---
section: Library
booktitle: "The Osho Upanishad"
booktype: "Discourses"
bookcode: "UPAN"
dategiven: "21 August 1986 pm"
place: " in"
chapternum: "Chapter #6"
chaptertitle: "Mind thinks, meditation knows"
acode: "8608215"
shorttitle: "UPAN06"
audio: "Yes"
video: "Yes"
esttime: "106mins"
displaytitle: "The Osho Upanishad: Chapter #6"
---

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<p class="question">BELOVED OSHO,
WHY CAN A MAN NOT BECOME MEDITATIVE? HOW CAN A MOVEMENT FOR MEDITATION BE CREATED?</p>


Meditation is a danger, it is a risk.
It is a danger to all the vested interests, and it is a risk to the mind.


Mind and meditation cannot co-exist. There is no question of having both of them. Either you can have mind or you can have meditation, because mind is thinking and meditation is silence. Mind is groping in the dark for the door. Meditation is seeing. There is no question of groping, it knows the door.
Mind thinks. Meditation knows.


This is a very fundamental reason why man cannot become meditative -- or why very few men have dared to become meditative. Our training is of the mind. Our education is for the mind. Our ambitions, our desires, can only be fulfilled by the mind. You can become president of a country, prime minister, not by being meditative but by cultivating a very cunning mind. The whole education is geared by your parents, by your society, so that you can fulfill your desires, your ambitions. You want to become somebody. Meditation can only make you a nobody.
Who wants to become a nobody?


Everybody wants to go on higher on the ladder of ambitions. People sacrifice their whole life to become somebody.


Alexander was coming to India. A madness had entered in his mind: he wanted to conquer the whole world. Everybody has a little bit of that kind of madness, but he had the whole chunk. And while he was coming towards India, passing the boundaries of Greece, somebody said to him, "You have been asking many times about a mystic, a very strange man, Diogenes. He lives nearby. If you want to see him, it is a few minutes' walk, just by the side of the river."


Diogenes was certainly a very strange kind of man. In fact, if you are a man you are going to be a strange kind of man, because you are going to be something unique. He lived naked... he was one of the most beautiful men possible. But he always used to have a lighted lamp in his hand -- day or night, it made no difference. Even in the day, in the full light of the sun, he was holding his lamp while walking on the streets. People used to laugh at him, and used to ask him, "Why are you carrying this lamp, unnecessarily wasting the oil and becoming a laughingstock?"


And Diogenes used to say, "I have to keep it, because I am looking for the authentic, real man. I have not come across him yet. I come across people but they are all wearing masks, they are all hypocrites."


He had a great sense of humor. To me, that is one of the most important qualities of a genuine religious man. While he was dying, he still kept his lamp by his side. Somebody asked Diogenes, "You are dying. Let us know about the man you were searching for. Your life is ending; have you been successful in finding the authentic man?"


He was almost on the verge of death, but he opened his eyes and said, "No, I could not find the authentic man. But I am happy that nobody has stolen my lamp yet -- because all around there are thieves, criminals, all kinds of robbers, and I am a naked, unprotected man. This gives me great hope: my whole life I carried the lamp and nobody has stolen it yet. This gives me great hope that some day the man will be born whom I have been looking for; perhaps I have come too soon." And he died.


So many stories about him Alexander had heard and had loved. He said, "I would like to go." It was early morning, the sun was rising. Diogenes was lying on the sand on the bank of the river taking a sunbath. Alexander felt a little awkward, because Diogenes was naked. He also felt embarrassed because this was the first time that somebody had continued to lie down in front of him -- "Perhaps the man does not know who I am."


So he said, "Perhaps you are unaware of the person who has come to meet you." Diogenes laughed.


He also used to have a dog. That was his only companion. Asked why he had made a dog a friend, he said, "Because I could not find a man worth making a friend." He looked at the dog who was sitting by his side and said, "Listen to what this stupid man is saying. He is saying I do not know who he is. The fact is, he himself does not know who he is. Now what to do with such idiots? You tell me."


Shocked... but it was a fact. Still, Alexander tried to make some conversation. He bypassed the insult. He said, "I am Alexander the Great."


Diogenes said, "My God." And he looked at the dog and said, "Did you listen?" -- that was his constant habit, to refer to the dog -- "Did you listen? This man thinks himself the greatest man in the world. And that is a sure sign of an inferiority complex. Only people who suffer from inferiority pretend to be great; the greater the inferiority the more they start projecting themselves higher, bigger, vaster."


