The song ends:
The supreme understanding transcends all this and that. The supreme action embraces great resourcefulness without attachment. The supreme accomplishment is to realize immanence without hope.

At first a yogi feels his mind is tumbling like a waterfall; in mid-course, like the Ganges it flows on slow and gentle; in the end, it is a great vast ocean where the lights of son and mother merge in one.
Everybody is born in freedom, but dies in bondage. The beginning of life is totally loose and natural, but then the society enters; then rules and regulations enter, morality, discipline and many sorts of trainings. The looseness and the naturalness and the spontaneous being is lost. One starts to gather around oneself a sort of armor. One starts becoming more and more rigid. The inner softness is no longer apparent.
On the boundary of one’s being, one creates a fortlike phenomenon in order to defend, not to be vulnerable – to react, for security, safety; and the freedom of being is lost. One starts looking at others’ eyes: their approvals, their denials, their condemnations. Appreciation becomes more and more valuable. The others become the criterion, and one starts to imitate and follow others because one has to live with others.
A child is very soft, he can be molded in any way; and the society starts molding him – the parents, the teachers, the school – and by and by he becomes a character not a being. He learns all the rules. He either becomes a conformist, that is bondage, or he becomes rebellious – that too is another sort of bondage. If he becomes a conformist, orthodox, square, that is one sort of bondage; he can react, can become a hippy, can move to the other extreme, but that is again a sort of bondage – because reaction depends on the same thing it reacts against. You may go to the farthest corner, but deep down in the mind you are rebelling against the same rules. Others are following them, you are reacting, but the focus remains on the same rules. Reactionaries and revolutionaries all travel in the same boat. They may be standing against each other, back to back, but the boat is the same.
A religious man is neither a reactionary nor a revolutionary. A religious man is simply loose and natural; he is neither for something nor against, he is simply himself. He has no rules to follow and no rules to deny, he simply has no rules. A religious man is free in his own being; he has no molding of habits and conditionings. He is not a cultured being – not that he is uncivilized and primitive – he is the highest possibility of civilization and culture, but he is not a cultured being. He has grown in his awareness and he doesn’t need any rules, he has transcended rules. He is truthful not because it is the rule to be truthful; being loose and natural he is simply truthful, it happens to be truthful. He has compassion, not because he follows the precept: be compassionate. No. Being loose and natural he simply feels compassion flowing all around. There is nothing to do on his part; it is just a byproduct of his growth in awareness. He is not against society, nor for society – he is simply beyond it. He has again become a child, a child of an absolutely unknown world, a child in a new dimension – he is reborn.
Every child is born natural, loose; then the society comes in, has to come in for certain reasons… Nothing is wrong in it because if the child is left to himself or herself, the child will never grow, and will never be able to become religious, he will become just like an animal. The society has to come in; the society has to be passed through, it is needed. The only thing to remember is: it is just a passage to pass through; one should not make one’s house in it. The only thing to remember is that the society has to be followed and then transcended; the rules have to be learned and then unlearned.
Rules come into your life because there are others; you are not alone. When the child is in the mother’s womb he is absolutely alone, no rules are needed. Rules come only when the other comes into relationship; rules come with relationship. Because you are not alone, you have to think of others and consider others. In the mother’s womb the child is alone; no rules, no morality, no discipline is needed, no order. But the moment he is born, even the first breath he takes is social. If the child is not crying, the doctors will immediately force him to cry because if he doesn’t cry for a few minutes then he will be dead. He has to cry because the cry opens the passage through which he will be able to breathe; it clears the throat. He has to be forced to cry; even the first breath is social – others are there and the molding has started.
Nothing is wrong in it. It has to be done, but it has to be done in such a way that the child never loses his awareness, does not become identified with the cultured pattern, remains, deep inside, still free, knows that rules have to be followed but rules are not life. This has to be taught. And that’s what a good society will do: “These rules are good because there are others. But these rules are not absolute, and you are not expected to remain confined to them; one day you must transcend them.” A society is good if it teaches civilization and transcendence to its members; then the society is religious. If it never teaches transcendence then that society is simply secular and political, it has no religion in it.
You have to listen to others up to an extent, and then you have to start listening to yourself. You must come back to the original state in the end. Before you die you must become an innocent child again – loose, natural; because in death you are again entering the dimension of being alone. Just as you were in the womb, in death you will again enter the realm of being alone. No society exists there. And the whole of your life… You have to find a few spaces in your life, a few moments like oases in deserts, where you simply close your eyes and go beyond society, move into yourself, into your own womb. This is what meditation is. The society is there… Simply close your eyes and forget the society, and become alone. No rules exist there, no character is needed, no morality, no words, no language. You can be loose and natural inside.
Grow into that loose and naturalness. Even if there is a need for outer discipline, remain wild inside. If one can remain wild inside and still practice things which are needed in the society, then soon he can come to a point where he simply transcends.
I will tell you a story and then I will enter into the sutras. This is a Sufi story:

An old man and a young man were traveling with a donkey. They had reached near to a town; they were both walking with their donkey.
Some school children passed them and they giggled and they laughed and they said, “Look at these fools, they have a healthy donkey with them and they are walking. At least the old man can sit on the donkey.”
Listening to those children the old man and the young man decided, “What to do? People are laughing and soon we will be entering the town, so it is better to follow what they are saying.” So the old man sat on the donkey and the young man followed.
Then they came near another group of people who looked at them and said, “Look, the old man is sitting on the donkey and the poor boy is walking. This is absurd! The old man can walk, but the boy should be allowed to sit on the donkey.” So they changed – the old man started walking and the boy was allowed to sit.
Then another group came and said, “Look at these fools. And this boy seems to be too arrogant. Maybe the old man is his father or his teacher and he is walking, but the boy is sitting on the donkey – this is against all the rules!”
So what to do? They both decided, “Now there is only one possibility: we should both sit on the donkey.” So they both sat on the donkey.
Then other groups came and they said, “Look at these people, so violent! The poor donkey is almost dying – two people on one donkey. It would have been better if they carried the donkey on their shoulders.”
