MY BODY AND MY MIND ARE IN DEPRESSION
BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT WITH ME.
HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU AND WANT YOU IN MY HOUSE!
WHEN I HEAR PEOPLE DESCRIBE ME AS YOUR BRIDE
I LOOK SIDEWAYS ASHAMED,
BECAUSE I KNOW THAT FAR INSIDE US
WE HAVE NEVER MET.
THEN WHAT IS THIS LOVE OF MINE?
I DON'T REALLY CARE ABOUT FOOD,
I DON'T REALLY CARE ABOUT SLEEP,
I AM RESTLESS INDOORS AND OUTDOORS.
THE BRIDE WANTS HER LOVER
AS MUCH AS A THIRSTY MAN WANTS WATER.
AND HOW WILL I FIND SOMEONE
WHO WILL TAKE A MESSAGE TO THE GUEST FROM ME?
HOW RESTLESS KABIR IS ALL THE TIME!
HOW MUCH HE WANTS TO SEE THE GUEST!
ARISTOTLE defines man as the rational animal; no definition can be more false than this. Man is the most irrational animal, because man is not conscious yet. Reason is possible only as a by-product of consciousness. Man is asleep, man is dreaming. How can he be rational? He has no eyes to see, he has no awareness to know, he is utterly confused.
Man is a confusion, confusion between the body and the soul, confusion between the material and the spiritual, confusion between logic and love. Out of this confusion there is no possibility of knowing God. Out of this confusion you can go on crying and praying, but your prayer will never reach to the divine, your crying is futile. Out of this confusion you will not be able to see the light. This confusion has to be dropped.
One has to become intensely aware or intensely loving. These are the only two keys which can bring man out of the state he is in: either intense awareness -- that is the path of meditation -- or intense, total love -- that is the path of devotion.
Kabir is a devotee: he is on the path of love. He will talk of love again and again, but what he means by love has to be understood well. By love he means an intense desire to disappear into the whole. It is not the love you know of, that you talk about; it is a totally different phenomenon. Your love is an effort to dominate the other; it is a strategy to possess the other, to exploit the other. Kabir is not talking about that love. You cannot possess God, you can only be possessed by God.
To love God means to surrender, to trust, to be ready to die into Him, because dying in God is the beginning of a new life; it is resurrection. Love has to become such an intense flame that it bums you out, that you are not left behind, that you are consumed in it. If you are not, the Guest comes.
This paradox has to be understood: the Guest cannot come if the host is very much there; the Guest can come only when the host is not there at all. In fact, that's what it really means to be a host: absent, utterly absent, with no ego, with no idea of 'I' within you; just an utter, pure emptiness, then you are a host. When the host is not there, then you are really a host. And then not even a split second is lost and the Guest comes.
The Guest does not come from the outside, hence there is no time gap. The dying of the host is the resurrection of the Guest. You are the host, you are the Guest! If you live with the I you remain a host, unacquainted with the Guest. If you drop the I, you are the Guest.
But before man can attain to such intensity, either of awareness or of love -- the real thing is intensity; neither does awareness matter nor love; what matters is intensity, total intensity -- before that total intensity can happen you have to be perfectly conscious of your unconsciousness. Man is so unconscious that he is not even conscious of his unconsciousness.
Just the other day Mulla Nasrudin was telling me: "I had eighteen bottles of whisky in my cellar and was told by my wife to empty the contents of each and every bottle down the sink, or else. I said I would and proceeded with the unpleasant task. I withdrew the cork from the first bottle and poured the contents down the sink with the exception of one glass which I drank. I extracted the cork from the second bottle and I did likewise with it with the exception of one glass, which I drank. I then withdrew the cork from the third bottle and poured the whisky down the sink which I drank. I pulled the cork from the fourth bottle down the sink and poured the bottle from the cork of the next and drank one sink out of it and threw the rest down the glass. I pulled the sink out of the next glass and poured the cork down the bottle. Then I corked the sink with the glass, bottled the drink and drank the pour. When I had everything emptied, I steadied the house with me hand, counted the glasses, corks, bottles and sinks with the other, which were 29, and as the house came by, I counted them again and finally had all the houses in one bottle, which I drank. I'm not under the affluence of oncohol, as some tinkle peep I am, I'm not half as thunk as you might drink. I fool so feelish I don't know who is me, and the drunker I stand here the longer I get. Ah me!"
This is precisely the situation man is in. One is not aware of who one is, one is not aware of from where one is, one is not aware of where one is going. One is not aware of why one is at all, why this whole existence is. One simply goes on like a robot, doing things, managing somehow.
