---
section: Library
booktitle: "Yoga: The Alpha and the Omega, Vol 2"
booktype: "Discourses"
bookcode: "YOGA2"
dategiven: "02 January 1975 am"
place: " in Buddha Hall"
chapternum: "Chapter #2"
chaptertitle: "Attraction to the Difficult"
acode: "7501020"
shorttitle: "YOGA202"
audio: "Yes"
video: "No"
esttime: "98mins"
displaytitle: "Yoga: The Alpha and the Omega, Vol 2: Chapter #2"
---

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  font-style: italic;
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The first question:
<p class="question">WHAT YOU HAVE BEEN SAYING ABOUT HERACLITUS, CHRIST AND ZEN SEEMS LIKE KINDERGARTEN TEACHINGS COMPARED TO PATANJALI. HERACLITUS, CHRIST AND ZEN MAKE THE FINAL STEP SEEM CLOSE; PATANJALI MAKES EVEN THE FIRST STEP SEEM ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE. IT SEEMS LIKE US WESTERNERS HAVE HARDLY BEGUN TO REALIZE THE AMOUNT OF WORK THAT HAS TO BE DONE.</p>


SAYS LAO TZU, "IF TAO IS NOT laughed at, it will not be Tao." And I would like to say to you: If you will not misunderstand me, you will not be you. You are bound to misunderstand. You have not understood what I had been saying about Heraclitus, Christ and Zen, and if you cannot understand Heraclitus, Zen and Jesus, you will not be able to understand Patanjali either.


The first rule of understanding is not to compare. How can you compare? What do you know about the innermost state of Heraclitus or Basho or Buddha, Jesus or Patanjali? Who are you to compare?  --  because comparison is a judgment. Who are you to judge? But the mind wants to judge because in judgment the mind feels superior. You become the judge; your ego feels very, very good. You feed the ego. Through judgment and comparison you think that you know.


They are different types of flowers  -- incomparable. How can you compare a rose with a lotus? Is there any possibility to compare? There is no possibility because both are different worlds. How can you compare moon with the sun? There is no possibility. They are different dimensions. Heraclitus is a wild flower; Patanjali is in a cultivated garden. Patanjali will be nearer your intellect, Heraclitus nearer your heart. But as you go deeper, the differences are lost. When you yourself start flowering, then a new understanding dawns upon you  --  the understanding that flowers differ in their color, they differ in their smell, they differ in their shape, form and name.


But in flowering they don't differ. The flowering, the phenomenon that they have flowered, is the same. Heraclitus is, of course, different; has to be. Every individual is unique; Patanjali is different. You cannot put them into one category. There exist no pigeonholes where you can force them, categorize them. But if you also flower, then you will come to understand that flowering is the same whether the flower is lotus or rose  --  makes no difference. The innermost phenomenon of energy coming to a celebration is the same.


They talk differently; they have different patterns of mind. Patanjali is a scientific thinker. He is a grammarian, a linguist. Heraclitus is a wild poet. He does not bother about grammar and language and the form. And when you say that listening to Patanjali, you feel that Heraclitus and Basho and Zen they appear childish, kindergarten teachings, you are not saying anything about Patanjali or Heraclitus, you are saying something about you. You are saying that you are a mind-oriented person.


Patanjali you can understand; Heraclitus simply eludes you. Patanjali is more solid. You can have a grip. Heraclitus is a cloud; you cannot have any grip on him. Patanjali, you can make tail and head out of him; he seems rational. What you will do with a Heraclitus, with a Basho? No, simply they are so irrational. Thinking about them, your mind becomes absolutely impotent. When you say such things, comparisons, judgments, you say something about you  -- that who you are.


Patanjali can be understood; there is no trouble about it. He is absolutely rational, can be followed, no problem about it. All his techniques can be done because he gives you the how, and how is always easy to understand. What to do? How to do? He gives you the techniques.


Ask Basho or Heraclitus what to do, and they simply say there is nothing to be done. Then you are at a loss. If something is to be done you can do it, but if nothing is to be done you are at a loss. Still, you will go on asking again and again, "What to do? How to do? How to achieve this you are talking about?"


They talk about the ultimate without talking about the way that leads to it. Patanjali talks about the way, never talking about the goal. Patanjali is concerned with the means, Heraclitus with the end. The end is mysterious. It is a poetry; it is not a mathematical solution. It is a mystery. But the path is a scientific thing, the technique, the know-how; it appeals you. But this shows something about you, not about Heraclitus or Patanjali. You are a mind-oriented person, a head-oriented person. Try to see this. Don't compare Patanjali and Heraclitus. Simply try to see the thing  --  that it shows something about you. And if it shows something about you, you can do something.


Don't think that you know what Patanjali is and what Heraclitus is. You can't even understand an ordinary flower in the garden, and they are the ultimate flowering in existence. Unless you flower in the same way, you will not be able to understand. But you can compare, you can judge, and through judgment you will miss the whole point.


So the first rule of understanding is never to judge. Never judge and never compare Buddha, Mahavira, Mohammed, Christ, Krishna; never compare! They exist in a dimension beyond comparison, and whatsoever you know about them is really nothing  --  just fragments. You cannot have the total comprehension. They are so beyond. In fact, you simply see their reflection in the water of your mind.


You have not seen the moon; you have seen the moon in the lake. You have not seen the reality; you have simply seen a mirror reflection, and the reflection depends on the mirror. If the mirror is defective, the reflection is different. Your mind is your mirror.