So they again discussed. And then there was the river and the bridge; they had now almost reached the boundary of the town. So they thought, “It is better to behave as people think in this town, otherwise they will think we are fools.” So they found a piece of bamboo, put the bamboo on their shoulders, hung the donkey by his legs, tied them to the bamboo and carried him. The donkey tried to rebel; as donkeys are, they cannot be very easily forced. He tried to escape because he was not a believer in society and what others are saying. But the two men were too much and they forced him, so the donkey had to yield.
Just in the middle of the bridge, a crowd passed. Then they all gathered and said, “Look, these fools! We have never seen such idiots – a donkey is to ride upon, not to carry on your shoulders. Have you gone mad?”
Listening to them – and a great crowd gathered – the donkey became restless, so restless that he jumped, fell from the bridge down into the river and died. The two men came down – the donkey was dead.
They sat by the side and the old man said, “Now listen…”
This is not an ordinary story – the old man was a Sufi master, an enlightened person, and the young man was a disciple. And the old master was trying to show him a lesson because Sufis always create situations; they say unless there is a situation, you cannot learn deeply. So this was just a situation for the young man.
Now the old man said, “Look: just like this donkey you will be dead if you listen too much to people. Don’t bother what others say because there are millions of others and they have their own minds and everybody will say something; everybody has his opinion and if you listen to opinions this will be your end.”

Don’t listen to anybody, remain yourself. Just bypass them, be indifferent. If you go on listening to everybody, everybody will be prodding you this way or that. You will never be able to reach to your innermost center.
Everybody has become eccentric. This English word is very beautiful: it means “off the center,” and we use it for the mad people. But everybody is eccentric, “off the center,” and the whole world is helping you to be eccentric because everybody is prodding you. Your mother is prodding you toward the north, your father toward the south, your uncle is doing something else, your brother something else, your wife, of course, something else – and everybody is trying to force you somewhere. By and by, a moment comes…you are nowhere. You remain just on the crossroads being pushed from north to south, from south to east, from east to west, moving nowhere. By and by, this becomes your total situation: you become eccentric. This is the situation. And if you go on listening to others and not listening to your inner center, this situation will continue.
All meditation is in order to become centered, not to be eccentric, to come to your own center.
Listen to your inner voice, feel it, and move with that feeling. By and by, you can laugh at others’ opinions, or you can be simply indifferent. And once you become centered you become a powerful being; then nobody can prod you, then nobody can push you anywhere, simply nobody dares. You are such a power, centered in yourself, that anybody who comes with an opinion simply forgets his opinion near you; anybody who comes to push you somewhere, simply forgets that he had come to push. Rather, just coming near you, he starts feeling overpowered by you.
That’s how even a single man can become so powerful that the whole society, the whole history, cannot push him a single inch. That’s how a Buddha exists and a Jesus exists. You can kill a Jesus but you cannot push him. You can destroy his body, but you cannot push him a single inch. Not that he is adamant or stubborn, no. He is simply centered in his own being. He knows what is good for him, and he knows what is blissful for him. It has already happened; now you cannot allure him toward new goals, no salesmanship can allure him to any other goal. He has found his home. He can listen to you patiently but you cannot move him. He is centered.
This centering is the first thing toward being natural and loose; otherwise if you are natural and loose, anybody will take you anywhere. That’s why children are not allowed to be natural and loose, they are not mature enough to be centered. If they are natural and loose and running all around, their lives will be wasted. Hence, I say, society does a needful work: it protects them. The citadel becomes a cell-like character. They need it; they are very vulnerable, they may be destroyed by anybody. The multitude is there, they will not be able to find their way; they need character armor.
But if that character armor becomes your total life, then you are lost. You should not become the citadel, you should remain the master and you should remain capable of going out of it; otherwise it is not a protection, it becomes a prison. You should be capable of going out of your character. You should be capable of putting aside your principles. You should be capable, if the situation demands, to respond in an absolutely novel way. If this capacity is lost then you become rigid, then you cannot be loose. If this capacity is lost then you become unnatural, then you are not flexible.
Flexibility is youth, rigidness is old age – the more flexible, the more young; more rigid, more old. Death is absolute rigidity. Life is absolute looseness, flexibility.
This you have to remember and then try to understand Tilopa. His final words:
The supreme understanding transcends all this and that. The supreme action embraces great resourcefulness without attachment. The supreme accomplishment is to realize immanence without hope.
Very, very significant words!
The supreme understanding transcends all this and that. Knowledge is always either of this or of that. Understanding is neither. Knowledge is always of duality: a man is good, he knows what good is; another man is bad, he knows what bad is, but both are fragmentary, half. The good man is not whole because he does not know what bad is; his goodness is poor, it lacks the insight that badness gives. The bad man is also half, his badness is poor; it is not rich because he does not know what goodness is. And life is both together.
A man of real understanding is neither good nor bad, he understands both. And in that very understanding he transcends both. A sage is neither a good man nor a bad man. You cannot confine him to any category; there exists no pigeonhole for him, you cannot categorize him. He is elusive, you cannot catch hold of him. And whatsoever you say about him will be half; it can never be total. A sage may have friends and followers, and they will think he is God because they see only the good part. And the sage may have enemies and foes, and they will think that he is the Devil incarnate because they know only the bad part. But if you know a sage, he is neither, or both together; and both mean the same.
If you are both together, good and bad, you are neither because they annihilate each other, negate each other, and a void is left.
This concept is very difficult for the Western mind to understand because the Western mind has divided God and the Devil absolutely. Whatsoever is bad belongs to the Devil and whatsoever is good belongs to God; their territories are demarked, hell and heaven are apart, set apart.
That’s why Christian saints look a little poor before tantric sages, very poor: just good, simple, they don’t know the other side of life. And that’s why they are always afraid of the other side, always trembling with fear. A Christian saint is always praying for God to protect him from evil. Evil is always around the corner; he has avoided it and when you avoid something, it is continuously in the mind. He is afraid, trembling.
A Tilopa knows no trembling, no fear, and he never prays to God, “Protect me.” He is protected. What is his protection? His understanding is his protection. He has lived all, he has moved to the farthest corner into evil, and he has lived the divine, and now he knows both are aspects of the same. And now he is neither worried about good nor worried about bad; now he lives a loose and natural, simple life, he has no predetermined concept and he is unpredictable.
