A few things will
have to be understood. The first is that to attain buddhahood is
very difficult. To be awakened is almost to attain the impossible.
Total awakening is a phenomenon that does not and cannot happen
every day, because there is a deep attraction to the sleep and there
is comfort in the sleep. In the sleep there is no responsibility. No
matter how great the unhappiness, no matter how much the anguish,
they are not felt because of the unconscious state of sleep.
Surgeons are very familiar with this phenomenon. Give the body a
shot of morphine or some other anesthetic, and then you are able to
endure any amount of pain.
Your bones can be sawn off, your legs
broken, internal parts of your body taken out, exchanged, but the
pain is not felt. Unconsciousness is one way - the deepest way - of
enduring pain. Numerous are the miseries, and we have discovered a
way to endure them, and that is to keep ourselves unaware,
unconscious.
As awareness will increase, so will the amount of unhappiness. With
growing awareness we feel the prick of the thorn more deeply - and
we are already stabbed with thorns, with thousands of thorns.
Buddhahood means the capacity to know the unhappiness of life in its
totality; the courage to face all the pain without running away from
it; no matter how big the hell in life, encountering it face to
face, without turning your back to it. It is through encountering
the hell that the doors to heaven open. Those who are not prepared
to pass through hell will remain deprived of heaven.
We all want to go to heaven, but the road to heaven passes through
hell and we do not want to travel on that road. So we have devised a
simple trick: that is, even though we live in hell, at the very
gates of hell, we go on dreaming of heaven. Because of those dreams
the hell remains hidden, and in order to dream sleep is necessary.
So sleep has two uses: first, it does not let the pain of
unhappiness be felt in its totality; secondly, it provides the
facility to dream. This is why buddhahood is so difficult to attain.
The sleep will have to be broken, and the dreams will be shattered
the moment sleep is broken.
We have invested so much in our dreams, we have put so much at
stake! Our dreams are the only sweetness of our lives. We have never
known any happiness in reality; it is only in the dreams that we get
some comfort, the whole treasure of happiness that we know is in our
dreams. So when someone talks of shattering our dreams it does not
please us. Even in our going to buddhas our motivation is that our
dreams may come true. Even if we want liberation, that too is
nothing but our last dream; that is our last hope of happiness. So
we look for sleep, because in sleep dreams are possible, in sleep
the miseries are not felt.
Now and then, maybe once in a thousand years, someone awakens. And
whenever a single individual awakens, that door which is usually
closed opens, even for those who are still asleep. Here we are so
many people: suppose we are all asleep, then who will awaken us? If
even one of us wakes up, the door opens up for the awakening of us
all, because the one who is awake can awaken the sleeping ones, he
can shake them to wake up.
It is another matter that you may still not wake up, you may turn
over and go to sleep again, you may turn a deaf ear to it all. The
awakened one's calls may get lost in your dreams, or even become
part of your dreams. We have become so skilled in dreaming that we
have no difficulty assimilating even the external realities into our
dreams.
You go to bed at night and set the alarm because it is very urgent
for you to be up early in the morning. Morning comes, the alarm goes
off, and you start dreaming that bells are ringing in some temple.
The sound of the alarm is coming from outside you, but you have
taken it as a part of your dream - and then the alarm is futile. Now
you will not wake up, there is no need to - you have forgotten all
about the clock and all about the alarm. What was an external
stimulus has now become a part of your internal dream. The mind is
indeed wonderful, and its cunningness is great! It will create a
dream in which bells are ringing; the sound of bells has been taken
in, now there is no reason to wake up.
A colonel retired from military life. He called his orderly, whose name was Rama, and told him that he was to live with him. The colonel lived on his own, he had no wife or children, so he told Rama, "Your only duty will be to wake me up at four a.m. just as you have been doing all these years. For years you have come to me at four in the morning with the words, 'Wake up, sir, it's time for the parade.' All I want you to do from now on is to come to me at four in the morning and say, 'Wake up, sir, it's time for the parade.' And then I'll say to you, 'The parade can go to hell,' and I'll turn over and go back to sleep! This has been my lifelong desire which I have not been able to fulfill up to now. My whole life I wanted to skip the parade but could not do so. Now I am retired, so...."
Such is our mind. It wants to sleep, and when it is time to wake up,
then we get even more pleasure from going on sleeping if we are
given the chance. Now this colonel is insane, but he represents man
truly. Now he can go on sleeping uninterrupted, there is no need to
keep the orderly any more for waking him up at four in the morning.
