---
section: Library
booktitle: "In Search of the Miraculous Vol 1"
booktype: "Translations"
bookcode: "MIRAC1"
dategiven: "03 May 1970 am"
place: " in"
chapternum: "Chapter #2"
chaptertitle: "Matter and God are One"
acode: "7005030"
shorttitle: "MIRAC102"
audio: "No"
video: "No"
esttime: ""
displaytitle: "In Search of the Miraculous Vol 1: Chapter #2"
---

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The universe is an expansion of energy, and life is the crystallization of it. What we see as matter, what we see as stone, is also energy. What is seen as life, what is experienced as thought, what is felt like consciousness is also a trans formation of energy. The whole cosmos -- whether it is the waves of the sea or the pine trees of the forest or the grains of sand or the stars in the skies or that which is within us -- all are manifestations of the same energy in infinite forms and ways.


It is difficult to say where we begin and where we end. It is equally difficult to say where our body ends. The body which we take to be our limit is not limited in itself. If the sun, who is a hundred million miles away, cools down, we will instantly freeze to death. This means that the sun is ever present in our beings, he is a part of our bodies. As soon as he will lose his heat we will perish. The heat of the sun is the heat of our bodies.


There is an ocean of air currents all around us from which we draw our vital energy -- the life breath. If it ceases to be available to us we would die immediately. Where does the body end? If you investigate fully then the whole universe is our body. Our body is limitless and infinite. And if you search rightly, you will find that the center of life is everywhere and it is expanding everywhere.


But to know it, to experience it, it is essential that we ourselves become energy that is tremendously alive.


What I call meditation is another name for freeing in every way the flow of energy that has gotten blocked up within us. So when you enter into meditation the hidden energy may awaken with such force that it gets connected with the energy on the outside. But as soon as this connection is established we be come like tiny leaves floating in the infinite ocean of winds. Then our separate existence is lost and we become one with the immeasurable.


What is it that is known after being one with the immeasurable? Up to now man has tried in every way to say it, but it could not be said. Kabir says, "I searched for him and searched a good deal. And in the course of the search itself I lost myself. He was found for sure, but only when I was no more. Who can now say what it is that is found? And how to say it?"


What Kabir said on having this experience for the first time he subsequently changed. When for the first time he experienced God, he said: It seems that the drop has entered into the ocean. His own words are:


"Searching on and on, O my friend,
Kabir lost himself.
A drop merged in the ocean;
how can it be found again?"


Kabir lost himself in the course of the search. The drop merged into the ocean; so how can it be re covered? But he changed it later, and the change is very significant. He said later that what he had said before was wrong, he was mistaken to say so. It was not the case of the drop entering the sea, but the sea itself had entered into the drop. If the drop had merged in the ocean there was a chance of recalling it, but recovery was far more difficult when the ocean had merged into the drop. And in the case of the drop entering the ocean, the drop would have said some thing about it. But it was now so difficult to say any thing when the sea itself had merged in the drop. So he said later:


"Searching on and on, my friend,
Kabir lost himself.
The sea merged in the drop,
so how can it be found again?"


It was a mistake to say earlier that drop had merged in the sea.
It is not that when we simply remain as vibrations of energy we enter the ocean of energy; it is just the other way about. When we become just trembling vibrations, live vibrations of energy, the ocean of energy enters us. In fact it is very difficult to say what happens. But it does not mean that we are not aware of that which happens. It is good to remember that an experience and the expression of it don't always go hand in hand. What we know we cannot say. Our capacity to know is infinite, but the capacity of words is very limited.


Let alone great experiences, even small ones cannot be expressed in words. Even if I have a head ache I cannot say it. If my heart aches with love it cannot be described. These, however, are minor experiences. So when God himself descends on us it is absolutely difficult to put it into words. But we know it nonetheless, and know it for certain.


But to know it, it is essential for us to simply become, in every way, vibrations of energy and nothing more -- as if we are a tempest, a storm, a boiling fountain of energy. Let us vibrate with such intensity, let every fiber of our being, every beat of our heart and our every breath be filled with such insatiable thirst, such prayerfulness and awaiting that we become thirst itself, we become prayer and awaiting itself. Let our very being disappear. In that moment alone a meeting with the divine takes place. And this meeting does not take place outside of us, but inside, as I said yesterday.


The sleeping serpent, the sleeping center is with in us. And it is from this sleeping center that the energy rises upward and spreads all over.


A seed is lying in the soil; then a flower blossoms out. To connect the flower and the seed the tree has to build a trunk between them and send forth branches around it. The flower is hidden in the seed; it does not come from without. But to make it manifest a connecting trunk is necessary. The trunk, however, stems from the seed itself, as does the flower. In the same way the seed force is lying within us. It needs a trunk to rise, and the trunk, too, is within us.


