaimed. "Oh, don't say that."
To which the Mulla replied, "But I do say that. I always say that."
Then it is meaningless. Then it is absolutely meaningless.
Don't live a life of mere manners, don't live a life of mere etiquette. Live an authentic life. I know the life of etiquette, manner, is comfortable, convenient; but it is poisonous. It kills you slowly, slowly. The life of authenticity is not so convenient and comfortable. It is risky, it is dangerous -- but it is real, and the danger is worth. And you will never repent for it. Once you start enjoying the real life, the real feeling, the real flow of your energy and you are not divided and split, then you will understand that if everything is to be staked for it, it is worth it. For a single moment of real life, your whole unreal life can be staked, and it is worth -- because in that single moment you would have known what life is and its destiny. And your whole long life of a hundred years you will simply live on the surface, always afraid of the depth, and you will miss the whole opportunity.
This is the hopelessness that we have created all around us living and not living at all, doing things we never intended to do, being in relationships we never wanted to be, following a profession which has never been a call to you. Being false in a thousand and one ways, and how do you expect that out of this falsity. Layer upon layer, you can know what life is? It is because of your falsity you are missing it. It is because of your falsity you cannot make the contact with the living stream of life.
And sometimes, when you become aware of it, a second problem arises. Whenever people become aware of the falsity of life, they immediately move to the opposite extreme. That is another trap of the mind because if you move from one falsity to the exact opposite, you will move to another falsity again. Somewhere in between, somewhere between the two opposites is the real.
Samyama means balance. It means absolute balance not moving to the extremes, remaining just in the middle. When you are neither a rightist nor a leftist, when you are neither a socialist nor an individualist, when you are neither this nor that, suddenly, in between, the flowering, the flowering of samyama.
It happened that Mulla Nasrudin was suffering from a very deep-rooted fear. It had almost become an obsession. I advised him to go to a psychiatrist. Then one day, after a few weeks, when I saw him I asked, "I understand that you have been going to the psychiatrist I suggested to you. Do you think it has helped you?"
"Certainly it has. Only a few weeks ago, when the phone rang I was deadly afraid to answer it."
That was his fear always. The ringing of the phone, and he will start trembling. Who knows what is the message? Who knows who is calling him? "Only a few weeks ago, when the phone rang I was deadly afraid to answer it."
"And now?" I asked.
He said, "And now? I go right ahead and answer it -- whether it rings or not."
You can move from one extreme to another, from one falsity to another falsity, from one fear to another fear. You can move from the marketplace to the monastery. Those are the polarities. The people who live in the marketplace are unbalanced, and the people who live in the monasteries are also unbalanced on the other extreme, but both are lopsided.
Samyama means balance. That's what I mean by sannyas to be balanced, to be in the marketplace and yet not be of it, to be in the bazaar but to not allow the bazaar to be in you. If your mind can remain free from the marketplace, you can be in the marketplace and there is no problem, you can move to the monastery and live alone; but if the bazaar follows inside you.... Which is bound to follow because the bazaar is not really outside -- it is in the buzzing thoughts, in the inner traffic noise of the thoughts. It is going to follow you. How can you leave yourself here and escape somewhere else? You will go with yourself, and wherever you go you will be the same.
So don't try to escape from situations. Rather, try to become more and more aware. Change the inner climate and don't be worried about the outer situations. Insist continuously on it, because the cheaper is always alluring. It says, "Because you are worried in the market, escape to the monastery and all worries will disappear: because worries are because of the business, because of the market, because of the relationship." No, worries are not because of the market, worries are not because of the family, worries are not because of the relationship: worries are because of you. These are just excuses. If you go to the monastery, these worries will find some new objects to hang to, but the worries will continue.
Just look at your mind, in what a mess it is. And this mess is not created by the situations. This mess is in you. Situations, at the most, work as excuses.
Sometime, do one experiment. You think people make you angry, then go for a twenty-one-day silence. Remain silent and you will suddenly become aware that many times in the day, for no reason at all -- because now there is nobody to make you angry -- you become angry. You think because you come across a beautiful woman or a man that's why you become sexual? You are wrong. Go for a twenty-one-day silence. Remain alone and you will find many times, suddenly for no reason at all sexuality arises. It is within you.
Two women were talking. I have simply overheard them; excuse my trespass.
Mistress Brown, very annoyed: "Look here, Mistress Green. Mistress Gray told me that you told her the secret I told you not to tell her."
Mistress Green: "Oh! The mean creature. And I told her not to tell you that I told her."
Mistress Brown: "Well. Look here, don't tell her that I told you she told me."
This is the traffic noise that goes on continuously in the mind. This has to be stilled, not by any force but by understanding.
The first sutra:
Yoga: The Alpha and the Omega, Vol 7
Chapter title: The inside of the inside
3 January 1976 am in Buddha Hall
The first sutra:
Patanjali is not for sudden enlightenment: and sudden enlightenment is not for everybody. It is rare, it is exceptional; and Patanjali has a very scientific outlook he does not bother for the exceptional. He discovers the rule, and the exceptional simply proves the rule, nothing else. And the exceptional can take care of itself: there is no need to think about it. The ordinary, the ordinary human being, grows only in stages, step by step, because for a sudden enlightenment, tremendous courage is needed, which is not available.
And, for a sudden enlightenment, there is such a risk in it -- one can go mad or one can become enlightened. Both the possibilities remain open because it is so sudden that the mechanism of your body and mind is not ready for it. It can shatter you completely.
Patanjali does not talk about it. In fact he insists that the samyama should be attained in stages so that by and by you move, in small doses you grow, and before you take another step you have become ready and prepared for it. Enlightenment, for Patanjali, does not take you unawares. Because it is such a tremendous event, you may be so shocked -- shocked to death or shocked to madness -- he simply debars any talk about it. He does not pay any attention to it.
That is the difference between Patanjali and Zen. Zen is for the exceptional: Patanjali is the rule. If Zen disappears from the world, nothing will be lost because that exceptional can always take care of itself. But if Patanjali disappears from the world, much will be lost because he is the rule. He is simply for the common, ordinary human being -- for all. A Tilopa may take the jump, or a Bodhidharma may take a jump, and disappear. These are adventurers, people who enjoy risk, but that is not the way of everybody. You need a staircase to go up and to go down: you simply don't jump out of the balconies. And there is no need to take that risk while one can move gracefully.
Zen is a little eccentric because the whole point is of the unique experience. The whole point is of the exceptional, the rare: in a way, the non-ordinary. Patanjali, in that way, moves on plain ground. For the common humanity he is a great help.
He says, "samyama is to be employed in stages." Don't be in a hurry, move slowly, grow slowly, so everything becomes solid before you take another step. After each growth, let there be an interval. In that interval, whatsoever you have attained is absorbed, digested, becomes part of your being... then go ahead. There is no need to run because in running you can come to a point for which you are not ready, and if you are not ready, it is dangerous.
The greedy mind would like to attain everything now. People come to me and they say, "Why don't you give us something which can make us suddenly enlightened?" But these are exactly the people who are not ready. If they were ready they would have patience. If they were ready they would say, "Whenever it comes. We are not in a hurry: we can wait." They are not the real people: they are greedy people. In fact, they don't know what they are asking. They are inviting the sky. You will burst: you won't be able to contain it.
Patanjali says, "samyama is to be employed in stages," and these eight stages he has described.
THESE THREE... The three that we discussed the other day...
We have discussed those five stages.
These three are internal compared to the five that have preceded them...
If you compare them with yam, niyam, asan, pranayam, pratyahar, then they are internal, but if you compare with the experience, the ultimate experience of a Buddha or Patanjali, they are yet external. They are just in between.
First you transcend the body, those are the external steps: then you transcend the mind, these are internal steps: but when you reach to your being, even that which was internal now will look external. Even that was not internal enough. Your mind is not internal enough. It is more internal than the body. It is external if you become a witness: then you can watch your own thoughts. When you can watch your own thoughts. Your thoughts become external. They become objects: you are the watcher.
The seedless samadhi means: when there is going to be no birth anymore, when there is going to be no coming back to the world anymore, when there is going to be no entry again in time. The seedless means: the seed of desire is burned completely.
When you move, even towards yoga, when you start the journey inwards, that too is still a desire -- desire to achieve oneself, desire to achieve peace, bliss, desire to achieve truth. It is still desire. When you attain the first samadhi.... After dharana, concentration: dhyan, contemplation: when you come to samadhi, where subject and object become one, even there, a slight shadow of desire is present -- the desire to know the truth, the desire to become one, the desire to know God -- or whatsoever you name it. Still that desire, very subtle, almost invisible, almost as if it is not: but still it is there. It has to be there because you have been using it all throughout the way. Now that desire also has to be dropped.
Samadhi has also to be dropped. Meditation becomes complete when meditation has to be dropped... when meditation can be dropped. When you forget all about meditation and you drop it, when there is no need to meditate, when there is no need to go anywhere -- neither outside nor inside -- when all journeying stops, then desire disappears.
Desire is the seed. First it moves you outwards: then, if you are intelligent enough to understand that you are moving in a wrong direction, it starts moving you inwards: but the desire is still there. The same desire, feeling frustrated outside, starts searching inside. That desire has to be dropped.
After samadhi, even samadhi has to be dropped. Then the seedless samadhi arises. That is the ultimate. It arises not because you desired it, because if you desire then it will not be seedless. That has to be understood. It arises only because understanding the futility of desire itself -- even the desire to go in the very understanding of the futility of desire, desire disappears. You cannot desire the seedless samadhi. When desire disappears, suddenly, the seedless samadhi is there. It has nothing to do with your effort. This is the happening.
Up to now, up to samadhi, there is effort: because effort needs desire, motivation. When desire disappears, effort also disappears. When desire disappears there is no motivation to do anything -- neither is there any motivation to do nor is there any motivation to be anything. Total emptiness, nothingness, what Buddha calls shoonya, arises -- on its own accord. And that's the beauty of it untouched by your desire, uncorrupted by your motivation, it is purity itself, it is innocence itself. This is seedless samadhi.
Now there will no longer be any birth. Buddha used to tell his disciples, "When you come to samadhi become alert. Cling to samadhi so that you can be a help to people." Because if you don't cling to samadhi, and the seedless samadhi appears, you are gone, gone forever -- gate, gate, para gate -- Gone, gone, gone forever. Then you cannot help. You must have heard the word "bodhisattva." I have given the word to many sannyasins. Bodhisattva means one who has come to samadhi and is denying seedless samadhi, is clinging to samadhi because while he clings to samadhi he can help people, he can still be there, at least one chain link with the world is still there.
There is a story that Buddha comes to the ultimate heaven, doors open, and he is invited, but he stands outside. The devas tell him, "Come in. We have been waiting so long for you." But he says, "How can I come in right now? There are many who need me. I will stand at the door and help to show people the door. I will be the last to enter. When everybody has entered the door, when there is nobody else left outside, then I will enter. If I enter right now, with my entry the door will be lost again: and there are millions who are struggling. They are just coming closer and closer. I will stand outside: I am not going to enter: because you will have to keep the door open while I stand here. You will have to wait for me, and while you are waiting the door will be there, open, and I can show people this is the door."
This is the state of bodhisattva. Bodhisattva means one who has already come to the door of being a Buddha. In essence he is ready to disappear into the whole, but he resists for compassion. He clings to it. The last desire, to help people -- that too is a desire -- keeps him in existence. It is very difficult, it is almost impossible, when all the chains are broken from the world, just to depend on a very fragile relationship of compassion -- almost impossible. But those are the few moments -- when somebody comes to the state of bodhisattva and stays there those are the few moments when the door is open for the whole of humanity, to look at the door, to realize the door, to recognize, and to enter it.
These three -- dharana, dhyan, samadhi -- are internal compared to the five that preceded them, but the three are external compared to seedless samadhi.
Yoga: The Alpha and the Omega, Vol 7
Chapter title: The inside of the inside
3 January 1976 am in Buddha Hall
These three -- dharana, dhyan, samadhi -- are internal compared to the five that preceded them, but the three are external compared to seedless samadhi.
-- MOMENTARILY BETWEEN AN IMPRESSION THAT IS DISAPPEARING AND THE IMPRESSION THAT IS TAKING ITS PLACE
This sutra is very, very significant for you because you can immediately use it. Patanjali calls it nirodh. Nirodh means a momentary suspension of the mind, a momentary state of no-mind. It is happening to you all, but it is very subtle and the moment is very small. Unless you are a little more aware, you will not be able to see it. First let me describe what it is.
Whenever a thought appears in the mind, the mind is covered with it like a cloud appears in the sky. But no thought can be permanent. The very nature of thought is to be nonpermanent; one thought comes, it goes: another thought comes and replaces it. Between these two thoughts there is a very subtle interval. One thought goes, another has not come yet that is the moment of nirodha -- subtle interval when you are thoughtless. One cloud has passed, another has not come yet, and the sky is open. You can look at it.
