The Osho Upanishad 30

Thirtieth Discourse from the series of 44 discourses - The Osho Upanishad by Osho.
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Each time I come close to you, it looks like my mind doesn't work anymore. I cannot hold on to any concrete thought; everything disappears as if in a white, light cloud. On one side it is like coming home after all this intense longing, and on the other side the fear of becoming crazy comes up. Is this the fear of losing control, or the first step of becoming a disciple and part of a divine madness? Am I on the right path?
The mind is the wrong path, and the no-mind is the right path. Mind is basically mad, and sanity is possible only, blossoms only, in a state of no-mind. If this is remembered, then nothing else is needed.
Coming close to me, your mind is bound to disappear for the simple reason that I am not a mind. The closer you come to me, the more you will be filled with a silence, serenity, no-mindness.
It is also natural that you will feel a little fear, because you have lived your whole life with the mind. And in the world it is being taught to everybody that losing the mind is madness. It is not the whole truth, because no madman ever loses the mind; in fact the madman is lost in the mind – his mind has become a jungle and he cannot find a way out of it. It is not that he has lost the mind, he is lost in the mind. He is more mind than he ever was before.
The madman has more mind than you have. Your mind is not so uncontrollable, not so big, not so vast; it is a normal size, manageable. The madman has lost himself in a vast, unlimited jungle of thoughts, desires, dreams.
So the maxim that “losing the mind is madness” is not right; it has to be changed. Losing yourself in the mind is madness. And if you understand this, then the definition of sanity is simple: coming out of the mind into the open, into the silence, where no thought, no desire disturbs you.
You are just a pool of silence, not even a ripple on it – this is sanity. But because you have lived your whole life in the mind, the first step out of the mind will look dangerous. You are going, according to the world, into craziness. According to me, you are going into sanity. And you can be a witness to it, because when you are close to me and the mind disappears, are you more sane, or more insane than you usually are in your day-to-day life?
In the silence of no-mind, how can you be crazy? Craziness needs contradictory thoughts, irrelevant thoughts, inconsistent thoughts dragging you in all directions, pulling you into pieces. You are somehow holding yourself together, but you know that if you drop control even for a single moment you will fall into pieces. And it will be impossible to put those pieces together again – who will do it?
The mind is afraid. But this is one part of being with a master: without your knowing, you have already come out of the mind for a moment. You have tasted, experienced that there is no fear of going crazy. And the farther you go beyond mind, the more intelligent you become.
Remember, intelligence is not part of the mind. Intellect is, but intelligence is not; hence the intellectual is full of mind but in life he behaves very unintelligently. He has a certain expertise, he is trained intellectually to do a certain thing, his mind is functioning like a computer. But life is not one-dimensional, you cannot exhaust it in one expertise; it is multi-dimensional.
It is a well-known fact that the great intellectuals of the world have all been found to be unintelligent outside their field of work. I will give you a few examples.
Karl Marx was certainly one of the great intellectuals. Now he rules over half of humanity, and perhaps will rule over the whole of humanity one day. He has defeated all – Gautam Buddha, Jesus, Mohammed, Moses. Now communism is the greatest religion in the world, and Marx is their god.
His expertise was in economics, particularly the economic divisions of society – the classes, the class struggle. He was tremendously accurate, very factual, very historical, and utterly scientific. He called his philosophy “scientific materialism.”
He was a chain-smoker, and he used to smoke the costliest and the best cigarettes. And he never worked, he never earned anything; he was talking about capitalism and against capitalism, and he was dependent on a friend who was a capitalist – Friedrich Engels, who was a great industrialist. Engels was supporting him throughout his whole life. And Karl Marx was living exactly the bourgeois life he was against: he was not producing anything, he was not creative, he was not a worker. He was not a member of the proletariat and he was living luxuriously.
His wife was disturbed, his friend was disturbed, his doctor was disturbed: this chain-smoking was going to destroy his health. But he was incurable. He could not think without smoking – there was a certain association, because he had always been smoking and thinking. The moment he would stop smoking, the thinking would also stop; they had become associated, entangled in each other. To think, he needed to smoke.
One day… His wife could not believe it, he was coming home with big boxes full of very cheap cigarettes. His wife said, “But this is not your brand. This is the cheapest cigarette.”
He said, “A great thought occurred to me when I went to purchase the cigarettes. Just as I was standing there, somebody was purchasing this brand of cigarette; I thought, ‘My God, these cigarettes are so cheap that one cigarette of my brand is equal to six cigarettes of this brand. If I start smoking these cigarettes, I can save so much money, and the more I smoke the more I will save money!’” And he was smoking like crazy. He went into his study and started smoking; he was throwing away half-smoked cigarettes and burning new ones.
His wife thought he had gone mad. “How you can save money if you are destroying cigarettes like this?”
Theoretically, intellectually, he was right: you smoke one cigarette and you have saved the money of five cigarettes. But nothing is actually saved. His friend was called, and his doctor, and he wouldn’t listen to them. He said, “You don’t understand economics. It is absolutely rational and logical what I am doing.”
But the friend brought his servants together and said, “Take all the cigarettes out of the house – and what nonsense is this economics you are thinking about? You will burn your lungs!”
Karl Marx said, “In my whole life I have found only one thing by which I could have earned some money, but strange… My wife is against it, my friend is against it, my doctor is against it, the neighbors are against it – even my servants are against it! And nobody understands economics.”
He was intellectual, but not intelligent. Intelligence is a totally different affair.

