The Ultimate Alchemy Vol 1 03

Third Discourse from the series of 10 discourses - The Ultimate Alchemy Vol 1 by Osho.
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Sarva karma niraakaranam aawahanam.

Cessation of the cause of all actions
is aawahanam – the invocation.
Religion is not ritual. Really, when a religion dies it becomes ritual: the dead body of a religion becomes the ritual. But ritual is to be found everywhere. If you go to find religion you will find ritual. All these names – Hindu, Mohammedan, Christian – these are not the names of religions, they are names of particular rituals. By “ritual” I mean the belief that “something done outwardly can create the inward revolution.” This belief, that something done outwardly can create an inward revolution, creates rituals.
Why does this belief come into existence? It comes because of a very natural phenomenon. Whenever there is inward revolution, whenever there is inner mutation, whenever there is some inner transformation, it is followed by many outward things and signs – it is bound to be, because the inward exists in relation to the outward. Nothing can happen inside which will not affect the outside also. It will have effects, consequences, shadows on the outside behavior also. If you feel anger inside, your body begins to take certain postures. If you begin to feel silence inside, your body will take certain other postures. When there is silence inside, the body will show it in many ways. The silence, the inner peace, the stillness will be shown by the body in many ways, but this is always secondary. The inner is basic and the outer is secondary. It is a consequence, not a cause.
Whenever this happens, for example, if a buddha happens to be here, we cannot see what is happening inside him, but we can see, we will see, what is happening outside. For the buddha himself, the inner is the cause and the outer the consequence. For us, the outer will be the first thing to be noticed and then the inner will be inferred. So for onlookers the outer, the secondary, becomes the basic, the primary.
How can we know what has happened in the buddha’s inner consciousness? – but we can observe his body, his movements, his gestures. They are related to the inner, they show something, but they are related not as causes but as consequences. So you cannot go back; the vice versa will not be true. If the inner is there, the outer will follow, but the vice versa is not true: if the outer is there, there is no necessity that the inner should follow – there is no necessity.
For example, if I am angry, then my body will show anger, but I can show anger in my body without being angry at all. An actor is doing that. He is expressing anger through his eyes, through his hands; he is expressing love without feeling anything inside; he is showing fear, his whole body is trembling and shaking, but there is no fear inside.
So the outer can be without the inner, we can impose it. There is no reason, there is no basis, no necessity, no inevitability, that the inner should follow the outer. The outer always follows the inner, but never the vice versa. Ritual is born because of this fallacy.
We see a buddha sitting in a silent posture – in siddhasan, the most relaxed posture for the body. This posture is a consequence of an inner quietude because the consciousness has become so still that the body follows it, and the body spontaneously takes the most relaxed posture. But for us the body is the first thing to be noticed. We see the body first, so we say that Buddha achieved liberation in this posture. Really, quite the reverse is the case: because Buddha achieved liberation, this posture followed. This posture is not a cause. So you can practice the posture, you can become efficient in the posture – but don’t wait for the liberation to come. The posture will be there, but liberation will not come.
Someone is praying. His hands are raised or his head is surrendered unto some unknown feet. This is an outward posture. When surrendering really happens inside, this posture follows. When surrendering happens inside, when one begins to feel a nothingness, when one begins to feel to just dissolve into the infinite, this posture follows. You can imitate the posture, but surrendering will not follow.
When I say this posture follows, I don’t mean that it is bound to follow for everyone. With every individual there will be differences. It will depend on the culture, on the upbringing, on the climate, on many things. There is no intrinsic necessity for the posture to follow. What will follow will depend on many many things. For example, if a buddha is not born in India but in a culture, in a society, where no one sits on the ground, do you think enlightenment will not come to him? It will come on a chair! Of course, when he is sitting in a chair he will sit in a different way. When enlightenment comes to him he will totally relax, but that relaxation will be different, outwardly, from a siddhasan.
Mahavira achieved liberation in a very strange posture. It is known as goduhasan, the posture of a cowherd milking a cow – the same posture as a cowherd milking a cow. In that posture Mahavira was enlightened. Never before and never afterwards has anyone achieved liberation in that posture. He was not milking a cow! Why did this happen? It must have something to do with Mahavira’s own bodily habits; it might be concerned with his past incarnations. Nothing is known about why this happened.