When you say that Patanjali seems to be very great, and teaching very great, you are simply saying that you couldn't understand Heraclitus at all. And if you cannot understand, that simply shows that he is very very beyond you than Patanjali; he is far beyond than Patanjali. At least you can understand this much  -- that Patanjali seems to be difficult. Now follow me closely. If something is difficult, you can tackle with. Howsoever difficult, you can tackle! More hard effort is needed, but that can be done.


Heraclitus is not easy; he is simply impossible. Patanjali is difficult. Difficult you can understand, you can do something, you can bring your will to it, your effort, your whole energy to it, and you can do something, and it can be solved. Difficult can be made easy, more subtle methods can be found. But what you will do with the impossible? It cannot be made easy. But you can deceive yourself. You can say there is nothing in it, it is a kindergarten teaching, and you are such a grown-up, it is not for you; it is for children, not for you.


This is a trick of the mind to avoid the impossible, because you know you will not be able to tackle it. So the only easiest course is simply to say, "It is not for me; it is below me  --  a kindergarten teaching," and you are a grown-up mature person. You need a university; you don't need a kindergarten school. Patanjali suits you, looks very difficult, can be solved. The impossible cannot be solved.


If you want to understand Heraclitus, there is no way except you drop your mind completely. If you want to understand Patanjali, there is a way gradually. He gives you steps what to do; but remember, finally, eventually, he will also say to you, "Drop the mind." What Heraclitus says in the beginning, he will say in the end, but on the path, the whole way, you can be fooled. In the end he is going to say the same thing, but still he will be understandable because he makes grades, and the jump doesn't look like a jump when you have steps.


Just this is the situation: Heraclitus brings you to an abyss and says, "Jump!" You look down; your mind simply cannot comprehend what he is saying. It looks suicidal. There are no steps. And you ask, "How?" He says, "There is no 'how?', you simply jump. What is the 'how?" Because there are no steps, so "how" cannot be explained. You simply jump, and he says, "If you are ready I can push you, but there are no methods." Is there any method to take a jump? Because jump is sudden. Methods exist when a thing, a process, is gradual. Finding it impossible, you turn about. But to console yourself that you are not such a weakling, you say, "This is for children. It is not difficult enough." It is not for you.


Patanjali brings you to the same abyss, but he has made steps. He says one step at a time. It appeals! You can understand! The mathematics is simple; take one step, then another. There is no jump. But, remember, sooner or later he will bring you to the point from where you have to jump. Steps he has created, but they don't lead to the bottom  --  just in the middle, and the bottom is so far away, you can exactly say it is a bottomless abyss.


So how many steps you make makes no difference. The abyss remains the same. He will lead you ninety-nine steps, and you are very happy  --  as if you have covered the abyss, and now the bottom has come nearer. No, the bottom remains as far away as before. These ninety-nine steps are just to befool your mind, just to give you a "how", a technique. Then at the hundredth step, he says, "Now jump!" And the abyss remains the same, the span the same.


No difference because the abyss is infinite, God is infinite. How can you meet him gradually? But these ninety-nine steps will befool you. Patanjali is more clever. Heraclitus is innocent: he simply says you, "This is the thing: the abyss is here. Jump!" He does not persuade you; he does not seduce you. He simply says, "This is the fact. If you want to jump, jump; if you don't want to jump, go away."


And he knows that to make steps is useless because finally one has to take the jump. But I think it will be good for you to follow Patanjali because, by and by, he seduces you. One step you can take at least, then the second becomes easier, then the third. And when you have taken ninety-nine steps, to go back will be difficult, because then it will look absolutely against your ego to go back: because then the whole world will laugh, and you had become such a great sage, and you are coming back to the world? And you were such a maha-yogi  --  a great yogi, and why you are coming back? Now you are caught, and you cannot go back.


Heraclitus is simple, innocent. His teaching is not of a kindergarten school, but he is a child  --  that's right  --  innocent like a child, wise also like a child. Patanjali is cunning, clever, but Patanjali will suit you because you need somebody who can lead you in a cunning way to a point from where you cannot go back. It becomes simply impossible.


Gurdjieff used to say that there are two types of Masters: one innocent and simple; another sly, cunning. He himself said, "I belong to the second category." Patanjali is the source of all sly Masters. They lead you to the rose garden, and then, suddenly, the abyss. And you are caught in such a grip of your own making, that you cannot go back. You meditated, you renounced the world, renounced wife and children. For years you were doing postures, meditating, and you created such an aura around you that people worshipped you. Millions of people looked at you as a god, and now comes the abyss. Now just to save you have to jump: just to save your prestige. Where to go? Now you cannot go.


Buddha is simple; Patanjali is sly. All science is cunningness. This has to be understood, and I am not saying it in any derogatory sense, remember; I am not condemning. All science is cunningness!


It is said that one follower of Lao Tzu  --  an old man, a farmer  --  was drawing water from a well, and instead of using bullocks or horses, he himself  --  an old man  --  and his son, they were working like bullocks and carrying the water out of the well, perspiring, the old man, breathing hard. It was difficult.


A follower of Confucius was passing. He said to this old man, that "Have you not heard? This is very primitive. Why are you wasting your breath? Now bullocks can be used, horses can be used. Have you not heard that in the town, in the cities, how nobody is working like this that you are working? It is very primitive. Science has progressed fast."