But the real interest is in someone making the effort to wake him up
and his turning over and going on sleeping and ignoring him. This
satisfaction is not possible even in the natural uninterrupted
sleep.
So when buddhahood happens to someone and he comes to shake you up
from your sleep, your interest in sleeping actually deepens. You
turn over and go on sleeping. Then you turn that buddha also into a
part of your dreams. You start dreaming about him, you do not allow
him to become your path leading you to awakening. You turn him also
into a support to deepen your sleep.
But still the opportunity is there. Gurdjieff used to say, "How can
you ever wake up unless someone else awakens you?" Your sleep is so
deep that unless someone comes along and shakes you, no external
element is going to find its way to you through the barrier of your
slumbers. And you are so clever that the possibility is that the man
who comes to awaken you, you will pull him too into sleep with
yourself.
Still, there is one way, and Gurdjieff used to tell a story to
illustrate it which is worth understanding. He used to say that ten
people are traveling through a dense forest. They are afraid of the
beasts prowling in the jungle, so they all do not go to sleep at the
same time; one of the them is awake, and this man does not go to
sleep without waking someone else. But at least one is always awake
and he protects the rest of the nine who are sleeping, and before
going to sleep this man will without fail awaken one of the sleeping
ones to replace him. Gurdjieff used to call this schoolwork.
This is the very function of an ashram. It is a place where say one
hundred people decide to wake up on their own, but the sleep they
are in is deep and on his own one may forget the commitment. Our
capacity for forgetting is immense!
There was a man who was always forgetting things. No
matter how determined he was to remember, he would just forget. So
he consulted a psychologist. The psychologist advised him to keep a
piece of string handy, and whenever he wanted to remember something,
to tie the string around his finger or around his ear or to make a
knot in his clothing. So the moment he caught sight of the knot he
would be reminded.
Shortly after, the man wanted to remember something, so he found a
piece of string and knotted it around his finger as the psychologist
had suggested. But the man became even more carefree after tying the
thread, because now he thought there is no way to forget. This made
him forget even more easily.
At the end of the day the man returned home, had his dinner, and
while he was reading the newspaper suddenly he noticed the string
around his finger. But try as he might, he could not remember why he
had tied the string. Now if one is forgetful one can forget anything
- but this time the man was determined to remember what it was that
he had forgotten. "No matter how long it takes," he vowed to
himself, "I shall not rest until I have remembered what it was! I
shall sit and meditate, and if necessary I shall stay up all night
long, but I must remember."
So he sat there in his chair, thinking and pondering and racking his
brains until two o'clock in the morning - and then he remembered. He
remembered that he had tied the string round his finger to remind
himself to go to bed early that night.
Yes, our capacity for forgetting is tremendous. In our alchemy of
turning the truth into dreams we are very skillful.
When someone awakens, a door of possibility opens, an opportunity
arises. An awakened one can break our dreams, he can create
obstacles for us from just turning over and continuing the sleep.
This is why Gurdjieff says that awakening is a collective process, a
school's, an ashram's work, a process of a group of friends. To
awaken on one's own is very arduous. Thus it was that Buddha
pioneered the maha-sangha - the great commune, where thousands of
bhikshus came together. Even if just a single one of them could wake
up, he would become a door to the others' awakening.
With the same purpose, Mahavira founded the organized tradition of
munis, sadhus and sadhvis. Hindus established big, well-run ashrams,
and the Christians developed precious monasteries. If just one
person in the place awakens, he will be useful in awakening others;
that single ray will seek to penetrate the darkness of many others
living there. Still there is no guarantee that the darkness can be
dispelled.
This is why I say that buddhahood happens only once in a while. Then
the door opens for a short while. Then if you can stop yourself from
turning over and going back to sleep; if you can resist your age-old
habit of converting truth into dreams; if you can maintain a little
remembrance; if you can see through the deception of what you think
in your sleep are gains, and that misery is not destroyed by
unconsciousness but only forgotten, you will have to wake up. If
life is hell, you will have to see that it is so. It is through that
very vision of hell that your journey towards heaven will begin.
No one has ever reached anywhere by running away from it, and no one
has ever been able to falsify the truth by closing their eyes to it.