The basic thing is that outward things follow some in-ward happenings. They, too, are not fixed laws. From individual to individual they differ. It depends; it depends on many things. But the society begins to feel a necessary connection, a cause-effect connection, between outward things and inward. Then the ritual is born. “Ritual” means that we will do something outward, and the inner will follow. This is the most fallacious thing possible. This fallacy destroys every religion, and every religion ultimately becomes just a ritualistic nonsense.
In this Upanishad, this ritualistic understanding is denied totally, but denied in a very positive way. So one thing must be understood very distinctly and clearly.
The Upanishads were born in a very revolutionary period as far as the Indian mind is concerned: there was a great rebellion against the Vedas. When I say against the Vedas, I mean the ritualistic structure that was built around the Vedas. It was a dead ritual; everything was a ritual. Religion was not something deep, not something concerned with consciousness and its transformation, rather, it was just concerned with doing something: “If you do this, then you will get this; if you do that, then you will get that.” Every ritual was fixed as if it was a science: “Do this prayer and there will be rain; do this prayer and the enemy will be killed; do this prayer and you will be victorious – do this and this will follow.” This was proposed as if it was a science.
This ritualistic structure killed the very progressive spirit of the Indian mind. A revolution followed; it was bound to follow. It took two shapes. One was negative – Jaina and Buddhist. These two currents of thinking took a very negative turn. They said, “Rituals are meaningless, absurd, so all rituals should be abolished.” This was an absolutely negative attitude. The Upanishads were also against rituals, but they took a very positive attitude. They said, “Ritual is not absurd, but you misunderstand the meaning of it.”
This sutra is concerned with a yagna ritual, aawahanam – invocation. The word aawahanam – invocation – means that before you begin any worship, any yagna, any prayer, first invoke the deities, first call them. “Aawahanam” means: invite them, invoke them. As far as it goes it is good. How can you pray unless you have invited? How can you surrender unless you have invoked?
So these are the ways. The negative way will be first: that it is useless because there are no deities. Second: they have no names even if there are. Third: even if they have names they will not respond because whatsoever you are doing is just bribery, just flattery. Do you think that by your flattery, by your prayers, by your briberies, you will be able to invoke them? If you think that you can invoke them and call them and invite them, then they are not even worth it – because if you can bribe them, then they are just like you. The language is the same and the level also, so they are not worth it.
Buddha has said: “There are no deities, and even if there are they are not higher than human beings. They are not higher. You can persuade them, you can bribe them through your flattery – stuti. You can force them to do something or not to do something, so they are not higher than you. They can be just forgotten.”
The Upanishads take a very different attitude. They say that deities are there and invocation is possible, but they give a much deeper meaning to invocation. They say:
Cessation of the cause of all actions is invocation.
They don’t deny anything. They give a new meaning, and the ritual becomes nonritualistic. They say, of course invocation is possible, but by invocation is meant Cessation of the cause of all actions….
They say the same thing the Buddha also says. Buddha denies. He says, “There is no invocation. The only path is to be desireless, so don’t ask for any help from anyone, no one can help you. Just be desireless and you will attain nirvana, bliss, peace, the ultimate. So don’t ask anyone’s help, don’t invoke anyone, just be desireless.”
This becomes even more pertinent because a person who is invoking a deity is invoking him because of some desire. He wants something – money, prestige, victory, anything. He is invoking the deity, praying for something. So Buddha says, “You are just running from one desire to another, and this running after desires is the dukkha – is the misery. No one can help you unless you become desireless.”
Cessation of the cause of all actions…means to be desireless.
What is the cause of action? Why are you involved in so much action? Why this constant running? What is the cause? Desire is the cause. So in a very poetic way the Upanishad denies the ritual and yet not the term; denies the ritual, yet not the spirit.
Buddha failed because a negative mind cannot really succeed for long. He can be very appealing, because negativity strikes hard. He can be very logical, because to say no is the very spirit of logic – of being logical. Really, whenever you want to say no you need logic. If you want to say yes logic is not needed, reason is not needed. You can say yes without any reasoning, but you cannot say no without any reasoning. The moment you say no logic will be required, so no is always logical.