From birth to death man is a long sleep, sometimes dreaming with eyes closed, sometimes dreaming with eyes open, but dreaming all the same, all the time.
This situation cannot allow you to invite the Guest. In this situation you cannot know what God is, because God is nothing but the name of the totality. You don't even know yourself, how can you know the total? Even the small part of your being -- you are just a tiny being compared to this great, vast existence, you are just a dewdrop compared to the ocean of existence -- and you don't know even the dewdrop, and you start enquiring about the ocean.
Hence all philosophy is foolish. Philosophy is bound to be foolish because it enquires about the ocean without knowing the dewdrop. Religion is very sane: it starts by enquiring into the dewdrop.
The first and the most fundamental question of religion is not God but 'Who am I?' One who starts with this question, 'Who am I?', is moving in the right direction. But remember, this question should not be just an intellectual enquiry. You should not ask this question with the expectation that somebody else is going to answer it; nobody can answer it for you. You cannot borrow the answer from any source, the Bible, the Veda, the Koran. No Buddha can be of any help as far as the answer is concerned.
Then what is the purpose of the Buddhas? -- to make it clear to you that your question is unanswerable, that your question has to become an inner quest. You should not look out for the answer, you should look in for the answer. The question is hiding the answer in itself -- if you go deep down into the question you will find the answer.
The answer has to become your own realization. It cannot be through the scriptures, it cannot be through the sermons of those who are awakened. It can only be through your own awakening, through your own enlightenment; there is no other way, there is no shortcut. There is no way to get the answer cheaply. You will have to dive deep into your being, you will have to risk.
Why do I call it a risk? The greatest risk is to dive deep within oneself, because when you dive deep within yourself you come across abysmal emptiness, and it frightens. And there are only two possible ways: either to be superstitious and just go into it with all your superstitions... you will miss. The superstitious person can never become religious. He believes, but his belief is blind, and if your belief is blind you cannot open your eyes. If you begin with blindness you will end with blindness.
The other possibility is doubt -- one is superstition, blind belief, the other is doubt. If you doubt, you cannot dive; if you believe, you dive but in vain. And these seem to be the immediately available alternatives; the third is not so immediately clear.
The third is an intelligent trust. Again a paradox! You have always thought of trust as needing no intelligence; you have always thought of intelligence as sceptical. You have never thought of the beautiful synthesis, the harmony, of intelligence and trust. When intelligence and trust meet. when you dive deep but fully aware -- fully aware of the risk -- when you dive into your being risking all, gambling, but knowing, knowing perfectly that you may simply be entering into something from which there may be no return -- you may be dying and there may be no resurrection -- not even a perhaps in the mind; risking without motive, risking intelligently, seeing that the life outside is futile -- you have seen it, you have lived it, you have been through it, and enough is enough -- you are ready to risk the inner journey intelligently. But remember, I say intelligently; love has not to be blind.
Ordinarily that's what your love is: it is emotional blindness; it is sentimentality, it is not intelligence. And unless love has the quality of intelligence it is not love -- not the love that Kabir is talking about.
There are two stories to be pondered over....
There is this guy from India and he is walking along a cliff, falls off, grabs the branch and pleads, "Is there anyone up there? Help me!"
God answers true to form, "Trust me -- let go! "
The guy does, and immediately falls to his death on the rocks below.
God speaks again through the clouds, "That will teach you, you stupid Indian!"
And the second story....
A Jew is walking along a cliff, falls off, grabs the branch and pleads, "Is there anyone up there? Help me!"
God answers, "Trust me -- let go!"
The Jew thinks for a minute, then with eyes uplifted to the sky, says, "Is there anyone ELSE up there?"
These are the two alternatives, simple alternatives, available: either blindly believe -- but remember, God is not available to blind, superstitious people -- or blindly doubt God is not available to them either. God is available to intelligent enquirers.
What is intelligent enquiry? The first requirement is to be a little more conscious than you are. Whatsoever you are doing, bring the quality of consciousness into it. Walking, remember 'I am walking.' Not that you have to repeat these words, 'I am walking', just remain alert that you are walking. Drinking water, remember you are drinking. Remember it is cool, remember it is quenching the thirst, not afterwards, not when the thirst is quenched, not when it has become a past thing but when it is on the way, when the process is happening, when really the thirst is being quenched; not when it has become a noun but when it is a verb, still alive, vibrating. Feel the coolness of the water in your throat, the quenching of the thirst -- not afterwards, let me repeat, not even a split second later.