The route through which the seed force travels upward and reaches the flower lies very close to what we know as our spine. This flower has been called by various names. Those who have experienced it say it is like a thousand petaled lotus. Something flowers, something blossoms in our brain, as if a thousand-petaled lotus has blossomed.


But for its blossoming it is necessary that the energy rises from the base and reaches the summit, the center in the brain. And when this energy will begin to ascend, it will shake your whole being like an earth quake. This quaking has not to be stopped; rather you should cooperate with it. Ordinarily we would like to restrain it. Many people come and tell me that they are afraid of what is going to happen to them in meditation. But if you are afraid, no progress will be possible. Fear is the most irreligious state of mind. There is no greater sin than fear. It is perhaps the biggest rock around our neck to pull us down.


And our fears are strange, and very petty at that. Some people come and tell me that they are afraid of what people around us will say. Fear of people around you is such that it can prevent you from meeting God!


The civilized man has stopped laughing fully; he has also stopped crying. There is hardly any feeling or emotion which he experiences deeply. He always stands outside of every such situation; he is always in a state of limbo. He is afraid as he laughs. He is afraid as he cries. As far as men are concerned, they have completely stopped crying. They have no idea that crying is one of the dimensions of life, a significant part of life.


We have no idea that one who cannot weep and cry is missing something vital and basic in his life; a part of his life is blocked forever, and that part will hang heavy on him like a rock.


Those who want to enter the domain of energy, those who want to go on a pilgrimage to the temple of the supreme energy, they will have to shed all fear, and if the body begins to tremble and shake or begins to dance, allow it to happen with ease and spontaneity.


You will be surprised to know that all the techniques of yogic asanas -- body postures -- were discovered accidentally in meditation, in the various states of meditation. It is not that someone created them through thinking and deliberation. They were not created independently. In the state of meditation the body took different positions first, and then they were recognized as yogic postures. And gradually an association between the body and mind was revealed which said that when the mind is in a particular state, the body follows it with a particular posture of its own. And then it was formulated, that if the body is put in a particular position the mind will follow it by entering into a corresponding state of its own.


We know that when we feel like crying within, our eyes are filled with tears. It follows from it that if our eyes are filled with tears we will cry within. They are two ends of the same phenomenon. When we are angry our fists clench instinctively; when we are angry our teeth gnash and eyes redden on their own. As anger rises within us our hands on the outside rise immediately to hit someone's head. And when love visits us, then fists don't clench, teeth don't gnash and eyes do not redden -- on the other hand something else happens when we are in love. In the state of love even if the fists are clenched, they relax and open instinctively; the gnashing teeth loosen and relax, and the red eyes become normal and quiet. Love has its own ways.
In the same way the body has its own ways in different states of meditation.


Try to understand it in this way. If you disturb a particular position of the body, the corresponding state of the mind will soon be disturbed accordingly. Or if somebody asks you to be angry without the fists clenching, without the teeth gnashing and eyes red-dening, can you be angry? You simply cannot be angry. How can you express anger without the cooperation of its corresponding bodily organs? You cannot be angry if you are asked to do so without letting it affect your body in any way. Similarly, if someone asks you to love without letting your eyes be filled with love's elixir, without letting its waves pass through your hands, without your heartbeat quickening, without your breath being any different -- in short, without your body expressing your love in any manner, you will say, "Excuse me, it is very difficult; I simply can not do it."


So if during meditation your body begins to turn and twist in a particular way and if you try to prevent it, you will damage the inner state of meditation and then it cannot make any headway.


All the yogic asanas, bodily postures, have been made available to men through different states of meditation. In the same way the yogic mudras, or what we call gestures, were developed through meditation. You must have come across many kinds of Buddha statues wearing different yogic mudras. These mudras also came into being through some particular state of the mind. And subsequently a whole science of mudras was developed. Now it can be said from your exterior, from your bodily mudras -- provided you are not acting and you are allowing yourself to be taken over by meditation. It is happening to you internally.
Therefore please see that you don't come in their way or try to stop them.


My understanding is that dance, in the beginning, was born out of meditation. And I think all that is significant in life has had its origin in meditation. Meera did not have to go anywhere to learn dancing. People are mistaken if they think that Meera found God through dancing. Meera burst into dancing when she found God. The fact is otherwise: no one finds God through dancing, but one can dance if he finds God. What can a drop do but dance when a whole ocean enters into it? What can a beggar do but dance when he suddenly comes upon a treasure of infinite wealth?


But man has been so much crushed and crippled by civilization that he cannot dance. My understanding is that if we have to make the world once again religious, it would be necessary to regain the natural state of man's life -- his spontaneity, his ease.