The logic of the ostrich is no logic at all - the enemy does not
disappear because you have buried your head in the sand. The
escapists have never attained to any life-fulfillment. One will have
to wake up. If there is struggle you will have to face it, if there
is suffering you will have to live it. It is through this living and
the process of waking up and awareness that you will come to the
point where one transcends unhappiness.
To find a buddha is a rare fortune. Even that much good fortune is
the result of your striving for many many lives - if life after life
even though you have dreamt you have dreamt of waking up. Life after
life you have yearned for liberation - you could not become
liberated, you could not go beyond the world, that is another
matter, you could not go beyond the world, but the seed of sannyas
has been lying within you. The meaningless keeps hold of you, but
once in a while you have seen the futility of it. Just as lightning
flashes in a dark night and one gets a glimpse of everything, so
have there been at some points of your life journey some flashes
when you have seen that everything is meaningless. The meaningful
has called you sometimes and this is why you have been able to earn
the good fortune to come across a buddha. For many it is not
possible to even think of it.
On the day of Buddha's
birth, in the same village, a girl was also born. She grew up with
Buddha - she was the same age, had similar life experiences, but she
was deeply afraid of him. She avoided the roads that he frequented,
and if she suddenly saw him on the road she would run away. Then
Buddha renounced the world and left everything. She became even more
afraid of him. Even before he became a bhikshu her fear of him was
great; now she was terrified.
Then one day she happened to be returning from the market at dusk.
There was no likelihood of meeting Buddha on that road, and he was
not even in her thoughts, but suddenly he was there. Not until she
was very close to him did she realize who it was, for she had never
taken a good look at him - it is not possible when there is fear.
Then there she was, right in front of him. For the first time she
looked at Buddha, and all her fear disappeared, and she was
transformed.
Zen masters have always been asking seekers who that woman was. That
woman is your shadow. She is not only born with Buddha, she is also
born when you are born. Hindus call her maya, illusion. You and your
maya never come face to face with each other. Neither does your maya
ever take a good look at you nor do you ever look deeply at her. So
the game goes on. If in that game you do come face to face with each
other, it is not you who will melt away but the maya. It is only the
shadow that disappears, not you. Hence the shadow is in fear, it
runs away from wherever you are. Even if it follows you, it is only
from the back, it never comes in front of you.
What we at present call life is no more than a shadow; there is no
truth to be found in it at all. But when you come close to a buddha,
to one who has attained buddhahood, you will have to confront your
shadow. You will have to look deeply at your maya, the illusions;
you will have to come face to face with your dreams. The day you
look at your dreams rightly, your sleep will be over. You will avoid
- you will avoid even blessings. Our habit of being miserable has
gone so deep that we find ourselves unable to bear ecstasy even if
it is coming to us on its own accord.
A man who lived in the capital
city of an empire was known to the emperor. Whatever this man
did would go wrong, and everything he undertook was to his loss;
misfortune seemed to follow him wherever he went. Out of great
curiosity the emperor consulted a fakir. "I have studied this man
continuously," he told the fakir, "and there has not been a single
hour of good fortune in his life. Is it predestined that he will
meet only unhappiness in his life?"
The fakir said, "Ages old is this habit of his of enjoying
unhappiness. He has perfected this through the effort of many
lives."
This did not appeal to the emperor. He said, "I don't agree. I think
that the reason this fellow's life is the way it is, is because he
never found the right situation, the right company, the right
milieu.
The fakir said, "Let us then experiment and see."
So one day the emperor arranged for a large pot of gold coins and
precious jewels to be left on the road on which this man used to
pass every evening. The place he chose to leave the pot of treasure
was on a bridge over a river, and the public and the guards were
alerted to make sure that no one but this man should be allowed to
touch the pot or its contents. Only this man of ill fortune was to
be allowed to pick up the treasure and take it away with him. He was
to be regarded as the owner of the precious pot.
What happened was very strange! The fakir and the emperor both stood
at the other end of the bridge to watch. They saw the man
approaching, and the emperor's heart was beating fast - a matter of
great principle was about to be resolved concerning man's nature and
destiny. The emperor thought that anything can be achieved by man's
effort and now for this man nothing much needs to be done. All that
was needed was that the man pick up the pot full of immense
treasures which was right in the middle of his path, carry it away -
no one is going to object to him - and become super rich.