Eating, working, taking a bath, whatsoever you are doing, bring the quality of awareness so that awareness becomes soaked into your being. Then only will you be able to become a conscious lover, because love is one of the deepest phenomena. Unless you are aware, conscious in your ordinary life, you will not be conscious in your love. And conscious love is prayer.
If love is not conscious it remains lust, and lust can never have anything of prayer in it. Lust is unconscious, love is conscious.
The lush staggered into the heart of Lover's Lane, blundered into the parked convertibles and caused a minor commotion. Just then a young man appeared from the shadows, breathing heavily.
"Wow!' he exclaimed, "what a dynamo! A woman like that would kill you in no time flat -- she'd burn a guy up!"
"So what?" slobbered the drunk.
"I'm bushed, pal," said the fellow, "want to take over for me a while? I gotta rest up."
"Glad to, buddy, ol' pal," mumbled the drunk, as he blundered his way to a parked car nearby. He had no sooner made himself comfortable than a police car drove up and a flashlight flooded the darkened convertible with its strong beam. "C'mon you two, break it up," snarled the Law.
"But offisher," protested the lush, "this is my wife!"
"Sorry mister, didn't know it was your wife."
"Neither did I until the lights went on!"
You don't know what you are doing. You call your lust love, you call your desire to possess love, you call your exploitation love. You use the other person and you call it caring. You don't know what you are doing; you can't know, unless you start becoming aware and alert about small things first. One has to learn swimming in shallow water.
When you have gone for a morning walk, try to remember. Be mindful, alert. Whatsoever is happening, don't exclude anything: the distant call of the bird, be aware of it... and the car that has passed by... and a child crying in some house. Be alert to everything, inclusive of all. Just be alert.
It will be difficult -- only once in a while will you be alert and again you will become unconscious; the unconscious is such an old, ancient habit. But slowly, slowly a part of you will be freed. In the beginning it will be only the tip of the iceberg, but that is the beginning of a great revolution in your life. And then you can start moving your light of awareness onto deeper things.
And love is the deepest. When love and consciousness meet, prayer arises.
These songs of Kabir are his prayer.
Kabir says:
MY BODY AND MY MIND ARE IN DEPRESSION
BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT WITH ME.
Man without God is a corpse, man with God is a celebration. Minus God or plus God -- these are the only two ways to live your life. Minus God you are nothing but misery, plus God you are nothing but bliss. Minus God you are a negative, black hole. Minus God you only pretend to live, you cannot live. How can there be life minus God? God is life! Yes, you go through all the empty motions, gestures, you ACT as if you are alive; deep down you know you are not alive, life has not yet happened to you. Birth has happened but not life.
Life happens only when God has happened. Then a man is twice-born. In the East we call him DWIJA, twiceborn. Then a man really becomes a Brahmin, not by birth; nobody can be a Brahmin by birth.
The word 'brahmin' does not mean a caste; it means one who has known the Brahma, one who has known God, one who has become one with God. A Brahmin is never born, a Brahmin is resurrected. One has to die first to all that one thinks one is; then one is reborn, twice-born.
With God, your life really begins. You start pulsating on a new plane, radiating joy. Your life takes the color of the rainbow; you are all the colors, the whole spectrum. Your life becomes music, ALL THE NOTES; you become an orchestra. Each moment it goes on deeper, becomes more and more sweet. You start having a love affair with existence for the first time.
The world remains the same and yet not the same. The trees are greener than they had ever been before, and the roses are rosier. And the people are no longer ordinary people: each person represents a facet of God, a face of God.
Knowing God, your life starts soaring high for the first time, you have wings. Minus God you are just crawling in the mud, plus God you can fly to the sun. The flight Of the alone to the alone becomes possible.
Kabir says:
BALAM AVO HAMARE GEH RE...
Oh my beloved, when are you going to enter
into my house, into my being?
... TUM BIN DUKHIYA DEH RE...
Without you, my body aches,
my body is nothing but pain, my body is nothing but agony.
Without you I live in agony.
How much longer do I have to live this way?
How much longer do I have to call you forth?
MY BODY AND MY MIND ARE IN DEPRESSION
BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT WITH ME.
And I know why I am in such despair, in such anguish. I know perfectly well it is not because I don't have much money, no. It is not because I am not politically powerful, no. It is not because I am not very respected, no. I have come to find the basic thing: it is because you are not with me.