It happened after the Russian revolution. What is now the city of Leningrad was called Petrograd before the revolution. It was named after Peter the Great – Petrograd. Just in front of the palace there was a big rock, a very beautiful rock. Lenin, the chief architect of the Russian revolution, wanted to remove that rock because the rock was not allowing modern vehicles, cars, buses, to move on the road; they had to go around and take a longer route. It was perfectly okay when there were no cars, but that rock was not needed at all there in the middle of the road. The rock was very big; engineers were called, all kinds of suggestions were made about what should be done. A poor man with his bullock cart was standing there, looking and watching what was happening. Finally he laughed, and Lenin asked him, “Why are you laughing?”
He said, “I am a poor man; I don’t understand anything about what these great engineers are thinking. But it is a very simple matter, and they seem to be finding it almost impossible to remove it. There is no need to remove it. Just dig a hole around the rock; go on digging the hole and pulling out the mud. The rock will sit deeper in the hole and it won’t be a barrier. You need not be worried how to take it out; there is no need. It can just become part of the road – it is such a beautiful rock. But I am a poor farmer. I may be absolutely wrong, I don’t know. But this is how we work in our fields if some problem arises.”
Lenin has written in his diary, “That day I felt that to be intellectually trained is one thing, and to have intelligence is something else. That poor man had intelligence – no training, no education, but a simple insight.” And that’s what has been done. The rock is still there; it has just been sunk into the road.

Mind, at its best, can be a great intellectual, but it can never be a great intelligence. Intelligence needs freshness.
Intellect can only do that which it has been trained for. It is just like a parrot; it can repeat exactly what you have trained it for. It is a computer. First you have to feed it, feed it the information; then the computer has a memory system – it keeps it, and whenever you need it the computer is ready to give you the information back. But don’t ask any question which is new; the computer will not be able to give the answer. It has no intelligence.
The same is the situation of the mind. Have you observed it or not? It can give answers which you are educated about, informed about, which you have studied, which in some way are stored in the memory bank of your mind. It can give them back to you whenever you need them. But if something new arises – it may be very small – the mind is absolutely impotent to find an answer for it, because the information is not there in the bank; it is not part of the memory.
Mind is memory, not intelligence. Intelligence is when you encounter new things, new problems, and your being mirrors those new problems and finds answers for them. You have never been told about them, you have never studied them. Your memory is absolutely incapable of supplying an answer.
Great intellectuals, finding new problems, are always in difficulty.