But as the man came closer, the emperor was astonished because the
poor man was walking with closed eyes. He bumped into the pot, which
fell over spilling some of the treasure out with a jingling noise.
But the man avoiding the object he had bumped into, and kept walking
steadily across the bridge with eyes still closed. As the man
reached the other end of the bridge, the emperor, unable to restrain
himself anymore, caught hold of the man and shouted at him, "You
fool! Why have you got your eyes closed?"
The man replied, "All my life I have walked across this bridge with
my eyes open, and today I suddenly decided to see whether I could
walk across it with my eyes closed - and I can! There was only one
moment when I bumped into something, but otherwise it was easy. Now
I know that it would be alright even if I were to go blind!"
The fakir said, "Look! Even if a buddha stands in your path, you may
bump into him but you will pass him by. Then you will boast that you
could even have walked past him. That will certainly be the day you
have taken some stupid decision like this: I want to see if I can
pass by this place with my eyes closed."
This is why I say that to miss is very easy. The opportunity is
rare, and to miss it is very easy. These are two apparently opposite
extremes, but if you understand them in the right perspective, the
situation reverses; then to miss the opportunity is not so easy and
to meet buddhahood is not so difficult. If you can understand the
two things rightly, perhaps you may come across buddhas every day on
the way. And if you meet a buddha even once, you will enter the door
right away - there is no reason for such a person to miss it.
I am taking you into all these experiments with meditation so that
it becomes possible for you to recognize the buddha when the meeting
happens; so that you do not turn your back on the door when it
opens; so that you won't miss even if the door opens only for a
single moment. Meditation will help you to recognize the master. Now
this is a puzzle, because normally we approach the master in order
to learn meditation. But I am telling you, without meditation you
will never be able to recognize the master. Where will you look?
Only meditation will make you capable of seeing the master. If you
go to recognize the master through your thinking, you will miss.
Many people come to me, and I can clearly see that they are so full
of their thoughts that no contact is possible between us; it is as
if we are at thousands of miles distance. They have so many
thoughts, and they weigh me only on the scales of their thoughts,
they try to understand me only through thoughts, and they believe
only in what their thoughts say to them.
You have never given a thought to how surrendered you are to your
thoughts - thoughts which have never delivered you anything else
except misery. You never doubt your thoughts. People come to me and
tell me that they are skeptics or rationalists, that they cannot
trust; and I see the extremity of their trust in their own head -
this they never doubt! They have such profound faith in this head of
theirs, the head which has never brought them a single drop of
happiness, this head where no flowers have ever blossomed, only
thorns. And they say they have no place for faith, that they doubt
everything, that they think, and that they will not take any
decision without thinking about it.
How have you come to this decision that what your head tells you is
right? This decision you have certainly taken without any thinking,
because anybody who has really thought has first of all abandoned
faith in his head. The experience of life - of countless numbers of
lives - tells you that this head has only made you wander.
Here I am, holding the door wide open, but if you are too full of
thoughts you are going to miss. Your head is full of so many layers
of thoughts that even the open door will appear to you as closed.
After all you will depend on your intellect in order to understand
and the falsity will come in; you are bound to devise one trick or
the other.
You will understand buddhahood only when you stop thinking - and
that state of nonthinking is meditation. Only in the moment of
meditation will the master be recognized; not through thinking, not
through logic or calculations, but only by sitting silently, in
peace, will he be recognized. Hence the old tradition of keeping
silent for the first three or four years of being with a master. No
questioning, no attention paid to the mind's frantic activity,
keeping it still, just sitting in silence, waiting. It takes three
to four years like this before the ages-old wavering of the mind
subsides. When the inner turmoil stops, when the mind's race ceases,
when the inner marketplace closes down as if for the night, then all
goes quiet. This process we have called satsang.
Satsang means going to someone and sitting there with him in
silence. And the interesting point about this is that the big
question is not whether the man with whom you sit is the right man
or a wrong one; sitting silently with him will help you anyway. If
he is wrong, you will come to see that he is wrong and you will be
free of him. If he is right, you will come to see that he is right
and you will enter into him.
Meditation opens the eyes, so there is no need to worry about
whether the man with whom you are sitting in silence is right or
wrong. It is irrelevant whether he is right or wrong; your sitting
in silence is right.