Have you come upon this basic fundamental of life? People go on thinking they will be happy if they have a little more money; or if they are more respectable, more famous, more known; or if they have more power, more prestige. People go on thinking that this is missing, that is missing, and even when they get those things they don't see; they again start thinking of something else. You were thinking that if you had one million rupees you would be happy; now you have, but you don't see the futility of it. By the time you have one million, you start thinking that unless you have ten million you are not going to be happy. What is one million, after all? -- unless it is ten.... And remember, this is going to happen again when you have ten million.
Your desires go on projecting into the future. The desiring mind never ends desiring. You can provide each and every thing that it desires, but it can always find more to desire; the more is always there. The desire for more is the basic root of the mind.
Look back at many things you had thought: if you had this woman, this man, you would be happy. Now you have that woman, that man -- are you happy? No, now you are thinking, "Some other woman, some other man," and the same will be repeated.
To go on repeating this vicious circle is what I mean by stupidity; you are not intelligent then.
Kabir is showing his intelligence. He says: I have come to know, only one thing is missing in my life, and that is you -- God is missing. I am minus you; that's my misery. And I am just pain and nothing else, pain all over. My body is pain, my mind is pain, I am aching all over. This is just agony!
Without God there can be no ecstasy.
HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU AND WANT YOU IN MY HOUSE!
Can't you see how much I love you and want you in my house, in my temple, in my heart? What is missing? he is asking. Is not my love enough yet? Is there something wrong with my love? Is my love still lukewarm, not intense enough, not boiling at a hundred degrees? You just tell me!
WHEN I HEAR PEOPLE DESCRIBE ME AS YOUR BRIDE
I LOOK SIDEWAYS ASHAMED.
And I am very much ashamed, because people have already started talking about me as your bride.
People have started saying about me
that I am married to God.
People have started saying about me
that I have reached the beloved,
that I have found the beloved.
I feel very ashamed.
Yes, glimpses have happened;
I have seen you from a faraway distance...
... just as you can see the Himalayan peaks from thousands of miles away on a clear day. In the sunlight you can see those virgin peaks and the snow-from thousands of miles away. Just like that, I have seen a few glimpses of you, but I have not yet melted in you and I have not yet found you in my heart. In the depths we have not met, only on the circumference. Yes, a few meetings have happened; those meetings can only be called acquaintances. I am introduced to you, you are introduced to me, that's true... and people have started describing me as your bride.
SAB KOI KAHE TUMHARI NARI, MOKO LAGAT LAJ RE...
Everybody is talking, the news has reached to many that Kabir has attained.
Kabir is very authentic and very true. He says: Only a few glimpses have happened; this is not attainment. In fact I have never been in more misery than I am now. When I had not seen your face at all, I was far happier because I was far more unconscious. Before I had ever seen you I had no idea that you are, hence there was no misery. I was not missing you at all. Since I have seen your face from far away, since a few glimpses have entered into my being, since like lightning, sometimes you have happened in my dark night of the soul, the darkness is far more dark than ever before. Now I know the anguish because I have seen the joy. Now I know the agony because I have felt the ecstasy. Now I know where I am -- utterly useless is my existence without you.
And people have started talking of me as your bride; I look sideways ashamed. I cannot deny that I am your bride. From my side that is true, but it has not happened from your side yet. From my side I am ready, but you have not accepted me, you have not shown any indication that you have accepted me. I cannot say that the people are wrong; the marriage has happened at least as far as I am concerned. I am married to you, I cannot live without you. I will wait for you for infinity. I cannot fall into the trap of the world again; even if I have to wait forever and ever, I will wait. From my side I am married to you, wedded to you, but what about you? You have not yet entered into my heart. What is missing?
That's how real prayer arises: it simply asks, "You must be ready to come, but something is missing in me. I desire, but my desire must not be pure. I love, but there must be a shadow of lust in it."
WHEN I HEAR PEOPLE DESCRIBE ME AS YOUR BRIDE
I LOOK SIDEWAYS ASHAMED,
BECAUSE I KNOW THAT FAR INSIDE US
WE HAVE NEVER MET.
Saying that needs courage, and for a man like Kabir... he was already known as one of the enlightened. Thousands had come to him, hundreds were his followers. It needs courage to say it so truly: that deep down, far inside us, we have never met. Circumferences have overlapped, yes, there has been a certain kind of meeting, but at the centers no meeting has happened yet. There has not been an orgasmic unity yet, we have not made love to each other yet. I have not penetrated you, you have not penetrated me; we are poles apart. And people are talking, and I feel ashamed.
Then what is this love of mine? Why is this meeting in the depth not happening? Then what is this love of mine, you tell me!
This is how a devotee prays.