So when meditative energy rises and your whole being begins to dance, don't obstruct your body, don't suppress your bodily movements. Otherwise all progress will be arrested, and that which was going to happen will not happen. And we are a fear stricken people. We say, "If I begin to dance what will my wife say who is here? What will my son say who is sitting next to me?" We say, "If I dance what will my husband think of me? He will say that I have gone mad." If this fear is there, no progress in the inner journey is possible.


Apart from bodily postures and gestures -- asanas and mudras -- many other things happen.


I know a person who is a thinker. He has visited any number of saints and sannyasins, monasteries and ashrams. He came to me about six months ago. He said that though he understood everything, nothing happened. I said to him that he himself did not allow things to happen. He became pensive on hearing it, and then said, "This had not occurred to me before. Perhaps you are right. But once I had taken part in a meditation led by you and I heard someone crying which made me wary. I sat uptight lest I weep too. I was afraid of what people would say."


I said to him, "What have you to do with people? Who are these people who are after everybody? They will not save you from death when you will come to death's door. And they will not share your misery when you will be in misery. And they will not light your path when you will lose it in the dark. But they rush to obstruct when your own lamp is about to be lit. Who are these people after all? Who is he really who comes to block your way? He is none other than you. You turn your own fears into 'people'. You project your own fears all around you."


He then said, "It is just possible. But I was really afraid when I saw someone crying, and I became uptight lest some such thing happened to me too." I said to him, "You go to a solitary place for a month and let go of yourself and let whatever happens happen." He said, "What do you mean to say?" And I explained, "If you feel like uttering four letter words, do it. If you feel like shouting, crying and screaming, let it happen. If you feel like dancing, dance, and if you feel like running, then run. And in case you feel like going crazy, go really crazy for a month." He interjected, "I cannot." When I asked why, he said, "If I do as you say, if I let go of myself completely, if I become natural and spontaneous, I am afraid I may really go mad."


I said to him, "It will make no difference what soever if you keep your madness suppressed; it is there. It will go if you allow it to express itself, and it will remain with you forever if you suppress it."


All of us have suppressed much. We have not allowed ourselves to cry and laugh; we have not al lowed ourselves to run and play and dance either. We have suppressed everything. We have closed all our doors from inside, and we have become our own prisoners and guards. We will have to open all our doors and windows if we want to go out and meet God. But then fear will assail us, because all that we have suppressed will surface. If you have suppressed tears they will surface, and if you have suppressed laughter, it will come up. Let them come out, and let them be washed away.


We are here, in this solitary place, so that fear of people will not affect us. And these pine trees will not be offended, they will not say a thing. Rather they will be pleased with you. And the waves of the ocean too will not take any offense. They are not afraid of anything. They roar when they feel like roaring and they go to sleep when they want to sleep. And so also these sands here will have no objection whatsoever.


Let go of yourselves completely and let whatsoever happens inside you happen. Don't resist. Dance if you feel like dancing, and shout if you feel like shouting. If you feel like running, then run. And even fall down if you feel like falling. Let go of yourself in every way. And if you do so you will suddenly find that some energy inside you has begun ascending in a spiral form, some force has begun to wake up. And you will also find that all the closed doors have begun to give way. Do not let any fears assail you in that moment. Be totally one with that inner movement, with the dance of that circular energy; lose yourself into them completely. Then the thing may happen.


It happens easily. But you are not ready to let go. And it is strange that very small things impede you, withhold you. The day you will reach and look back you will just laugh at the petty things that you allowed to come in your way. It would have been okay if they were something big, but they were really petty things.


If any of you have to ask any questions, ask and we will discuss them for a while. Then we will sit for meditation. You can put any questions that you have.
<p class="question">A FRIEND ASKS: IF EVERYTHING IN NATURE IS PURPOSELESS, WHY MAN ALONE SHOULD LIVE WITH A PURPOSE?</p>


Undoubtedly, if you can give up all purposes, there can be no greater purpose than this. If you can be natural, it is of the highest.


But man has become so unnatural that just to return to nature he will need to have a purpose -- purpose to be natural. This is unfortunate. And what I am saying is just this: give up everything, let go. But, at the moment, purposes have gripped us so powerfully that even giving them up will have to be turned into a purpose. We will have to give them up, and to give them up we will have to make efforts, although giving up needs no efforts. What efforts are involved if you have to give up something?


It is true that there is no purpose anywhere. But why? The reason is not that nature is purposeless; the reason is that what is, is, and there is no purpose be side it, outside of it.


A flower has bloomed. It has not bloomed for anyone, nor has it bloomed for being sold in the market. It has not bloomed so that a passer by may stop and enjoy its fragrance. Neither has it bloomed to win a gold medal or a decoration like padmashree. The flower has just bloomed, because blooming is its own joy. Blooming is the purpose of blooming; it is its own significance. So you can say that it has bloomed with out any purpose. And a thing can only bloom fully if it blooms without any purpose, because where there is a purpose there is necessarily some impediment.