It is said that one day Albert Einstein, one of the greatest mathematicians of the world, entered a bus to go to the university and gave some money to the conductor. The conductor gave him the ticket and some money back, the change from the money that he had given. He counted the money and he said, “You are cheating me.”
The conductor said, “Perhaps. Just let me count again.” He counted, and told Albert Einstein, “It seems you don’t know figures; you don’t know how to count. Just keep quiet and sit down.”
He told his wife, “It was a very embarrassing situation; the whole bus laughed. It was good that there were no professors or students; nobody knew that I am Albert Einstein and the conductor is saying, ‘You don’t know figures.’ And I have dealt with the biggest figures in the whole history of man, my whole work is figures. But I thought it was better not to make any fuss about it. You just count this money and see whether he was cheating me or I was wrong.”
The wife counted it, and she said, “It is perfectly right. Looking at your ticket, your money and the money you gave him, it is perfectly right. And it seems that you don’t know how to count! You have become so accustomed to big figures, figures with hundreds of zeros behind them, that you have forgotten small figures. You should never say anything to anybody; if any such situation arises, keep quiet.”

One of my friends, Doctor Ramamanohar Lohia, went to see Albert Einstein. Doctor Lohia was educated in Germany and he had arrived exactly on time. Albert Einstein’s wife said, “You will have to wait a little. I cannot be sure how long, because he is in his bath and he never likes to be disturbed while he is in his bath. And one never knows how long he will take.”
Doctor Lohia said, “I can wait.” He thought maybe fifteen minutes, half an hour – what more can one do in a bath? Six hours… The wife gave him breakfast, the wife gave him lunch, and he said, “My God, and he is still in his tub? What is he doing?”
The wife said, “In the beginning, when we were married, I used to disturb him, and that kept him angry the whole day. He would throw things and he would make all kinds of nuisance and shout. He gets very much disturbed, because he has made all his discoveries about the stars in his tub, in his tub with a bubble bath. He goes on playing with bubbles, soap bubbles; for him, those soap bubbles are stars. And he works out… I don’t know how he works it out, but he works it out – he has written all over the bathroom on the walls. I will show you his bathroom; it is all mathematics.”
After six hours Albert Einstein came out and he said, “So you have come? You have come just at the right time. Just as I come out of the bathroom, you are sitting here.”
Doctor Lohia said, “I have been sitting here for six hours!”
He said, “My God! But just forgive me, because when I am in my tub with the soap bubbles then I forget time completely. Then only stars and all the equations about new stars, their distances… You should see my bathroom.”
And Doctor Lohia told me, “They both took me to the bathroom. All the walls had great equations” – beyond his capacity because he was not a mathematician. He said, “You have made the bathroom your lab.”
He said, “I have not made it, it has become a lab by itself. These soap bubbles somehow resemble stars.”