Just sitting silently, watch. Thoughts go on coming like traffic on the road. One car has passed, another is coming -- but between the two there is a gap and the road is vacant. Soon the -other will come and the road will again be full and will not be empty. If you can look between the gap that exists between two thoughts, you are for a moment in the same state as when somebody comes to realize samadhi -- a momentary samadhi, just a glimpse. Immediately it will be filled by another thought which is already on the way.
Watch. Watch carefully. One thought going, another coming, and the gap between: in that gap you are exactly in the same state as one who has attained to samadhi. But your state is just a momentary phenomenon. Patanjali calls it nirodh. It is momentary, dynamic, it is changing all the time. It is a flux-like thing; one wave going, another coming; between the two... no wave. Just try to watch it.
This is one of the most significant meditations. There is no need to do anything else. You can just sit silently and you can go on watching. Just look in the gap. In the beginning it will be difficult. By and by you will become more alert and you will not miss the gaps. Don't pay attention to the thoughts. Focus yourself for the gap, not for the thoughts. Focus yourself when the road is vacant and nobody is passing. Change your gestalt. Ordinarily we focus on thoughts and we don't focus in between.
It happened once:
A great yoga Master was teaching about nirodh to his disciples. He had a blackboard. On the blackboard, with a white chalk, he made a very small point, just visible, and then he asked his disciples, "What do you see?" They all said, "A small white point." The Master laughed. He said, "Nobody can see this blackboard? All are seeing only the small white point?"
Nobody has seen the blackboard. The blackboard was there, the white dot was there, but they all looked at the white dot. Change the gestalt.
Have you looked in children's books? There are pictures, pictures which are very, very meaningful to be understood. In a certain picture there is a young woman, you can see it, but in the same lines, in the same picture, there is hiding an old woman. If you go on looking, go on looking, suddenly the young woman disappears and you see the old woman's face. Then you go on looking at the old woman's face -- suddenly it disappears and again the young woman's face appears. You cannot see both together: that is impossible. You can see one face one time, another face another time. Once you have seen both the faces, you know very well that the other face is also there, but still you cannot see it together. And the mind is constantly changing, so one time you see the young face, another time you see the old face.
The gestalt changes from the old to the young, from the young to the old, from the old to the young, but you cannot focus on both. So, when you focus on thoughts, you cannot focus on the gaps. The gaps are always there. Focus on the gaps, and suddenly you will become aware that gaps are there and thoughts are disappearing: and in those gaps the first glimpses of samadhi will be attained.
And that taste is needed in order to go on, because whatsoever I say, whatsoever Patanjali says, can only become meaningful to you when you have already tasted something of it. If once you know the gap is blissful, a tremendous bliss descends -- just for a moment, then it disappears -- then you know if this gap can become permanent, if this gap can become my nature, then this bliss will be available as a continuum. Then you start working hard.
This is nirodh parinam: "Nirodh parinam is the transformation of the mind in which the mind becomes permeated by the condition of nirodh, which intervenes momentarily between an impression that is disappearing and the impression that is taking its place."
Just ten years ago, an inventory was made of the Imperial Japanese Jewels. The royal treasure has been kept in a guarded building called the Soshuen. For nine hundred years the jewels had rested in that palace. When a string of amber beads was examined, one bead in the center of the string appeared to be different from the others. The accumulated dust of centuries was washed off the beads and the center stone was examined with deep curiosity. The examiners found a treasure within a treasure. The special bead was not made of common amber as were the other beads. It was a high quality pearl of pink-green color. For hundreds of years, the unique pearl had been mistaken for a piece of amber, but no longer.
No matter how long we have lived in a mistaken identity, self-examination can reveal our true and tranquil nature.
Once you have a glimpse of the reality that you are, then all false identities which have existed for centuries suddenly disappear. Now, no longer can you be deceived by those identities. This nirodh parinam gives you the first glimpse of your real nature. It gives you a glimpse, behind the layers of dust, of the real pearl. The layers of dust are nothing but layers of thought, impressions, imaginations, dreams, desires -- all thoughts.
Once you can have one glimpse, you are already converted. This I call conversion. Not when a Hindu becomes a Christian, not when a Christian becomes a Hindu, that is not a conversion. That is moving from one prison to another prison, The conversion is when you move from thought to no-thought, when you move from mind to no-mind. The conversion is when you look in nirodh parinam, when you look between two thoughts and suddenly your reality is revealed -- almost like a lightning. Then again there is darkness, but you are not the same. You have seen something you cannot forget now. Now you will be searching again and again.
This is what the following sutra says:
If again and again you fall in the gap, if again and again you taste the experience, if again and again you look through the nirodh -- cessation of the mind -- without thought you look into your own being; this flow becomes peaceful, this flow becomes natural, this flow becomes spontaneous. You attain, you begin to attain, your own treasure. First as glimpses, small gaps; then bigger gaps, then still bigger. Then one day it happens the last thought is gone and no other thought comes. You are in deep silence, eternal silence. That's the goal. It is hard, arduous, but available.
Tradition has it that when Jesus was crucified, just before he died, a soldier pierced his side with a spear, just to see whether he is dead or still alive. He was still alive. He opened his eyes. Looked at the soldier, and said, "Friend, there is a shorter road to my heart than that." He has pierced his heart with a spear, and Jesus says, "Friend, there is a shorter road to my heart than that."
For centuries, people have wondered what he really meant. A Thousand and one explanations are possible because the sentence is very cryptic, but the way I look into it and the meaning that I think into it is that if you go into your own heart, that is the shortest, the most shortcut way to reach to Jesus' heart. If you go into your own heart, if you go withinwards, you will come closer to Jesus.
And, whether Jesus is alive or not, you have to look withinwards, you have to seek the source of your own life; and then you will know that Jesus can never be dead. He is eternal life. He may disappear from this body on the cross; he will appear somewhere else. He may not appear anywhere else, but then too he will remain for eternity into the heart of the whole.
When Jesus said, "Friend, there is a shorter road to my heart than that." he meant "Go withinwards. Look into your own nature, and you will find me there. The kingdom of God is within you." And it is eternal. It is unending life; it is deathless life.
If you look into nirodh, you will look into deathless life, life that has no beginning and no end.
And once you have tasted of that ambrosia, that elixir, then nothing else can become the object of your desire -- nothing else. Then that becomes the object of desire. That desire can lead you up to samadhi, and then that desire has also to be left, that desire has also to be dropped. It has done its work. It gave you a momentum, it brought you to your very door of being; now that has to be dropped also.
Once you drop it, you are there no more... only God is. This is seedless samadhi.
Chapter title: The inside of the inside
3 January 1976 am in Buddha Hall
Yoga: The Alpha and The Omega Vol. 7
Chapter title: Be a seed
4 January 1976 am in Buddha Hall
OSHO. I HAVE HEARD THAT PATANJALI AND LAO TZU CAME TO A STREAM. PATANJALI BEGAN TO CROSS THE STREAM BY WALKING ON THE SURFACE OF THE WATER. LAO TZU STOOD ON THE BANK AND CALLED HIM TO COME BACK. "WHAT'S THE MATTER?" PATANJALI INQUIRED.
"THAT IS NO WAY TO CROSS A STREAM," SAID LAO TZU, AND LED HIM TO A PLACE WHERE THE WATER WAS SHALLOW, AND THEY WADED ACROSS
THIS is from Yatri. The story is true, but Yatri, you have missed the most important point in it. Let me tell you the whole story again:
I have heard:
Patanjali and Lao Tzu came to a stream. Patanjali began to cross the stream by walking on the surface of the water. Lao Tzu stood on the bank and called him to come back.
"What's the matter?" Patanjali inquired.
Said Lao Tzu, "There is no need to cross the stream, because this shore is the other shore."
That's the whole emphasis of Lao Tzu: There is no need to go anywhere; the other shore is here. There is no need to do anything. The only need is just to be. Effort is irrelevant because you are already that which you can ever be. Go nowhere. Follow no path. Seek nothing. Because wherever you will go, the very going is missing the point because everything is available here already.
I will tell you another story, one of the most important stories in the world of human consciousness. The story is concerned with Zarathustra, another Lao Tzu, who believed in being natural, who believed in being easy, who believed in being just to be:
Once, when Vishtaspa, king of Persia, was returning from a victorious campaign, he came near to the place where Zarathustra lived. He decided to visit the mystic. The king said to Zarathustra. "I have come that you may explain to me the laws of nature and the universe. I cannot tarry as I am on my way home from a war and important matters of state await me at my palace."
Looking at the king, Zarathustra smiled and took a grain of wheat from the earth and gave it to him. "In this small grain of wheat," he declared, "are contained all the laws of the universe and the forces of nature."
The king was much astonished by this answer, which he didn't understand, and when he saw smiles on the faces of those around him, he was angry and threw the grain upon the ground thinking that he was being mocked. And to Zarathustra he said, "I was foolish to waste my time by coming here to see you."
Years passed. The king was successful as a ruler and a warrior, and led a life of luxury and apparent contentment, but at night when he went to bed, strange thoughts came into his mind and troubled him: "I live in luxury and abundance in this splendid palace, but how long shall I enjoy this -- this abundance, this power, this wealth -- and what will happen to me when I die? Can my power and my riches save me from illness and death? Is everything lost with the coming of death?"
No one in the palace could answer these questions, but meanwhile, the fame of Zarathustra grew. So putting aside his pride, he dispatched a great caravan of treasure to Zarathustra and with it an invitation and a request. "I regret." he wrote, "that when I was impatient and thoughtless in my youth, I asked you to explain the great problems of existence in a few minutes of time. I have changed and do not want the impossible now, but I am still deeply interested to know the laws of the universe and the forces of nature, even more so than when I was a young man. Come to my palace. I pray you. Or if that is not possible, then send to me the best of your disciples that he may teach me all that he can about these questions."
After an interval, the caravan and the messengers returned. These told the king that they had found Zarathustra, who sent him greeting, but returned the proffered treasure. The treasure, Zarathustra had said, was of no use to him because he has attained to the ultimate treasure. Moreover, Zarathustra had sent the king a gift wrapped in a leaf and had asked the messengers to tell him that this was the teacher who could teach him everything.
The king opened it and found the same grain again -- the same grain of wheat that Zarathustra had given him before. He thought there must be something mysterious and magical in it, so he put it in a golden box and hid it among his treasures. Almost every day he looked at it expecting some miracle to happen, such as the turning of the grain of wheat into something or someone that would teach him all he wished to know.
Months went by, and then years, but nothing happened. At last the king lost patience and said. "It seems that Zarathustra has deceived me again. Either he is making a mock of me or else he does not know the answers to my questions, but I will show him that I can find the answers without his help." So the king sent a caravan to a great Indian mystic, Tshengregacha, to whom came disciples from all over the world, and with the caravan went the same messengers and the same treasure that he had once sent to Zarathustra.
After many months, the messengers returned from India with the philosopher, but the philosopher said to him, "I am honored to be your teacher but in frankness must tell you that I come chiefly to your country that I may meet the great Zarathustra."
Then the king took the golden box containing the grain of wheat and answered, "I asked Zarathustra to teach me. See, this is what he sent me. Here is the teacher who shall teach me the Laws of the universe and the forces of nature. Is this not ridiculous?"
The philosopher looked long at the grain of wheat, and silence fell upon the palace while he meditated. At length he said, "I do not regret my many months of journeying, for now I know that Zarathustra is in truth the great teacher that I have long believed him to be. This tiny grain of wheat can indeed teach us the laws of the universe and the forces of nature, for it contains them in itself right now. You must not keep the grain of wheat in its golden box. You are missing the whole point."
"If you plant this little grain in the earth, where it belongs, in contact with the soil, the rain, the air, the sunshine, and the light of the moon and the stars, then like a universe in itself it will begin to grow bigger and bigger. Likewise you, if you would grow in knowledge and understanding, must leave your artificial life and go where you will be close to all the forces of nature and of the universe, to the sum total of things. Just as inexhaustible sources of energy are ever flowing towards the grain planted in the earth, so will innumerable sources of knowledge open and flow towards you till you become one with nature and the organic universe. If you watch the growth of this seed of grain, you will find that there is an indestructible and mysterious power in it -- the power of life. The grain disappears, and in that disappearance there is victory over death."
"All that you say is true," answered the king, "yet in the end the plant will wither and die and will be dissolved into the earth."
"But not," said the philosopher, "until it has done an act of creation and has turned itself into hundreds of grains, each like the first. The tiny grain disappeared as it grew into a plant, and you too as you grow must turn yourself into something and someone else. Life always create more life, truth more abundant truth, the seed more abundant seeds. The only art one needs to know is the art how to die. Then one is reborn. I propose that we journey to Zarathustra himself that he may teach us more of these things."