But he said to Alexander, "What is the point of your coming to me? A poor man, a nobody, whose only possession is a lamp, whose only companion in this whole world is a dog, who lives naked.... For what have you come here?"


Alexander said, "I have heard many stories about you, and now I can see that all those stories are bound to be real -- you are a man... certainly strange, but in a way immensely beautiful. I am just going to conquer the world, and I heard you are just residing here. I could not resist the temptation to come and see."


Diogenes said, "You have seen me. Now don't waste time, because life is short and the world is big -- you may die before you conquer it. And have you ever considered... if you succeed in conquering this world, what are you going to do next? -- because there is no other world than this. You will look simply foolish. And can I ask you, why are you taking so much trouble conquering the world? You call me strange, who is just having a beautiful sunbath. And you don't think yourself strange, stupidly strange, that you are on your way to conquer the world? For what? What will you do when you have conquered the world?"


Alexander said, "I have never thought about it, to be frank with you. Perhaps I will relax and rest when I have conquered the world."


Diogenes turned to the dog and said, "Do you listen? This man is mad. He is seeing me already resting, relaxing -- without conquering a thing! And he will relax when he has conquered the whole world."


Alexander felt ashamed. There was truth, so clear, so crystal clear -- if you want to rest and relax, you can rest and relax now. Why postpone it for tomorrow? And you are postponing it for an indefinite time. And meanwhile you will have to conquer the whole world, as if conquering the whole world is a necessary step in being relaxed and finding a restful life.


Alexander said, "I can understand... I am looking foolish before you. Can I do anything for you? I have really fallen in love with you. I have seen great kings, great generals, but I have never seen such a courageous man as you, who has not even moved, who has not even said 'Good morning.' Who has not bothered about me -- on the contrary, who goes on talking to his dog! I can do anything, because the whole world is in my hands. You just say, and I will do it for you."


Diogenes said, "Really? Then just do one thing: stand a little away from me, because you are blocking the sun. I am taking a sunbath, and you don't understand even simple manners."


Alexander remembered him continually. All through his journey up to India and back, that man haunted him -- that he did not ask for anything. He could have given him the whole world just for the asking, but he asked only that Alexander move a little away because he was preventing the sun from reaching his body.


And as he was leaving, Diogenes had said, "Just remember two things, as a gift from Diogenes: one, that nobody has ever conquered the world. Something always remains unconquered -- because the world is multi-dimensional; you cannot conquer it in all its dimensions in such a small life. Hence everybody who has gone to conquer the world has died frustrated.


"Secondly, you will never come back home. Because this is how ambition goes on leading you further and further: it goes on telling you, 'Just a few miles more. A few miles more and you will be attaining the very ambition of your heart.' And people go on chasing hallucinations, and life goes on slipping through their hands. Just remember these two things as gifts from a poor man, a nobody."


Alexander thanked him -- although in the cool morning he was perspiring. That man was such... each thing he said would make you perspire even in the cold breeze on a cold morning, because he would hit exactly the wounds that you are hiding.


Alexander never could reach to being the conqueror of the whole world. He could not reach to the very end of India; he could not reach to Japan, to China, to Australia, and of course America was not known. He turned back from Punjab. He was only thirty-three, but the ambition and the continuous struggle to fulfill it had made him so tired and spent, like a used cartridge. He was only thirty-three, at the prime of his youth, but in his inner world he had become old and was ready to die. Somehow, perhaps in death, there would be rest.


And Diogenes' shadow was always following him: "You will not be able to conquer the world." He turned back, and before reaching Athens, his capital -- just twenty-four hours more....


Sometimes small incidents become so symbolic and so meaningful. Just twenty-four hours more and he would have at least been back in his capital, in his home -- not in the real home that Diogenes was pointing at, but at least in the house which we all try to make a home.


The home is inside. Outside there are only houses. But he could not even reach the outside house. He died twenty-four hours before reaching Athens.


A strange coincidence: the day Alexander died, Diogenes also died. In Greek mythology, like many other mythologies... In Indian mythology the same is the case: before entering the other world you have to pass through a river, the Vaitarani. In Greek mythology also you have to cross a river; that river is the boundary line of this world and that world.