Prayer is a dialogue, a dialogue with the whole. No answer comes from the other side. The devotee goes on asking, enquiring, praying, demanding, complaining, thanking -- no answer ever comes. It looks like a monologue to the outsider; if you see a devotee of the caliber of Kabir it will look like a monologue: "With whom is he talking? has he gone mad?" -- because there is nobody else.
But as far as Kabir is concerned it is a dialogue, it is not a monologue. Response may not come, the beloved may remain silent, but His silence is so tangible and His presence is so tangible, he can touch it. He may not say a single word but He is there; now there is no missing about it.
Kabir knows God is, he has seen the glimpses. Kabir knows that God loves him, he has seen those few moments of joy too.
But when you know, and sometimes light happens in your darkness, great desire, great longing, arises to end this night completely, to reach to the dawn.
THEN WHAT IS THIS LOVE OF MINE?
If there is something wrong with me, you tell me. If there is something missing, I will try hard. I will cleanse my heart if it is not ready to receive you. I will prepare, I will learn the art of being a host -- you just tell me what is missing.
I DON'T REALLY CARE ABOUT FOOD,
I DON'T REALLY CARE ABOUT SLEEP,
I AM RESTLESS INDOORS AND OUTDOORS.
The devotee knows a totally different kind of restlessness than you have known. Your restlessness is very mundane, superficial. You are restless for money, power, this and that -- a better house, more money in the bank, a little more of a prestigious life so you can brag that you are somebody -- but you don't know the restlessness of a devotee. He cannot say it to anybody, he cannot show it to anybody, nobody will ever understand. He will be thought crazy, he will be thought mad.
And his restlessness is not on the surface. On the surface Kabir will be found utterly calm and quiet, but his heart is burning, his heart is on fire. Only those who know what love is, what devotion is, will understand the pain, the suffering of Kabir. On the surface, those who don't know about the heart will see Kabir so quiet, so silent, so still, and deep down he is carrying a storm.
I AM RESTLESS INDOORS AND OUTDOORS.
I don't care about food and I don't care about sleep. My whole concern is you, my whole concentration is you. Day in, day out, I only think about you. I simply wait at the door and wait for you. The wind comes and knocks on the door; I rush to the door to open -- maybe He has come? Dry leaves move on the street with the wind, I rush -- maybe these are the sounds of his footsteps?
I cannot sleep, Kabir says, I cannot eat. I am so full of you that there is no space left in me for anything else. Still something is missing. What is that?
THE BRIDE WANTS HER LOVER
AS MUCH AS A THIRSTY MAN WANTS WATER.
Just like a fish thrown on the bank, I am thirsty for you, dying for you, but still you have not arrived. And you cannot be wrong so I must be wrong. It seems that still my thirst is not enough, my longing is not intense. I have not yet prayed and called you. It seems my host is still unworthy of receiving you.
AND HOW WILL I FIND SOMEONE WHO WILL TAKE
A MESSAGE TO THE GUEST FROM ME?
And I go on calling and you don't answer, and sometimes the doubt arises whether my words reach to you, whether you hear me, whether you care about me. Yes, suspicions arise, doubts arise. There are moments when I start losing hope, when hopelessness settles into me, when the despair is so much that I start thinking that if there were somebody to take the message to you...
Kabir is saying: Where can I find a Master who can become a bridge between me and you, whom I can tell, and trust that the message will be delivered to you, who can answer on my behalf? Where can I find a Master?
The story of Kabir is of tremendous beauty. It is said that he was born into a Mohammedan family. Nothing is absolutely certain, but he was abandoned by the parents and he was brought up by a Hindu family. But the suspicion was there always that he was born a Mohammedan, brought up by a Hindu. He had knocked on many so-called gurus' doors and they would not accept him because he was a Mohammedan, or even if he was not, at least his birth was suspicious, uncertain. He must have been an illegal child, maybe -- why was he abandoned? The parents had simply thrown the child on the bank of the river. Somebody found him and brought him up. Nobody would accept him. His name also shows that he was a Mohammedan; Kabir is one of the names of God given by the Sufis.
Sufis have a hundred names for God -- ninety-nine can verbally be communicated, the hundredth cannot be communicated verbally; that is understood only in deep silence between the Master and the disciple. Out of those ninety-nine names, one is Kabir. Kabir literally means 'the great, the vast, the infinite'. Kabir is not a Hindu name, certainly.
His name was Mohammedan, his birth suspicious -- who would accept him? And the so-called Masters were afraid; he was rejected.