In a few days, they came to the garden of Zarathustra. His only book was the great book of nature, and he taught his disciples to read in it. The two visitors learned another great truth in Zarathustra's garden that life and work, leisure and study, are one and the same: that the right way to live is a simple, natural life -- a creative life within which individual growth is a single, total dynamism. They spent a year in the garden, learning to read the laws of existence and of life from the vast book of nature. At the end of that time, the king returned to his own city and asked Zarathustra to set out systematically the essence of his great teaching.
Zarathustra did so, and the result was the great book of the Zend-Avesta, the great book of the Parsis.
This long story is the whole story of how a man becomes God, how that which is hiding within yourself can become revealed.
Be a seed. You are, but you may be still in a gold box, imprisoned. Fall into the earth, where you belong, and be ready to die into the earth. Don't be afraid to die, because all those who fear death are preventing themselves from life. Death is nothing but the door to life. The first acquaintance with life is death, so those who are afraid of death are barring themselves against life. Then they will remain secure in a gold box, but then they will not grow. Fearing death, they will not be able to resurrect themselves. In fact, their life in the gold box will be virtually nothing but death.
Death in the soil, in the earth, is just a beginning, not the end, but remaining in a gold box is the very end. There is no beginning in it.
You are a seed. There is no need to go anywhere. All that you need is ready to come to you, but the shell of the seed needs to be broken. The ego needs to dissolve into the earth; the ego needs to die into the earth. Immediately, the whole universe starts converging on you. Suddenly you see that which you are always meant to be. The very destiny starts growing in you.
In fact, this shore is the other shore. There is no need to go anywhere. All that you need is to go within. All that you need is to take a jump into your own being, to be in tune with yourself. Lao Tzu would not show a way how to go to the other shore.
We can manage the story in a different way. Let there be three persons: Patanjali, Buddha, Lao Tzu. Patanjali will try to walk on the surface of the water -- he can. He is a great scientist of the inner world of consciousness. He knows how to defy gravity, Buddha will say what Yatri says in the story. Buddha will say, "This is no way to cross the stream. Come, I will show you a place where there is no need to do such a hard work. Easy is the way -- The stream is shallow: we just have to walk a few hundred yards and you can walk in the shallow stream. There is no need to learn this great art. This Can be done so easily." Buddha will say this. And Lao Tzu? He will laugh, and he will say to Buddha and Patanjali, "What are you doing? If you leave this shore you will go astray because this is the other shore. Here, this very moment, everything is as it should be. There is nowhere to go. Seeker of truth, follow no path, because all paths lead elsewhere, and the truth is here."
Lao Tzu says simply relax into yourself. It is not a journey; it is simply a let-go. No preparation is needed because it is not a journey. As you are, just as you are, relax. Relax into your nature. Drop all nonsense about gold boxes -- prisons of morality, prisons of concepts, philosophies, religions. Drop all that rubbish. Don't be afraid of the earth and don't ask for heaven. Drop into the earth. Don't be afraid that your hands will become soiled. Fall into nature because only there, in fact, you belong, to the sum total of things.
Zarathustra did well. He was not mocking the king. He was a simple man, and because the king had himself said that he cannot waste much time and he has great affairs waiting at the palace and he has to go soon, that's why Zarathustra gave a symbolic sign, the seed. But he missed the whole point. He could not understand what type of message this is. Zarathustra had given him the whole Zend-Avesta in that seed; nothing remains. That is the whole message of the true religion. All else is just commentary.
That day Zarathustra gave the seed, he did the same as Buddha did when he gave the flower to Mahakashyap. With that seed, Zarathustra had given something more than the flower. Try to understand these symbols.
Buddha gives the flower. Flower is the end. It can be given only to a Mahakashyap, who has come to the very end. Zarathustra gave the seed. Seed is the beginning. It can be given to one who is just beginning to seek, who is just inquiring, who is just trying to find the way, who is groping in the dark. Buddha's flower cannot be given to everybody and anybody; a Mahakashyap is needed, In fact it can be given only to someone who does not need it. Mahakashyap is one who does not need it. It can be given only to one who does not need it. Zarathustra's seed can be given to those who need it. And, what he said; he simply said, "Become a seed. You are a seed. Hidden is God within you. But don't go anywhere else."
Zarathustra's religion is one of the most natural religions to accept life as it is, to live life as it is. Don't ask the impossible. Take it easy. Look all around. The truth is present; only you are absent. This shore is the other shore; there is no other shore. This life is the life; there is no other life.
But you can live this life in two ways: at the minimum, or at the optimum. If you live at the minimum, you live like a seed. If you live like a flower, you live at the optimum. Let your seed become the flower. It is the seed itself who will become the flower. It is you who will become the other shore. It is you who will become the truth.
Remember this. If you can remember this, just to be natural, you have understood all that is basic, all that is fundamental, all that is essential to be understood.
Yoga: The Alpha and The Omega Vol. 7
Chapter title: Be a seed
4 January 1976 am in Buddha Hall
WHAT IS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN ZA-ZEN AND PATANJALI'S DHYAN?
Patanjali's dhyan is a step; in his eight steps, dhyan is a step. In za-zen, dhyan is the only step; there are no other steps. Patanjali believes in gradual growth. Zen, in sudden enlightenment. So what is only a step in Patanjali is all-in-all in Zen -- just dhyan is enough, meditation is enough. Nothing else is needed. All else can be discarded. All else may be helpful but is not essential -- in za-zen, only meditation.
Patanjali gives you a complete system of all that is needed, of all requirements, from the very preliminary to the end. He gives you the whole teaching. It is not a sudden phenomenon; one has to grow into it by and by, slowly. As you go on growing and absorbing your growth, you become capable of further steps. Zen is for rare exceptions, for those few courageous souls who can risk all for nothing, who can risk everything without any expectations.
This is not possible for all. You move cautiously -- and nothing is wrong in moving cautiously. If it comes natural to you to move cautiously, you have to move cautiously. Then don't be a fool and don't try to jump. Listen to your nature. If you feel to be cautious is your nature, then move cautiously. If you feel that to risk, to gamble, is your nature, then don't be bothered with cautiousness, then don't be bothered with gradual steps. You can either come down by the staircase or you can jump from the terrace. It depends on you. Listen to your nature.
There are a few persons who will not bother to come by the staircase, who are not ready to wait even for that. Once they hear the call, they jump. Once the call has been heard, they cannot wait for a single moment. But these are rare people.
When I am saying "rare." I don't mean in any evaluatory way. I am not evaluating. I am not saying "higher." When I say "rare," it is just a statement of fact these people are not many. I am not saying -- don't miss my point -- I am not saying that they are higher than ordinary people. Nobody is higher and nobody is lower -- but people are different. There are people who would like to jump. They should choose Zen. There are people who would like to get to the goal with ease, with cautiousness, with gradual steps. Perfectly good. Go gracefully if that is your way.
Always remember, it is you, your type, your nature, which has to be the deciding factor. Don't follow Patanjali or Zen. Always listen to your being. Patanjalis and Zen exist for you, you don't exist for them. The sabbath is for man -- not vice versa. All religions exist for you, not vice versa. Ultimately, you are the goal.
WHEN I LISTEN TO MY FEELINGS, MY INNER VOICE, THEY TELL ME TO DO NOTHING, JUST TO SLEEP, EAT, AND PLAY ON THE BEACH, I AM AFRAID TO FOLLOW THESE FEELINGS BECAUSE I THINK I WILL GET TOO WEAK TO SURVIVE IN THIS WORLD.
WILL EXISTENCE PROTECT ME WHEN I ALLOW MYSELF TO LET GO?
First thing: There is no need to survive in this world. This world is a madhouse. There is no need to survive in it. There is no need to survive in the world of ambition, politics, ego. It is the disease. But there is another way to be, and the whole religious standpoint is: that you can be in this world and not be of it.
"When I listen to my feelings and inner voice they tell me to do nothing...." Then don't do anything. There is nobody higher than you, and God speaks to you directly. Start trusting your inner feelings. Then don't do anything. If you feel just to sleep, eat, and play on the beach, perfect. Let that be your religion. Don't be afraid then.
You will have to drop fear. And if it is a question of choosing between the inner feeling and the fear, choose the inner feeling. Don't choose the fear. So many people have chosen their religion out of fear, so they live in a limbo. They are neither religious nor worldly. They live in indecision.
Fear is not going to help. Fear always means the fear of the unknown. Fear always means the fear of death. Fear always means the fear of being lost, but if you really want to be alive, you have to accept the possibility of being lost. You have to accept the insecurity of the unknown, the uncomfort and the inconvenience of the unfamiliar, the strange. That is the price one has to pay for the blessing that follows it, and nothing can be achieved without paying for it. You have to pay for it: otherwise you will remain fear-paralyzed. Your whole life will be lost.
Enjoy whatsoever your inner feeling is.
"I think that I will get too weak to survive in this world." There is no need. This is fear speaking in you, fear creating more fears. Out of fear more fear is born.
"Will existence protect me?" Again the fear is asking for guarantees, promises. Who is there to give you a guarantee? Who can be a guarantee for your life? You are asking for some sort of an insurance. No, there is no possibility. In existence, nothing is insured -- nothing can be. And it is good. Otherwise, if existence is also insured, you will be already completely dead. Then the whole thrill of it, of being alive like a young leaf in the strong wind, will be lost.
Life is beautiful because it is insecure. Life is beautiful because there is death. Life is beautiful because it can be missed. If you cannot miss it, everything is forced upon you, then even life becomes an imprisonment. You will not be able to enjoy it. Even if you are ordered to be blissful, commanded to be free, then bliss and freedom both are gone.
"Will existence protect me when I allow myself to let go?" Try. Only one thing I can say to you.... I am not talking to your fear, remember. Only one thing I can say to you all -those who have tried have found that it protects. But I am not talking to your fear. I am simply encouraging your adventure, that's all. I am persuading, seducing you towards adventure. I am not talking to your fear. All those who have tried have found that infinite is the protection.
But I don't know whether you can understand the protection that the universe gives to you. Your protection that you are asking for cannot be given by the universe because you don't know what you are asking. You are asking for death. Only a dead body is absolutely protected. Something alive is always in danger. To be alive is a hazard. More alive -- more adventure, more hazard, more danger.
Nietzsche used to have a motto on his wall: Live dangerously. Somebody asked him, "Why have you written this?" He said, "Just to remind me, because my fear is tremendous."
Live dangerously because that's the only way to live. There is no other. Always listen to the call of the unknown and be on the move. Never try to become settled anywhere. To be settled is to die: it is a premature death.
I was attending a birthday party, a small girl's birthday, and many toys were there and many presents, and the girl was really happy, and all her friends were there and they were dancing. Suddenly, she asked her mother, "Mom, were there such beautiful days in the past, when you used to be alive?"
People die before their death. People settle in security, comfort, convenience. People settle in a gravelike existence.
I am not talking to your fear.
"Will existence protect me when I allow myself to let go?" It has always protected, and I can't think it is just going to be different to you. I cannot believe that it is going to be an exception. It has always been so. It has protected those who have left themselves to it, who have abandoned themselves to it, who have surrendered themselves to it.
Follow nature. Follow your inner nature.
I was reading an anecdote; I liked it very much:
It was spring on the Columbia University campus, and KEEP OFF signs sprang up on the freshly seeded lawns. The students ignored the warnings, which were followed by special requests, and continued tramping across the grass. The issue became rather heated, until
finally the buildings and grounds officials took the problem to General Eisenhower, at that time, president of the university.
"Did you ever notice," asked Eisenhower, "how much quicker it is to head directly where you are going? Why not find out which route the students are going to take anyway and build the walks there?"
This is how life should be. The roads, the walks, the principles should not be fixed beforehand.
Allow yourself a let-go. Flow naturally and let that be your way. Walk, and by walking, make your way. Don't follow superhighways. They are dead, and you are not going to find anything on them. Everything has already been removed. If you follow a superway, you are moving away from nature. Nature knows no ways, no fixed patterns. It flows in a thousand and one patterns, but all spontaneous. Go and watch... sit on the beach and watch the sea. Millions of waves arising, but each wave unique and different. You cannot find two waves similar. They don't follow any pattern.
No man worth the name will follow any pattern.
People come to me and they say. "Show us the way." I tell them, "Don't ask that." I can only tell you how to walk -- I cannot show you the way. Please try to see the distinction I can only tell you how to walk, and how to walk courageously. I cannot show you the way, because the way is for cowards. Those who don't know how to walk, paralyzed, for them the way exists. For those who know how to walk, they go into the wilderness, and just by walking they create their way.