You cannot predict a Tilopa. You can predict Saint Augustine, you can predict other saints, but you cannot predict a Tantra sage. You cannot predict – simply unpredictable because in each moment he will respond and nobody knows in what way, nobody knows; even he himself does not know. That’s the beauty of it because if you know your future then you are not a free man, then you are moving according to certain rules, then you have a prefabricated character; then somehow you have to react, not respond.
Nobody can say what a Tilopa will do in a certain situation. It will depend; the whole situation will bring the response. And he has no likings, no dislikings: neither this nor that. He will act, he will not react; he will not react out of his past, he will not react according to his future concepts, of his own ideals. No. He will act, he will act here and now, the response will be total; nobody can say what will happen. Understanding transcends duality.

It is said that once Tilopa was staying in a cave and a passerby, a certain type of seeker, came to visit him. Tilopa was taking his food and he was using a human skull as a pot. The traveler became afraid. It was weird, he had come to see a sage and this man seemed to be something of the world of black magicians. In a human skull… Tilopa was enjoying, and a dog sitting by his side was also eating from the same skull. And when this man came, Tilopa invited him to participate as well. “Come here,” he said, “So beautiful you reached at the right time because this is all that I have got. Once it is finished, then for twenty-four hours there is nothing. Only the next day somebody may bring something. So come and join and participate.”
The man felt very disgusted – a human skull, food in it, and a dog also a participant! He said, “I feel disgusted.”
Tilopa said, “Then escape as soon as possible from here and run fast and never look back because then Tilopa is not for you. Why are you disgusted with this human skull? You have been carrying it for so long. And what is wrong if I am taking my food in it? – it is one of the cleanest things. You are not disgusted with your own skull inside, and your whole mind. Your beautiful thoughts and your morality and your goodness and your saintlihood are all in the skull. I am taking only my food in it; and your heaven and your hell and your gods and your Brahma, are all in your skull. They must have become absolutely dirty by now – you should be disgusted about that. And you yourself are there in the skull. Why do you feel disgusted?”
The man tried to avoid and rationalize, he said, “Not because of the skull but because of this dog.”
And Tilopa laughed and said, “You have been a dog in your past life, and everybody has to pass through all the stages. And what is wrong in being a dog? What is the difference between you and a dog? – the same greed, the same sex, the same anger, the same violence, aggressiveness, the same fear. Why do you pretend that you are superior?”

Tilopa is difficult to understand because ugly and beautiful make no sense to him; purity and impurity make no sense to him; good and bad make no sense to him. He has an understanding of the total. Partial is knowledge; understanding is total. And when you look at the total, all distinctions drop: what is ugly and what is beautiful, what is good and what is bad.
All distinctions simply drop if you have a birds-eye view of the total, then all boundaries disappear. It is just like looking down from an airplane. Then where is Pakistan and where is India? And where is England and where is Germany? All boundaries lost, the whole earth becomes one.
And if you go still higher in a spaceship and look at it from the moon, the whole earth becomes so small. Where is Russia and where is America? And who is a communist and who is a capitalist? And who is a Hindu and who is a Mohammedan? The higher you go, the fewer are the distinctions, and understanding is the highest thing, there is nothing beyond it. From that highest peak everything becomes everything else. Things meet and merge and become one, boundaries are lost – an unbounded ocean with no source to it, infinity.
The supreme understanding transcends all this and that. The supreme action embraces great resourcefulness without attachment. Tilopa says be loose and natural, but he doesn’t mean be lazy and go to sleep. On the contrary, when you are loose and natural much resourcefulness happens to you. You become tremendously creative. Activity may not be there; action is there. Obsession with occupation may not be there, will not be there, but you become tremendously resourceful, creative. You do millions of things, not because of any obsession but just because you are so free with energy, you have to create.
Creativity comes easy to a man who is loose and natural. Whatsoever he does becomes a creative phenomenon. Wherever he touches becomes a piece of art; whatsoever he says becomes poetry. His very movement is aesthetic. If you can see a buddha walking, even his walking is creativity. Even through his walking he is creating a rhythm, even through his walking he is creating a milieu, an atmosphere around him. If a buddha raises his hand he immediately changes the climate around him. Not that he is doing these things, they are simply happening. He is not the doer. Calm, settled inside, tranquil, collected, together inside, filled with infinite energy, over-pouring, overflowing in all directions, his every moment is a moment of creativity, of cosmic creativity.
Remember that. It has to be remembered because many people can misunderstand. They can think that no activity is needed, so they can think, “No action is needed.” Action has a different quality altogether. Activity is pathological.
If you go into a madhouse you will see people in activity, every madman doing something because that is the only way they can forget themselves. You may find somebody washing his hands three thousand times a day because he believes in cleanliness. In fact, if you stop him washing his hands three thousand times a day he will be unable to stand himself, it will be too much. This is an escape.
Politicians, people who are after wealth, power, are all mad people. You cannot stop them because if you stop them they don’t know what to do then. They are thrown into themselves and that is too much.

One of my friends was telling me once that they had to go to a certain party; and they had a very small child, a beautiful child, and of course very active, as children are. So they locked his room and told him, “If you behave well and don’t create any disturbance in the house, we will give you whatsoever you ask for, and within an hour we will be back.”
The child was allured – whatsoever he asks will be given. So he acted really well. In fact, he didn’t do anything; he simply stood in the corner because, “Whatsoever I do may turn out… Nobody knows, nobody knows about these adult minds: what is wrong and what is good. And they also go on changing their opinions.” So he stood with closed eyes just like a meditator.
And when they came back they opened the door; he was standing stiff, in the corner. He opened the eyes and looked at them, and they asked, “Did you behave well?”
He said, “Yes, in fact I behaved so well that I couldn’t stand myself.”

It was too much! People who are too occupied with activities are afraid of themselves. Activity is a sort of escape; they can forget themselves in it. It is alcoholic; it is an intoxicant. Activity has to be dropped because it is pathology, you are ill. Action has not to be dropped; action is beautiful.
What is action? Action is a response: when it is needed you act, when it is not needed you relax. Right now you go on doing things which are not needed, and right now when you want to relax, you cannot. A man of action, total action, acts, and when the situation is over he relaxes.