If a flower has bloomed for some passer by to see it, then what will happen if there is no passer by to see? In that case the flower will not bloom; it will wait for the passer by to come. But if a flower refuses for a long time to bloom, it is just possible it may not bloom even when the passer-by comes. Because by then the habit of not blooming, the habit of remaining enclosed will have become too strong.
A flower blooms fully because it has no purpose whatsoever.


Man should be like this. But the difficulty with man is that he has ceased to be natural, he has become utterly unnatural. And if he has to go back to his naturalness, his spontaneity, this going back will again be a purpose.


When I talk about purpose it is like this- If you have a thorn in your foot, it has to be taken out with the help of another thorn. Now someone comes to me and says, "There is no thorn in my foot, so why should I take it out?" I would tell him, "Since the question does not arise why should you put the question at all?" The question simply does not arise, as there is no thorn in the foot. But in case it is there, another thorn will be necessary to take it out."


The friend may also say that since one thorn was such pain why should I ask him to push another into his foot? It is true that the first thorn is causing pain, but it cannot be taken out without the other. Of course, you have to see that you don't lodge the second thorn in your flesh out of a sense of gratitude to it, that it was good enough to help you get rid of the first one. That would be harmful. Once the thorn is out, both the thorns have to be thrown away together.


Once our unnatural life becomes natural again, it is necessary to put aside the natural with the unnatural, because to be completely natural even the thought of the natural will come in the way. Then whatsoever will be, will be.


No, I do not say that a purpose is necessary. But I talk of purpose because you have already collected any number of purposes in your life. You have any number of thorns in your flesh, and these thorns can be removed only with the help of other thorns.


The same friend asks if mind (MANA), intellect (BUDDHI) mind stuff (CHITTA) and ego (ahankara) are separate entities or they are different names for the same thing. He also wants to know if they are different from the atman or the soul, or they are one with it, and whether they are conscious or unconscious. He also wants to know what is conscious and what is unconscious, and their specific places in life.


The first thing is that in this world matter and consciousness are not two separate things. What we call matter is consciousness asleep and what we know as consciousness is matter awakened. In reality matter and mind are not different; they are different manifestations of the same thing. Existence is one, and that one is God or brahman or whatsoever you want to call it. When that one is asleep it appears as matter, and when awake it is mind, or consciousness. So don't treat matter and mind as separate entities; they are only utilitarian terms. They are not really different.


Even science has come to the conclusion that there is no such thing as matter. How amusing it is that fifty years ago Nietzsche declared that God is dead, and fifty years from now science will have to declare that God may or may not be dead but matter is certainly dead. As science goes deeper and deeper into matter it finds that matter is no more and only energy remains, only energy is.


What remains after the explosion or splitting of the atom is only particles of energy. And what we know as electrons, protons and neutrons are particles of electricity. In fact, it is not correct to call them particles, because particles connote matter. The scientists had to find a new word, which is quanta, which has a different connotation altogether. Quanta is both a particle and a wave. It is difficult to comprehend how a thing could be both a particle and a wave simultaneously, but quanta is both. Sometimes it behaves as a particle -- which is matter; and sometimes it behaves as a wave -- which is energy. Wave and energy are behaviors of the same quanta.


When science dug deep it found that only energy is, and when spirituality delved deep it found that only spirit or atman or soul is. And soul is energy. The time is just around the corner when a synthesis of science and religion will be achieved, and the distance that separates them will simply disappear. When the gap between matter and God has proved to be false, the gap between science and religion cannot exist for long. If matter and mind are not two, how can religion and science be two? The separation of science and religion was dependent on the separation of matter and mind.


To me, only one is; two simply don't exist. There is no place for duality; so the question of matter and mind does not arise. If you like the language of matter, you can say that everything is matter. And if you like the language of mind or consciousness, you can say that everything is consciousness. I for one prefer the language of consciousness. But why do I prefer it? Because, in my view, one should always prefer the language of the higher, which has greater possibility; one should not prefer the language of the lower, where possibility is less and less.


We can, for instance, say that only the seed is, and not the tree. And it is not wrong to say so, be cause the tree is only a transformation of the seed. But there is a danger involved in this statement. The danger is that some seeds may say, "If we are seeds all the way up, then why seek to become trees? We will remain as we are; we will remain seeds. " So it is better if we say that only trees are, and not seeds. Then the possibility for the seed to become a tree remains.


I prefer the language of consciousness, so that what is asleep can awaken, this possibility should be available.


There is a similarity between the materialist and the spiritualist; both of them accept only one -- either matter or mind. But there is a difference too. While the materialist accepts the primary thing and is thus deprived of the ultimate, the spiritualist accepts the ultimate which includes the primary in it. It is all inclusive; it does not exclude. I love the language of spirituality; and therefore I say that everything is consciousness. Consciousness asleep is matter, and consciousness awakened is consciousness. All is consciousness.