Then he played a trick. He wanted to become a disciple of the great Ramananda, a very famous Master, but he was afraid to go to him -- maybe he would not accept him, just as others had not accepted him. And once he had rejected, then it would be very difficult to make his no into a yes, so he played a trick.
Ramananda used to go to the Ganges in Varanasi to take his morning bath, early, when it was dark and the sun had not risen yet. Kabir went there, slept on a step where he knew Ramananda would pass. It was dark and Ramananda's feet touched Kabir -- Kabir clung to the feet. Ramananda said, "Hey Ram! My God! Who are you, and what are you doing here?"
Kabir said, "Forget all about it. But you have given me the mantra 'Hey Ram'. You have initiated me, now I am your disciple."
This is how he got initiated into disciplehood. It was only later on, when the sun rose, that Ramananda became aware that it was Kabir. Everybody knew about him, that he was knocking on every door asking to be initiated. Ordinarily it is the Masters who create devices to initiate the disciples, but in Kabir's case it was Kabir the disciple who created a device to be initiated by the Master. Now Ramananda could not go back on his word. He said, "That's true, this is your mantra -- hey Ram, oh God -- and you are my disciple."
He says: It is very difficult to find a Master.
AND HOW WILL I FIND SOMEONE
WHO WILL TAKE A MESSAGE TO THE GUEST FROM ME?
This song must have been sung before he met Ramananda.
HOW RESTLESS KABIR IS ALL THE TIME!
HOW MUCH HE WANTS TO SEE THE GUEST!
HAI KOI AISA PAR-UPAKARI. PIVSON KAHE SUNAY RE...
The original is:
Is there anybody in the whole world
who has any compassion on this poor man?
Because I have a message to be delivered to my beloved.
Is there somebody compassionate enough in the world
who can deliver my message to God?
... PIVSON KAHE SUNAY RE...
One who can go to the beloved, one who knows the way,
one who knows the beloved, one who knows His address.
I don't know His address, I don't know His way,
I don't know His house, where He resides.
I go on calling for Him,
not knowing in what direction to call,
not knowing with what name to call.
Is there somebody in the world
who is compassionate enough
to take my message to my beloved?
just to tell Him, "There is a madman
dying in deep love for you,"
and if there is any fault, just tell me,
and I will drop it.
I am ready to risk all,
but I don't know what to drop.
HOW RESTLESS KABIR IS ALL THE TIME!
Cannot someone go and say to God how restless I am?
My heart is burning,
I am constantly crying and weeping.
AB TO BEHAL KABIR BHAYO HAI, BIN DEKHE JIV JAYE RE...
Now the situation is such: Trust me, says Kabir.
Now things have come to such a point --
if you don't show up I will die.
I cannot remain alive any more without you.
... BIN DEKHE JIV JAYE RE...
If I cannot see you, I cannot live any more. I am finished! Either you come or I am going to die.
I am breathing my last.
AB TO BEHAL KABIR BHAYO...
Kabir has come to such a state
where only death seems to be possible.
Either you appear, or I disappear.
And this is the point where the Guest appears, this is the point where the meeting happens. In fact to call it a meeting is not right, because a meeting needs two, and THIS meeting happens only when you are not.
In another song Kabir sings -- it must have been composed after the meeting; he says:
In the beginning I used to seek and search for you,
and I was at a loss, I was continuously frustrated.
I used to seek and search for you
and there was no sign of you.
Now you seek and search for me,
and you will not find me
anywhere.
HERAT HERAT HE SAKHI, RAHYA KABIR HERAI...
Seeking and seeking, searching and searching
for the beloved... a moment came,
the beloved was not found but the seeker disappeared.
And the moment the seeker disappeared,
the sought was found,
because it is the seeker that is hiding the sought.
The seeker is the last citadel of the ego, the very last citadel of the ego, where the ego hides. It becomes the seeker, the great seeker; it becomes the devotee. The ego can take any form, remember, and the subtlest form is that of a devotee, a humble devotee, a surrendered devotee.
Beware of the subtle ways of the ego! It has to die totally. One has to come to a point where one finds oneself not, where one is just utter nothingness; that is the point of the meeting. When you are not, God is.
HOW RESTLESS KABIR IS ALL THE TIME!
HOW MUCH HE WANTS TO SEE THE GUEST!
This longing to see the Guest, this desire to see the Guest, brings you a long way. But finally, ultimately, even this desire has to be dropped.
There is a very famous story about another mystic, a contemporary of Kabir, Sheikh Farid.
Farid was going to the river to take his bath. A young man asked him, "Can you tell me how to find God?"