See it this way: if even near the right man you go on thinking, you
will miss. It is the thinking that makes you miss. If you sit in
silence even near a wrong man, you will attain, because
thoughtlessness opens the eyes. You will be able to see that this
man is wrong. And remember, the one who is able to see what is
wrong, is also able to see what is right. So even from sitting
silently with a false master you will not come away emptyhanded. But
remain bound up in your thoughts, and even from the true master you
will return unfulfilled. Your thoughts are your prisons. No matter
how hard I might work on your thoughts, it is not going to make much
difference - you will go on deriving your meanings, imposing your
definitions.
It had stood since time immemorial, and in it was a golden statue
of the deity.
One night the high priest dreamt that the deity of the temple would
arrive the next day. Such an event had never happened before; down
the ages the deity had never visited the temple. The high priest
himself could not believe it. Remember, it is the priests who have
the least trust.
Ordinarily people think that the priest belongs to the temple, lives
in the temple, so he must have the greatest faith, but I can assure
you the priest has no faith at all. It is he who does everything for
the temple deities - washing and bathing them, lifting them up and
laying them down. At times the statue slips and falls down from his
hands, and it is helplessly unable to do anything in self-defense.
The priests' observation is that this idol which cannot even protect
itself, how can it possibly look after him? He knows the profession
from the inside and he has no faith in it. It is the outsiders who
have faith, those who do not know the inside secrets of the trade.
So this high priest had no trust in his dream, but still he was in a
dilemma about whether to tell it to others or not. The temple was
big, with a hundred priests, and he was afraid just in case it was
true. "The world is so strange that sometimes even dreams come
true," he thought, "and if in this case it turned out to be true, I
will be in trouble." So he decided that he had better tell the other
priests in spite of the possibility of becoming a laughingstock.
He gathered the priests together, and said to them, "I do not
believe in it, it certainly is just a dream, but it is better that I
share it with you. In this dream last night I saw our golden deity
standing before me and telling me that he would be visiting the
temple the following day."
All the priests burst out laughing. "At your age you have gone
crazy!" they said. "Have you ever heard of a deity coming to the
temple? This is just a dream!"
"Well," said the high priest, "you think it over. I cannot be held
responsible anymore. Now you all decide what you want to do about
it!"
So the priests considered the matter together. They also arrived at
the conclusion that it was better to heed the dream, just to be on
the safe side. "After all," they said, "even dreams sometimes come
true. When all truths are like dreams, sometimes dreams can also
become a truth. And what harm can there be in making preparations,
even though we know that he is not going to come - that no God ever
comes? Still, let us prepare."
The temple was thoroughly washed and cleaned, the holy ornaments
polished and decorated, the candles and lamps were lit, and the
trays of sweet offerings set out. Then, full of doubt, the priests
waited. But is there any waiting possible in doubt? They all knew
that no one was to come, but still they decided to cook good food
and sweet dishes. "If the God does not turn up, so what," they
thought; "we will certainly have a good feast."
Then the evening came and went, the sun disappeared over the
horizon, and they speculated: "Who will come now? If God was to
come, he would come during the daytime. Why should he come at
night?"
Then as night fell, they decided to shut the doors of the temple -
enough is enough! They shut the temple doors, fed themselves on the
food they had prepared for God, turned off the lamps, and making
sure that everything was put away neatly they began to ridicule
themselves: "What kind of men are we? We spend the whole day washing
and cleaning and preparing a feast - and for what? It was all in
vain! How crazy are we, to listen to such dreams!" Then they went to
bed.
Later that night, God's chariot arrived, its sounds were heard at
the temple doors. The high priest, who was half asleep, half awake,
felt that the deity has come. He shouted, "Does anybody hear the
sound of the chariot at the gate?"
The other priests were angry to be disturbed yet again by the high
priest. The whole day had been a hard work for them all, and now the
high priest would not even let them sleep in peace. "Stop this
nonsense!" they shouted back at him. "Is there something wrong with
you? There is no chariot anywhere; what you hear is the rumblings of
thunder!" And they went back to sleep.
Outside someone descended from the chariot, climbed the temple
steps, and knocked on the doors. One of the priests heard the sound
of the knocking and wondered.... The doubt was there anyway, the
divided mind was arguing, "Maybe, who knows, the dream may yet be
true."
Then another priest mumbled in his sleep, "Someone seems to be
knocking."