A modern logician, De Bono, says that the purpose of logic is really to say no in a reasonable way, in a rational way. The very purpose of logic is to say no and then to adduce reasons, proofs, for saying no. Buddha said no; it appealed. His approach was logical, rational, everything was perfect – but yet he couldn’t get roots in the Indian soil. He was soon uprooted. This is a very strange fact: that he could get ground in China, in Japan, in Burma, in Ceylon, everywhere in Asia except India. The secret is that the Buddhist monks learned their error when they left India. The no was the error, so they never used negative attitudes anywhere else. They became positive. In China they began to say yes: in Ceylon they have said yes. Then everywhere they succeeded, because yes has a very magical secret of success.
It may not appeal to reason: it appeals to the heart. In the end heart wins – never reason. Really, reason never wins in the end. You can silence someone with logical reasoning, but you can never convert him, you can never change him. Even if he cannot say anything against you, he will still be convinced of his own mind. Unless the yes is evoked, he cannot be converted. So Buddha tried hard, but with a no – everywhere no. Whatsoever he was saying was the same as the Upanishad is saying, it was not a bit different. Only the methodology he chose was negative, and the reason might be that he was a kshatriya – a warrior – and a warrior lives with a no.
The Upanishads came through brahmins. They were beggars, and a beggar lives with a yes. Even if you deny him, a real beggar, an authentic beggar, will bless you. He lives with a total yes, that is his secret. He cannot use no. A warrior, a kshatriya, can use yes only when he is defeated, and then too from his heart he will never say yes, he will continue to say no. All the Jaina tirthankaras were kshatriyas. Buddha was a kshatriya. They both took negative attitudes.
The Upanishads are based on a positive yes. They are yea-sayers. Even if they have to say no, they will say it in such a way that yes is used. Really, this Upanishad is saying there is no aawahanam, no invocation, but no is not used at all. They turn it into a yes. They say, Cessation of the cause of all actions is the invocation. It is not related at all with the invocation of the Vedas, with the priests. It is not related at all. It is related to the same rebellious teaching which says that being desireless is the ultimate state of purity. Unless you are pure, how can you invite the divine?
Really, being pure is the invitation. No other invitation is needed. The moment you are pure, the moment the heart is pure, the divine comes. Just being pure is the invitation; so don’t call, don’t cry for the divine, just be pure and he will come.
How can this purity be achieved and why are we impure? What is the reason? The Indian genius has always been thinking in terms of desire and desirelessness. Really, everything that we are can be reduced to desire; whatsoever we are is because of our desire. If we are miserable, if we are in bondage, if we are ignorant, if we are in darkness, if life is just a long death, it is because of desire.
Why is there misery? Because your desire is frustrated. Unless you have a desire, how can it be frustrated? So if you want to be frustrated desire more, then you will be more frustrated. If you want to be in misery then expect more, desire more, be ambitious for more, and you will get more misery. If you don’t want to be miserable, then don’t desire.
So this is the mathematics of inner workings: desire creates misery. If desire fails, it necessarily creates misery, but even if desire succeeds, it again creates misery – because the moment you succeed your desire has gone ahead, it is asking for more. Really, the desire is always ahead of you. Wherever you reach it will be ahead of you, and you will never reach the point where you and your desire can meet; that is impossible. Desire means something always in the future, never in the present. You are always in the present and desire is always in the future. Wherever you are, you will be in the present and desire will always be in the future.
It is just like the horizon. You see just a few miles to where the sky is touching the earth, and it looks so real, but go ahead and find the place where the sky touches the earth, and the more you go ahead, the more the horizon goes ahead. The distance remains always the same because, really, it never touches anywhere. The touching, the contact line, is just false. So when you go to seek the horizon you will never find it, but it will always remain there, just you will never meet, and you can continue to be in the illusion that the horizon is there – a little more distance to be traversed. You may go around the whole earth and come back to your home never meeting the horizon anywhere, but the illusion can continue.
Desire is just like the horizon. It seems to meet, it seems to be fulfilled soon, the distance is not much: “Just a little more effort, just a bit of fast running and it is just near,” but you never reach it. It is always just near and the distance remains the same. Howsoever you run, the distance remains the same.