The second thing the friend wants to know is whether mind, intellect, mind stuff, and ego -- mana, buddhi, chitta and ahankara -- are separate entities or they are one. They are not separate entities, they are many faces of the same mind. It is like you ask whether the father, the son and the husband are separate individuals -- and I say no, he is one and the same man. We know that the same person is a father in relation to his son, a son in relation to his father, and a husband in relation to his wife. The same man can be a friend to one and an enemy to another. He may be beautiful to one and ugly to another. And the same man may be a master to one and servant to another. But he is one and the same man. In case you don't know his house and some person tells you that he saw his master there, and another day another person tells you that his servant lives in that house, and yet another day a young man says that his father lives there, and again a woman informs you that her husband is the owner of that house, then you will conclude that many people -- a master, a servant, a father and a husband -- live in that particular house. But the fact is that the same person is playing different roles in relation to different persons.


Our mind behaves in many ways. When it feels arrogant and says, "I am everything and others are nothing before me," then mind appears as ego. That is one way of mind's behavior. It is ego when it says, "I am everything." When it declares, "Everyone is just zero before me," then mind is ego.


And when the mind thinks, cogitates, it is intellect. But when it does not think or cogitate, when it simply moves about, rambles without any sense of direction, when it is unfocused, it is called mind stuff, or chitta. Intellect is mind with a direction, as is the mind of a scientist sitting in his lab and thinking how to split the atom. When the mind moves about with out any purpose and aim, when it kind of dreams and daydreams, when it thinks of becoming a billionaire or the president of a country, when it is unfocused, then it is chitta or mind stuff. Then it is just waving and wavering, it is incoherent and unorganized. And when it follows a well laid system of thought it is intellect.
These are the many ways of the mind. But it is all mind.


And the friend also wants to know if mind, intellect, mind stuff and ego are separate from the soul or the atman.


Do you think that when there is a storm in an ocean the ocean and the storm are separate? When the ocean is agitated and disturbed, we call it a storm. Similarly when the soul is agitated and disturbed, when it is restless, it is called mind. And when the mind is quiet it is again soul. Mind is the restless state of the soul, and soul is the quiet and tranquil state of the mind.


In other words, when consciousness is disturbed and agitated, when it is stirred and tempestuous, it is mind. That is why so long as you are in mind you can not be aware of the atman, or the soul. And for the same reason the mind ceases to be when it is in meditation. But what does it mean to cease? It means that the waves raging in the sea of the soul have quieted down. It is only then that you know you are a soul. So long as you are disturbed and restless, you know your self only as a mind.


The restless mind appears in many forms -- some times as ego, sometimes as intellect and sometimes as mind stuff. These are the different faces of the same restless mind.


The atman and mind are not separate. The atman and the body too are not separate; because the substance, the essence, the reality is one, and all these are transformations of the same. And if you know the one, all conflicts with the body or the mind, all strife comes to an end. Once you recognize the one, then it alone remains. Then the one abides in Rama as well as in Ravana. Then you will not worship Rama and kill Ravana. Then you will either worship both or kill both; because the same dwells in both -- Rama and Ravana.


Essence is one, its expressions are infinite. Truth is one, its forms are many. Existence is one; its faces and gestures are myriad.


But you cannot understand it if you approach it as a philosophy. You can understand it only if you approach it experientially, if you know it as an experience. All this I say just to explain it to you; this explanation cannot become your knowing, your experience. You will have to know it for yourself. And when you will enter into one and know it you will exclaim, "My God, what I had known as body is you; what I had known as mind is you, and what I had known as atman is also you!"


On knowing, only one remains. And this one is so vast, so immense that all gaps between the knower and the known and knowledge disappear. There the knower and the known become one. One of the rishis, the seers of the Upanishad asks, "Who is there who knows? Who is he who is known? Who is he who saw? Who is he who was seen? Who is he who experienced? And who is he who was experienced?" No, not even this much separation remains that you can distinguish the knower from the known, that you can say there are two. Even the experiencer ceases to be. All distances, all gaps, all separations simply vanish.


But thought cannot live without creating gaps and distances. Thought is bound to create distances. It will say this is the body, this is mind, this is soul and this is God. It will differentiate between the body and mind, between soul and God. Thought will bring in gaps and divisions which are not.


Why? Because thought cannot encompass and contain the total, the whole, in one piece. It is a very small opening through which things can only be seen piecemeal. If there is a big building with only a small opening in its wall and I try to look through it, will I be able to see the whole house? No, at first a chair will be seen, then a desk, and then the master of the house, and so on and so forth. Through a small opening the house can be seen only in fragments, never the whole of it altogether, because the opening is very small. But then I break open the wall and enter the house, and now the whole house is seen together.