Farid looked at the young man with very penetrating eyes, and he looked for a long time, and the young man started feeling frightened. And then Farid said, "You come along with me to the river. First take a bath, and if I get an opportunity I will answer it while we are taking the bath, or if not then later on."
The young man was puzzled: "What does he mean? I have asked a simple question -- how to find God? -- and he is talking in puzzles. Bathing in the river, if he gets the opportunity he will answer. Why can't he answer right now?"
But knowing that the ways of the mystics are mysterious, strange, and the man looked very magnetic, and the way he had looked into his eyes... he FELT like going with him. He was a little afraid, scared, but still the attraction was so much that he followed. He said, "Let us take the risk -- what can he do?"
They both went into the river, and when the young man dived into the river Farid caught hold of him under the water and wouldn't allow him to come out of the water; he forced his head deeper and deeper. Farid was a strong man and the young man must not have been very strong, because strong people don't ask such questions, such philosophical questions: How to find God? What is God? These enquiries are philosophical; fragile people ask them. Really strong people start the journey rather than asking here and there; rather than becoming philosophical they become religious.
The young man was dying, but when you are dying, suddenly a great energy arises in you. When it is such a risk, you cannot afford to be half-hearted. His whole energy became available to him, which had never before been available.
You know only the first layer of your energy, which is very ordinary; it is enough for day-to-day work, then it's exhausted. You need sleep to become refreshed again. The second layer is the emergency layer; it arises only when you are in an emergency. For example, if somebody is with a bayonet, or a lion is following you in the forest, then you will run! No Olympic runner can compete with you -- and you don't know how to run but it will come, it will happen. When life is in danger the second layer is available. And when life is really in danger, totally in danger, absolutely in danger...
And so was the case with the young man. Farid was a strong man and he was not leaving him, he was forcing him down and down. The third layer became available; the third layer is inexhaustible. The third layer is already joined with existence, it is rooted in existence.
Farid felt -- when the first layer was exhausted he felt the young man was becoming stronger. Suddenly there was a great strength; it was difficult even for Farid to keep him down. And soon Farid became aware that now the third layer had become available. And the young man threw Farid as if Farid were just a toy. He came out, was very angry, obviously, and he said, "Are you mad or something? I had asked a religious question and you were going to kill me! Are you a murderer? And people think that you are a great sage!"
Farid said, "We can discuss these things later on. Right now, lest you forget, let me ask the question: what happened when I went on forcing you down and down into the water?"
He said, "What happened?"
Farid asked, "Were there many thoughts in your head?" He said, "Many thoughts? There was only one thought -- how to get out!"
"Was it a thought or was it a feeling?" Farid asked.
And he said, "It was a feeling, you are right, it was not a thought. I was not verbalizing it; it was not in my head, it was in my heart. It was just a feel -- now I am verbalizing it."
"And how long did it stay?"
And the young man said, "You are again right. A moment came when that too disappeared: there was no thought, no feeling. But something was happening, I don't know what, from where. I was not doing it, it was happening -- a great uprush of energy from some unknown source. Now I can look backwards, I can formulate it, but at that very moment I was conscious, ABSOLUTELY conscious. I have never been so conscious, because I have never been in such danger before. I was alert, absolutely alert, but still there was no thought, no feeling, not even a desire to save myself. In fact there was no me. I had disappeared, but something was happening beyond me, something transcendental."
Farid said, "Now you know the answer -- this is the way to find God. When you are not, the transcendental descends in you. Now you can go. Never ask anybody again, you know the key: let God become such a problem, such a quest, as if your life is at stake."
That's what happened to Kabir. He says:
AB TO BEHAL KABIR BHAYO...
Now the moment is approaching closer and closer
when I know my death is becoming an absolute certainty.
Either you or death!
Now it is a question of either/or.
All other alternatives have disappeared.
Everything has become narrowed down to two things:
death or God... death or God.
AB TO BEHAL KABIR BHAYO HAI, BIN DEKHE JIV JAYE RE...
If you don't appear I will be gone,
and then it will be too late for you to come.
And then you will repent
that one who had prayed his whole life,
one who had devoted his all to you,
one who was so surrendered,
one who was so deep in trust,
died, and you didn't appear.
The song ends at this point, because beyond this nothing can be said. Kabir died and God appeared. The host disappeared and the Guest came in. The Guest waits for you to die.