The old man said, "Wait, and don't talk so loudly. When my son is gone, then I will reply." When the son was gone to do some work, he said, "Now you are a dangerous person. If my son ever hears about this, immediately he will say, 'Okay! Then I don't want to pull this. I can't do this work of a bullock. A bullock is needed.' "


The disciple of Confucius says, "What is wrong in that?" The old man said, "Everything is wrong in it because it is cunningness. It is deceiving the bullock; it is deceiving the horse. And one thing leads to another. And if this boy who is young and not wise, if he once knows that you can be cunning with animals, he will wonder why cannot you be cunning with man. Once he knows that through cunningness you can exploit, then I don't know where he will stop. You please go from here, and never come back again to this road. And don't bring such cunning things to this village. We are happy."


Lao Tzu is against science. He says science is cunningness. It is deceiving nature, exploiting nature  --  through cunning ways, forcing nature. And the more a man becomes scientific, the more cunning; has to be so. An innocent man cannot be scientific, difficult. But man has become cunning and clever. And Patanjali, knowing well that to be scientific is a cunningness, also knows that man can only be brought back to nature through a new device, a new cunningness.


Yoga is science of the inner being. Because you are not innocent, you have to be brought through a cunning way. If you are innocent, no means are needed, no methods are needed. A simple understanding, a childlike understanding, and you will be transformed. But you are not. That's why you feel that Patanjali seems to be very great. It is because of your head-oriented mind and your cunningness.


Second thing to remember: he appears difficult. And you think Heraclitus is simple? He appears difficult, that too becomes an appeal for the ego. The ego always wants to do something which is difficult, because against the difficult you feel you are someone. If something is very simple, how the ego can feed out of it?


People come to me and they say, "Sometimes you teach that just by sitting and doing nothing it can happen. How can it be so simple? How can it be so easy?" Says Chuang Tzu, "Easy is right," but these people say, 'No! How can it be so easy? It must be difficult  --  very, very difficult, arduous."


You want to do difficult things because when you are fighting against a difficulty, against the current, you feel you are someone  --  a conqueror. If something is simple, something is so easy that even a child can do it, then where your ego will stand? You ask for hurdles, you ask for difficulties, and if there are not difficulties you create, so that you can fight, so that you can fly against a strong wind and you can feel that, "I am someone  --  a conqueror!"


But don't be so smart. You know the phrase "smart aleck"? You may not know from where it comes  --  it comes from Alexander. The "aleck" word comes from Alexander, a short form. "Don't be a smart Alexander." Be simple: don't try to be a conqueror, because that is foolish. Don't try to be a somebody.


But Patanjali appealed; Patanjali appealed to the Indian ego very much, so India created the most subtle egoists in the world. You cannot find more subtle egoists anywhere in the world as you can find in India. It is almost impossible to find a simple yogi. Yogi cannot be simple, because he is doing so many asanas, so many mudras, and he is working so hard, how can he be simple? He thinks himself to be at the top  --  a conqueror. The whole world has to bow down to him; he is the cream  --  the very salt of life.


You go and watch yogis: you will find them very, very refined egos. Their inner shrine is still empty; the divine has not come in. That shrine is still a throne for their own egos. They may have become very subtle; they may have become so subtle that they may appear to be very humble, but in their humbleness also, if you watch, you will find the ego.


They are aware that they are humble, that's the difficulty. A really humble person is not aware that he is humble. A really humble person is simply humble, not aware, and a real humble person never claims that "I am humble," because all claims are of the ego. Humility cannot be claimed; humbleness is not a claim, it is a state of being. And all claims fulfill the ego. Why this happened? Why India became a very subtle-egoist country? And when there is ego, you become blind.


Now ask Indian yogis: they are condemning the whole world. West, they say it is materialist  --  only India is spiritual. The whole world is materialist, as if there is a monopoly. And they are so blind, they cannot see the fact that exactly opposite is the case.


The more I have been watching Indian and the western mind, I feel the western mind is less materialist than the Indian. The Indian mind is more materialist, clings to things more, cannot share, is miserly. The western mind can share, is less miserly. Because the West has created so much materialist affluence does not mean that the West is materialist, and because India is poor does not mean that you are spiritualists.


If poverty is spirituality, then impotence would be BRAHMACHARYA. No, poverty is not spirituality; neither affluence is materialism. Materialism doesn't belong to the things, it belongs to the attitude. Neither spirituality belongs to poverty, it belongs to the inner, non-attached, sharing. You cannot find in India anybody sharing anything. Nobody can share; everybody hoards. And because they are such hoarders, they are poor. Because few people hoard too much, then many people become poor.


The West has been sharing. That's why the whole society rises from poverty to affluence. In India, few people become so rich, you cannot find so rich people anywhere else  --  but few  --  and the whole society drags itself into poverty, and the gap is vast. You cannot find such a gap anywhere. The gap between a Birla and a beggar is vast. Such a gap cannot exist anywhere, is not in existence anywhere. Rich people are in the West, poor people are in the West, but the gap is not so vast. Here the gap is simply infinite. You cannot imagine such a gap. How can it be fulfilled? It cannot be fulfilled because the people are materialist. Otherwise how this gap? Why this gap? Can't you share? Impossible! But the ego says that the whole world, the whole world, is materialist.


This has come because people were attracted to Patanjali and to people who were giving difficult methods. Nothing is wrong with Patanjali, but Indian ego found a beautiful, subtle outlet to be egoist.


The same is happening to you. Patanjali appeals you; he is difficult. Heraclitus is "kindergarten" because he is so simple. Simplicity never appeals the ego. But, remember, if simplicity can become an appeal, the path is not long. If difficulty becomes the appeal, then the path is going to be very long because, from the very beginning, rather than dropping the ego, you have started accumulating it.