And each one reaches to God in a different way. You cannot reach as a mass and you cannot reach as a crowd. You reach alone, absolutely alone.
God is wild. He's not yet civilized -- and I hope that he will never be civilized. He is still spontaneous, and he loves spontaneity. So if your inner nature says to go to the beach and to relax, do that. That is from where your God is calling you.
I teach you just to be yourself, nothing else. It is very difficult to understand me because out of your fear you would like me to give you a pattern of life, a discipline, a style, a way of life.
Persons like me have always been misunderstood. A Lao Tzu, a Zarathustra, an Epicurus, have always been misunderstood. The most religious people were thought to be irreligious because if someone is really religious, he will teach you freedom, he will teach you love. He will not teach you law; he will teach you love. He will not teach you a dead pattern of life. He will teach you a chaos, an anarchy, because stars are born only out of chaos. He will teach you how to be totally free.
I know there is fear, there is fear of freedom; otherwise why should there be so many prisons all around the world? Why should people carry prisons around their life continuously -- invisible prisons? There are only two types of prisoners I have come across a few who live in a visible prison, and the remaining who live in an invisible prison. They carry their prison around themselves -- in the name of conscience, in the name of morality, in the name of tradition, in the name of this and that.
Thousands are the names of bondage and slavery. Freedom has no name. There are not many types of freedom; freedom is one. Have you ever watched? Truth is one. Lies can be millions. You can lie in a million ways; you cannot say the truth in a million ways. Truth is simple: one way is enough. Love is one; laws are millions. Freedom is one; prisons are many.
And unless you are very alert, you will never be able to move freely. At the most, you can change prisons. From one prison you can go to the other prison, and you can enjoy the walk between the two. That's what is happening in the world. A Catholic becomes a Communist, a Hindu becomes a Christian, a Mohammedan becomes a Hindu, and they enjoy -- yes, there is a little freedom felt just when they are changing the prisons: from one prison to another -- the walk in between. They feel good.
Again they are in the same trap in a different name.
All ideologies are prisons. I teach you to beware of them -- my ideology included.
A FEW TIMES RECENTLY I HAVE FELT THAT I COULD FLY, FELT CURIOUSLY EXONERATED FROM GRAVITY AND LOOKED WITH BOREDOM ON THE 150 POUNDS' TRUTH OF MY BODY.
IS THIS JUST CRAZINESS...?
No. You are a meetingplace of two dimensions. One dimension belongs to the earth the dimension of gravity, which pulls you down -- that 150 pounds' truth of your body. Another dimension belongs to grace the dimension of God, the dimension of freedom, in which you can go on rising high and high and high and there is no weight in it.
Meditating, this will happen. Many times in deep meditation you will suddenly become aware as if the gravitation has disappeared that now nothing holds you down, that it is now up to you to decide whether to fly or not, that now it is up to you -- if you want, you can simply fly into the sky... and the whole sky is yours. But when you will open the eyes, suddenly, the body is there, the earth is there, the gravitation is there. When you were with closed eyes meditating, you forgot your body. You moved in a different dimension, the dimension of grace.
These two things have to be understood gravitation is the law which pulls you down; grace is the law which pulls you up. Science has not yet discovered, maybe it is not going to discover it ever, the other law. It has discovered one law. You have heard the story -- it
happened or not, that is not the point -- that Newton was sitting in a garden, and one apple fell. Watching that apple fall, Newton started thinking, "Why does the apple fall towards the earth? Why directly towards the earth? Why not sideways? Why does it not start flying upwards?" The law of gravitation was discovered, that the earth has a pull and pulls everything towards it.
But Newton saw the fruit falling; he didn't see the tree rising up. That's where I have always.... Whenever I read the story. I always felt he saw the small fruit falling towards the earth; he didn't see the tree rising upwards. You throw a stone. It falls back, true, but a tree goes on rising higher and higher. Something pulling the tree up. A stone is dead; the tree is alive. Life goes higher and higher and higher.
Man, in his consciousness, has reached to the highest point on this earth. When you close your eyes to the world, when you are in a deep meditative mood, prayerful, blissful, ecstatic -- suddenly, the body is not there. You have become aware of the inner tree of life, and it is going higher and higher, and suddenly you feel that you can fly.
Nothing is crazy in it, but please don't try it. Don't jump out of the window and don't start flying. Then it will be crazy. A few people under LSD or marijuana have done that. Nobody has ever done it under meditation. That's the beauty of meditation, and that is the danger of drugs. A few people under the impression, under a deep hypnotic impression of some chemical drug, have become aware of this grace, that they can fly. The body is forgotten -- and they have tried. One girl in New York really did it. From the fortieth story of a building, she simply flew out of the window -- then Newton starts working. Then you are the tree no more: you become the fruit. Then you fall to the earth and you crash.
That is one of the dangers of drugs, because they can reveal to you certain truths -- but you are not aware. You can commit something, you can do something which can be dangerous. But never has it happened in meditation, because meditation gives you two things together it gives you a new dimension and it gives you more awareness, so you know it is there, but you are also aware that the body is there. You are still spread in two dimensions.
One day, a very fat, stout gentleman was discussing his tennis technique. "My brain tells me run forward speedily, start right away, slam the ball gracefully over the net."
I asked him, "And then what happens?"
He said. "And then?" The fellow became very sad and said, "My body says, 'Who, me?'"
Remember, you are both the body and the consciousness. You are spread in both the dimensions. You are the meetingpoint of the earth and the sky, of grace and gravity. Nothing is crazy in it. It is simply a truth.
And sometimes it is possible, because it has happened, and it is better I should make you aware of it sometimes it is possible that actually your body rises a little higher. There is a woman in Bavaria who rises four feet high while meditating. She has been put under scientific observation and has been found not to be deceiving in any way. She remains for a few minutes, four, five minutes, hanging in the air four feet high. This is one of the oldest experiences of yogis. Rarely it happens, but sometimes it has happened in the past.
Sometimes it happens now also. Sometimes it can happen to some of you.
If the pull of the grace becomes too much and the balance is lost, then it happens. It is not a very good thing. Don't try, and don't ask for it. It is an imbalance, and it is dangerous for life. When the pull of the grace becomes too much and the pull of the gravity is less it
happens the body can rise high. Even then, don't think yourself crazy, and don't start feeling that something like insanity is happening to you.
Newton is not all truth. There are greater truths than Newton. And gravitation is not the only dimension; there are many more dimensions.
Man is an infinity, and we have started believing only in part of it. So whenever anything from another dimension enters, we start feeling that something is going wrong. In fact, in the West, many people who are thought to be mad, neurotic, psychotic, and who are in the mad asylums, in mad hospitals, are not really mad. Many of them have had some glimpses of the unknown, but the society does not accept that unknown, does not recognize it. Immediately, whenever a person has some glimpse of the unknown, he's thought to be crazy, because he becomes somebody strange. We cannot believe him.
There are books written on Jesus in which it is said that he was a neurotic because he used to hear God and his voice. There are books written about Mohammed that he was mad he must have heard the Koran in delirium -- because who is there to talk to you? -- and he heard God speaking and the God said, "Write!" and he started writing. Because it is not your experience, it is a natural tendency of the mind to say that he must have gone in some madness, must be in delirium, must have been in a high fever, because such things happen only when you ale not in your senses.
Yes, these things happen in madness also, and these things happen in supersanity also, in superconsciousness also. Because the mad person falls below the normal level of consciousness, he loses control of his mind. Losing the control of one's mind, one becomes available to the unknown forces. A yogi, a mystic, achieves to samyama, control of his consciousness. He rises high and goes beyond the normal -- again, the unknown becomes available to him. But the difference is that the madman is a victim of the unknown and the mystic is a master of the unknown. Both start talking in the same way, and you can misunderstand. You can get confused.
Don't think yourself crazy. It is perfectly okay. But don't try it. Enjoy it, allow it; because once you start thinking that it is crazy, you will stop it; and that stopping will disturb your meditation. Enjoy it, as in a dream you fly. Close your eyes; in meditation go wherever you want. Rise higher and higher into the sky, and many more things soon will become available to you -- and don't be afraid. It is the greatest adventure -- greater than going to the moon.
Becoming an astronaut of the inner space is the greatest adventure.
YOU TOLD ME TO BE MYSELF.
I DON'T UNDERSTAND.
HOW CAN I BE MYSELF IF I DON'T KNOW MYSELF?
Whether you know or not, you cannot be other than yourself. To be yourself, knowledge is not needed. A rosebush is a rosebush. Not that the rosebush knows that it is a rosebush. A rock is a rock. Not that the rock knows that it is a rock. Knowledge is not needed. In fact it is because of knowledge that you are missing to be yourself.
You ask, "You told me to be myself. I don't understand. How can I be myself if I don't know myself?" Knowledge is creating the problem. Look at the rosebush. She is not confused. Every day it goes on being a rosebush. Not even for a single day does it become confused. It does not start some morning growing marigolds; it goes on being a rosebush. It is not confused at all.
Knowledge is not needed for being. In fact you are missing your being because of knowledge. Unnecessarily, knowledge creates a problem.
I was reading about a certain man named Dudley:
To celebrate Uncle Dudley's seventy-fifth birthday, an aviation enthusiast offered to take
him for a plane ride over the little West Virginia town where he had spent all his life. Uncle Dudley accepted the offer.
Back on the ground, after circling over the town twenty minutes, his friend asked. "Were you scared, Uncle Dudley?"
"No," was the hesitant answer, "but I never did put my full weight down."
In an airplane, whether you put your full weight down or not, the weight is carried by the airplane. Whether you know yourself or not is not the point. Knowledge is disturbing you. Just think if there was a rock also on that airplane with Uncle Dudley, the rock would have put the whole weight down. And do you think Uncle Dudley can do something, can help in some way? Is there any possibility that he will be able not to put his whole weight on the airplane? He is also putting the whole weight, but he is unnecessarily worried. He could have rested, he could have relaxed just like the rock, but the rock has no knowledge and Uncle Dudley has knowledge.
The whole problem of humanity is that humanity knows, and because of knowing, the being is unnecessarily forgotten.
Meditation is how to drop knowledge. Meditation means how to become ignorant again. Meditation means how to become a child again, a rosebush, a rock. Meditation means how just to be and not to think.
When I say to you to be yourself, I mean meditate. Don't try to be anybody else. You cannot be! You can try, and you can deceive yourself and you can promise yourself and you can hope that someday you will become somebody else, but you cannot become. These are only illusions that you can go on having. These are dreams. They are not going to become realities ever. You will remain yourself whatsoever you do.
Why not relax? Uncle Dudley, put your full weight on the airplane. Relax.
In relaxation, suddenly you will start enjoying your being, and the effort to be somebody else will stop. That is your worry how to be somebody else, how to be like somebody else, how to become like a Buddha, how to become like Patanjali. You can only be yourself. Accept it, rejoice in it, delight in it. Relax.
Zen Masters say to their disciples, "Beware of Buddha. If you meet him on the way, kill him immediately." What do they mean? They mean there is a human tendency to become imitators. In the English language, there is a book, IMITATION OF CHRIST. Never before and never after was such an ugly title given to any book. Imitation? But, in a way, that title is very symbolic. It shows the whole mind of humanity. People are trying to imitate, to become somebody else.
Nobody can become a Christ, and in fact there is no need -- God will be bored if you become Christ. He wants somebody new, something original. He wants you, and he wants you to be just yourself.
WHEN YOU TALK OF TAKING THE JUMP, I FEEL THAT I WANT TO TAKE THE JUMP, BUT I ALSO FEEL THAT I AM NOT AT THE EDGE FROM WHICH THE JUMP IS TAKEN.
I SEE YOU SHAKING US BUT CANNOT FEEL IT.
HOW DO I COME TO THE EDGE?
HOW CAN I LET YOU TEACH ME?
Everybody is always on the edge because each moment, if you dare, the jump is possible. Each moment gives you the edge; and when you ask how to come to the edge, you are being clever. Don't try to be clever. Your question is a trick so you can console yourself that you are not a coward because the edge is not there, so "from where to take the jump?" So first the edge has to be found -- and it will never be found, because it is right in front of you. Wherever you are standing, you are always at the sharp edge from where you can take the jump. And you ask a very clever question: that 'first teach me how to find the edge.'
Just look in front of you. Just look. Wherever you are that doesn't matter.
And you say, "I see you shaking us but I cannot feel it." The problem is not that you are asleep. If you are asleep, it is easy to shake you up out of your sleep. You are pretending that you are asleep; then it becomes impossible. You can see that I am shaking, but nothing is happening. How can you see if you are asleep?
Let me tell you one anecdote.