The disturbance awoke the high priest again, and he chided the
others, "This is really too much! Not only am I caught up by my
dream, but all of you too! All you can hear is the wind hitting the
door. Who is going to knock on the temple door in the middle of the
night? Is God a thief that he would come in the middle of the night?
He descends under the bright sun, in the full light, in the
marketplace where everyone can see him. Enough of this disturbance!
Now whatever happens you are not going to create a fuss. Just go
back to sleep and let the rest of us sleep too."
In the morning the grief of the priests was great when they arose
and opened the temple doors and they saw in the roadway the marks of
the chariot wheels. And someone had come up the temple steps, his
footprints were there - but now there was nothing they could do
except cry and weep. They had missed the opportunity.
Rabindranath gave this poem the title, The Missed Opportunity. The
deity came, but the priests were asleep.
When I say I am knocking on your doors, if you are full of thoughts
I can hear that you are interpreting: "It is just a rumble of
thunder," or: "It is just a strong wind blowing," or: "It is just
some illusion."
One young man came to me and said, "All that you say appeals to me
very much. I am a psychology student and I like what you say so much
that I start wondering if I am just hypnotized with you, if you have
just hypnotized me! " Now his mind is telling him to run away from
here, there is danger of being hypnotized here, and certainly there
is nothing religious about hypnosis.
You listen to the points I make, if you are logical your mind says,
"Yes, there is great logic in these points. But so what? Words are
words, what am I going to do with these words? Eat them for dinner?
Wear them as clothes? Use them as a shelter when it rains? Don't get
hung up on the words! Don't astray from the realities of life."
Just two days ago a young sannyasin girl came to me and said, "My
father is very worried. He says, 'How long are you going to go on
with this meditation and sannyas? It's enough now, just go back and
be a normal person again, live the way everyone else is living.'"
The way everyone else lives is what we mean by normal. Mad though
their way of life may be, but the way everyone lives seem to be
normal. Certainly when I knock on your door I am calling you to be
something abnormal. I am beckoning you towards a life that others
are not living, that you will live, that will be unique, new,
unknown. It needs courage.
The mind persuades you. And until you can free yourself from this
persuasion, until you can go beyond this persuasion, this circle
will go on revolving through countless lifetimes. Don't interpret,
simply look at the facts. Don't be lazy. It is already late enough;
wake up! It is morning!
But for those who are asleep the night continues. Only those who are
awake can see that the morning has come. And whatsoever I am saying
to you, my emphasis is not on what I am saying, it is rather on
shaking you, stirring you so that your sleep is broken. So many
times I have to use what psychologists call shock treatment.... When
someone is gone into extreme insanity, only the administration of
electric shocks brings him back into sanity.
You too need strong electric shocks. Hence, many times I say things
that give you a jolt, a shock. And this process that I have been
calling meditation is exactly electric shock treatment. It will
create so many tremors in you that you will become an earthquake -
and not until you are an earthquake will you break out of your
sleep.
I have heard: One morning a man was being told by his wife how
incredible a thunderstorm it was in the night... great rumblings of
clouds, flashing lightning and thunderbolts. Several people had died
- and then the earthquake to top it all.
The man said, "With all this going on, why didn't you wake me up? I
would have liked to have seen it too!"
Some people can absorb even electric shocks; it does not wake them
up. They need higher voltage. If you agree I will give you as high a
voltage as you need. But even to make you agree I have to start
slowly and with lower voltages; otherwise you would run away!
Zen masters walk around among their meditating disciples with their
Zen sticks. If the master sees that a disciple is dozing - and it is
quite natural to doze off when you are sitting in meditation for
seven or eight hours continuously in one posture - he gives him a
hit with the stick. But many times it has happened that the master's
hit has awoken the disciple not only from his dozing, but from his
great sleep. Many times the hit has been the moment of
enlightenment.
When stories from the Zen tradition were first translated and made
available in Western languages, many Westerners simply could not
believe them: How is it possible that someone hits you with a stick
on your head and you attain enlightenment? Is enlightenment so easy?
And what relationship does enlightenment have with the hit of a
staff? One attains to enlightenment through studying the Bible, the
Koran, the Gita. How can it be attained through being hit on the
head? And these stories of the Zen monks are very strange - that he
throws a disciple out of the window and the disciple becomes
enlightened the moment he hits the ground! Or the disciple is just
entering a room, his hand is on the door, the master slams the
disciple's fingers shut in the door - and in that moment the
disciple attains to enlightenment.