I am speaking on Patanjali not to make you more egoist. Look and watch. I am always afraid of talking about Patanjali; I am never afraid about talking Heraclitus, Basho, Buddha. I am afraid because of you. Patanjali is beautiful, but you can be attracted for wrong reasons, and this will be a wrong reason if you think he is difficult, and the very difficulty becomes an attraction. Somebody asked Edmund Hillary, who conquered the Everest  --  the highest peak, the only peak which was unconquered  --  somebody asked, "Why? Why you take such trouble? What is the need? And even if you reach to the peak, what you will do? You will have to come back."


Said Hillary that, "It is a challenge to the human ego. An unconquered peak has to be conquered!" No other utility... What you will do? What he has done? He went there and put a flag and came back. What nonsense! And many people died in this effort. Almost for hundred years many groups had been trying. Many died, were lost, fell into the abyss, never came back, but the more it became difficult to reach, the more appeal.


Why go to moon? What will you do? Is not earth enough? But, no, the human ego cannot tolerate this  -- that the moon remains unconquered. Man must reach, because it is so difficult, it has to be conquered. So you can be attracted for wrong reasonS. Now going to moon is not a poetic effort; it is not like small children who raise their hands and try to catch the moon.


Since humanity came into existence every child has longed to reach to the moon. Every child has tried, but the difference must be understood deeply. The effort of a child is beautiful. The moon is so beautiful. It is a poetic effort to touch it, to reach it. There is no ego. It is a simple attraction, a love affair. Every child falls in that love affair. If you can find a child who is not attracted by the moon, what type of child is that?


Moon creates a subtle poetry, a subtle attraction. One would like to touch it and feel it; one would like to go to the moon. But that is not the reason for the scientist. For the scientist the moon is there, a challenge. How this moon dares to be there continuously, to be a challenge, and man is here and he cannot reach! He has to reach.


You can be attracted for wrong reasons. The fault is not with moon, neither the fault will be with Patanjali. But you should not be attracted for wrong reasons. Patanjali is difficult  --  the most difficult  --  because he analyzes the whole path, and each fragment seems to be very difficult, but difficulty should not be the appeal  --  remember that. You can walk through Patanjali's door but you should fall in love not with the difficulty, but with the insight  -- the light that Patanjali throws on the path. You should fall in love with the light, not with the difficulty of the path. That will be a wrong reason.


WHAT YOU HAVE BEEN SAYING ABOUT HERACLITUS, CHRIST AND ZEN SEEMS LIKE KINDERGARTEN TEACHINGS COMPARED TO PATANJALI.


And please don't compare. Comparison is also out of the ego. In real existence, things exist without any comparison. A tree which reaches four hundred feet into the sky, and a very, very small grass flower are both the same as far as existence is concerned. But you go and you say, "This is a great tree. And what is this? Just ordinary grass." You bring the comparison in, and wherever comparison comes, comes ugliness. You have destroyed a beautiful phenomenon.


The tree was great in its "tree-ness" and the grass was great in its "grassiness". The tree may have risen four hundred feet. Its flowers may flower in the highest sky, and the grass is just clinging to the earth. Its flowers will be very, very small. Nobody may be even aware when they flower and when they fade. But when this grass flowers, the phenomenon of flowering is the same, the celebration is the same, and there is not a bit of difference. Remember this: that in existence there is no comparison; mind brings the comparison. It says, "you are more beautiful." Can't you simply say, "You are beautiful"? Why bring "more"?


Mulla Nasruddin was in love with a woman, and as women are prone to ask, the woman asked, when Mulla Nasruddin kissed her, "Are you kissing me the first woman? Am I the first woman whom you are kissing? Is your first kiss given to a woman?" Nasruddin said, "Yes, the first and the most sweetest."


Comparison is in your blood. You cannot remain with a thing as it is. The woman is also asking for a comparison; otherwise why be worried about whether this is a first kiss or a second? Each kiss is fresh and virgin. It has no relationship with any other kiss of the past or of the future. Each kiss is an existence in itself. It exists alone in its solitariness. It is a peak in itself; it is a unit  --  not in any way connected with the past or with the future. Why ask whether it is the first? And what beauty the first carries? And why not the second, and why not the third?


But the mind wants to compare. Why the mind wants to compare? Because through comparison ego is fed, that "I am the first woman; this is the first kiss." You are not interested in the kiss  --  in the quality of the kiss. This moment the kiss opened a door of heart; you are not interested in that, that is nothing. You are interested in whether it is a first or not. The ego is always interested in comparison, and existence knows no comparison. And people like Heraclitus, Patanjali, they live in existence, not in mind. Don't compare them.


Many people come to me and they say that, "Who is great, Buddha or Christ?" What foolishness to ask! "Buddha is greater than Christ and Christ is greater than Buddha n I say to them; "Why you go on comparing?n A subtle thing is there working. If you are a follower of Christ, you would like Christ to be the greatest because you can only be great if Christ is the greatest. It is a fulfillment of your own ego. How can your Master not be the greatest? He has to be because you are such a great disciple. And if Christ is not the greatest, then where Christians will be? If Buddha is not the greatest, then what will happen to the ego of the Buddhists?


Every race, every religion, every country, thinks itself to be the greatest  --  not because any country is great, not because any race is great: in this existence everything is the greatest. The existence creates only the greatest, every being unique. But that doesn't appeal to the mind because then greatness is so common. Everybody great? Then what is the use of it! Somebody has to be lower. A hierarchy has to be created.