Thought is a very small aperture in the mind through which we try to find truth. Through thought, truth is seen in fragments; truth is fragmented. But when you drop thoughts and enter a thought free space, which is meditation, then the total is observed. And the day the whole, the total is seen, we exclaim, "Jesus, it was all one seen in infinite forms!"
But this is possible only through experience.

Another friend wants to know how many years I took to enter meditation.


Entry into meditation happens in only a moment, though one may have to wait at its door for lives. Entry is a matter of a moment. Even "moment" is not the right word, because a moment is too long. If I say that it happens in a thousandth part of a moment, that too will be wrong, because even the thousandth part is time. In fact, meditation is entry into timelessness, into the timeless. When time ceases, entry into meditation happens, meditation happens.


So if someone says that it took him an hour or a year to get into meditation, he is wrong -- because when one really enters meditation, time ceases to be, time is no more there. Meditation transcends time, it is beyond time. Of course you can spend any number of lives outside the temple of meditation, making a round of the temple for umpteen times; but that is not entry into its inner sanctuary.


I too, spent many lives going round the temple of meditation, but it was not entry. When I entered, it happened in no time, it happened without time, it happened timelessly, it happened in timelessness.


The question that you have raised is rather difficult. If one were to keep an account of the time spent on the outskirts of the temple, it will come to countless lives. Even calculation is difficult, because it is an enormously long time; it is incalculable. But if you take just the event of entry into consideration, then it can not be said in terms of time, because it happens in between two moments. It happens when a moment has passed and the next moment has yet to arrive; it happens in the gap between two moments. It always happens in the gap between two moments.


That is why it cannot be said how much time it took me to enter meditation. It takes no time at all. It cannot take time, because you cannot enter the eternal through time. What is beyond time cannot be known through time.


I understand what you say. You can loiter around the temple as much as you like. That is a kind of going in circles; one can do so. For instance, I draw a circle with a center, and ask someone to reach the center. But even if he keeps moving on the circumference for lives and lives, he will never reach the center; howsoever fast he may run, he cannot make it. Even an airplane will be of no avail. Whatever he may do -- he may spend any amount of energy he has, but if he keeps to the circumference, he will never, never reach the center. And wherever he is at the circumference, he will always be distant, equidistant from the center. So it is meaningless to know how much one ran. He is still at the circumference where his distance from the center is always the same. And strangely enough it is the same distance from him as it was when he had not even begun the race.


If one is to reach the center he can do so only by quitting the circumference. He will have to stop running and take a jump. And when he will have reached the center and you will ask him how long it took him to run in circles to reach the center, what will he say? He will say that he did lots of traveling, lots of journeying on the circumference, but he could not reach. If you ask him about the length of his journey before he made it, he will again say that any length of journeying was useless, he could not reach through journeying. He will say that he reached only when he abandoned all journeying and took a quantum leap.


So it is not at all a question of length of time and space in meditation. Meditation does not happen in time. We all have spent lots and lots of time. And we all have wasted any amount of time. And the day meditation will happen to you, you too will not be able to say how much time it took. No, it is not at all a question of time.


Someone asked Jesus, "How long can one stay in that heaven of yours?" Jesus said that it was a difficult question, and then he said, "There shall be time no longer." Jesus said to him again, "If you want to know how long you can stay in the kingdom of God you are really putting a difficult question, because there shall be time no longer. So how can time be calculated?"


It is good to understand that what we know as time is inalienably connected with our sorrow, with our unhappiness, with our misery. And there is no time in bliss; bliss is timeless. The measure of time is the measure of your misery. The more unhappy you are the longer the time is. If someone in your family is on the deathbed, awaiting his end, and it is night, that night will become much too long. Although the night will make no difference for the wall clock or the calendar on the desk, but for the man sitting at the bedside of his dying beloved, it will become so long that it will seem endless. The man wonders if the night is going to end at all, if the sun will rise and another day begin. And it seems to him that though the night is long the clock shows the same hour, and he wonders if the clock has stopped or its hands are going slow. Even if it is about time, close to morning for the date leaf of the calendar to drop, the man feels that the night is getting longer and longer; it is endless.


Bertrand Russell has said somewhere that if he was presented in a court of law for all the sins he had committed and also for the sins that he had intended to commit, but could not, even the strictest of magistrates would not convict him for more than four to five years' imprisonment; but Jesus says that sinners will suffer in hell for eternity. This is very very unjust. He says that even if the sins he had only intended to commit -- he had only thought of them -- were added to the list of sins he had actually committed, the most punishing court would not punish him for more than four to five years in prison. "But the court of Jesus would have me suffer in hell for eternity, which is too much."


Russell is dead, otherwise I would like to tell him that he failed to understand what Jesus meant to say. What Jesus is saying is this: that if one was to live in hell for a moment, the moment would seem to be eternity itself. Misery is by nature such that it seems endless, it seems it will never come to an end.