I am talking to you. Talking can be either activity or action. There are people who cannot stop talking; they go on and on. Even if you stop their mouths it will not make any difference inside; they will go on chattering, they cannot stop it. This is activity, a feverish obsession. You are here and I talk to you; I don’t even know what I am going to talk to you about. Until the sentence is uttered, I am not even aware what it is going to be. You are not the only listeners; I am also a listener here. When I have said something, then I know that I have said it. Neither can you predict nor can I predict what I am going to say. Even the next sentence is not there; it is your situation that brings it.
So whatsoever I say, I am not solely responsible; remember you are also half responsible for it. It is half-half: you create the situation; I act. So if my listeners change, my talk changes. It depends, because I have nothing pre-formulated. I don’t know what is going to happen, and that’s why it is beautiful for me also. It is a response, an act. When you are gone I sit inside my abode, not even a single word floats in the inner sky.
It is you… So sometimes it happens people come to me and say, “We were going to ask a certain question and you answered it.” Every day it happens. It is happening: you have a certain question, you create a climate around you of that question; you come filled with that question. Then what I am to do? I have to respond. Your question simply creates the situation and I have to respond. That’s why many of your questions are simply solved. If some question is not solved the reason must be somewhere in you; you may have forgotten it. In the morning it was in the mind but when you entered this room you forgot about it. Or there were many questions and you were not certain exactly which question was to be asked; you were in confusion, vague, cloudy. If you are certain about your question the answer will be there.
It is nothing on my part, it simply happens. You create the question; I simply float into it. I have to because I have nothing to say to you. If I had something to say to you, you would be irrelevant; whatsoever question you had wouldn’t make any sense. I would have my prepared thing in me and I would have to tell it to you. Even if you were not there, it would not make any difference.
The All India Radio used to invite me, but I felt it was very difficult because it was so impersonal: talking to nobody! I simply said, “This is not for me. It is such a strain and I don’t know what to do; there is nobody there.” So they arranged… They said, “This can be done: a few people from our staff can come and they can sit there.”
But then I told them, “Then don’t give me a subject because those people will give me the subject. It would be totally irrelevant – somebody sitting there and you had given me a subject to talk on and nobody involved in that subject; they would be just a dead audience.”
When you are there you create the question, you create the situation and the answer flows toward you. It is a personal phenomenon. Then I simply stopped going there. I said, “This is not for me, it is not possible. I cannot talk to machines because they don’t create any situation for me to float in. I can talk only to people.”
That’s why I have never written a book. I cannot, for whom? Who will read it? Unless I know that man who will read it, and unless he creates a situation, I cannot write – for whom? I have written only letters because then I know that I am writing to somebody. He may be somewhere in the United States, it makes no difference – the moment I write a letter to him it is a personal phenomenon: he is there. While I am writing he helps me to write. Without him it is not possible; it is a dialogue.
This is action. The moment you are gone, all language disappears from me; no words float, they are not needed. And this should be so! When you walk you use your legs and when you sit in your chair, what is the point of moving your legs? It is mad! When there is a dialogue, words are needed; when there is a situation, action is needed. But let the whole decide it; you should not be the deciding factor, you should not decide. Then there are no karmas; then you move, from moment to moment, fresh. The past dies by itself every moment, and the future is born and you move into it fresh like a child.
The supreme action embraces great resourcefulness without attachment. Actions happen but there is no attachment; you don’t feel, “I have done this.” I don’t feel I have said this. I simply feel it has been spoken, it has happened. The whole has done it, and the whole is neither I, nor you; the whole is both and neither. And the whole hovers around and the whole decides: you are not the doer. Much happens through you, but you are not the doer. Much is created through you, but you are not the creator. The whole remains the creator – you simply become vehicles, mediums for the whole. A hollow bamboo, and the whole puts his fingers and his lips on it, and it becomes a flute and a song is born.
From where does this song come – from that hollow bamboo you call a flute, from the lips of the whole? No. From where does it come? Everything is involved. The hollow bamboo is involved, the lips of the whole are also involved, the singer is involved, the listener is involved – everything is involved. Even a small thing can create a difference.
Just a roseflower at the side of the room and this room will not be the same because the roseflower has its own aura, its own being. It will influence, it will influence your understanding, it will influence whatsoever I say. The total moves, not parts. Much happens but nobody is the doer.
…great resourcefulness without attachment. And when you are not the doer, how can the attachment happen? You do a small thing and you become attached. You say, “I have done this.” You would like everybody to know that you have done this and you have done that. This ego is the barrier for the supreme understanding. Drop the doer and let things happen. That’s what Tilopa means by being loose and natural.
The supreme accomplishment is to realize immanence without hope. This is a very deep thing, very subtle and delicate. Tilopa says, “What is the supreme accomplishment?” It is: …to realize immanence without hope: that inside, the inner space is perfect, absolute, without hope. Why does he bring in this word hope? It is because with hope comes future, with hope comes desire, with hope comes the effort to improve, with hope comes greed for more, with hope comes discontentment, and then, of course, frustration follows.
He is not saying to be hopeless, because that too comes with hope. He is simply saying no hope, not hopeful, not hopeless – because they both come with hope. And this has become such a great problem for the West because Buddha says the same, and then Western thinkers think that these people are pessimists. They are not. They are not pessimists; they are not optimists. And this is the meaning of no-hope.
If somebody hopes, we call him an optimist. We say that he can see the silver lining in the darkest cloud, we say that he can see the morning following the darkest night: he is an optimist. And then there is the pessimist, just the opposite of it. Even in the brightest silver lining he will always see the darkest cloud. You talk about the morning and he will say, “Every morning ends in the evening.” But remember: they may be opposites but they are not really separate; their focus is different but their minds are the same. Whether you see the bright lining, silver lining in the dark cloud, or you see the dark cloud in the silver lining, you always see the part. Your division is there; you choose, you never see the total.
Buddha, Tilopa, myself, we are neither optimists nor pessimists; we simply drop hope. With hope, both optimism and pessimism come in. We simply drop the coin of hope, and both aspects are dropped with it. This is a totally new dimension, difficult to understand.