Just the other night, I was reading a book of George Mikes, and he said that in Budapest, in Hungary, where he is born, one English woman fell in love with him. In Hungary, an English woman fell in love with him. But he was not much in love; but he didn't want to be rude also, so when she asked that, "Can we not get married?" he said "It will be difficult because my mother will not allow me, and will not be happy if I marry a foreigner." The English lady was very much offended. She said, "What? I and a foreigner? I am not a foreigner! I am English! You are a foreigner and your mother too!" Mikes said that, 'in Budapest, in Hungary, I am a foreigner?" The woman said, "Yes! Truth does not depend on geography."


Everybody thinks that way. The mind tries to fulfill its desires, to be the most supreme-most. From religion race, country, everything, one has to be watchful  --  very watchful. Only then you can get beyond this subtle phenomenon of the ego.
HERACLITUS, CHRIST AND ZEN MAKE THE FINAL STEP SEEM CLOSE; PATANJALI MAKES EVEN THE FIRST STEP SEEM ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE.
 --  because it is both. "He is closer than the closest and he is farther than the farthest, says the Upanishad. He is both near and far. He has to be, because who will be far then? And he has to be near also, because who will be near you? He touches your skin, and he is spread beyond the boundaries. He is both!


Heraclitus emphasizes the nearness because he is a simple man. And he says that he is so near, nothing is needed to do to bring him nearer. He is almost there; he is just watching at the gate, knocking at your door, waiting near your heart. Nothing is to be done. You simply be silent and have a look; just sit silently and look. You have never lost him. The truth is near.


In fact, to say it is near is wrong because you are also truth. Even nearness seems to be very, very far; even nearness shows that there is a distinction, a distance, a gap. Even that gap is not there: you are it! Says the Upanishad, "Thou art that: tattwamasi swetaketu." You are already that: even that much distance is not there to say that he is close.


Because Heraclitus and Zen they want you to take the jump immediately  --  not wait. Patanjali says he is very far. He is also right: he is very far also. And he will appeal you more, because if he is so close and you have not attained him, you will feel very, very depressed. If he is so close, just by the side of the corner, just standing by the side of you, if he is the only neighbor, and from everywhere he surrounds you and you have not achieved, your ego will feel very very frustrated. Such a great man like you, and he is so near and you are missing? That seems very frustrating. But if he is very far, then everything is okay because time is needed, effort is needed  --  nothing is wrong with you, he is so far away.


Distance is such a vast thing. You will take time, you will go, you will move, and one day you will achieve. If he is near, then you will feel guilty. Then why you are not achieving him? Reading Heraclitus and Basho and Buddha, one feels uncomfortable. Never that happens with Patanjali. One feels at ease.


Look at the paradox of the mind. With the easiest of people one feels uncomfortable. Uncomfort comes from you. To move with Heraclitus or Jesus is very uncomfortable because they go on insisting that the kingdom of God is within you, and you know that nothing exists except hell within you. And they insist the kingdom of God is within you; it becomes uncomfortable.


If the kingdom of God is within you, the something is wrong with you. Why you cannot see it? And if it is so present, why not it can happen right this moment? That is the message of Zen  --  that it is immediate. There is no need to wait, no need to waste time. It can happen right now, this very moment. There is no excuse. This makes uncomfortable; you feel uncomfortable, you cannot find any excuse. With Patanjali millions of excuses you can find, that he is very far. Millions of lives effort is needed. Yes, it can be attained, but always in the future. You are at ease. There is no urgency about it, and you can be as you are right now. Tomorrow morning you will start moving on the path, and the tomorrow never comes.


Patanjali gives you space, future. He says, "do this and that and that, and by and by you will reach  --  some day, nobody knows  --  in some future life." You are at ease, no urgency. You can be as you are; there is no hurry.


These Zen people, they drive you crazy, and I drive you more crazy, Mm?  --  because I talk from both the sides. This is just a way. This is a koan. This is just a way to drive you crazy. Heraclitus I use, Patanjali I use but these are tricks to drive you crazy. You simply cannot be allowed to relax. Whenever there is future, you are okay. Then the mind can desire God, and nothing is wrong with you. The very phenomenon is such that it will take time. This becomes an excuse.


With Patanjali you can postpone; with Zen you cannot postpone. If you postpone, it is you who are postponing, not God. With Patanjali you can postpone because the very nature of God is such that it can be attained only in gradual ways. Very, very difficult, that's why with difficulty you feel comfortable, and this is the paradox people who say it is easy, you feel un-comfortable; people who say difficult, you feel comfortable. It should be just the otherwise.


And the truth is both, so it depends on you. If you want to postpone, Patanjali is perfect. If you want it here and now, then you will have to listen to Zen and you will have to decide. Are you in an urgency? Have you not suffered enough? Do you want to suffer more? Then Patanjali is perfect. You follow Patanjali. Then somewhere in the distant future you will attain to bliss. But if you have suffered enough  --  and this is what maturity is: to understand that you have suffered enough.


And you call Heraclitus and Zen for children? Kindergarten? This is the only maturity, to have realized that, "I have suffered enough." If you feel this, then an urgency is created, then a fire is created. Something has to be done right now! You cannot postpone it; there is no meaning in postponing. You have postponed it already enough. But if you want future, you would like to suffer a little more, you have become addicted with the hell, just one day more to remain the same, or you would like some modifications...


That's what Patanjali says: "Do this, do that, slowly. Do one thing, then another thing," and millions of things have to be done, and they cannot be done immediately, so you go on modifying yourself. Today you take a vow that you will be non-violent, tomorrow you will take another vow. Then day after tomorrow you will become a celibate, and this way it goes on and on, and then there are millions of things to be left: Lying is to be dropped, violence is to be dropped, aggression is to be dropped; anger, hate, jealousy, possessiveness  --  millions of things you have  --  by and by. And meanwhile you remain the same.