Now this man is one of the greatest intellects – but he was the cause of an unintelligent thing, an ugly and inhuman thing that happened. He was the cause of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, because he wrote a letter to President Roosevelt of America: “I can make atom bombs. And just that you have atom bombs will be enough; there is no need to drop them. Just having them will be enough for Germany and Japan to surrender.” But this was an unintelligent thing to do.
Roosevelt allowed him, gave him all the facilities to make atom bombs. He made the atom bombs, and once they were made they were in the hands of the politicians. And he was writing – Roosevelt was no longer president, Truman became president, and he was writing to Truman – “Those bombs should not be used, that is my first condition.” Truman never replied to the letter. Who cares? You have done your work, you have been paid for your work. You are not the master of the bombs; the bombs belong to the government.
And Truman dropped those bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki without any reason. Germany had already failed and accepted its failure, and Japan was ready any day: the experts say that, at the most, one week or two weeks and Japan was going to surrender. Japan could not stand alone without Germany, and there was no need to destroy two cities of civilians who had nothing to do with the war – children, women, old men, mothers, pregnant women, who have nothing to do with war. And not a small number – each city was more than one hundred thousand people. Two hundred thousand people…
But Truman was interested to drop those atom bombs as quickly as possible, because if Japan surrenders then you cannot drop them. Then there is no chance – where to experiment? And he wanted to experiment.
This was an experiment. Two hundred thousand people died. And for generations the effect of those two bombs will continue, not only in human beings; in the fish, in the animals, in the trees – everywhere, the radiation will continue.
At that time Albert Einstein was crying and saying, “I am an unintelligent man. I could not see a simple thing: that once you give power to the politicians it has gone beyond your hands, you cannot do anything.”
His dying words were, “In my next life I would like to be born as a plumber, not as a physicist, because I don’t want to commit such murderous acts again. And it was my foolishness…” Although what he proposed was very intellectual, it was not intelligent: “Just the very show of power is enough.” But politicians are so hungry to show their power that without making it actually felt by the whole world, they will not be able to restrain themselves.
Have you seen two dogs fighting? Most probably they will bark at each other, jump at each other, and you will see that there is going to be a bloody fight – but nothing happens. They judge and see who is stronger, and once it is accepted by both that one is stronger than the other there is no need to fight. Then one dog simply puts his tail down, gives the signal: “Stop it. You are the winner, I am the defeated, and we can still be good friends.”
Dogs are more intelligent than politicians. This is an intelligent way to see it: what is the point now? “It is so clear that I am weaker than the other; what is the point in unnecessarily getting fractured bones and blood? It can be decided just by shouting and jumping, and making the whole show…” It is going to happen, now it is going to happen. But it never happens. One dog understands, and immediately he drops his tail.
You must have seen that if you approach a house and the dog is not aware whether you are a friend or a foe, he does both things: he barks at you and he goes on waving his tail. One never knows which way things turn out – if it turns out to be a friend, barking will stop and he is already waving his tail, “Welcome!” So he is just waiting, intelligently, for the time when the owner of the house comes out. Then he can see whether this man is friendly or not. Before that, he is doing both things.
Now dogs are not very intellectual, but they are intelligent. You will find intelligence in all the animals.
Now they even say that intelligence is in the trees – and it has been found in strange ways. Now trees are not intellectuals, you don’t see them going to school with books or going to the library. No intellectual work is visible, but intelligence is there. Scientists were studying one tree: there was no water near the tree, but there was a pipeline two hundred feet away and the tree in some way found out and all its roots went in that direction – and it was a pipeline; it was not that water was available.
But those roots tied themselves around the water pipe so tightly that it broke and they were getting a supply of water from two hundred feet away, and the tree remained green and was giving flowers. And when the scientists were digging, they were surprised: how did the tree roots find out that they had to go toward the north and not toward the south? They went right in the direction of the water, as if there was a subtle intelligence, a sensitivity, and they broke the pipeline and they managed to get the water which was not available from the earth.
And now they have found that trees and plants have intelligence in many ways – such deep intelligence that perhaps we are far behind.
Certain instruments like cardiographs have been made, which are attached to a tree. And a woodcutter is told to go and cut a branch from the tree, and the woodcutter goes with his axe. As he is coming near the tree, the cardiogram starts showing that the tree is trembling with fear; the graph on the paper starts trembling. It had been going very symmetrically but as the woodcutter comes closer, there is more trembling, more ups and more downs – and the woodcutter has not cut the tree yet.
It seems that the very idea in the mind of the woodcutter is in some way being read by the tree – a certain kind of telepathy, a certain kind of thought reading. And they have tried sending another woodcutter, who is not going to cut, he is told just to pass by the side of the tree with his axe – and the cardiogram remains symmetrical. Because there is no idea in the man to cut the tree, the tree is not worried; there is no fear.
Our minds are broadcasting every moment whatsoever is in our minds. Trees are getting it. Man seems to be dumb – you don’t know if somebody is coming to kill you or pick your pocket – but the tree knows. A different way of knowing must be…
The man who goes beyond mind is not crazy, but enters into a different way of knowing, a different way of understanding the world, a different way of responding to reality – more intelligently, more sensitively, more lovingly, more humanly.
Don’t be worried about it. This is the first step, and this is the right step.