Misery lengthens time, while happiness shortens it. That is why we say that happiness is transient, momentary. It is not necessary that happiness should last only a moment, but it feels momentary because in happiness time is short; it shortens. It is not that happiness is always fleeting. It may have a longer span in time, but it always feels fleeting because in happiness, time shrinks. Even as you meet your beloved, the time for separation arrives; he seems to be leaving you the moment he arrives. No sooner the flower blooms than it begins to wither away. So the experience of happiness is always brief, because the nature of time in happiness is such. The clock remains the same and so does the calendar; they are not affected by your happiness; but for you happiness shortens time psychologically.


And time in bliss disappears altogether; it is neither shortened nor lengthened. In bliss time simply does not exist. When you will be in bliss, time will cease to be for you. In fact, time and misery are two names for the same thing. Time is another name for misery. Time and misery are synonymous. Psychologically time means misery; and that is the reason why we say that bliss is beyond time. What is beyond time cannot be found through time.


I have wandered enough, as much as any of you have done; and the interesting part of it is that this wandering is so long that it is difficult to say who has wandered less and who more. Mahavira and Buddha attained enlightenment twenty-five hundred years ago; Jesus had it twenty hundred years ago, and Shankar only ten hundred years ago. But if someone says that Shankar had to wander less by ten hundred years, he is saying it wrong, because wandering is in finite.


For example, you were in Bombay and you came here to Nargol by traveling a distance of a hundred miles. But for the star that is at an infinite distance from us, you did not travel at all. In relation to that star you are where you are. It makes no difference for that star if you have moved a hundred miles from Bombay. If you take that star into consideration you have not moved at all. Your distance from that star remains the same at Nargol as it was in Bombay. That star is so far away that these petty distances don't make a difference.


The journey of our lives, of our births and deaths is so long, so infinitely long, that it makes no difference whatsoever if one attained enlightenment twenty-five hundred years ago, another five hundred years ago, and still another only five days or five hours ago. The day we reach that center we exclaim, "Aha, Buddha is just now arriving and Mahavira also is only entering, and so also Jesus, and us too!"


But this is rather difficult to understand, because in the world we live in, time is very important to us. Time has great importance in our world. That is why the question arises how long it takes one to enter meditation. But don't raise this question. Don't talk about time. And stop wandering. Wandering will take time. Don't loiter around the temple; enter it.


But we are afraid of going inside the temple; we are afraid of what may happen there. Out here every thing is known and familiar. Our friends, relatives, wives, husbands and kids, houses and workshops are all here -- outside of the temple. Whatsoever we think to be our own is outside of the temple. And the temple has a condition that one can enter it all alone; no two persons can pass through its door together. So the question of taking with you your homes and houses, your wives and children, your property and wealth, your position and prestige, simply does not arise. Everything has to be left behind.


That is why we say that it is better we wander around awhile more. And so we wander and wander. We are waiting for the moment when the doors of the temple will open up a little wider and we will enter it with everything we have. But the doors of the temple never open up for more than one person at a time. Only one person can pass through it. And you cannot take even your position or prestige with you, because then you will be two -- you and your prestige. You cannot carry even your name with you, because then it will be two -- you and your name. You cannot carry any baggage with you; you can carry absolutely nothing. You have to go there totally naked and alone; then only you can enter.


For this reason we keep sauntering outside the temple, we pitch our camps on the outside, and we console ourselves saying that we are close to God, we are not away from him. But whether you are at a distance of a yard or a mile or a thousand miles from the temple, it makes no difference. If you are outside of it, you are outside. And if you want to go in, it can hap pen in a thousandth part of a second. It is wrong to say a thousandth part of a moment, really you can enter even without the moment.


Let this question be the last one for the moment. If you have any more questions, we will take them up in the evening. You ask whether what is known as knowledge or knowing abides only in a thought free state and it disappears in a state of thought.


Knowledge or knowing happens when thought is not. When you are free of thought you know. But having known it once, it abides in every state. It abides even in a state of thinking. Then there is no way to lose it. But its attainment is possible only in a thought free state. To attain it you have to be free of thought. Why?


The reason is that the waves of thought do not allow the mind to become a mirror. For instance, if you have to take a picture with your camera, you will have to be careful that the camera does not shake and that light does not enter it. But once the picture is taken, you can very well shake the camera and allow any amount of light to enter it. Then it does not matter. If the camera is shaken at the moment of taking the picture, everything will be ruined. Once the picture is taken, however, the matter ends. Then you can do whatever you like with the camera, you can shake and dance with it, it will make no difference to the picture.