How can you drop anger if you have not dropped hate? How can you drop anger if you have not dropped jealousy? How can you drop anger if you have not dropped aggressiveness? They are interrelated. So you say that now you will no more be angry, but what are you talking? Nonsense! Because you will remain hateful, you will remain aggressive, you will like to dominate, you love to be at the top, and you are dropping anger? How you can drop it? They are interrelated.


This is what Zen says: that if you want to drop, understand the phenomenon that everything is related. Either you drop it now, or you never drop it. Don't befool. You can simply whitewash: a little here, a patch there, and the old house remains with all its oldness. And while you go on working, painting the walls and filling the holes and this and that, you think you are creating a new life, and meanwhile you continue the same. And the more you continue, the more it becomes deep-rooted.


Don't deceive. If you can understand, understanding is immediate. That is the message of Zen. If you cannot understand, then something has to be done, and Patanjali will be good. You follow Patanjali. One day or other, you will have to come to an understanding where you will see that this whole thing has been a trick  --  trick of your mind to avoid, to avoid the reality, to avoid and escape  --  and that day suddenly you will drop.


Patanjali is gradual, Zen is sudden. If you cannot be sudden, then it is better to be gradual. Rather than being nothing, neither this nor that, it is better you be gradual. Patanjali will also bring you to the same situation, but he will give you a little space. It is more comfortable  --  difficult, but more comfortable. No immediate transformation is demanded, and with gradual progress, mind can fit.
HERACLITUS, CHRIST AND ZEN MAKE THE FINAL STEP SEEM CLOSE; PATANJALI MAKES EVEN THE FIRST STEP SEEM ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE. IT SEEMS LIKE US WESTERNERS HAVE HARDLY BEGUN TO REALIZE THE AMOUNT OF WORK THAT HAS TO BE DONE.


It is up to you. If you want to do the work, you can do. If you want to realize without doing the work, that too is possible. That too is possible! It is up to you to choose! If you want to do hard work, I will give you hard work. I can create even more steps. Patanjali can be made even more long, stretched. I can put the goal even farther away; I can give you impossible things to do. It is your choice. Or if you want really to realize, then this can be done this very moment. It is up to you. Patanjali is a way of looking, Heraclitus is also a way of looking.


Once it happened: I was passing through the street and I saw a small child eating a very big watermelon. The melon was too big for him, and I looked and I watched and I saw that he is finding a little difficulty to finish. So I asked him, I told him, "It seems to be really too big; isn't it so?n The boy looked at me and said, "No! Not enough me."


He is also right. Everything can be looked from two standpoints. God is near and far. Now it is for you to decide from where you would like to take the jump  -- from the near or from the far. If you want to take the jump from the far, then come all the techniques, because they will take you far, from there you will take the jump. It is just like you are standing on this shore of the ocean; the ocean is here also and there at the other shore also  --  which is completely invisible, very, very far away. You can take the jump from this shore because it is the same ocean, but if you decide to take the jump from the other shore Patanjali gives you a boat.


The whole yoga is a boat to go to the other shore, to take the jump. It is up to you. You can enjoy the journey; there is nothing wrong in it. I am not saying it is wrong. It is up to you. You can take the boat and go to the other shore, and take the jump from there. But the same ocean exists. Why not take from this shore? The jump will be the same, and the ocean will be the same, and you will be the same. What difference does it make to go to the other shore? There may be people on the other shore, and they may be trying to come here. There are also Patanjalis; they have made boats there. They are coming towards here to take the jump from the faraway.


It happened: one man was trying to cross a road. And it was a peak hour, and it was difficult to cross the road; so many cars going so fast, and he was a very very mild man. He tried many times and then came back. Then he saw Mulla Nasruddin on the other side  --  old acquaintance. He cried, "Nasruddin, how you crossed the road?" Nasruddin said, "I never crossed. I was born on this side."


There are people who are always thinking of the distant shore. The distant always looks beautiful, the distant has a magnetism of its own, because it is covered in mist. But the ocean is the same. It is up to you to choose. Nothing is wrong, going to that ocean, but go for right reasons. You may be simply avoiding the jump from this shore. Then even if the boat leads you to the other shore, the moment you reach the other shore you will start thinking of this shore, because then this will be the faraway point. And many times, in many lives, you have done this. You have changed the shore, but you have not taken the jump.


I have seen you crossing the ocean from this side to that and from that side to this. Because this is the problem: that shore is far away because you are here; when you will be there, this shore will be far away. And you are in such a sleep that you completely forget again and again that you have been to that shore also. By the time you reach to the other shore, you have forgotten the shore that you have left behind. By the time you reach, oblivion takes over.


You look to the distant, and again somebody says, "here is a boat, sir. You can go to the other shore, and you can take the jump from there because God is very, very far away." And you again start preparation to leave this shore. Patanjali gives you a boat to go to the other, but when you have reached to the other, Zen will give you always the jump. The final jump is of the Zen. Meanwhile you can do many things; that is not the point. Whenever you will take the jump it will be a sudden jump. It cannot be gradual!


All "gradualness" is going from this shore to that. But nothing is wrong in it. If you enjoy the journey it is beautiful, because he is here, he is in the middle, he is at that shore also. No need to reach to the other shore either. You can take the jump in the middle also, just from the boat. Then boat becomes the shore. From where you jump is the shore. Every moment you can take the jump; then it becomes the shore. If you don't take the jump, then it is no more the shore. It depends on you, remember this well.