It happened one summer afternoon. The father had promised the children to go for a walk, and he didn't want it. For months he was waiting for this day to rest, so he played, he pretended, that he is fast asleep.
The father played possum while his youngsters tried their best to rouse him from a Sunday-afternoon nap to take them for a promised walk, but in vain. They did all sorts of things to wake him. They shook him, they shouted at him, but to no avail. All efforts failed. They even became afraid, what has happened. And the father was pretending to be asleep.
Finally, his four-year-old daughter pried open one of his eyelids, peered carefully, then reported, "He is still in there."
And I know you are also in there.
And you also know that you are pretending.
It is up to you. You can prolong the game as far as you like, because it is at your cost. I am not worried by it. If you want to pretend, okay. Perfectly okay. Do it. But I can see... I can see all of you pretending to be asleep -- afraid of getting up, afraid of realizing your being, afraid to move.
Just see the truth of it. Don't ask about ways how you can find the edge. You are standing on it.
Don't try to be clever, because in the inner world to he clever is to be stupid. In the inner world to be stupid is to be clever. In the inner world, those who are ignorant achieve faster than those who are knowledgeable. In the inner world, those who are innocent -- and ignorance is innocence.... Ignorance is beautiful; ignorance is tremendously beautiful and innocent.
Just realize what I am saying! I know you are listening. I can peer into your eyes: I can open your eyelids. I have been doing so every day, and I can see you are still in there. You are not dead, you are not asleep. You are pretending that you are asleep.
And whenever -- it is up to you -- whenever you decide not to pretend. I am there to help you. I cannot push you against yourself. That is not allowed. God does not allow it, because it gives you total freedom; and total freedom includes everything -- to go astray, to fall asleep, to commit sin, to deny God, to commit suicide, to destroy yourself. Total freedom includes all. And God loves freedom, because God is freedom.
THE COMPUTER HAS COLLECTED TOO MANY OF YOUR WORDS. BUT YOUR SMILE -- IT CANNOT COMPREHEND IT.
This is half of the question. The other half I will read later on. First, I should answer the first half.
The late French president Renee Coty attending an abstract art exhibit in Paris was asked if he understood the pictures. With a sigh he said, "It has taken me all my life to understand that it is not necessary to understand everything."
The second half:
WILL YOU JUST BE SILENT WITH US AND SMILE?
You will not be able to see it. The smile that you can see will not be my smile, and the smile that is mine, you will not be able to see it. The silence that you can understand will not be my silence, and the silence that is mine, you will not be able to understand it, because you can understand only that which you have tasted already.
I can smile -- in fact I am smiling all the time -- but if it is my smile you cannot see it. When I smile in your way, then you understand; but then there is no point.
I am silent in all the ways, all the time. Even while I am speaking I am silent because speaking does not disturb my silence. If by speaking, the silence is disturbed, it is not worth. My silence is big enough. It can contain words, it can contain speaking. My silence is big enough; it is not disturbed by anything. My silence is not afraid of words.
You have seen people who are silent, then they don't speak. Their silence seems to be against speech -- and a silence which is against speech is still part of speech. It is absence; it is not presence.
Absence of speech is not my silence! My silence is a presence. It can speak to you, it can sing to you. My silence has tremendous energy. It is not a vacuum; it is a fulfillment.
THE story is told of Leo Tolstoy, the great Russian novelist, that he was walking in a forest one day when he came upon a clearing and saw a lizard sitting upon a rock sunning itself. Tolstoy began speaking to the lizard, "Your heart is beating." he said. "The sun is shining; you are happy." And after a pause, he added, "But I am not."
Why are lizards happy and man is not? Why is the whole creation in a celebration and man is not? Why except man is everything beautifully tuned unto itself and tuned with the whole? Why is man an exception? What has happened to man? What misfortune has fallen to him? This has to be understood as deeply as possible because from that very understanding starts the path, from that very understanding you become a seeker, from that very understanding you are no longer part of the human disease. You start transcending it.
A lizard exists in the present. A lizard has no idea of the past, no idea of the future. A lizard is just here-now sunning himself. This moment is enough unto a lizard, but this moment is not enough unto a man and there arises the disease because whenever you will get, you will get only one moment. You will never get two moments together. And wherever you are, you will always be here: and whenever you become aware, you will become aware in the now. The past is no more, the future not yet -- and we go on missing that which is for that future which is not yet, for that past which is no more.
To be a lizard on a rock sunning is to be a meditator. Drop the past, drop the future. What does it mean? It means drop thinking because all thoughts either belong to the past or to the future. There is no thought here-now. Thinking has no present tense about it -- either it is dead or unborn. It is always unreal -- either part of memory or part of imagination. It is never real. The real is never a thought: the real is an experience. The real is an existential experience.
You can dance in the real, you can sun yourself in the real, you can sing in the real, you can love in the real: but you cannot think it -- because thinking is always about it, and in that "about" is hidden the whole misery. In that "about" you go on moving -- about and about -- and you never come to the point that was always and always available.
The whole point of all meditation is to be a lizard, sunning yourself on a rock, to be here-now, to be part of the whole, not trying to jump ahead in the future, not trying to carry That which is no more. Unburdened of the past, unconcerned with the future, how can you be miserable? How can Leo Tolstoy be miserable unburdened by the past, unconcerned with the future? Where can misery exist? Where I an it hide itself? Suddenly, you explode into a totally different dimension you go beyond time and you become part of eternity.
But we go on and on like a stuck gramophone record, repeating ourselves endlessly.
I have heard:
Two girls were talking in the park and one of them looked so glum, so sad, that the other was feeling very sympathetic. She put her arms around the mink coat of the other gorgeous doll and said, "Angeline, what is troubling you?"
Angeline shrugged and said, "Oh, it is nothing I suppose, but a fortnight ago old Mr. Short dropped dead. You remember him? He was always so good to me. Anyway, he dropped dead and left me fifty thousand rupees. Then last week poor old Mr. Pilkinhouse had a seizure and died and left me sixty thousand rupees.... And this week nothing...."
This is the trouble always expecting, always asking for more, for more. And there can be no end for this demand for more. Whatsoever you get you can always imagine more and you can always become miserable.
Poor people are miserable, you can understand, but rich people are also miserable. Those who have are as much miserable as those who have not. Ill people are miserable, but healthy are also miserable. Misery seems to be somewhere else. Misery does not disappear by wealth, health, or anything of that sort. It continues like an undercurrent.
The misery exists in the demand for the more, and the human mind can always imagine for more. Can you imagine a situation in which you cannot imagine for more? Impossible. Even heaven can be improved upon. Nobody can imagine a situation in which imagination can stop and you cannot imagine more and a better situation. That means you will be miserable wherever you are. Even heaven won't be enough, so don't wait for heaven. If you go right now into heaven it won't be enough. You will be as miserable as here. maybe even mole because here, at least, you can hope -- that the heaven is there and one day or other you will enter into it. If you enter into it, even that hope is gone.
As you are, you can only be in hell, because the hell or the heaven are ways of looking at things. They are not physical spaces: they are attitudes how you look at things.
A lizard is in heaven and Leo Tolstoy is in hell. Even a man like Leo Tolstoy. He was world-famous, more fame you cannot imagine. His name is going to be in the history books. His books will be read forever and forever. He was a genius. But you cannot imagine more miserable a man. He was rich, one of the richest men in Russia. He belonged to the royal family; he was a prince, married to a very beautiful princess; but you cannot imagine more miserable a man, who was continuously thinking of suicide. He started thinking maybe it is because he is so rich, that's why he is miserable, so he started living like a poor man, like a peasant; but still the misery continued.
What was troubling him? He was a man of great imagination -- a novelist has to be. He was a man of tremendous imagination, so whatsoever was available was always less. More he could imagine, better he could imagine. That became his misery.
Remember this, that if you are expecting anything from life, you will not get anything. Don't expect and it is there in all its glory. Don't expect, don't ask, and it showers upon you in all its miraculousness. All its magic is there. Just wait a little while without thoughts... but that seems to be impossible.
Not that there are not moments when you are without thoughts. Patanjali says there are. All those who have entered into the inner space of man, they know there are gaps. But you are missing them somehow, because those gaps are in the present. You jump from one thought to another, and in between was the gap. In between was the heaven -- you jump from one hell to another.
In between is heaven, but in between you are not. From one thought to another thought you jump you are. Each thought feeds your ego, helps you to be, defines you, gives you a boundary, a shape, a form, an identity. You don't look in the gap between the two thoughts because to look into that gap is to look into your original face, which has no identity. To look into that gap is to look into eternity, where you are going to be lost.
You have become so afraid of looking into the gap that you have almost managed to forget them.
Between two thoughts there is a gap, but you don't see it. You see one thought, then you see another thought, then another thought.... Just watch a little. The thoughts are not overlapping. Each thought is separate. In between the two there must be a gap. There is a gap, and that interval is the door. From that door you will enter into existence again. From that door you have been expelled from the garden of Eden. From that door you will enter into the garden of Eden again, you will again become like a lizard sunning on a rock.
I have heard...
Once a family moved from the country to the city, and his mother gave little Bobby careful instructions about traffic. "Never cross the street until the cars have passed." she said as he started off to visit a little friend. About an hour later he returned, his eyes brimming with tears. "What has happened?" his mother asked in alarm.
"I could not go," said Bobby. "I waited and waited, but a car never did come by."
He was told to wait until the cars have passed by, but never a car did come by. The road was empty, and he was looking for the cars.
This is the situation inside you. The road is always empty -- available -- but you are looking for cars - thoughts - and then you become very much worried. So many thoughts. They become multiplied, they echo and re-echo in you, and you go on being attentive towards them. Your gestalt is wrong.
Change the gestalt. If you look into the thoughts, you create a mind in yourself. If you look into the gaps, you create meditation into yourself. The accumulation of the gaps is meditation; the accumulation of thoughts is the mind. These are two gestalts, two possibilities of your being either you be through the mind, or you be through the meditation.
Look for the gaps. They are already there, naturally available. Meditation is not something which has to be produced by effort. It is there as much as the mind. In fact more than the mind because mind is only on the surface, the waves, and the meditation is the depth of the ocean.
Every moment God is seeking you as much as you are seeking him. You may not be seeking him consciously. You may be seeking him under different names. You may be seeking him as bliss. You may be seeking him as happiness, joy. You may be seeking him as forgetfulness, absorption. You may be seeking him as music, as love. You may be seeking him in different ways, under different names. Those names do not matter you are seeking him -- knowingly, unknowingly. And one thing you have to understand he is also seeking you. Because unless the search is from both the sides, the meeting is not possible.
The whole is seeking the part as much as the part is seeking the whole. The flower is seeking the sun as much as the sun is seeking the flower. The lizard is not only sunning, the sun is also lizarding. It is a connected whole. It has to be so, otherwise things will fall apart. It is one piece, it is one harmony, it is one dance. All gestures, all movements, are connected together. They have to be; otherwise they will fall apart and the existence will no longer be existence -- it will disappear.
Let me tell you through a parable. Consider the following parable...
Man, let us say, is climbing a mountain -- because in the valley he has lived and in the valley, he has dreamed, and in the valley he has thought and imagined, but there has been only frustration. In the valley he has remained empty, unfulfilled, so he thinks that at the top of the mountain is God. Valley he has lived. The top remains far away; shining in the sun it remains an attraction. The far away always calls you, invites you. To look at the close is very difficult; not to look at the far away is also very difficult. To be interested in that which is close is very difficult; to be not interested in that which is very far is also very difficult. The far away has a tremendous attraction, and the top of the mountain goes on calling you.
And, when you start feeling empty in the valley, of course, it is logical to think that the one you are seeking does not live in the valley. He must be living at the top. It is natural for the mind to move from one extreme to the other, from the valley to the peak.
At the top of the mountain man thinks is God, down in the valley are the cares and concerns of human life, all the troubles of love and war. In the valley you go on gathering anxiety, in the valley you go on gathering dust, in the valley, by and by, you become dull and dead. The valley looks like a graveyard. One wants to get out of it. One starts thinking of freedom, moksha, of how to get out of the imprisonment the valley has become -- how to get out of attachment, love; how to get out of ambition, violence, war; how to get out of the society, the very society which gives you the opportunity to be worried, in fact forces you towards anxiety and anguish.
One starts thinking, but this is an escape. In fact you are not going to the peak; you are going away from the valley. It is not that the peak has called you. In fact it is the valley which is pushing you. You are still pushed by the valley; and pushed by the valley you can never be free. It is not that you are going on your own. You are being expelled. The valley is creating a situation in which you cannot live there anymore. Life becomes too much. A moment comes to everybody's life when it becomes too much, the world is too much, and one starts escaping.
Man starts escaping towards the peak. And now comes the most important part of the parable: God, on the other hand, is coming down the mountain. Because, let us say, he is fed up with his purity and aloneness.