That is the meaning of the Christian symbol of the cross. Jesus says to his disciples: If you want to follow me, you will have to carry your own crosses on your own shoulders. Each one has to carry his own cross, each one has to prepare for his own ultimate death -- I don't mean physical death, remember. Physical death has happened to you many times; millions of times you have died physically. That is not true death because the mind continues, enters into another womb, starts another game; again the whole story is repeated. You go on moving in circles; that is not true death.
The true death is known only by the devotee who comes to a point when he CANNOT live without God, it is impossible to live without God. When this impossibility arises, that one cannot live without God... this is what Jesus means, by 'carrying your own cross'. Of course, nobody else can carry it for you. This death is so deep that nobody can help you. This death is so much of the interior that nobody can approach it from the outside. You cannot be murdered, you can only commit suicide -- about THIS death, about THIS internal disappearance, about THIS subjective annihilation, cessation.
Kabir died, Kabir disappeared... and the Guest was always there; it was only the presence of Kabir that was preventing it.
One of the greatest poets that India has given birth to in this century was Rabindranath Tagore. He has written a memoir of tremendous beauty and significance.
He was staying in a boat on a river; he loved his boat and the river. It was a full moon night. In the small cabin of his boat he was pondering over one of the ancientmost questions that all the poets have pondered over: what is beauty? He was looking into books, ancient and modern; he had a great library in his cabin all about aesthetics: what is beauty? That had been his lifelong concern -- what is beauty? -- because he had the feeling that God is beauty -- not truth, but beauty.
Truth looks dry, truth looks logical. The very word connotes some head-trip; truth seems to belong to the head. Hence Rabindranath used to say that God is not truth but beauty. Beauty is a feel, it is not a logical phenomenon; it is of the heart. It is closer to love than logic.
This had been his lifelong meditation: what is beauty? And on that night also he had been thinking about it, looking into books, finding out definitions. Half the night passed. He was completely oblivious to the full moon, he was completely oblivious to the silence outside, the absolutely silent river and the full moon and the beauty of the full moon. And the whole river was transformed into silver... and the silent trees meditating on the banks, and only once in a while a distant call of a cuckoo. But he was completely oblivious to it all.
Then feeling tired, exhausted, he closed the books, blew out a small candle, and suddenly a great revelation happened. As he blew out the small candle, from the windows, from the doors, from every side, the moonlight entered in, started dancing in the cabin. That sudden change -- the candle was burning and the moon had not been coming in... The moment the candle was blown out the moonlight entered in. For a moment Rabindranath was in such awe that he says, "I knew in that moment what beauty is. I cannot say to anybody, I cannot define it yet, but in that moment I knew what beauty is. The utter silence, the distant call of the cuckoo, suddenly the entering of the moonlight.... "
He went out... it was sheer beauty. The whole existence was celebrating! The river was just silver, the whole sky opened with just a few white clouds floating.
He wrote in his notebook, "How foolish I am! I was looking in the books for the definition of beauty, and beauty was standing at my door! And a small candle prevented the great moon from entering!"
He wrote in his diary, "Exactly like that, in that night I felt this small ego and its pale light preventing the Guest, God."
Blow this candle out, blow it out! Let there be no ego, and suddenly, from every nook and corner, the Guest enters in -- and you know what beauty is, and you know what God is.
That is exactly what must have happened to Kabir. He does not say in this song. In another song somewhere he says:
There was a day when I used to go on religious pilgrimages
in search of God.
I went to Kashi, I went to Mathura,
I went to this temple and to that.
I went to every place, wherever I heard God is,
and I never found Him anywhere.
Then one day, Kabir disappeared.
Since then, God comes following me wherever I go
calling, "Kabir, Kabir! Where are you going?"
And I don't care! He follows me like a shadow,
and how can I care, because I am no more.
He goes on calling, "Kabir, Kabir!"
First I used to call Him and He never answered --
why should I answer now?
Tit for tat!
Meditate over these beautiful songs of Kabir. They are very precious, more so because Kabir is not a learned man at all. He says:
MASI KAGAD CHHUYO NAHIN --
"I have never touched paper and ink."
And that is exactly so: he could not write, he could not read. He had no idea of the Vedas and the Koran and the Bible, but what he says contains all the Vedas and all the Korans and all the Bibles. Not knowing a single word of the Upanishads, his poetry contains all of them. He is not a learned man but he is a wise man; not knowledgeable, but he knows. And he has come the hard way.
In fact there is no other way -- no cheap way, no shortcut.
If you meditate on him, slowly, slowly a great desire, a flame of longing in your heart, will arise, because you will also be able to see that nothing in the world can ever satisfy you except the Guest.
Minus God you are a corpse, plus God you are a celebration.

The Guest ~ 04