Tilopa sees the suchness of things; he has no choice. He sees both the morning and evening together, he sees both the thorns and the flower together, he sees both pain and pleasure together, he sees both birth and death together. He has no choice of his own. He is neither a pessimist nor an optimist; he lives without hope. And that is a really wonderful dimension in which to live, to live without hope. Use the very words …without hope… and inside you it feels that it is something pessimistic, but that is because of the language – and what Tilopa is saying is beyond language. He says: The supreme accomplishment is to realize immanence without hope. You simply realize yourself as you are in your total suchness, and you are simply that. There is no need for any improvement, change, development, growth – no need. Nothing can be done about it. It is simply the case.
Once you go deep into it, that this is simply the case, suddenly all flowers and all thorns disappear, days and nights disappear, life and death disappear, summer and winter disappear. Nothing is left because the clinging disappears. And with the acceptance, whatsoever you are, whatsoever is the case, is then no problem, no question, nothing to be solved; you are simply that. A celebration comes; and this celebration is not of hope, this celebration is just an overflowing of energy. You start blooming. You simply bloom, not for something in the future; you cannot do otherwise.
When one realizes the suchness of being, the blooming happens: one goes on blooming and blooming and celebrating for no visible cause at all. Why I am happy? What have I got that you have not got? Why am I serene and quiet? Have I achieved something that you have to achieve? Have I attained to something that you have to attain? No. I have simply relaxed into the suchness. Whatsoever I am – good, bad, moral, immoral – whatsoever I am, I have simply relaxed into the suchness of it. And I have dropped all efforts to improve, and I have dropped all future. I have dropped hope, and with the dropping of hope everything has disappeared. I am alone and simply happy for no reason at all, simply silent because now, without hope, I don’t know how to create disturbance. Without hope, how can you create disturbance in your being?
Remember this: all effort will lead you to a point where you leave all effort and you will become effortless. And the whole search will lead you to a point where you simply shrug your shoulders, sit down under a tree and settle.
Every journey ends in the innermost suchness of being, and that you have every moment. So it is only a question of becoming a little more aware. What is wrong with you? – I have seen millions of people and I have not seen even a single person who has really something wrong, but he creates it. You are creators, great creators of illnesses, wrongs, problems, and then you chase them – how to solve them? First you create and then you go chasing. Why create them in the first place?
Just drop hope, desire, and simply look at the case that you are already; just simply close your eyes and see who you are – and finished! Even in the blinking of the eye this is possible, it needs no time. If you are thinking it needs time, gradual growth, then it is because of your mind that you will need time; otherwise time is not needed.
The supreme accomplishment is to realize immanence… all that is to be achieved is in. That is the meaning of immanence: all that is to be achieved is already there inside you. You are born perfect; otherwise is not possible because you are born of the perfect. That is the meaning when Jesus says, “I and my father are one.” What is he saying? He is saying that you cannot be otherwise than the whole because you come out of the whole.
Take a handful of water from the ocean, taste it: it tastes the same. In a single drop of seawater you can find the whole chemistry of the sea. If you can understand a single drop of seawater you have understood all seas, past, future, present, because a small drop is a miniature ocean. And you are the whole in a miniature form.
When you go deeper inside yourself and realize this, suddenly laughter happens, you start laughing. What were you seeking? The seeker himself was the sought; the traveler was himself the goal. This is the supreme-most accomplishment: to realize oneself, one’s absolute perfection, without hope. Because if a hope is there it will stir; it will continually stir your disturbance, you will again start thinking, “Something more is possible.” Hope always creates dreams: “Something more is possible.”
Of course it is good… People come to me and they say, “Meditation is going very well; of course it is good, but give us some other technique so that we can grow more.” Even sometimes people have come to me saying, “Everything is beautiful…” And then they say, “Now what?” Now hope stirs. Everything is beautiful, then why ask, “Now what?” Everything was wrong, then again you were asking, “Now what?” And now everything is beautiful, again you ask, “Now what?” Now leave it, this hope.
Just the other day somebody came, and said, “Everything is going very beautifully now but who knows, tomorrow…?” Why bring tomorrow in when everything is going absolutely right? Can’t you remain without problems? Now everything is good, but there is a worry whether it may be good tomorrow or not. If it is good today, from where is tomorrow going to come? It will be born out of today, so why be worried? If today is silence, tomorrow is going to be more silent; it will be born out of today. But because of this worry you can destroy today; then tomorrow will be there and you will be fulfilled in your frustration and you will say, “This is what I was thinking and worried about. It has happened.” And it has happened because of you. It was not going to happen! Had you remained without future, it would not have happened.
This is the self-destructive tendency of the mind, suicidal; and in a way it is very self-fulfilling, so the mind can always say, “I was warning you before. I had warned you beforehand, you didn’t listen to me.” Now you will think, “Yes, that’s right; the mind warned and I was not listening to it.” But it has come only because of the warning of the mind.
Many things happen… If you go to the astrologers, jyotishis, palmists, and they say something to you, then when it happens you will think they predicted your future. Just the opposite is the case: because they predicted, your mind got into it and it happened. If somebody says that you are going to die next month, on the thirteenth March, the possibility is there – not because he had known your future, but because he had predicted the future. Now the thirteenth March will move in your mind continuously: you will not be able to sleep without it, you will not be able to dream without it, you will not be able to love without it. Twenty-four hours a day: “The thirteenth March and I am going to die.” It will become a self hypnosis, a chanting. It will go round and round; the nearer the thirteenth March will come, the faster it will move. And it will self-fulfill. The thirteenth March…

It happened once that a German palmist predicted his own death. He had been predicting many people’s deaths and they happened, so he became certain that his prediction was something. “Otherwise, how is it happening?”
And he was getting old so a few friends suggested: “Why not predict your own death?” So he studied his hands and charts and everything – all foolish – and then he decided on his own death: that it was going to happen on such and such a date, at six o’clock, early in the morning.
And then he waited for it. Six was approaching; from five o’clock he was ready, sitting by the clock. Each moment…and death was coming nearer and nearer and nearer. And then came just the last moment. One moment more and the clock will say it is six, and he is still alive, how is it possible? Seconds started passing, and exactly when the clock struck six he jumped out of the window, because how it is possible… And of course, died exactly as predicted.