I have got the point now that being totally in the heart is only the beginning, and that the journey is never-ending. But still there are some questions: What about Meera – didn't she stop too early, just to enjoy the heart and devotion space? Now I sometimes feel that enlightenment was much easier in the old Pune stories than when you are talking about it now. Is it because we took the first step, and now you are showing us the next one?
It is certain that enlightenment appeared to be much easier in my earlier teachings to you. It had to, because I did not want you to freak out. Now I can trust that even if I say the truth you are not going to escape. Enlightenment is not easy – but how to persuade people? They are so much engaged in futile things and if you give them a very difficult idea, which becomes prohibitive, they simply say, “We will see. Perhaps in some life, sometime – and what is the hurry? Eternity is available. The small things that we are engaged in doing right now will not be available for eternity, so let us finish them first.” And they will go on putting enlightenment as the last item on their list.

There is an old, ancient story in India about King Yayati. His death came; he was one hundred years old, he had done everything that you can do – conquered lands, had beautiful wives, had one hundred sons from those wives, had all the treasure that one can imagine. But man’s desire is inexhaustible. He said to death, “It is too early, I have not yet completed my experiences on the earth. You will have to give me at least one hundred years more.”
Death said, “I can give you one hundred years, on one condition: if one of your sons is ready to die in your place – because I have to take somebody anyway, I cannot go empty-handed. Bureaucracy is bureaucracy, nobody bothers there – just somebody’s body, and the register is marked that ‘Yes, Yayati has died.’ So if one of your sons… And you have one hundred sons.”
Yayati said, “There is no problem, my sons love me so much.”
He called his sons – and his sons were not children – somebody was eighty years old, somebody was seventy-five, somebody was seventy. They themselves were old, but nobody was willing to die. Just the youngest son, who was only seventeen, as yet unmarried, had just come from his gurukul, from his master’s home – he came forward and he said, “You can take me. If this can give my father one hundred years I will be immensely happy.”
Even Death felt tremendous compassion for the boy. Death said, “Can’t you see your ninety-nine brothers? – nobody is willing. They are coming close to their own death. There is not much to lose for the one who is eighty years old – any day his own death is going to come. You are too young – you don’t understand what you are doing. Think twice.”
He said, “I have thought about it. Exactly the same reasons that you are giving me: my father has lived one hundred years and is unsatisfied; my ninety-nine brothers have lived and none is yet ready to die. That is enough proof for me that satisfaction is not possible in this life. At least give me this satisfaction, that I have given to my father what he has given to me; I give it back to him. It is useless – life.”
Unwillingly, death had to take him away.
One hundred years passed and death was back, and Yayati said, “My God, I forgot completely about the fact that after a hundred years you would be back again. Everything is incomplete.”
And this went on happening. When Yayati became one thousand years old, ten times death came, and every time the youngest son sacrificed himself for the father.
It has tremendous implications. The old mind is not ready to die; even if you give it one thousand years to live, it clings to life. Only the youngest is bold enough to go into death without entering into the ups and downs, days and nights, summers and winters of life.
But after one thousand years when death came, Yayati said, “This time things are still incomplete, but I have understood that they will always remain incomplete. You can take me. And I am ashamed that I did not understand at all. I have sacrificed my young sons – who were innocent but more intelligent; they had more insight. They could see that satisfaction, contentment, completion is not possible here in this life.”