Man is fed up with the crowd, with the impurity; God is fed up with his aloneness and purity.
Have you ever watched? You can be happy alone very easily. To be happy with somebody else becomes very difficult. One person can be happy very easily, very cheaply there is no cost to it. Two persons together, it becomes very difficult to be happy. It is easy to be unhappy now -- without any cost, very cheaply. And if three persons are together, it is impossible to be happy -- at no cost is happiness possible.
Man is fed up with the crowd, nowhere to move, nowhere where you can find a space of your own, always onlookers and onlookers -- you are always on the stage, always performing -- and the eyes of the crowd watching you. No privacy. By and by, one gets fed up, bored.
But God is also bored. He is alone, pure, but purity itself becomes boring when it remains and remains and remains.
God is coming down towards the valley; his desire is to plunge into the world. Man's desire is to jump out of the world, and God's desire is to plunge into the world. Man's desire is to be God, and God's desire is to be man.
There is a truth of withdrawal and there is a truth of return. Man is always withdrawing and God is always returning. Otherwise the creation would have stopped long ago, if God was not returning continuously. It must be a circle. The Ganges goes on falling into the ocean, and the ocean goes on rising into the clouds and goes on falling on the Himalayas -- back to the Ganges, and the Ganges goes on flowing. The Ganges is always withdrawing, and the ocean is always returning. Man always seeking God. God always seeking man this is the whole complete circle. If only man was going towards God and God was not coming, the world would have stopped long ago. It would have stopped anytime because one day all men will return and God will not be coming back the world will disappear.
But the peak cannot exist without the valley; and God cannot exist without the world: and the day cannot exist without the night; and life is impossible to conceive of without death. It is very difficult to understand this, that God is a constant returning, man a constant withdrawal -- man a constant renunciation, sannyas, and God a constant coming back to the world, a celebration.
There is a truth of withdrawal and there is a truth of return. Separately they are both half and partial: together they become the truth, the whole truth.
Religion is a withdrawal, but then it is half. Religion should also be a return, then it is whole. Religion should teach you how to go into yourself and religion should also teach you how to come back again because somewhere in between the valley and The peak God and man meet. If you bypass God.... And there is every possibility because if you are going up the hill and he is coming down the hill you won't even look at him. There may even be a condemnation in your eyes. How can this be God who is going back to the valley? You may even look at him with the eyes of "holier than you."
Remember this: Whenever God will meet you, you will see him coming back to the world; and you are leaving the world. That's why your so-called mahatmas, your so-called saints, never come to understand what God is. They go on talking about a dead concept of God, but they never know what God is because they will always miss. Somewhere on the path you will meet him, but your sense won't even look at him. He will look like a sinner; he is going back to the world.
But if they reach to the top they will find it empty. The world is too full; the top is too empty. They will not even find God there, because he is always returning. He is always coming, he is always creating. He is never finished. The creation is an endless process. God is not an entity. He is a process, the process of returning.
If you can meet him on the way and you can recognize him, only then is there a possibility. Then you will drop the idea of going to the peak... you will start returning. All great ones who have understood, first have gone into withdrawal, and then they have returned to the world, back in the marketplace with all their meditation in a tremendous flowering. But they have come back to the world. They have understood the point. They have understood the point of wholeness, of holiness. They have understood the point that the outer and the inner are not two and the creation and the creator are not two and matter and mind are not two -- that the sacred and the profane are not two. They are one. All duality has disappeared for them. This is what I call advait, nonduality -- the real message of Vedanta, the real message of yoga.
It is very natural to get fed up with the world. It is very natural to seek freedom, nothing special in it.
Mulla Nasrudin was celebrating his twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, and he gave a big party for all his friends. He invited me, too. But the host was nowhere to be seen. Finally, I found him in the library drinking brandy and staring into the fire.
"Mulla," I said. "you should be celebrating with your guests. Why are you sad and what are you doing here!"
"Why am I so sad?" he explained. "When I had been married for five years, I had decided to kill my wife. I went to my lawyer and told him what I was going to do. He said if I did it I would get twenty years in prison. Just think," said Mulla to me. "tonight I would have been a free man."
It is very natural. The world is too troublesome. It creates so much anxiety: it creates so many imprisonments. To seek freedom, to inquire about it, is natural -- nothing special in it. It becomes special when you have understood, when you come from the peak back to the valley with a new dance in your step, with a new song on your lips, with a totally new being -- when you come absolutely pure into the world of impurity, unafraid because now you are incorruptible.
When you come back to the prison on your own accord, voluntarily, when you come to the prison as a free man and you accept the prison, back to your cell; now it is a prison no more because a freedom cannot be imprisoned. Only a slave can be imprisoned. A free man cannot be imprisoned -- he can live in the prison, and free. And unless your freedom is that powerful, it is not worth.
Now the sutras...
Samadhi is a word very difficult to translate into English; there exists no parallel. But in Greek there is a word which is parallel; that word is ataraxia. The Greek word means quiet, calm, of deep inner contentment. That is the meaning of samadhi so contented, so deeply contented, that nothing disturbs now, nothing distracts now. So deeply in tune with existence, in a sort of atonement -- at-one-ment -- that now there is no problem. There is no other who can disturb; the other has disappeared. The other disappears with your thoughts. The thoughts is the other. In the gaps is the samadhi, ataraxia. In the gaps is calm and quiet.
Not that when you have attained to it you will not be able to think, no. Not that your capacity to think will disappear. In fact, just on the contrary, when you live in the gap you become capable of thinking for the first time. Before it you were just victims, victims of a social atmosphere, victims of a thousand and one thoughts surrounding you -- not a single thought of your own. They were thoughts; you were not capable of thinking. Those thoughts had settled on you as birds settle on a tree by the evening. They had entered in you. They were not original; they were all borrowed.
You had been living a life which is a borrowed life. That's why you were sad. That's why there was no life in you. That's why you looked dead, there was no vibration. That's why there was no joy, no delight. Everything was blocked by borrowed thoughts. Your whole stream was blocked. You could not flow because of borrowed thoughts. When you become a part of samadhi, ataraxia, a deep inner calm of the gaps, intervals; you become for the first time capable of seeing, of thinking -- but now these thoughts will be your own. Now you will be able to create an original thought. You will be able to live an original life, fresh, fresh as the morning, fresh as the morning breeze. You will become creative.
In samadhi you become a creator because in samadhi you become part of God.
There is a saying of Pascal's that most of man's troubles come from his not being able to sit quietly in his chamber. Yes, that is true. If you can sit quietly in your inner chamber, almost all the troubles will disappear. You create them by running hither and thither. You create them by unnecessarily getting attached to your thoughts -- which are not yours. You create them because you cannot sit at rest.
First Patanjali talked about nirodh parinam, to look into the gap between two thoughts. If you go on looking, slowly thoughts settle, distractions settle -- slowly, as if somebody has passed, bullock carts have passed from a mountain stream, and because of the passing wheels and the people much dust has risen up towards the surface. The whole stream which was just a few seconds before so crystal clear is now absolutely dirty, muddled.
But then the bullock carts have gone and the people have gone and the stream goes on flowing: by and by as time passes, again the dust & dirt settles back to the bottom, again the stream becomes crystal clear.
When you look into the gaps, the bullock carts, the crowd of your thoughts which has disturbed your being so completely, by and by goes away, far away, and your inner stream of consciousness starts settling. This is what Patanjali calls samadhi parinam, the inner transformation "... is the gradual settling of distractions and the simultaneous rising of onepointedness." It has two parts to it. On the one hand, distractions settle, and on the other hand, one-pointedness arises.
When you are full of thoughts too much, you are not one man. You are not one consciousness; you are almost a crowd, a multitude. When there are thoughts and your gestalt is to look at thoughts, you are divided; you are divided in as many parts as there are thoughts to your mind. Each thought becomes a division of your being. You become polypsychic; you are not unipsychic. You are not one, you become many, because each thought carries a part of you and divides you -- and those thoughts are running in all directions. You are almost mad.
I have heard:
An old Scottish guide returned from taking the new minister on a grouse-shooting trip over the moors and sank wearily into his chair before the fire.
"Here is a cup of hot tea for you. Angus." said his wife. "And is the new minister a good shot?"
The old fellow puffed his pipe a bit, then he replied, "Ah, a fine shot he is, but it is marvelous, indeed, how the Lord protects the birds when he is shooting."
You have been missing your target because you are not one-pointed. You have been missing all that you wanted because you are not one-pointed. The whole misery of man is that he is running in many directions simultaneously -- absolutely undecided, indecisive, not knowing where he is going, not knowing what he is doing.
I have heard...
Two politicians met at a psychoanalyst's door. One was coming out, and the other, who was getting in, asked, "Are you coming in, or are you going out?" The one who was coming out said. "Well, if I did know whether I am coming out or coming in I would not have been here."
Nobody knows whether one is coming out or coming in. Where are you going? For what are you seeking?
You go on missing because your target goes on changing. It is a flux. There are a thousand and one targets around you, and you are a thousand and one, a crowd -- a crowd shooting at a crowd of targets. The whole life proves to be empty.
"Samadhi parinam, the inner transformation, is the gradual settling of distractions and the simultaneous rising of onepointedness." As thoughts disappear -- thoughts are distractions -- one-pointedness arises. You become one. The stream of consciousness flows in a direction, it becomes directed. It has a direction now. It can reach; it can become a fulfillment.
Ordinarily, one thought goes, another comes of a totally different character. Sadness goes/happiness comes. Happiness goes/frustration comes. Frustration goes/anger comes. Anger goes/sadness comes. The climate around you goes on changing, and with the climate -- you. Every moment you have a different color to your being. Hence, no wonder that you don't know who you are -- because in the morning you were angry, by the lunchtime you were happy, in the afternoon you were sad, by the evening you were frustrated. You don't know who you are. You change so much because each color that passes you becomes your identity for a few moments.
Ekagrata parinam is a state of your consciousness where this change stops. You become one-pointed. And not only that, if you want to retain one state of affairs you become capable of retaining it. If you want to remain happy, happiness is replaced by happiness, again by happiness, again by happiness. If you want to remain happy you remain happy. If you want to remain sad it is up to you. But then you are the master. Otherwise, everything goes on changing.
I go on observing you. It seems almost unbelievable how you manage. One day a couple comes to me and they say. "We are in deep love. Bless us." And the next day they are back and they say. "We have been fighting, and we have separated." Which is true? The love, or the fight? Nothing seems to be true with you. Everything seems to be just a flux. Nothing seems to stay. Nothing seems to be a part of your being. Everything seems to be just a part of your thinking process -- with one thought, one color; with another thought, another color.
A nearsighted girl too vain to wear glasses was determined to get married. She finally found herself a husband and went off to honeymoon at Niagara Falls with him. When she returned, her mother gave a shriek, ran to the telephone and called an opthamologist.
"Doctor," she gasped, "you have got to come over here right away. It is an emergency. My daughter has always refused to wear glasses, and now she is back from her honeymoon, and -- ."
"Madam," interrupted the doctor, "please control yourself. Have your daughter come to my office. No matter how bad her eyes are, it can't possibly be that much of an emergency."
"Oh no?" said the mother. "Well, this fellow she has got with her is not the same one she left with for Niagara Falls."
But this is the situation of everybody. The man you love in the morning you hate in the evening. The man you hate in the morning you fall in love with by the evening. The man or the woman who looked beautiful just the other day, today has become ugly. And it is an emergency case.
And this way it goes on, like a driftwood, just at the mercy of the winds. The wind changes its course, and your course is changed. Its like, one doesn't have any soul yet.
Gurdjieff used to say to his disciples. "First be, because right now you are not. Let this be your only Goal in life -- to be." Somebody will ask him, "How can we love?" He will say, "Don't ask nonsense. First be, because unless you are, how can you love?"
Unless you are, how can you be happy? Unless you are, how can you do something? The being is needed in the first place, then everything becomes possible.
Jesus says, "Seek first ye the kingdom of God, and then all shall be added unto you." I would like to change it a little to, "Seek first ye the being, the kingdom of being, and then all shall be added unto you." And that is the meaning of Jesus - 'The kingdom of God' is an old term for the kingdom of being. First be, then everything is possible, but right now when I look into you, you are not there. Many guests are there, but the host is missing.
Ekagrata parinam, one-pointedness in consciousness, is a basic necessity so that your being can arise. In a flux the being will not be possible. At the most, you can go on becoming this, that or the other, but you will never be a being.
And Patanjali says this is the situation: the world is changing around you, the body is changing, the senses are changing, the mind is changing -- everything is changing -- and if you are also changing, then there is no possibility of finding the eternal, the unchanging one. These are changing, that is true. The world is changing continuously. It is a process: it has no being. It is a flux. Let it be so. There is only one thing permanent in the world, and that is change. Everything else changes -- except change. Only change remains as a permanent character.