That's why I am talking about all contradictory standpoints, so that you can understand from everywhere and you can see the reality from everywhere and then you can decide. If you decide to wait a little, beautiful. If you decide to take right now, beautiful. To me everything is beautiful and great, and I have no choice. I simply give you all the choices. If you say, "I would like to wait a little," I say, "Good! I bless you. Wait a little." If you say, "I am ready and I want to jump, I say, "Jump, with my blessings."


For me there is no choice  --  neither Heraclitus, nor Patanjali. I am simply opening all the doors for you with the hope that you may enter some door. But remember the tricks of the mind. When I talk about Heraclitus, you think it is too vague, too mysterious, too simple. When I talk about Patanjali, you think it is too difficult, almost impossible. I open the door, and you interpret something and take a judgment and you stop yourself. The door is open not for you to judge. I he door is open for you to enter.

The second question:
<p class="question">YOU TALKED OF MOVING FROM FAITH TO TRUST. HOW CAN WE USE THE MIND THAT SWINGS FROM DOUBT TO BELIEF TO GO BEYOND THESE TWO POLARITIES?</p>


Doubt and belief are not different  --  two aspects of the same coin. This has to be understood first, because people think that when they believe, they have gone beyond doubt. Belief is the same as doubt because both are mind concern Your mind argues, says no, finds no proof to say yes; you doubt. Then your mind finds arguments to say yes, proofs to say yes, you believe. But in both the cases you believe in reason; in both the cases, you believe in arguments. The difference is just on the surface; deep down you believe in the reasoning, and trust is dropping out of reasoning. It is mad! It is irrational! It is absurd!


And I say trust is not faith; trust is a personal encounter. Faith again is given and borrowed. It is a conditioning. Faith is a conditioning parents, culture, society give you. You don't bother about it; you don't make it a personal concern. It is a given thing, and which is given and which has not been a personal growth, is just a facade, a false face, a Sunday face.


On six days you are different; you enter church and you put on a mask. See how people behave in church; so gently, so humanly  --  the same people! Even a murderer comes to church and prays, see the face  -- it looks so beautiful and innocent, and this man has killed. In church you have a proper face to use, and you know how to use it. It has been a conditioning. From the very childhood it has been given to you.


Faith is given; trust is a growth. You encounter reality, you face reality, you live reality, and by and by you come to an understanding that doubt leads to hell, misery. The more you doubt, the more miserable you become. If you can doubt completely, you will be in a perfect misery. If you are not in a perfect misery, that is because you cannot doubt completely: You still trust. Even an atheist, he also trusts. Even a man who doubts whether the world exists or not, he also trusts; otherwise he cannot live, life will become impossible.


If doubt becomes total, you cannot live a single moment. How can you breathe in if you doubt? If you really doubt, who knows the breath is not poisonous! Who knows millions of germs are not being carried into! Who knows cancer is not coming through the breath! If you really doubt, you cannot even breathe. You cannot live a single moment; you will die immediately. Doubt is suicide. But you never doubt perfectly, so you linger on. You linger on; you somehow drag on. But your life is not total. Just think: if total doubt is suicide, then total trust will be the absolute life possible.


That's what happens to a man of trust: he trusts, and the more he trusts, the more he becomes capable to trust. The more he becomes capable of trust, the more life opens. He feels more, he lives more, he lives intensely. Life becomes an authentic bliss. Now he can trust more. Not that he is not deceived, because if you trust, that doesn't mean that nobody is going to deceive you. In fact, more people will deceive you because you become vulnerable. If you trust, more people will deceive you, but nobody can make you miserable; that's the point to understand. They can deceive, they can steal things from you, they can borrow money and they will never return  --  but nobody can make you miserable  --  that becomes impossible. Even if they kill you, they cannot make you miserable.


You trust, and trust makes you vulnerable  --  but absolutely victorious also, because nobody can defeat you. They can deceive, they can steal, you may become a beggar, but still you will be an emperor. Trust makes emperors out of beggars and doubt makes beggars out of emperors. Look at an emperor, who cannot trust; he is always afraid. He cannot trust his own wife, he cannot trust his own children, because a king possesses so much that the son will kill him, the wife will poison him. He cannot trust anybody. He lives in such a distrust, he is already in hell. Even if he sleeps, he cannot relax. Who knows what's going to happen!


Trust makes you more and more open. Of course, when you are open, many things will become possible. When you are open, friends will reach to your heart; of course, enemies can also reach to your heart  --  the door is open. So there are two possibilities. If you want to be secure, you close the door completely. Bolt it, lock it and hide within. Now no enemy can enter, but no friend can enter also. Even if God comes, he cannot enter. Now nobody can deceive you, but what is the point? You are in a grave. You are already dead. Nobody can kill you, but you are already dead; you cannot come out. You live in security, of course, but what type of life is this? You don't live at all. Then you open the door.


Doubt is closing the door; trust is opening the door. When you open the door, all the alternatives become possible. Friend may enter, foe may enter. Wind will come; it will bring the perfume of the flowers; it will also bring the germs of diseases. Now everything is possible  --  the good and bad. Love will come; hate will also come. Now God can come, devil can also come This is the fear that something may go wrong, so close the door. But then everything goes wrong. Open the door  --  something is possible to go wrong, but for you, nothing, if your trust is total. Even in the enemy you will find the friend and even in the devil you will find God. Trust is such a transformation that you cannot find the bad because your whole outlook has changed.