You are engaged in a thousand and one things, and you will have to leave them all incomplete – houses half built, businesses half successful, lives – yet asking for a little more time. You will die like a beggar, not like an emperor. You will not embrace death; you will be dragged by death unwillingly, reluctantly. Here, if I say to you enlightenment is very difficult, you will put it down at the very bottom of your life. I have to say to people that it is very easy, it is easier than anything else in the world, it is the easiest thing. And once you have become interested in enlightenment, then slowly, slowly I can tell you, “Don’t be stupid.” But I will say it only when the time is ripe.
Enlightenment is the greatest challenge to those who really want to understand themselves and the existence surrounding them. However difficult it may be, it will remain their priority. Everything else is secondary, because nothing else is going to give you the taste of eternal life, of immortal being, of peace that passeth understanding. Nothing else is going to help you come out of the darkness in which you have lived for lives and lives – groping, groaning. It can bring you, in the darkest night of your life, the most beautiful dawn.
It is difficult in the proportion in which you demand it: if it is your first priority, it is not that difficult; if it is your last priority, it is very difficult, almost impossible. But you have come a long way, and even if I say that it is a journey that never ends you can understand its beauty – you are not going to be afraid of a journey that never ends.

When railway trains started in London for the first time, the first train was going for only eight miles. But all the churches, the bishops and cardinals and the archbishop of England were condemning the railway train, saying that God never made the railway train; if it was needed for human beings he would have made it himself. Such a clear-cut logic! It is certainly the Devil’s trick – and the train also looks like a devil, particularly the old engines look like the Devil. And they made people afraid – “Don’t sit in it.”
There was no ticket, and lunch was served free. But the bishops were saying to the people, “You don’t know one thing: it will start, but what is the guarantee that it will stop, and if it does not stop, then what? What will you do? Just one lunch – finish! Just for one lunch the whole life is finished.”
And certainly nobody had seen a train stopping. Never had a train started, never had a train stopped; there was no precedent. Nobody could say with any guarantee that it would stop. Even the engineers, the scientists, could not say it with a guarantee; they said, “We know it will stop, but a guarantee? How can we give a guarantee? We have to see.”
With great difficulty… Only a few people went, half a dozen in the whole train, daredevils who said, “Okay, if it doesn’t stop that will do. If it is going to hell then we will go to hell – but we will see what happens. But lunch we cannot… We cannot pass up a free lunch.”
So only half a dozen… And people were trying, their families were trying to convince them, “Come down, don’t go just for one lunch. Don’t kill yourself! Can’t you see the face of the train?” But the train stopped, and there was great rejoicing.
People are afraid of anything that is unending. But those who know, should be afraid of things which end. Unending things should be the great attractions.
So now I can say you are on an unending journey, where you will have overnight stops but you will never come to an end – no terminus, no Victoria Station.

I am noticing that the questions you are answering are also answering mine. But the questions I have been submitting are not as articulate, and seem to be less clear than those you are answering. Now is the time for us to have you answer all of our questions. What surprises and shocks me is that at one time I considered myself articulate. Now my questions are like flames in my heart – wordless, beautiful, burning. Osho, can you say something about the necessity for a disciple to be able to articulate the questions that are burning within?
The disciple who has a burning question but is not articulate enough to put it into words is blessed. It is not something that one should feel sad about. It is something that should make one feel profoundly fortunate – because to have a question which you cannot bring into words is to have a real question.
Real questions cannot be brought into words. But real questions will be answered. Whether you can bring them into words or not, it doesn’t matter. In fact I am taking care of all those questions which are in your hearts but cannot find a way into language: they are the most important.
So whatever questions you ask me, I use them as an excuse to answer many other questions which are not asked. But remember: if you have a question, it cannot remain unanswered. I am here just for those questions.