Mind has a self-fulfilling mechanism. Be alert to it. You are happy; the mind says, “Of course, you are happy, it is okay, but what about tomorrow?” Now already the mind has distorted, destroyed this moment, it has brought tomorrow in. Now tomorrow will come out of this mind, not out of that blissful moment that was there.
Don’t hope this way or that, for or against; drop all hope. Remain to the moment, in the moment, with the moment, for the moment. There is no other moment than this. And whatsoever is going to happen will happen out of this moment, so why worry? If this moment is beautiful, how can the next moment be ugly? From where will it come? It grows, it will be more beautiful, has to be. There is no need to think about it.
And once you accomplish this, remaining with your innate perfection… Remember, I have to use words and there is a danger that you may misunderstand. When I say remain with your inner perfection you may be worried because sometimes you may feel that you are not perfect – then remain with your imperfection. Imperfection is also perfect! Nothing is wrong in it, remain with it. Don’t move away from this moment; here and now is the whole existence. Everything that has to be accomplished is to be accomplished here and now, so whatsoever is the case, even if you feel imperfect – beautiful, be imperfect! That’s how you are, that is your suchness. You feel sexual – perfect, feel sexual; that’s how you are, that’s how existence meant you to be. Sad – beautiful, be sad, but don’t move from the moment. Remain with the moment and, by and by, you will feel that the imperfection has dissolved into perfection, the sex has dissolved into the inner ecstasy; the anger has dissolved into compassion.
In this moment, if you can be your total being this moment, then there is no problem. This is the supreme accomplishment. It has no hope, it need not have. It is so perfect there is no need for hope. Hope is not a good situation; hoping always means something is wrong with you – that’s why you hope for the “against,” for the opposite. You are sad and you hope for happiness; your hope says that you are sad. You feel ugly and you hope for a beautiful personality; your hope says you are ugly. Show me your hope and I can tell you who you are because your hope immediately shows who you are: just the opposite. Drop hope and just be. At first, if you try this, just being, this will happen:
At first a yogi feels his mind is tumbling like a waterfall; in mid-course, like the Ganges it flows on slow and gentle. In the end, it is a great vast ocean where the lights of son and mother merge in one.
If you are being here and now, the first satori will happen, the first glimpse of enlightenment. And this will be the situation inside: At first a yogi feels his mind is tumbling like a waterfall… because your mind starts melting. Right now it is like a frozen glacier. If you remain loose, natural, true to the moment, authentically here and now, the mind starts melting. You have brought sun energy to it, this very being in the here and now conserves such a vast energy. Not moving into the future, not moving into the past, you have such tremendous energy in you, that the very energy starts melting the mind.
Energy is fire; energy is of the sun. When you are not moving anywhere, completely still, here and now, no going, converging upon yourself, all leakage stops – because leakage is through desire and hope. You leak because of the future. Leakage is because of motivation: “Do something, be something, have something. Why are you wasting your time sitting? Go! Move! Do!” Then there is leakage. If you are simply here, how you can leak? Energy converges, falls back upon you, it becomes a circle of fire, and then the glacier of the mind starts melting.
At first a yogi feels his mind is tumbling like a waterfall… Everything falls. The whole mind is falling, falling, falling – you may be scared. Near the first satori, the master is needed very, very deeply and intimately, because who will tell you, “Don’t be afraid; it is beautiful – fall.”
Just the word fall and fear comes in because falling means falling into an abyss, losing your ground, moving into the unknown. And falling carries a sense of death – one becomes afraid.
Have you gone to some mountain, a high peak, and from there looked into the abyss, down into the valley? Nausea, trembling, fear, come in as if the abyss is death and you can fall into it. When the mind melts everything starts falling, everything I say. Your love, your ego, your greed, your anger, your hate, all that you have been up to now suddenly starts becoming loose and falling, as if the house is falling apart. You become chaotic: no more order, all discipline falling. You have been maintaining yourself somehow; somehow you were together: forcing a control upon yourself, a discipline. Now, being loose and natural everything is falling. Many things that you have suppressed will bubble up; they will surface. You will find chaos all around; you will be just like a madman.
The first step is really difficult to pass through because whatsoever society has forced on you will fall, whatsoever you have learned will fall; whatsoever you have conditioned yourself to will fall. All your habits, all your directions, all your paths will simply disappear. Your identity will evaporate; you will not be able to know who you are. Up to now you knew well who you were: your name, your family, your status in the world, your prestige, your honor, this and that; you were aware of them. Now suddenly everything is melting, the identity is lost. You knew many things, now you will not know anything. You were wise in the ways of the world; they will fall and you will feel completely ignorant.
This is what happened to Socrates. That was his first satori moment, when he said, “Now I know only one thing: that I don’t know anything. I have only one knowledge: that I am ignorant.” This is the first satori.
Sufis have a particular term for this man, this type of man, who comes to this state; they call him mast, they call him the madman. He looks at you without looking at you. He roams around not knowing where he is going. He talks nonsense. He cannot keep a relevant coherence to his talk. One word and then a gap; then another word absolutely unrelated; one sentence, then another sentence not connected at all: no coherence, all consistency is lost. He becomes a contradiction; you cannot rely on him.
For these moments a school is needed, where people can take care of you. Ashrams came into existence because of this, because this man cannot be allowed in society, otherwise they will think he is mad and they will force him into a prison or a madhouse, and they will try to treat him. They will try to bring him down, back to his normal state – and he is growing! He has broken all the chains of the society; he has become a chaos – hence my insistence on chaotic meditations. They will help you come to this first satori. From the very beginning you cannot sit silently; you can befool, but you cannot sit, that is not possible. That can happen only in the second satori.
In the first satori you have to be chaotic, dynamic; you have to allow your energies to move so that all straitjackets around you are broken and all chains are thrown away. You become for the first time an outsider, no longer part of the society. A school is needed where you can be taken care of. A master is needed who can say to you, “Don’t be afraid,” who can tell you to fall easily, to allow it to happen, not to cling to something because that will only delay the moment – fall! The sooner you fall, the sooner madness will disappear; if you delay, then the madness can continue for long.