When he spoke
he was in the habit of raising one finger. This raised finger was a
symbol of advait - nonduality. His disciples even joked about it
behind his back; in their discussions they would raise a finger. All
that was fine, it was innocent. There was a small boy in the service
of the master - bringing tea or water for him, arranging his sitting
mat and so on. This boy had become an expert in raising the finger
and imitating Bokuju. He would sit behind Bokuju while he was
speaking, and when Bokuju raised his finger, he would raise one
finger in imitation of the master. There he would raise one finger
and gesticulate with it as though he was preaching to people.
Bokuju knew it all, because even that which happens at the back of a
buddha is right in front of his eyes. There is no way to hide
anything from him. And even if you think you have managed to hide
from him, it is only because the buddha is choosing to keep you from
knowing that he knows, that's all.
One day Bokuju was talking, and the boy was sitting behind him as
usual. As Bokuju raised his finger, so the boy raised his. In one
moment Bokuju took a knife from his pocket, turned, and sliced off
the boy's raised finger! Everyone present was thrown into a state of
shock. People were very afraid - and the boy jumped up screaming as
his finger fell off and the blood began to gush.
Bokuju caught hold of the boy, pulled him in front of him, and burst
out laughing. At this the boy was at a loss - he did not know
whether to laugh or cry. For a moment he forgot that his finger had
just been cut off. Then Bokuju raised his finger and asked the boy
to do the same. The boy raised his missing finger, and it is said
that in that moment he became enlightened!
These stories are very strange, defy all understanding, and may even
seem very harsh. This Bokuju looks very wicked, to have cut off a
boy's finger. But the shock of a finger getting chopped-off can
break the sleep. And if a chopped off finger is the price one has to
pay for shattering the sleep, it is well worth it! But only a Bokuju
knows when is the right moment that it can happen. Only he knows
when the layer of sleep is quite thin, when there is just slightest
duality which will shatter in the shock. So the Zen master hits only
when the layer of sleep is very thin; otherwise you will absorb even
the shock. The finger will be gone but no one will wake up.
All meditation techniques are techniques to shake you, to jolt you
awake. And I am always waiting for that moment when your layer will
be so thin that just the merest indication will shatter it. And if
you are able to open your eyes and look even once, the matter is
over.
My speaking to you is nothing but persuading you, getting you to
agree to a journey which is utterly unfamiliar to you, to a journey
where you have no idea of the destination; where it is possible you
may get lost, or it is also possible you may reach the destination.
I am taking you in search of such a treasure which you have no idea
of, and you will have to travel leaving that behind which you call
treasure; hence your attachment is understandable. Every now and
then you turn around and look back - it is natural. That you want to
take along with you very carefully even that which is worthless is
natural.
Your sleep is natural, my shaking you is natural. I know it is
difficult for your sleep to come to an end, but I also know that it
can come to an end in a single moment. I am in search of the right
moment to knock at your door. If you keep on coming to me, if you
prove to be stubborn, do not run away in the middle, how long will
you be able to go on thinking? You will get tired of it; slowly
slowly you will stop thinking. And when you stop thinking, your
dreams will also drop. Any moment, when I find you are just sitting,
you are not thinking, there are no thought waves clouding inside you
- a slight hit in that moment, a slight knocking, a soft gush of
wind, even a dry leaf falling is enough and you will be awake.
You open your eyes and look just once, and the whole world turns
different for you. You can never go back and be the same again. And
this too is true that I am not going to be here forever, so you can
miss the opportunity. You should not be too carefree, because this
too usually deepens the sleep. You should be aware that any moment
this door may close, so there should be no slackening of your
intensity. You may lose me without having found. There is no way to
loose me once you have found, but you may loose me without having
found. This door may close before you have noticed it. You should
keep this in mind so that you don't fall back to sleep without a
care. At the moment the door is open. If you are peaceful you can
see it, if you are silent you can enter.
The entire arrangement here is for just one thing: how to bring
about your dissolution. The scriptures say that the master is death;
that the master is he who becomes your death, and beyond that death
is life eternal. Only the one who dissolves will attain to that
life. So many times I may appear to you as your enemy also. I
shatter your concepts; it is a device to kill you. I annihilate your
thoughts; it is a device to kill you. I shatter your calculations of
right and wrong; that too is a device to kill you. I not only change
the color of your clothes, I not only change your name, I want to
change your whole being; this too is a device to kill you. You have
to be annihilated.