In the mad game of master and disciple, I remember hearing you say in Pune that the master chooses the disciple first – before the disciple feels that he has chosen the master. Osho, does the master leave the disciple before the disciple can betray the master?
That’s true. The unconscious disciple has no choice, either in choosing the master or leaving the master. It is only the conscious master who chooses the disciple, and if he feels that it is not the right time for the disciple, he drops him. But he drops him with such grace that the disciple always thinks that he has dropped the master.
While choosing also, the disciple thinks he has chosen the master. In your sleep you cannot choose who is going to awaken you; in your sleep you can only dream. You cannot have any glimpse of reality on either end – choosing a master or leaving a master.
The master chooses a disciple seeing some potential, some possibility of flowering. But there are disciples whose pace of growth is so slow that it may take lives for them; then it is better to leave them. Some other gardener will work on them. It is better not to start working on them, because leaving incomplete work is creating a difficulty for the disciple.
The master is not going to come back again in the next life. If I cannot complete your work in this life, I will not begin it. Then it is better to leave you a tabula rasa; somebody else somewhere in your future life may do the work. He will have his own designs, he will have his own devices.

Junnun, one Sufi master, used to say to each new disciple that arrived, “Have you ever been a disciple to another master? If you have, then my fee will be double. If you have never been a disciple of any other master, then my usual fee will do.”
People were puzzled. They would say, “We thought that since we have learned so much from other masters and now we have come to you, you should not charge a double fee; you should charge half of the fee or no fee at all.”
But Junnun said, “You don’t understand: first I will have to undo whatever the other masters have done, because our designs are different, our devices are different, so my work is complicated. A person who comes fresh is simpler to work with.”
So if I see that a certain person is not going to develop, that whatever is done he is going to waste time – he is not in any urgency, and I am in urgency – then it is better to say good-bye to him. But it will be hard on him to make him feel that he has been left out. The better way is to create a situation in which he himself leaves, feeling perfectly good that he has left.
He is given a false opportunity to think that he has chosen the master and he is given a false opportunity to feel that he has left the master. But on both occasions, it is the master who is basically responsible.

Wherever you are, there is a festivity and celebration. What is this wonderful phenomenon?
Festivity and celebration are our natural states; you have just forgotten them.
When you come to me, you suddenly remember that there is no need to be sad, no need to be miserable, that life wants you to sing and dance, that life is not serious, but playfulness. The ancient seers used to call it leela; that word can only be translated as playfulness. It is the playfulness of existence. You just have to be reminded.
Anybody who knows it, being close to him, you see your face in his mirror. And suddenly there is a remembrance, and your misery disappears – because your misery is false, your sadness is false. Celebration is your truth. It has nothing to do with me, it is just that in my presence you forget for a moment your false mask of misery. Suddenly you feel a joy, a cheerfulness, a fragrance arising in you. It is not mine. I am just a reminder, just a mirror; seeing your face, there is celebration. You cannot see your face without a mirror; that is a difficulty.

I have heard that Mulla Nasruddin found a mirror on the road. He had never seen a mirror – some traveler passing by the side of the village may have dropped the mirror. He looked in the mirror and said, “My God, this is my father! And this old cheat used to have a photograph of himself and we never knew about it.”
He took the mirror home. He did not want to show it to his wife because unnecessary quarreling would arise – any point was enough – so he went upstairs. The wife was looking out of the corner of her eye… “That old fellow is certainly doing something, the way he has entered.” And as he left the house, she went upstairs. He had hidden it inside a box underneath his clothes, but she found it. No husband can hide anything which the wife cannot find, it has never happened.
She looked into the mirror and she said, “My God, in his old age… And he is having a love affair. And with this rotten old woman!”

It is the mirror.
Without the mirror you would not have been able to know how you look. The mirror is certainly a great invention.
The master is also a mirror – not for this body and this face, but for your original face, for your real being, for your inner flame. And the moment you see it, suddenly you feel all darkness, all misery, all sadness gone, and there is celebration.
Wherever the master is there is Kaaba, there is Kashi, because there is a possibility to experience your authentic blissfulness. Suddenly a song, a dance – you are no more your old self. At least for the moment you are a new being.
And if you go on remembering this, then the master is not needed. Whenever you remember yourself there will be celebration – there will be Kaaba, there will be Kashi.

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