Up to now, whatever I said is historical fact. But after the death of Diogenes and Alexander, this story became prevalent all over Greece. It is very significant. It cannot be historical, but it is very close to truth. It is not factual.


That's how I make the difference between facts and truth: a thing may be factual, but still untrue; a thing may be non-factual, but still true. A story may be just a myth -- not history, but of immense significance because it indicates towards truth.


It is said that Diogenes died a few minutes after the death of Alexander. They met while crossing the river -- Alexander was ahead, Diogenes was coming behind. Hearing the sound Alexander looked back. It was an even more embarrassing encounter than the first one, because at least at that time Alexander was not naked; this time he was also naked.


But people try to rationalize, try to hide their embarrassment. So just to hide his embarrassment he said, "Hello, Diogenes. Perhaps this may be the first time in the whole history of existence that a great emperor and a naked beggar are crossing the river together."


Diogenes said, "It is, but you are not clear about who is the emperor and who is the beggar. The emperor is behind the beggar. You wasted your life; still you are stubborn! Where is your empire? I have not lost anything because I had nothing, only that lamp. That too I had found by the side of the road -- I don't know to whom it belongs -- and by the side of the road I have left it. I had gone into the world naked, I am coming from the world naked."


That's what Kabir says in one of his songs -- Jyon ki tyon dhari dinhin chadariya. Kabira jatan se odhi chadariya -- "I have used the clothes of life with such care and such awareness that I have returned to God his gift exactly as it was given to me."


The whole society -- your parents, your teachers, your leaders, your priests -- they all want you to become somebody special, Alexanders. But if you want to be meditative they will all be against you, because meditation means you are turning away from all ambitions.


I was a student in the university. The head of my department was so worried about my examinations, he said, "I have taught in almost a dozen countries all over the world, hundreds of students, but I have never been concerned about their examinations. It is very puzzling to my mind -- why am I so much concerned about your examination? You have to promise me that you will reach the examination hall in time."


I told him, "This is not part of your work. Your part is to teach me. It is my business to be worried about the examination or not. If I can manage, I will reach the hall."


He was suspicious. The old man used to stand every day with his car outside the hostel, in front of my room, to pick me up and to see me enter the examination hall. And then he would leave.


I said, "This is too much unnecessary trouble you are taking. Your house is four miles away. You have to wake up, and you are not an early riser."


He was a drunkard. But life is a mystery. Here, the people who are non-vegetarians, drunkards, gamblers, you may find them so loving and so human that it is surprising. And on the other hand, the people who are strictly vegetarian.... Adolf Hitler was strictly vegetarian. He never smoked, he never drank any alcoholic beverage, he went to bed early, he got up early in the morning -- he was a saint! If you just look at his life-pattern and style, he was a monk. And he killed six million people. It would have been better if he had been a drunkard, non-vegetarian -- a chain smoker, but a nice human being.


This old man, my professor, did not drink for those few days. He had to wake up early in the morning to pick me up and force me into the examination hall. The whole university knew; they all thought, "This is strange!" I said, "It is not strange. He loves me. He loves me just like his son, and he wants me to be somebody in life. That is the trouble: that love is creating the trouble. He is afraid that I am too careless about being somebody in the world."


He used to instruct the chief examiner, "Keep an eye that he does not leave when I have left -- because I cannot wait outside for three hours unnecessarily. Keep an eye on him and don't let him go. And watch to see that he is writing and is not doing something else."


Sometimes I would finish the answers in two hours but the chief examiner would not allow me to go out. He would say, "Your professor will torture me. You simply sit here, do whatsoever you want to do. Or just go through the answers you have written; maybe you can add something more."


I said, "This is strange. I am finished with the answers, I should be allowed to go. Everybody else is allowed."


He said, "Everybody else is allowed, but nobody else is being brought here like a prisoner every day!"


And after the examination the professor would ask me -- every day with the question-paper in his hand -- "What have you written about it?" Just to console him I would say things which I had not written at all -- and he knew it. I knew that he knew it because he was the dean of the faculty, so he was looking at my papers. Before asking me, he had already looked at what I had written. And now I was answering him according to the textbooks, although what I had written was according to myself.


But he could not say to me, "I have looked" -- because that is illegal. So he would say, "You know; I know...."


I said, "What to do? You should not do anything illegal, and if you are caught doing anything illegal I will be the first to report it to the vice-chancellor."