The body is changing, continuously, every moment. Every single moment it is flowing and changing; otherwise how will you become old, how will you become a youth, how will a child become a youth? Can you say on what day the child becomes a youth? Can you say on what date the young man becomes old? Difficult. In fact, if you ask physiologists they are not yet clear at exactly what moment one says that the man was alive and now he is dead. It is impossible to decide. The definition is still unclear because life is a process. In fact when you have died, almost, and your friends have abandoned you, a few processes still continue in the body -- nails go on growing, hairs go on growing. A part of you still seems to be alive and functioning.
When exactly a man dies, it is still undefined. In fact, life and death cannot be defined; it is a flux phenomenon. Body goes on changing, mind goes on changing -- every moment the mind is changing.
If you are looking into this changing world in these distractions of your being, and searching for truth, God, bliss, then you will be frustrated. Move within. Go into the gaps where neither the world exists nor the body nor the mind. There, for the first time, you come face to face with eternity, which has no beginning and no end, which has no change in it.
Patanjali says whether a flower has died or whether a flower is in bloom makes no difference. When a flower is in bloom he is dying, and when a flower has died he is again trying to come back up. Creation goes on through a process of uncreation and creation, uncreation and creation. This is what Patanjali calls prakriti. Prakriti, again, is a word which cannot be translated. It is not creation only: it is the very process of creation and uncreation.
Everything becomes manifest, disappears, becomes unmanifest: but it remains in the substratum, the prakriti. Again it will come back. Summer comes and then goes: again the summer is back, coming. Winter is there, going: again it will come. It goes on moving. Flowers appear, disappear. Clouds come, disappear. The world goes on moving in a cycle.
Things have two states: manifest and unmanifest. You are beyond them. You are neither manifest nor unmanifest. You are the witness. Through nirodh parinam, through the gap between two thoughts, you will have the first glimpse of it. Then go on gathering those gaps, go on piling up those gaps. And always remember, whenever two gaps are there they become one. Two gaps cannot be two. They are not like two things; they are two emptinesses. They cannot be two. You bring two zeros near they become one. They jump into each other because two zeros cannot be two zeros. Zero is always one. You bring a thousand and one zeros home -- they will jump into each other and become one.
So go on piling up those gaps, zeros of being, and by and by what Patanjali first calls nirodh becomes samadhi. In samadhi distractions disappear, go more distant and distant and distant... and then disappear; and one-pointedness arises in your being. That is the first glimpse of who you are beyond prakriti, beyond this game of creation and uncreation, beyond this game of waves and no waves, flowers and no flowers, of change, movement, momentariness. You become a witness.
That witness is your being.
And to attain that is the whole goal of yoga.
Yoga means: UNIO MYSTICA. It means the union, the mystic union with oneself. And if you are one with yourself, suddenly you realize you have become one with the whole, with God, because when you move into your being, it is an emptiness again, a silence, a tremendous nonending silence... and God is also silence. Two silences cannot be two -- they jump into each other and become one.
You withdraw into yourself, and God is returning. You meet on the way; you become one. This oneness is the meaning of the word "yoga." Yoga means to become one.
WHY DO I ALWAYS ASK NEARLY THE SAME QUESTIONS, AGAIN AND AGAIN?
BECAUSE the mind itself is repetition. The mind is never original. It cannot be; by its nature it is such. The mind is a borrowed thing. It is never new; it is always old. Mind means the past -- it is always out of date. And by and by mind becomes a pattern, a habit, a mechanism. Then you become very efficient in it. Then you go on moving in the same rut, in the same routine, again and again and again.
You go on asking the same questions because you go on remaining the same mind.
Unless you are new your questions are not going to be new. Unless you drop the old mind completely, totally, utterly, the new question cannot get into you. The new question cannot get into you because there is no space, you are already filled by the old. And the mind has a persistent habit of repeating itself; it is more efficient. The mind is very stubborn. Even if it pretends to change, the change is not real, just a pretension, a modified form of the old.
Maybe the language changes, the form changes, but the deep question remains the same... and the mind goes on persisting.
You have to see it. This question is good. At least, this question is not old. This is from Saroj. She has been asking questions, and I have been never answering her, but today I decided to answer because this is a new glimpse, that she has understood one thing; that she has been asking again and again the same old thing. This understanding is new. A new morning, a new dawn has come to her mind. Her consciousness has become alert to a certain old pattern.
Help this awareness; cooperate with it. By and by you will start seeing yourself in two dimensions the dimension of the mind -- the old, the past; and the dimension of consciousness -- always fresh and always new, always original. I will tell you one anecdote:
A man excitedly ran up to another man on the street and slapped him heartily on the back.
"Paul Porter," he greeted him, "am I glad to see you! But tell me, Paul, what in the world happened to you? Last time I saw you, you were short and fat. All of a sudden you seem tall and thin."
"Look, sir," the puzzled man answered, "I am not Paul Porter."
"Ah!" boomed the undaunted greeter, contemptuously. "Change your name too, eh?"
The mind has a persistent habit to go on believing in itself -- even against all facts. Even if your old mind goes on giving you nothing but misery and hell, you go on believing in it.
People say that this is an age of unbelief. I don't see it. The same old belief in the mind continues. Somebody is a Hindu; he believes in Hinduism because his mind has been conditioned to be a Hindu. Somebody is a Christian; he believes in Christianity because his mind has been conditioned to be a Christian. Somebody is a communist; he goes on believing in communism because his mind has been conditioned to be a communist. All the three are one. They are not different people. They may have different names and labels, but the same thing is happening to all of them they are all conditioned and clinging to the mind and they all believe in the mind.
I call that man religious who renounces the mind. I call that man religious who renounces all conditionings, who stops clinging to the mind, who starts moving into consciousness, who becomes more and more aware of the conditionings. And in that very awareness one becomes loose of the conditions -- and that is the only freedom there is. All else is just rubbish. All talk of freedom -- political, economic, social -- is just rubbish. There is only one freedom, and that freedom is freedom from conditionings, freedom from the mind, becoming alert, aware, attentive, and moving in a new dimension.
Good, Saroj, that you have become aware that your questions have been repetitively the same. That's why I was not answering them. It is useless because when the mind goes on persisting in its old habit; it doesn't listen.
Try always to find the new, the fresh, the young -- that which is just being born. Catch that before it becomes old dissolve into it before it becomes a pattern. Never make your life a patterned and structured thing. Let it remain a flow, unfrozen, fluid, moving always into the unknown.
Mind means the known. And you are the unknown. If you understand this, you will use the mind and you will never be used by the mind.
THERE ARE MANY WHO CAN SEE A LOT OF CONTRADICTIONS IN WHAT YOU ARE SAYING. ONCE YOU EXPLAINED WHY THIS IS SO. BUT UP TO THIS MOMENT I HAVE NOT COME ACROSS ONE SINGLE CONTRADICTION. EVEN WHEN THERE OBVIOUSLY SHOULD BE ONE. I JUST CANNOT SEE IT, EVEN WHEN I TRY TO. IS THERE ANYTHING WRONG WITH ME? PLEASE EXPLAIN.
No, nothing is wrong with you. The wrong is with others who keep on seeing contradictions, but they are in the majority. You will be alone. So don't be overpowered by the majority. Don t be dominated, by the majority. Remain alone. Truth is never of the crowd; it is always of the individual. Truth is never of the many; it is always of the few, of the rare. It is not of the multitude; it is of the unique. This difference has to be understood.
The scientific truth is not unique. The scientific truth, in fact, debars the unique.
It only listens to the repetitive. Science goes on saying that unless an experiment can be repeated, it cannot be believed. When an experiment can be repeated a thousand and one times and it always gives the same result, then it gathers evidence of being true.
Religious truth is of the unique. A Buddha cannot be repeated, a Jesus cannot be repeated. They come once and then they disappear. They come as if out of the blue and then they disappear again into emptiness -- and there is no way to repeat them. That's why science goes on denying them because science believes only in something which can become a mechanical repetition. If Buddha can be produced on order -- if Buddha can be produced like Ford cars, on an assembly line, then science can believe. But that is not possible.
Religion is the realm of the unique, of the rare, of that which cannot be repeated, of the unrepeatable; and science is the realm of the repeatable. That's why science remains part of the mind and religion goes beyond mind, because all that can be repeated, mind can understand.
People see contradictions in me because I don't repeat. They see contradictions in me because their mind has been trained in a certain Aristotelian logic. The Aristotelian logic says that either this is white or black. If it is white then it cannot be black; if it is black then it cannot be white. The Aristotelian logic teaches you; either this or that. That is the base of all scientific mind. The religious mind says it is both; white is also black, and black is also white. It cannot be otherwise because religion sees so deeply that the opposites become one there.
Life must be death also, and death life also, because somewhere the religious mind, religious consciousness comes to understand that they are meeting -- already they are meeting in you. Something is dying, something is being born.
Each moment I see you dying, each moment I see you reborn. You are not a continuity. Each moment something dissolves, each moment something new comes into existence. But you are not aware, so you cannot see the gap. Because you cannot see the gap it looks like a continuity.
Religion believes that there are no contradictions -- there cannot be -- because existence is one. Religion believes and sees that there is no polarity. Even if there is polarity it is not polar and opposite, it is complementary, because existence is nondual; it is one. Life cannot be separate from death and night cannot be separate from day and summer cannot be separate from winter and old age- cannot be separate from childhood.
Childhood grows into old age, night changes into day, day changes into night.
No and yes are not a question of either/or; they are both together. Two points on one line -- maybe on the extreme ends, but the line is one. So whenever a religious person exists, he cannot be consistent in the same way as a scientist is.
He has a deeper consistency. It is not apparent on the surface; it is deep in his being.
I am not a philosopher, and I am not trying to prove any theory to you, and I am not here talking to you to prove some hypothesis. There is nothing to prove.
Truth is there, already given. Religion has nothing to prove; it has no theory about it. It simply gives you a way how to see that which is already there. I go on talking to you not that I have a theory. If I have a theory then I will be consistent.
I will always look whether it fits with my theory or not; if it fits, okay; if it doesn't fit, I drop it. But I have no theory.
Everything fits with me. If I have a theory, then I have to look at my theory. Then the fact becomes secondary and the theory becomes primary. If the fact fits with the theory then it is okay; if it doesn't fit then I have to ignore it.
I have no theory. Every fact, just by being a fact, fits with me, fits with me perfectly. Only very few will become aware of it. So don't be worried. If others see contradictions, they have an Aristotelian conditioning.
My whole effort is to help you melt so your structure dissolves and by and by you can start seeing opposites as complementaries. If you love me -- this will happen immediately because the heart knows no contradictions. Even if there is a contradiction on the surface, the heart knows somewhere deep down there must be a consistency, this contradiction must be meeting somewhere. It must be held together by something which goes beyond the contradiction.
I am a unity. If you watch me, if you love me, you will be able to see the unity.
Once you see my unity, then whatsoever I say comes out of that unity. It has to be consistent. Whether rationally you can understand or not, that is not the point.
The heart has its own reasons, and those reasons are deeper than the reasons of reason.
When people listen to me, people who are not in any way committed to me, people who are not in any way deeply related to me, people who are not traveling with me into the unknown, then whatsoever I say, they understand it in their own way -- they interpret it. Then it is not the thing that I have said.
Something else has entered into it; their interpretation. And because of their interpretation the whole color changes, the purity is lost, and then there are problems. Those problems are of their own making.
I have heard a story:
Patrick went to confession and told the priest, "Father, I love my neighbor."
The priest said, "That's wonderful. I am glad to see that your attendance at services in this church has benefited you and taught you the ways of the Lord. Carry on the good work. That is the whole message of Jesus; Love your neighbor as thyself."
Patrick went home, changed into some more comfortable dress and slipped next door. He rang the bell and said, "Is it all right?"
The lady said, "Well, Albert is out, but this is afternoon and broad daylight. Someone might see you coming here."
"It is all right," said Patrick. "I have got special dispensation from Father O'Brien."
Love thy neighbor as thyself. When Jesus says it he means something totally different. When Patrick interprets it it becomes totally different. "Love thy neighbor" is a prayer, it is a meditation, it is a whole way of being, but when ordinary mind listens to it, it takes on a different color. Love becomes sex. Prayer becomes infatuation. And the mind is very cunning; it goes on taking any support -- whatsoever is available from anywhere -- to its own ends.
When you listen to me, beware. You may be interpreting me in your own way.
When I say "freedom" you may interpret it as "license." Watch. When I say "love" you may interpret it as "sex." Watch. Look at your interpretations because they are the traps -- and then you will find many contradictions in me because I am there no more; now it is you reflected. You have many contradictions in you. You are almost a confusion. You have many minds in you, and you go on interpreting in many ways, and then you see contradictions -- in your own interpretations.