Attainment of knowledge happens in a state of mind when nothing moves, when everything is quiet and still. Then only the picture of knowing is obtained. But after it is obtained you can do anything, you can shake and dance; it makes no difference. Knowledge is certainly attained in a thought free state; but after it is attained, thought creates no difficulty. If you think that you will achieve it through thought, then it will never happen. Thought will impede it, impede its realization. But it becomes impotent after you have realized knowledge. Then it is powerless and ineffective; it cannot do anything.


It is interesting to know that stillness of mind is primarily needed for the realization of knowledge, but once it is realized nothing is needed after it. But that is what comes later. And what comes later should not be brought in first, otherwise it will harm you. It will harm you in the sense that you may think that if thought is not going to be a problem later why should it be a problem right now? And that will really be harmful. Then we will shake the camera and everything will be in a mess. Even a shaking camera can take a picture, but it would not be a true picture, an authentic picture. Even through thought what we come across is knowledge, but it is never true knowledge, authentic knowledge, because the mind is all the time unsteady, shaking and trembling. So it distorts everything.


For instance, the moon is up in the sky and the sea below is in waves. Even the waving sea will reflect the moon but it will reflect it in fragments; instead of one moon there will be a thousand and one pieces of it scattered all over the sea. And if one has not seen the real moon in the sky he cannot have a correct picture of it from its reflections on the sea. He will see a thousand and one fragments of the moon instead. He will come across myriad silvery strands of the moon suffusing the sea, but from them he cannot have an idea of the real moon. A restless sea, a sea in turmoil cannot reflect the moon correctly. But once we get a correct image of the moon, we will see and recognize it even in the scattered waves of the ocean. We will say, "It is you."


So it is essential that for once we have a correct image of truth or God. Once we know him authentically, we can see him in every image. But without this, we cannot see him anywhere. In fact we meet God everywhere, but we cannot recognize him, we cannot say that this is he.


I would like to explain it with an anecdote, and then we will sit for meditation.


A Hindu sannyasin lived near Sai Baba for long. A Hindu sannyasin... and Sai lived in a mosque. No one knew for sure whether he was a Hindu or a Mohammedan. Nothing is certain about such people. When someone made inquiries about him, he just laughed, but laughing does not say anything except that the inquirer is stupid.


Being a Hindu sannyasin he could not live in the mosque, so he chose to live in a temple outside the village. And he loved and adored Sai Baba, he was intimate with him. So every day he cooked food for Sai Baba, took it to the mosque, fed him and then returned to his temple and ate his own meal.


One day Sai Baba said to him, "Why do you come such a long way every day? You can feed me at your own place, because I happen to pass your place several times." The sannyasin said with surprise, "Do you really pass by my place? I never saw you passing." Sai Baba then said, "You should watch carefully. I pass your temple several times every day. Tomorrow I will go there, so you feed me there. You need not come here."


The next day the Hindu monk cooked food and waited for Sai Baba to come. He waited long enough, but he did not turn up. Then he was worried because it was already 2 p.m. He thought that Sai Baba must be hungry like himself, and so he took the dishes with food and ran to the mosque. He said to Sai Baba, "I waited and waited for you, but you did not turn up." Sai Baba said, "I had been to your place today, but you snubbed me and turned me away." The sannyasin said, "What do you say, that I turned you away? Only a dog had appeared." Sai Baba said, "That dog was me." This made the Hindu sannyasin very miser able and he wept a lot. He then said, "How stupid of me that you went to my place and I could not recognize you. I will not miss recognizing you tomorrow."


But the sannyasin did not recognize him again, though Sai Baba visited his place. Had he come in the form of a dog, he would not have failed to know him. But this time he was a leper who met the monk in the street. The monk told the leper, "Keep off my way. I am carrying food for Sai Baba, so keep off!" The leper grinned and moved away.


This day too the monk had waited for Sai Baba till 2 p.m. And then he had rushed to the mosque as before and said to Sai Baba, "You did not turn up again; I waited for you like anything." Sai Baba said, "I had been to your place today also, but the sea of your mind is so restless, it is full of so many ripples, that you cannot know me as the same everyday. You get shaken. Today a leper turned up and you told him to move away. Isn't it very strange that when I go to you you turn me away and then you come here and complain that I did not turn up?"


The sannyasin began to cry, and he said, "How unfortunate that I could not recognize you!" Then Sai Baba said, "How can you know me in other forms when you have not known me really?"


Once a glimpse of reality becomes available, the false just ceases to be. Once we have a glimpse of God, then God alone is, and nothing else. But that glimpse will be possible only when everything within us is still and quiet. And then there is no question. Then everything is his. Then thoughts, feelings and desires, all are his. Then anything and everything is his.


But to have this glimpse, this recognition, it is essential in the primary stage, in the first place, that thoughts, feelings and desires, all should come to a standstill.
Now we will sit for meditation.
			

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> Copyright 1964-1990 Osho (Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh)
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