He said, "But these are not the answers that you have written. Do you want to remain a nobody for your whole life? It hurts me. You have the talent, you have the genius, you can become anything you want."


I said, "I don't want to use my talent and my genius to become anybody. I simply want to relax into myself and be myself, anonymous, because my decision is in favor of meditation, not in favor of mind. Whatever you are saying is mind -- and I have to use the mind, but the more you use the mind the farther away it takes you from yourself."
This is the reason why man is not meditative:


The whole society forces him to be in a state of mind, not in a state of meditation.


Just imagine a world where people are meditative. It will be a simple world, but it will be tremendously beautiful. It will be silent. It will not have crimes, it will not have courts, it will not have any kind of politics. It will be a loving brotherhood, a vast commune of people who are absolutely satisfied with themselves, utterly contented with themselves. Even Alexander the Great cannot give them a gift.


If you are running to get something outside yourself, you have to be subservient to the mind. If you drop all ambitions and you are concerned more about your inner flowering; if you are more concerned about your inner juice so that it can flow and reach to others, more concerned about love, compassion, peace... then man will be meditative.


And you have asked how we can make meditation a great movement. Don't be worried about making it a great movement because this is how the mind is very tricky. You will forget all about your meditation and you will be concerned about the movement -- how to make it big, how to make it worldwide, how to make many more people meditate. If they are not willing then force them to meditate. It has been done; the whole of history is the proof.


Mohammed founded a religion called Islam. 'Islam' means peace. And he wanted the whole world to be a peaceful place. But people are not willing to be peaceful -- then cut their heads, a dead man at least is peaceful. A living man is a nuisance, you cannot rely on a living man -- he may be peaceful this moment, and the next moment he may do something troublesome. On Mohammed's sword the words were written: Peace is my message. Now the message has to be written on the sword, and the message is peace, and people have to be forced to become peaceful at the point of a sword, that is, to become Mohammedans. A Mohammedan is a man of peace.


Don't be concerned about a movement, because your mind is so tricky, so slippery....


I have heard, one man and one woman were in love for years. And as expected, the woman was asking every day, sitting on Chowpati Beach.... Who else goes to sit there? She was constantly harassing the man: "When are you going to marry me? We are getting old."


And the man said, "Just look at the full moon." It was just rising above the ocean.


And the woman said, "Shut up! Don't change the subject. Whenever I bring up the real subject you always try to change the subject. The moon will remain there, we will discuss it later on. First, answer my question. When are we going to get married?"
The mind is constantly trying to change the subject.


Whenever you will be thinking of meditation, the mind will change the subject in such a way that you will not even be aware that the subject has been changed. The mind will start making a great movement of meditation, transforming the whole world and forgetting meditation itself. Because where is the time? -- you are in a great revolution, changing the whole world.


In fact, the mind is so cunning that it condemns those people who meditate. It says, "They are selfish, just concerned about themselves. And the whole world is dying! People need peace, and people are in tension; people are living in hell and you are sitting silently in meditation. This is sheer selfishness."


Mind is very cunning. You have to be very aware of it. Tell the mind, "Don't change the subject. First I have to meditate, because I cannot share that which I don't have. I cannot share meditation with people, I cannot share love with people, I cannot share my joy with people, because I don't have it. I am a beggar; I can only pretend to be an emperor."


But that pretension cannot last for a long time. Soon people start seeing that "This man is just a hypocrite. He himself is tense, he himself is worried; he himself lives in pain and suffering and misery, and he is talking about creating the world as a paradise."


So for the second part of your question, I would like to say to you: forget about it. It is your mind which is trying to change the subject. First the marriage, marriage with YOURSELF... first the meditation, and then out of it the fragrance will come, out of it the light will come. Out of it, words which are not dead but alive, words which have authority in them will come. And they may help others, but that is not going to be your goal; it will be a byproduct.


The changing of other people through meditation is a byproduct, it is not a goal. You become a light unto yourself, and that will create the urge to become a light to many people who are thirsty. You become the example, and that example will bring the movement on its own accord.
<p class="question">BELOVED OSHO,
ON OUR WAY TO REALIZATION, THERE IS NO 'WE', THERE IS ONLY 'I'. IS THERE ANYTHING TO SOFTEN THIS PAIN?</p>


The problem about such questions is they are intellectual, they are not experiential.