Has any desire ever been fulfilled? Don’t ask others, ask yourself. Have you realized any desire, ever? But we don’t even wait to think about it. We have no time to think about the past; the future obsesses us. We are in such a hurry to reach the horizon, who will think that we have missed this horizon so many times? There is no time to think – the hurry is such, and life is so short, and one has to run and go on running. Have you achieved anything through any desire or does frustration always come? Aren’t ashes always in the hand and nothing else? But one never sees the ashes in the hand, one never sees the frustration. The eyes are always again fixed on the far-off horizon.
This fixation with the horizon is the cause of all actions, and no action reaches a fulfillment – because our actions are just mad. If the horizon itself is not there, then your running is mad. So desire is the cause of all actions and of all misery, of all impurity and of all ignorance.
Cessation of the cause – cessation of desiring – is the invocation. If you cease to desire, then there will be no running – no running after anything, no movement inside, no ripples – just a silent pool of consciousness, a silent pool without waves, without ripples. No movement! The Upanishads say this state of consciousness is the invocation.
But does it mean that all actions cease when desire ceases? – because we have seen a Krishna moving, doing many things. We have seen a Buddha doing many things even after the enlightenment. So what does cessation of the cause of all actions mean? It doesn’t mean cessation of all actions, it means the cause, the desire, ceases. When there is no desire, actions begin to take an altogether different quality. When there is no desire, then action becomes just a play – with no madness in it, with no insanity behind it, with no obsession. It becomes just a play, a playfulness.
Really, the modern psychiatrists say that this is a criterion as to whether someone is insane or sane – an insane person cannot play. An insane person cannot play; even if he plays he will become so serious about it that the play will become a work. Real sanity consists in transforming even work into play. When there is no desire you can play – and if nothing comes out of it, there is no frustration because nothing was expected. The play in itself was enough. That is the difference between work and play.
Work is never enough unto itself, it is always meant for some result. The result has a real value, the end, and work is only a means. You work to achieve something; no one works for work’s sake. So work is in the present and the result is always in the future, and it all depends on the result. Work in itself is just a burden to be carried somehow, because it is the end that is to be achieved. If you can achieve the end without the work, you will never work.
Play has a different dimension – altogether different, diametrically opposite. There is really no result to be achieved. Play is for play’s sake, but we have become so insane that we cannot even play for play’s sake. So even through play we try to achieve some result, to win something – prestige, medals, anything, but something must be there as an end to be achieved. So, really, grown-ups never play; only children play – with nothing beyond. That’s why the play of children has an innocence and a beauty; the thing is enough unto itself.
When a child is playing he is totally absorbed in it – not a single desire out of it, running and going somewhere; not a bit of consciousness beyond it, everything is in it. The child has become just the play – totally involved, committed to this moment here and now; nothing exists beyond it. This is action, but without the cause, without desire.
That’s why we have called this world not really a creation of the divine but a leela, a play of the divine, because “creation” is not a good word, it is ugly. It is ugly because you create something for something. No, the divine is only playing – just playing like a child with no result in the mind. The play itself is blissful. So to say: Cessation of the cause of all actions is invocation, means to be just like a child – innocent, pure, without any desire. Then you have invoked the divine. Then you have called, invited.
Now your invocation cannot be denied, it is so authentic and so sincere. Really, now you need not even invoke and the divine will be there, you need not even call and the divine will be there – because you have created the situation. The divine will flow, come down. You have created the situation – the purity of the heart. This is the only invocation. All else is again just desire, action.
Jesus says that unless you are like a child you cannot enter into the kingdom of the divine. “Like a child”: what does it mean? It means that you are capable of playing, that you are capable of action without desire.
For us it is inconceivable. How can we act without desire? Take the opposite case: can you desire without action? You can desire, you can desire without action, so desire can exist alone without action – mm? – everyone is desiring, there are many, many desires without any actions. So desire can be without action: this is our experience. Why not the opposite? Can actions be without desire? If desire can be severed from action, why not action from desire? That too is possible. When desire is not there, action doesn’t cease; it becomes different. The flavor is different, the intrinsic quality is different – the madness is not there and this very moment, the present, has become meaningful and not the future.
So take this to heart: if the future is very meaningful to you, you cannot invoke. If the present is the only significance and the future doesn’t exist at all, then you have invoked. The future is the bondage, because without the future you cannot desire. Desire needs space in which to move. It cannot move just in the present; the present has no space. It cannot move. How can you desire for just now? You can desire only in the tomorrow. Really, the future is created because of our desiring – there is no future, the future doesn’t exist.