There are millions of mad people in madhouses around the world who are not in fact mad, who needed a master, who don’t need a psychotherapist. They have attained their first satori, and all the psychotherapies are forcing them back to be normal. They are in a better situation than you; they have reached a growth, but the growth is so outlandish. It has to be so in the beginning – they are passing through the first satori, and you have made them guilty. You say, “You are mad,” and they try to hide it and they try to cling, and the longer they cling the longer the madness will continue.
Only just recently a few psychoanalysts, particularly R. D. Laing and others, have become aware of the phenomenon that a few mad people have not fallen lower than the normal, really they have gone beyond the normal. Just a few people in the West, very perceptive people, have become aware of it – but the East has always been aware, and the East has never suppressed mad people. The first thing the East will do: the mad people have to be brought to a school where many people are working and where a living master is. The first thing is to help them to attain a satori.
Mad people have been highly respected in the East; in the West they are simply condemned, forced to have electric shocks, insulin shocks, forced somehow, even if their brains are destroyed –now there are surgical things going on. Their brains are operated on and a few parts of the brain are removed. Of course then they become normal, but dull, idiotic, their intelligence is lost. They are no longer mad, they will not harm anybody; they will become a silent part of the society – but you have killed them without knowing that they were reaching a point from where a man becomes superhuman. But of course, the chaos has to be passed through.
With a loving master and a loving group of people in a school, in an ashram, it passes easily. Everybody takes it easily, helps it; one moves to the second stage easily. This has to happen because all order is imposed on you, it is not real order. All discipline is forced on you; it is not your inner discipline. Before you attain to the inner, the outer has to be dropped; before a new order is born, the old has to cease. There will be a gap. That gap is madness. One feels like tumbling, falling like a waterfall into the abyss, and there seems to be no bottom to it.
…in mid-course… If this point is passed, if the first satori is lived well, then a new order arises that is from within, that comes from your own being. Now it is no longer of the society. It is not given to you by others; it is not an imprisonment. Now a new order arises which has a quality of freedom. A discipline comes to you naturally; it is of your own. Nobody asks about you, nobody says, “Do this!” You simply do the right thing.
…in mid-course, like the Ganges it flows on slow and gentle… The tumbling, the roaring waterfall has disappeared, the chaos is no more. This is the second satori. You become like the Ganges, flowing gently, slowly; not even a sound is created. You walk like a bridegroom, silently, gracefully. An absolutely new charm happens to your being: grace, elegance. This is the stage, the second stage, in which we have caught all the buddhas in the statues; because the third cannot be caught, only the second or the first.
All the buddhas and Jaina tirthankaras… Go and look at their statues: the elegance, the grace, the subtle feminine roundness of their bodies. They don’t look masculine, they look feminine; a roundness, their curvature is feminine. That shows their inner being has become very slow, very gentle: nothing of aggression in them.
Zen masters: Bodhidharma, Rinzai, Bokuju have been pictured in the first state. That’s why they are so ferocious. They look like roaring lions; they look like they will kill you. If you look at their eyes, their eyes are volcanoes, fire jumps at you; they are like shocks. They have been pictured in the first satori state for certain reasons. Zen people know that the first is the problem; and if you know Bodhidharma in this state, when the same state happens to you, you will understand – don’t be afraid, even to Bodhidharma… But if you have been always watching buddhas and tirthankaras in their silent and slow flowing rivers and their feminine grace, you will become very much afraid when ferociousness comes to you, when you become like a lion – exactly, one starts roaring. You become a waterfall – tremendous!
That’s why in Zen the ferocious state has been pictured more and more. Of course there were buddhas in the shrine, but that is the next state. And that is not a problem at all; when you become silent there is no problem. In India the second stage has been too much emphasized and that became a barrier because one should know from the very beginning how things are. A buddha is already an accomplished being. It can happen to you, but in the gap from you to a buddha, something else is going to happen, and that is complete madness.
What happens when you accept all madness, you allow it? – it subsides by itself. The old order goes; society forced, simply evaporates. Old knowledge is no longer there; all that you knew about the scriptures is no longer there. There is a Zen monk burning all scriptures – his picture is one of the most famous pictures. That comes in the first state. One burns all the scriptures, one throws away all knowledge; everything that has been given to you looks rubbish, rot. Now your own wisdom is arising; there is no need to borrow it from anybody. But it will take a little time, just like a seed takes time to sprout.
If you can manage to pass through the chaotic state, then the second follows very, very easily, automatically, on its own accord. You become silent, everything has calmed down, just like the Ganges when it comes to the plains. In the hills it is roaring like a lion, falling from great heights into depths, much turmoil; and then it comes to the plains, leaves the hills. Now the terrain changes, now everything flows silently. You cannot even see whether it is flowing or not; everything moves as if it is not moving, at ease.
Attain to inner accomplishment, innate, with no hope: not going to any goal, not in any hurry, no haste, just enjoying each moment …like the Ganges it flows on slow and gentle…
This second stage has the quality of absolute silence, calm quietude, tranquility, collectedness, at-home-ness, rest, relaxation.
And then: …in the end, it is a great vast ocean where the lights of son and mother merge in one. Then suddenly, flowing silently, it reaches to the ocean and becomes one with the ocean – vast expanse, no boundaries. Now it is no longer a river, now it is no longer an individual unit, now there is no ego.
Even in the second stage there is a very, very subtle ego. Hindus have two names: one they call ahankar, ego – that’s what you have. The second they call asmita, am-ness – not ego. When you say, “I am,” not the “I” but simply “am,” am-ness, they call it asmita. It is a very, very silent ego. Nobody will feel it, it is very passive, not aggressive. It will not leave any trace anywhere, but it is still there. One feels one is. That’s why it is called the second satori: the Ganges is flowing silently of course, at home, at peace, but still it is; it is asmita, it is am-ness. The “I” has dropped and all the madness of the I has gone; the aggressive, the ferocious I is no longer there, but a very silent am-ness follows because the river has banks and the river has boundaries. It is still separate; it has its own individuality.