You have just thought about it, that "On our way I will be alone, I cannot be with people so the question of there being any possibility of 'we' is non-existent; only 'I' will be there alone. It makes one feel afraid, it makes one wonder whether to go on such a path or not."


But this is all intellectual. It is not that you have gone on the path and you have found this question. On the path you will not find this question, because I and we are together. The I cannot exist without we; it is just a part of the collectivity.


The moment you are on the path, first the others leave and the last that leaves you is yourself, the I. And when the I leaves, only then are you alone; otherwise the I is there. There are two -- you, and the I. When the I has also gone, you are alone. And the beauty of aloneness... it has nothing to do with 'I', it has nothing to do with 'we'.


They were all together. They exist together. Many I's together become 'we'. It is simply a collective name of I's. Have you ever come across a we? Even the people who use it -- for example a president of a country or a prime minister of a country is supposed to use 'we' instead of 'I' so that his 'we' becomes representative of the whole land he is the prime minister or the president of. But even the prime minister who uses 'we' is simply an I, there is no we. That 'we' is only a convenience, a linguistic convenience.


And when you move on the path it is not that the we leaves you and only 'I' is left behind; the I also goes with the we.


I am reminded of a beautiful Sufi story. When Al-Hillaj Mansoor went to his master Junnaid, his family, his friends, even his neighbors had all come out of the town to say goodbye. He was going in search of truth. When he reached Junnaid, he entered; Junnaid was alone sitting in the mosque. He asked, "May I come in, sir?"


Junnaid looked at him, and looked here, and looked there, and said, "First leave the crowd out! And you have some nerve to ask, 'May I come in, sir?' Then why is this crowd all around you?"
Al-Hillaj could not believe... he looked all around, there was nobody.


Junnaid said, "Don't look all around, close your eyes! and then look all around. Your friends, your family, your neighbors -- they are still there."


He closed his eyes and he was surprised. The people he had left behind... he was still remembering them: their tears, their last greetings, the elder ones giving him their last blessings. They were all there, the whole crowd was there.


Junnaid said, "Get out, with this whole crowd! When you are alone then ask, 'May I come in, sir?'"


It took seven months. Al-Hillaj used to live outside the mosque; the master used to live inside. Hundreds of disciples would come and go, and thinking that he must be a shoemaker or a shoe-shiner, they would put their shoes in front of him. And sitting there doing nothing... he thought, "This is not bad," so he started polishing their shoes.


After seven months, one night when there was nobody around, Junnaid came out and said, "Al-Hillaj, come in."


But Al-Hillaj said, "Forgive me, sir. Now I cannot ask, 'May I come in, sir?' because that 'I' is also gone. I am absolutely alone."


Junnaid said, "That's why I had to come. You stupid! Come in. I knew that now it will be difficult for you to ask the question, because who will ask the question? The crowd is gone, and with the crowd that fellow who used to be 'I' -- that too is gone. And the poor fellow is shining shoes..." And Al-Hillaj belonged to a very rich, royal family.


Junnaid said, "That's why I have come in the middle of the night, to bring you in. When you are not then you are called in; when you are not then the whole existence is ready to receive you."


Your question is intellectual. Avoid intellectual questions. If they arise, try first to experience them and you will find the answer yourself.
<p class="question">BELOVED OSHO,
PLAYFULNESS, HAPPINESS AND CREATIVITY COME TOGETHER INSIDE MYSELF WHEN I AM IN THIS STATE -- I CALL IT 'CRAZINESS'.
CAN YOU PLEASE TALK ABOUT THIS?</p>


First, what you call craziness is authentic sanity. When you are not in that state which you call craziness, you are crazy.


Creativity, you call craziness. Playfulness, you call craziness. Joyfulness, you call craziness. Then what is sanity?
So first, drop that word 'craziness'.


Only the creators are sane. What they create does not matter. In India, there have been a few great mystics whose creativity cannot even be recognized as creativity.


Kabir remained for his whole life spinning, weaving. He was a weaver. He had thousands of disciples, and they would tell him, "You have become old, and you are unnecessarily tiring yourself. We can take care of you; you stop this weaving, and then making clothes, and going to the market and selling them."


But Kabir always said, "You do not understand. You think I am just a weaver. I am not just like other weavers -- it is not my business, it is my love affair. I make these clothes for nobody other than God himself. And naturally, when I am making things for him they have to be perfect."