Listen to me. Even more than listening -- be with me. Then all contradictions disappear.
RECENTLY I HAD A GLIMPSE OF EMPTINESS. IN MY WORK I COMMUNICATE THROUGH IMAGES JUXTAPOSED STRANGELY. WILL THE CLEARING PROCESS ALLOW THE IMAGE TO RISE ANEW, OR AS I VANISH WILL THE WORK VANISH?
It depends. If your work is just a profession, it can vanish when you vanish.
When your ego disappears into deep meditation your profession can also disappear, but if it is not a profession but a vocation, if it is not just a job but a calling, if it is not just imposed on you by yourself or by others but has deeper sources within you, deeper springs to feed it and nourish it, then when the ego disappears, your work for the first time becomes your love; then you become more creative. Tremendous energy is released when the ego disappears because the ego is carrying much of your energy -- wasting much of your energy. Just watch for twenty-four hours. Your ego is taking so much energy -- in anger, in pride, in trips. So much energy is wasted. When the ego disappears, all that energy becomes available to your work, to you.
It can become creative, but then the creativity has a very different quality, a different taste and savor. Then it is not as if you are creating; it is as if you have become a vehicle, as if you are possessed by something greater than you, as if existence has made you an instrument, a medium. You have become a flute and now God sings. You are just a hollow, a passage; you allow the whole to flow through you. If there is any fault, it is yours. If there is any beauty, it is God's. If you err, you err. If something is really given birth through you, you feel grateful.
Then all mistakes are yours because then you must have hindered in some way.
Blocked, you must not have been totally empty. The passage was not clear for God to flow through. But whenever something beautiful happens -- a painting, a poetry, a dance, or whatsoever -- you feel deeply grateful. A prayer comes to your heart; a thankfulness comes to your heart.
Then your creativity has a very quiet, calm quality to it. Right now, with the ego, there is much turmoil and tumult. With the ego the creativity is nothing much but the noise that you are a creator. The poetry may not be worth, but the poet goes on shouting from the housetops. The painting may not be of any value, may not have anything original to it, may be just an imitation, a fake; but the painter goes on carrying his head high in pride. It is very noisy with the ego. When the ego disappears, you flow in many ways, but everything becomes very silent and quiet.
I have heard:
Someone once asked Professor Charles Townsend Copeland of Harvard why he lived on the top floor of Hollis Hall in his small, dusty old rooms. "I shall always live here," he answered. "It is the only place in Cambridge where God alone is above me." Then, after a pause, he said, "He is busy, but he is quiet."
Yes, God is busy, tremendously busy -- spread all over existence. Just see how many things he is doing together, simultaneously. This infinite expanse is his.
You must have seen pictures of Hindu gods with thousands of hands. They are very symbolic. They show that he cannot work with two hands. Two hands won't be enough. The work is so vast. You must have seen Hindu gods with three heads looking in three dimensions -- because if he has only one head then what will happen to his back? He has to look in all directions. He has to be busy everywhere, with a thousand and one hands... but so quiet -- not even claiming, "I have done so much."
And you do a small thing -- you just arrange a few words and you think it is a poem -- and now arises the pride and you go mad. And you start claiming that you have created something. Remember, only mediocres claim. The real creators never claim, because the real creators become so humble, they understand that it is none of their own doing. In fact they have only been vehicles.
When Rabindranath, a great poet, used to have moods, was possessed, he would go in a room, close his door. For a few days he will not eat, he will not come out. He will just silently listen to the voice of God. He will purify himself so that he can become the right vehicle. He will cry and weep and he will go on writing. And whenever anybody asked he would always say. "Whatsoever is beautiful is not mine, and whatsoever is ordinary must be mine. I must have added it."
When Coleridge died, almost forty thousand incomplete pieces of poetry and stories were found -- forty thousand. Almost all his life his friends were saying, "Why don't you complete them?" He said, "How can I complete? He starts; he has to complete -- whenever he wills. I am helpless. One day he possessed me and then a few lines came -- and only one line is missing, but I am not going to add it because that will become destructive to it. Seven lines from the sky and one line from the earth? No, it will cut the wings. I will wait. If he is not in a hurry, who am I to worry about it?" This is a real creator.
A real creator is not a creator at all. A real creator becomes instrumental; he is possessed of the great forces. Wild forces of God possess him, wild seas and skies of God possess him. He becomes a mouthpiece. He utters, but the words are not his. He paints, but the colors are not his. He sings, but the sounds are not his. He dances, but he dances as if possessed -- somebody else dancing through him.
So it depends. The question is if your ego disappears into meditation what will happen to your work. If it is a profession it will disappear, and it is good that it disappears. Nobody should be a professional. Your work should be your love; otherwise the work becomes destructive. Then somehow you drag it and your whole life becomes dull. Your whole life becomes empty in a negative sense, unfulfilled. You are doing something which you never wanted to do in the first place. It is violent. It is suicidal -- you are killing yourself slowly, poisoning your own system. Nobody should be a professional. Your work should be your love; it should be your prayer. It should be your religion, not your profession.
There should be a passion flowing between you and your work. When really you have found your vocation, it is a love affair. It is not that you have to do it. It is not that you have to force yourself to do it. Suddenly you do it in a totally different way you had not known before. Your steps have a difference dance, your heart goes on humming. Your whole system functions for the first time at the optimum. It is a fulfillment. Through it you will find your being -- it will become a mirror; it will reflect you. Whatsoever it is -- a small thing.
It is not a question that only great things become vocations no. A small thing. You may be making toys for children, or making shoes, or weaving cloth -- or whatsoever. It doesn't matter what it is, but if you love it, if you have fallen in love with it; if you are flowing with no reservation, if you are not withholding yourself, if you are not dragging -- dancingly moving into it -- it will cleanse you, it will purify you. Your thinking by and by will disappear. It will be a silent music, and by and by you will feel that it is not only work, it is your being. Each step fulfilled, something in you flowers.
And richest is the man who has found his vocation. And richest is the man who starts feeling a fulfillment through his work. Then the whole life becomes a worship. Work should be a worship, but that's possible only when your being starts to be more meditative. Through meditation you will gather courage. Through meditation you will gather courage to throw the profession and to move towards the vocation. Maybe through the profession you could have been rich, but that richness would have been of the outside. Through the vocation you may remain poor; you may not be so rich. The society may not pay for it because the society has its own ends.
You may be writing poetry and nobody may be purchasing them, because the society does not need poetry. It can afford -- it is foolish enough -- it can afford to be without poetry. It pays if you are preparing something for war, for violence. If you are doing something for love -- a poetry is something for love, people will be more loving -- the society doesn't bother. The society needs soldiers, the society needs bombs, the society needs weapons not worship.
The society may not pay you, you may remain poor, but I tell you that poverty, that risk, is worth taking because inner riches will be overflowing towards you. You may die poor as far as your outside is concerned, but you will die an emperor as far as your inner being is concerned -- and ultimately only that is of any value.
MY BODY IS EXTRAORDINARILY ILL -- ROGI. MY MIND IS SCIENTIFICALLY INDULGENT -- BHOGI. MY HEART IS APPROXIMATELY YOGI. NEARING TO CHILD'S TOTALITY OF ACTION, NONPOLITICALNESS, INNOCENT AND TRUTHLOVING, ARE THERE ANY CHANCES OF ENLIGHTENMENT FOR ME IN THIS LIFE? GUIDE ME AND EXPEDITE MY CASE FOR THE KINGDOM OF GOD. PREPARED FOR THE WORST, I HOPE FOR THE BEST.
The body is helpful if it is healthy, but it is not an absolute condition -- helpful, but not absolutely necessary. If you can drop the identity with the body, if you start feeling that you are not the body, then it doesn't matter whether the body is ill or healthy. If you start going beyond it, transcending it, becoming a witness to it, then even in an ill body the enlightenment is possible.
I am not saying that you should all go and become ill. If you are ill then don't feel desperate, then don't feel hopeless. A healthy body is helpful. It is easier to go beyond a healthy body than beyond an ill body because the ill body needs attention. It is difficult to forget an ill body. It constantly reminds you of its misery and pain and illness. It constantly calls you back to it. It needs care; it needs no attention. It is difficult to forget it -- and if you cannot forget it it is difficult to go beyond it. Difficult_ I don't say impossible.
So don't be worried by it. If you feel it is ill, chronically ill, and there is no way to make it healthy, forget ahout it. You will have to make a little more effort, a little extra effort, to gain witnessing, but it can be gained.
Mohammed was not very healthy. Buddha was constantly ill; he had to always carry a physician with him. Jeevak was the name of the physician who constantly had to attend to Buddha. Shankara died when he was thirty-three; That shows the body was not in very good condition; otherwise he would have lived a little longer. Thirty-three is not the time to die. So don't be worried; don't make it a hindrance.
Secondly, you say, "My mind is scientifically indulgent -- bhogi." If it is really scientifically indulgent then you can come out of it. Only an unscientific mind can go on repeating the stupidity of indulgence. If you are really a little alert, scientifically observant, then sooner or later you will come out of it -- because how can you go on repeating?
For example, sex. Nothing bad in it, but to go on repeating it for your whole life shows that you are a little stupid. I don't say there is some sin in it -- no. It simply shows that you are a little stupid. The religions have been telling you that sex is sin. I don-t say so. It is simply foolishness. Allowed, nothing wrong in it, but if you are intelligent you will come out of it -- one day or other. Greater the intelligence, sooner the day will come when you will understand that "Yes, it's okay. It has a time, it has a meaning at a certain stage of life, but then one comes out of it." It is a little childish.
Let me tell you a story:
Two elderly people were appearing in court suing for divorce. The man was ninety-two and the woman was eighty-four. The judge spoke first to the man, "How old are you?
"Ninety-two, Your Honor."
Then he spoke to the woman.
"I am eighty-four," she admitted shyly.
Said the judge to the man. 'How long have you two been married?"
"Sixty-seven years," grimaced the old-timer.
"And you mean you actually want to terminate a marriage that has lasted almost seventy years?" demanded the judge unbelievingly.
The old man shrugged and said, "Look, Your Honor, whichever way you look at it, enough is enough."
Whichever way you look at it.... If you are intelligent you will not wait for ninety-two years -- enough is enough will come sooner. The more intelligent you are, the sooner it will come. Buddha left the world of indulgence when he was just young. His first child was born, and the first child was only one month old when he left. Enough is enough came to him too early. He was really a very, very intelligent man. The more intelligence is there, the sooner the point of transcendence.
So if you think you are really scientific, it is time -- old-timer -- to understand enough is enough.
And you say, "My heart is approximately yogi." Approximately? That is not the language of the heart. Approximately is the language of the mind. The heart knows only totality -- this way or that. Either all or none -- the heart does not know anything like approximately. Just go to a woman and tell her, "I love you approximately." Then you will know.
How can you love approximately? What does it mean in fact? That you don't love.
No, the heart still doesn't seem to function. You may have heard a rumor from the heart, but you have not understood it. The heart is always total. For or against does not matter, but it is always total. The heart knows no division; all divisions are of the mind.
The body is ill, there is no problem. A little more effort, that's all. The mind is in indulgence, there is also not much problem. Sooner or later you will understand and come out of it. But the real problem comes with the third; approximately won't do. So look again, deep in your heart. As deep as you can, watch.
Allow the heart to say and whisper to you. If the heart really loves yoga -- yoga means the search, the effort to find out what is the truth of life -- if really the heart has moved on the search,-then nothing can prevent it.
Neither indulgence will be a barrier nor illness will be a barrier. The heart can override any situation; the heart is the real source of your energy. Listen to the heart. Trust the heart. And move with the heart. And don't be worried about enlightenment, because that worry is also of the mind; The heart knows nothing about future; it lives here now. Search, meditate, love, be here-now; and don't be worried about enlightenment. It comes on its own accord. Who bothers?
If you are ready it is to come. If you are not ready, thinking constantly about it will not make you ready. In fact, that thinking will function as an obstacle. So forget about enlightenment and don't be worried whether or not it is going to happen in this life.
Whenever you are ready it will happen. It can happen this moment. It depends on your readiness. Whenever the fruit is ripe it falls to the ground. Ripeness is all. So don't create unnecessary problems around yourself. Enough. You have illness, that is a problem. Indulgence, that is a problem. Approximate love for yoga and enlightenment, that is a problem. Now no more problems. Please, don't bring this enlightenment in. Forget about it. It has nothing to do with you and your thinking and your expectations, with your hopes or desires. It has nothing to do with them. Whenever you are desireless and ready and the fruit is ripe, it happens on its own accord.