With the ego, personality drops, but individuality remains. Personality is the outer individuality. Individuality is the inner personality. Personality is for others; it is a showroom thing, a display. That has dropped; that is the ego. But this inner feeling of, “I am” or rather “am,” is not for display; nobody will be able to see it. It will not interfere with anybody’s life; it will not poke its nose into anybody’s affairs. It simply moves, but it is still there because the Ganges exists as an individual.
Then the individuality is also lost. That is the third word: atma. Ahankar is ego, the I-ness; the “am” is just a shadow to it, the “I” is focused. Then the second state, asmita: the “I” has dropped; now the am-ness has become the total, not a shadow. And then atma: now the am-ness has also dropped.
This is what Tilopa calls no-self. You are, but without any self; you are, but without any boundaries. The river has become the ocean; the river is in the ocean, it has become one with it. The individuality is no longer there, no boundaries, but the being exists as a nonbeing. It has become a vast emptiness. It has become just like the sky.
The ego was like black clouds all over the sky. The am-ness, asmita, was like white clouds in the sky. And atma is like without clouds, only the sky has remained.
…in the end, it is a great vast ocean where the lights of son and mother merge in one. Where you come back to the original source, the mother, the circle is complete. You have come back home, dissolved within the original source. The Ganges has come to the Gangotri, the river has come to its original source: the complete circle. Now you are, but in such a totally different sense that it is better to say that you are not.
This is the most paradoxical state because it is most difficult to bring it into language and expression. One has to taste it. This is what Tilopa calls Mahamudra: the great orgasm, the ultimate orgasm, the supreme orgasm. You have come back from where you had gone. The journey is over, and not only is the journey over, but the journeyman is also no more. Not only is the journey over as a path, the goal is also over.
Now nothing exists and everything is.
Remember this distinction. A table exists, a house exists, but God is; because a table can go into nonexistence, a house can go into nonexistence, but the God cannot. So it is not good to say that God exists; God simply is. It cannot go into nonexistence. It is pure isness. This is Mahamudra.
All that exists has disappeared, only isness remains.
The body has disappeared; it existed. The mind has disappeared; it existed. The path has disappeared; it existed. The goal has disappeared. All that existed has disappeared; only purity of isness is there: an empty mirror, an empty sky, an empty being. This is what Tilopa calls Mahamudra. This is the supreme, the last; there is no thing beyond it. It is the very beyond-ness.
Remember these three stages; you will have to pass through them. Chaos, everything gone topsy-turvy: you are no longer identified with anything, everything has become loose and fallen apart – you are completely mad. Watch it, allow it, pass through it, don’t be scared; and when I am here you need not be scared. I know it will pass, I know it always passes, I can assure you. And unless it passes, the grace, the elegance, the silence of a buddha will not happen to you.
Let it pass. It will be a nightmare, of course, but let it pass. With that nightmare all your past will be cleansed. It will be a tremendous catharsis. All your past will pass through a fire, but you will become pure gold.
Then comes the second state. The first has to be passed through because you may get scared and run away from it. The second also has a different kind of danger, an absolutely different kind. The first has to be passed; you have to be aware that it will pass. It will pass; just time and trust are needed. The second has a different kind of danger: you would like to cling to it because it is so beautiful; one would like to be in it forever and ever. When the inner river flows calm and quiet, one wants to cling to the banks; one wants not to go anywhere else, it is so good. In a way it is a greater danger.
A master has to assure you that the first will pass, and a master has to force you so that you don’t cling to the second. If you do cling, Mahamudra will never happen to you. There are many people clinging to the second, they are hanging on. There are many people who are hanging onto the second; they have become so much attached to it. It is so beautiful one would like to fall in love with it; one falls automatically. Be aware! Remain aware that it too has to be passed. Watch, so that you don’t start clinging.
If you can watch your fear with the first and your greed with the second… Remember, fear and greed are two aspects of the same coin. In fear you want to escape from something, in greed you want to cling to it, but they are both the same. Watch fear, watch greed and allow the movement to continue; don’t try to stop it. You can become stagnant; then the Ganges becomes not a flowing thing, but a stagnant pool. Howsoever beautiful, it will soon be dead. It will become dirty, it will dry up and soon all that was gained will be lost.
Go on moving. The movement has to be eternal – keep it in mind. It is an endless journey, more is always possible; allow it to happen. Don’t hope for it, don’t ask for it, don’t go ahead of yourself, but allow it to happen because then the third danger comes when the Ganges falls into the ocean – and that is the last because you will be losing yourself.
That is the ultimate death. It appears like the ultimate death. Even the Ganges shudders, trembles before it falls; even the Ganges looks backward, thinks of past days and memories, and the beautiful time on the plains and the tremendous energy phenomenon in the hills and the glaciers. At the last moment, when the Ganges is going to fall into the ocean, it lingers a little while longer. It wants to look back, think memories, beautiful experiences. That has to be also watched. Don’t linger!
When the ocean comes, allow: merge, melt and disappear.
Only on the last point can you say goodbye to the master, never before it. Say goodbye to the master and become the ocean. But up to that moment you need the hand of somebody who knows.
There is a tendency in the mind to avoid an intimate relationship with the master; that’s what becomes a barrier to taking sannyas. You would like to remain uncommitted; you would like to learn, but you would like to remain uncommitted. But you cannot learn, that is not the way; you cannot learn from the outside. You have to enter the inner shrine of a master’s being. You have to commit. Without it you cannot grow.
Without it you can learn a little bit from here and there, and you can accumulate certain knowledge. That will not be of any help; rather it may become an encumbrance. A deep commitment is needed, a total commitment in fact, because many things are going to happen. If you are outside on the periphery, just learning as a casual visitor, then much is not possible because what will happen to you when the first satori comes? What will happen to you when you go mad? And you are not losing anything when you commit to a master because you don’t have anything to lose. By your commitment you are simply gaining; you are not losing anything because you don’t have anything to lose. You have nothing to be afraid of. But still, still one wants to be very clever, and one wants to learn without commitment. That has never happened because it is not possible.
So if you are really authentically sincerely a seeker, then find someone with whom you can move in a deep commitment, with whom you can take the plunge into the unknown. Without it you have wandered for many lives and you will wander again. Without it the supreme accomplishment is not possible. Take courage and take the jump.
Enough for today.

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