And he treated his customers as gods. He used to say to his customers, "You take this piece of cloth, but be very careful, Ram" -- for every customer he had only one name, Ram; Ram means God -- "I have taken so much trouble in making it. Be careful, be respectful. It is not my business; it is my prayer, it is my worship."


Another great mystic, Gora, was a potter, and he continued to make beautiful pots for his whole life. And he had disciples -- rich disciples, even kings -- and they would say, "It is embarrassing for us that our master is just making pots and selling pots on his donkey in the market. Please stop doing this."


But Gora would say, "It is difficult... it is part of my creativity. Nobody else can make these pots, only Gora can -- because all others are making them for money, and I am pouring my whole love, my whole heart. It is a meditation to me."


A third great mystic was Raidas, who continued to make shoes. In India particularly, to make shoes is thought to be one of the worst professions. It is only for the sudras, the untouchables. He was an untouchable, but high caste brahmins started coming to him. He was uneducated, but what he was saying was pure scripture. And everybody was trying to convince him, "You stop making shoes. It doesn't fit. It doesn't look right that a mystic of your caliber should make shoes" -- but Raidas refused.


He said, "That is the only art I know. I am a poor shoemaker. This is the only creative talent through which I can serve existence."


Don't call creativity, playfulness, joyousness, cheerfulness, 'craziness'. These are the sanest dimensions of your being. Let your whole life become sane, full of songs, full of flowers, full of love. The world may call you crazy, but please, you should not call it crazy. Let the world call it crazy -- it doesn't matter -- but I cannot allow you to call it crazy.


It is going to happen to every meditator. What is happening to you, I would love it to happen to everybody. Create something. And whatever you are doing, do it playfully, not seriously. And wherever you are, be in a celebration. Forget words like 'business'. Let your life be simply a festival.


To me, only those few people who attain to this state are capable of calling themselves religious -- not the Hindus, not the Mohammedans, not the Christians, but the creative people -- enriching existence, beautifying existence.


Don't leave this world without making it a little more beautiful than you found it when you came into it.
<p class="question">BELOVED OSHO,
WHEN THE DOORBELL RINGS AND I OPEN THE DOOR TO RECEIVE THE GUEST, BEFORE I DISAPPEAR WILL I GET A GLIMPSE OF HER?</p>


Milarepa, you are impossible!
When he was going to play his guitar in England, although there is no God, I prayed, "God save the queen" -- because he is such a ladykiller.


Look at his question: he is saying, "When the doorbell rings and I open the door, before I disappear will I be able to get a little glimpse of her!"
Just old habits... but no harm. In fact, the doorbell never rings.


I will tell you a story. Junnaid, the master of Al-Hillaj Mansoor, in his young days when he was still a seeker, used to sit in front of the mosque praying to God, "How long is it going to take? Open the doors!"


And one mystic woman, Rabiya al Adabiya, happened to pass by. She hit Junnaid's head hard with her staff. She was an old woman... Junnaid said, "Rabiya, to disturb somebody in prayer is not right; and you are a well-known religious saint and you disturbed my prayer!"


She said, "I had to disturb it. And if next time I hear you praying in this way again -- 'God open the doors' -- then only God can save you. I am going to hit your head so hard!"


He said, "But what is the problem? I am not creating any trouble for anybody."


She said, "That is not the point -- because the doors are open, they are never closed. Just get up and go in!"


Milarepa, the doorbell never rings. And the doorbell is such an ultra-modern thing that there is no mention of it in any scriptures, cannot be.


The doors are always open. And the ultimate comes, but you cannot have a glimpse of the ultimate -- whether you want to call him 'him' or 'her' does not matter. As the ultimate comes, you disappear. The happening is simultaneous, there is no gap. It is not that the ultimate comes and you say, "Thank you, sir. Sit down; what will you take -- Coca Cola, Fanta, Seven-Up? What will you take?" There is no time, not even to say "thank you." The moment the ultimate descends, you are already gone. He comes only in the space where you used to be, in your nothingness.


Nobody has seen the ultimate, for the simple reason that to see the ultimate you have to disappear, you cannot be a witness. You can become it but you cannot see it. We call those people who have become it the mystics; they are not the ones who have seen God, they have become God. It is not an object for them to see. It is their very subjectivity, it is their very being.
			

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