That is the meaning of Jesus' saying, "Love your enemies." How can you love your enemies? It has been a problem to be solved  --  an enigma for Christian theologians. How can you love your enemy? But a man of trust can do, because a man of trust knows no enemies. A man of trust knows only the friend. In whatsoever form he comes makes no difference. If he. comes to steal he is the friend; if he comes to take he is the friend, if he comes to give he is the friend: in whatsoever form he comes.


It happened that Al-Hillaj Mansoor, a great mystic, a great Sufi, was murdered, killed, crucified. The last of his words were  --  he looked at the sky  --  and he said, "But you cannot deceive me." Many people were there, and Al-Hillaj was smiling, and he said towards the sky "Look, you cannot deceive me." So somebody asked "What do you mean? To whom you are talking?" He said, "I am talking to my God: in whatsoever form you come you cannot deceive me. I know you well. Now you have come as death. You cannot deceive me."


A man of trust cannot be deceived. In whatsoever form, whosoever comes, it is always the divine coming to him because trust makes everything holy. Trust is an alchemy. It transforms not only you; it transforms for you the whole world. Wherever you look you find him: in the friend, in the foe; in the night, in the day. Yes, Heraclitus is right. God is summer and winter, day and night, God is satiety and hunger. This is trust. Patanjali makes trust the base  --  the base of all growth.
YOU TALKED OF MOVING FROM FAITH TO TRUST...


Faith is that which is given; trust is that which is found. Faith is given by your parents; trust has to be found by you. Faith is given by the society; trust you have to search and seek and inquire Trust is personal, intimate; faith is like a commodity. You can purchase it in the market.


You can purchase it in the market  --  when I say it, I say it with a very considered mind. You can go and become a Mohammedan; you can go and become a Hindu. Go in an Arya temple and you can be converted to be a Hindu. There is no difficulty. Faith can be purchased in the market. From Mohammedan you can become Hindu, from Hindu you can become Jain. It is so simple that any foolish priest can do it. But trust  --  it is not a commodity. You cannot go and find it in the market, you cannot purchase it. You have to pass through many experiences. By and by it arises; by and by it changes you. A new quality, a new flame comes to your being.


When you see that doubt is misery, then comes trust. When you see faith is dead, then comes trust. You are a Christian, Hindu, Mohammedan; have you ever observed that you are completely dead? What type of Christian you are? If you are really a Christian, you will be a Christ  --  nothing less than that. Trust will make you Christ, faith will make you a Christian  --  a very poor substitute. What type of Christian you are? Because you go to the church, because you read the Bible? Your faith is not a knowing. It is an ignorance.


It happened in a Rotary Club somewhere: a great economist came to talk. He talked in the jargon of the economics. The priest of the town was also present to listen to him. After the talk, he came to him and said, "It was a beautiful talk you gave, but to be frank, I couldn't follow a single word." The economist said, "In that case, I would say to you what you say to your listeners: have


When you cannot understand, when you are ignorant, the whole society says, "Have faith." I will say to you: it is better to doubt than to have a false faith. It is better to doubt, because doubt will create misery. Faith is a consolation; doubt will create misery. And it there is misery, you will have to seek trust. This is the problem the dilemma that has happened in the world. Because of faith, you have forgotten how to seek trust. Because of faith you have become trustless. Because of faith you carry corpses: you are Christians Hindus, Mohammedans, and you miss the whole point. Because of faith you think you are religious. Then the inquiry stops.


Honest doubt is better than dishonest faith. If your faith is false  --  and all faith is false if you have not grown into it, if it is not your feeling and your being and your experience  --  all faith is false! Be honest. Doubt! Suffer! Only suffering will bring you to understanding. If you suffer truly one day or other you will understand that it is doubt that is making me suffer. And then the transformation becomes possible.


You ask me, HOW CAN WE USE THE MIND THAT SWINGS FROM DOUBT TO BELIEF TO GO BEYOND THESE TWO POLARITIES?


You cannot use it, because you have never been an honest doubter. Your faith is false: doubt is deep down hidden. Just on the surface a whitewash of faith is there. Deep down you are doubtful  --  but you are afraid to know that you are doubtful, so you go on clinging with faith, you go on making gestures of faith. You can make gestures, but through gestures you cannot attain to reality. You can go and bow down in a shrine; you are making the gesture of a man who trusts. But you will not grow, because deep down there is no trust, only doubt. Faith is just superimposed.


It is just like kissing a person you don't love. From the outside everything is the same, you are making the gesture of kissing. No scientist can find any difference. If you kiss a person, the photograph, the physiological phenomenon, the transfer of millions of germs from one lip to another, everything, exactly is the same whether you love or not. If a scientist watches and observes, what will be the difference? No difference  --  not even a single iota of difference He will say both are kisses and exactly the same.


But you know when you love a person then something of the invisible passes which cannot be detected by any instrument. When you don't love a person, then you can give the kiss, but nothing passes. No energy communication, no communion happens. The same is with faith and trust. Trust is a kiss with love, with a deeply loving heart, and faith is a kiss without any love.


So from where to begin? The first thing is to inquire into the doubt. Throw the false faith. Become an honest doubter  --  sincere. Your sincerity will help, because if you are honest how can you miss the point that doubt creates suffering? If you are sincere, you are bound to know. Sooner or later you will come to realize that doubt has been creating more misery  -- the more you go into doubt, the more misery. And only through misery one grows.


And when you come to a point where misery becomes impossible to tolerate, intolerable, you drop it. Not that really you drop it; the very intolerability becomes the drop. And once there is not doubt and you have suffered through it, you start moving towards trust.


Trust is transformation  --  shraddha; and, says Patanjali, that shraddha  --  trust  --  is the base of all samadhi, of all ultimate experience of the divine.
			

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