The moment you disappear, the divine appears within you then and
there. You are a seed; if you dissolve, the sprout will shoot out.
But you are clinging to the shell of the seed, you think perhaps it
is your very life; if this is lost, you are lost. But the shell of
the seed is not your life, your life is hidden within it; if the
shell breaks, the seed will sprout. The shell is dead, the sprout
will be alive. And don't be afraid of losing one seed; when you have
become a tree, millions of seeds will sprout from you! But how to
explain this to the seed? - it is afraid of breaking.
Recently I was reading a book called The Secret Life of Plants. It
is a remarkable book from the West which has just been published. It
seems that the work that was pioneered by Sir Jagdish Chandra Bose
is about to reach its climax in the West, with the revelation that
plants have feelings just like people.
Just try this simple experiment and you will understand what I mean.
Take three flower pots, and put an equal amount of the same soil and
same manure in each. Then put in each one an equal number of seeds
of any seasonal flower which comes to its blooming soon, say within
five or six weeks. Make sure that the quantity and quality of seeds
sown is identical for all three pots, and then mark the pots each
with plus, minus and zero signs respectively, and keep them away
from each other.
Now, for at least fifteen minutes each day, you go to the pot marked
positive, and you talk very lovingly to the seeds: "Don't be
afraid," you tell them. "Break, dissolve into the soil! You need not
fear, soon you will sprout and a greater life will manifest. The
open skies are ready to welcome you. There is nothing to fear - the
sun awaits you."
At first all this may seem crazy to you, but don't be worried, very
soon your madness will bring results! Keep the pots at a distance of
at least eight to ten feet from each other, so the suggestions given
to the seeds of one pot are not heard by the seeds of the other
pots. Just go on telling the positive seeds to have courage, to
break open, to let the sprouting happen. Tell them, "I am here with
you, and all is ready to welcome you!"
To the seeds in the pot marked negative you give food and water and
sun and shade exactly the same as you do for the positive seeds. The
only difference is that you talk to them differently. You talk
negatively, and you say, "Don't bother to break open. You will die
and there is going to be no sprouting, and for months the sun is
hidden and the skies have prepared no welcome for you. Unnecessarily
you will be in trouble, you will suffer and die. So look after
yourselves and protect yourselves...."
And to the pot marked zero you give no suggestions - you don't talk
to the seeds in this pot at all.
Within four or five weeks you will see some big differences among
the three pots. The seeds which you have welcomed will be the first
to break open, and their shoots will grow fast. The second to sprout
will be the seeds in the pot marked zero - the seeds to whom you
gave no suggestions at all. But they will take a longer time to
sprout, their shoots will be smaller, lacking the joy and enthusiasm
visible in the positive pot. And from the pot to which you gave only
negative suggestions there will be virtually no sprouting at all.
Even if one or two sprouts appear, they will be sickly and will be
dead soon. You can do this little experiment yourselves and see.
I am doing the same on you. I have marked a positive sign on your
pot and I am telling you, "Don't be afraid! Break, dissolve! The sun
is ready, the sky welcomes you. I am sitting alongside you, don't be
afraid. Come, rise and move on!" Even a child starts walking if his
father just offers him a finger to hold onto. The child does not
know how to walk, but it is his father's finger so he trusts.
And this is all. The master cannot do any more than this. He simply
offers you his hand, and soon - if you can trust - you start
walking. And before long you will find that you don't need the
helping hand anymore. In fact, the child wants to let go of his
father's hand - it is natural. "Let me walk on my own," he demands.
And the father who really loves his child will let go of the child's
hand. He had, in the first place, held the child's hand so that the
child can walk. The child was not an excuse for holding the hand;
holding the hand was an excuse for the child.
The moment your seed starts breaking, the moment your sprouts start
appearing and you no longer need my reassurance, I will withdraw my
hand.
The master is quick to free the disciple from himself, but the
freedom is only possible when you are willing to be bound in the
first place. Otherwise, who will I free? If you were never bound to
me, who will I free? If the child never held his father's hand, the
question of letting go of it will not arise. But then the child will
go on walking on all fours, like an animal.
I knock on your door, I reassure you and lead you out of fear and
into trust that all that you will leave behind is rubbish and what
you will gain is a treasure.