Ordinarily we say that time has three divisions – past, present and future. Really, time has only one, and that is the present. The past is that which is not; the future is that which is not yet. They both are not. Past only means desires that are dead, and future means desires that are still alive – and the present is untouched by your past and by your future.
So, really, past and future are not divisions of time, but parts of mind. Time is the present; mind is the past and future. Mind has two divisions, past and future; and time has only one, the present. That’s why mind and time never meet. They cannot meet, because mind has no present, and time has no past and no future. If there were no mind on the earth, would there be any future or past? There would be only the present. Flowers, of course, would flower, but in the present. Trees would, of course, grow, but in the present. There would be no past and no future. With men, or rather with mind, comes past and future. Really, if you look into a child he has no past. How can he have? That’s why he is never burdened – because the past becomes a burden.
An old man is always burdened. There is a past, a long past – so many dead desires, so many frustrations, so many horizons never found, so many rainbows just broken. He has a long past and he is just burdened. An old man is always thinking about the past, remembering, going again and again into the memory. An old man, by and by, begins to forget the future, because now the future only means death and nothing else. So he never tries to look into the future, he begins to look back. A child is always looking forward, never back, because there is nothing to look back to. For an old man there is only death to look to in the future and nothing else.
A young man is in the present, so a young man cannot understand children and he cannot understand old men. They both look just foolish – both! Children look foolish because they are unnecessarily wasting their time, unnecessarily playing with toys. An old man just looks dead, just unnecessarily worried. A young man cannot understand really, because he cannot see what has happened to an old man – that he is now only the past. This happens.
But every young man will become old, and every child will become young, and every old man was once young and once a child – because the mind moves, it goes on moving. In children it has a vast expanse to move. With an old mind it has no expanse to move further. But this is movement of the mind, not of time.
Really, we think that time is moving. No, we are moving. We just go on moving: time is not moving at all. Time is the present; time is always here and now. It has always been here and now, it will always be here and now. We go on moving. We move from past to future, and for us time is just a bridge to move from the past into the future – from one desire to another desire. Time is just a passage. For us, time is just a passage to move from one desire to another. If desires cease, then your movement will cease, and if your movement ceases, you will meet with time here and now – and that meeting is the door. That meeting is the door, that meeting is the invocation.
But when the Upanishad says, Cessation of the cause…does it mean to say, “Do not desire”? It is very natural for our minds to translate things like that. If the Upanishad says, Cessation of the cause of all actions…it means a state of desirelessness. Remember it: a state of desirelessness. But our minds will translate it as “Do not desire.” You have missed the point if you translate it as “Do not desire,” because even if you do not desire, you will desire. Your “Do not desire” will imply desire. You may desire to invoke the divine, you may desire to be purified, to be pure, to be innocent, childlike, to reach that realm of play. So your mind can say to you, “If you want to enter the kingdom of God, do not desire.”
This is a desire. This is how desire works: “If you want to get into the kingdom of God, if you want enlightenment, if you want a meeting with the divine, do not desire.” So this is the logic of desire. “Do not do this if you want that; do this if you want that.” So when I say a state of desirelessness, I don’t mean a commandment which says, “Do not desire!”
Then what do I mean? It becomes difficult, complex to understand. Then what do I mean when I say “a state of desirelessness”? It means: understand desire, understand the fallaciousness of desire, understand the absurdity of desire, the futility of it, the nonsense of it. Just understand what desire has done, what desire can do, what desire is doing. Just understand desire, and if you understand it totally you will be desireless. That desirelessness will be just an outcome of your understanding. It cannot be anything out of your action. That “do not” is again an action.
This translation of things creates many unnecessary problems. So I have seen people who say, “Do not be greedy if you want to achieve the divine,” but they never feel that this is greed – and a greater one. This is a most extraordinary greed, rare. One wants to achieve the divine, so one must not be greedy. What does greed mean? Not to be greedy means not to desire, not to want. But you are wanting the divine, moksha, so: “Don’t be greedy. If you want to possess the divine, then don’t possess anything else. Be nonpossessive. Renounce, if you want to get!” This renouncing becomes just a step, so it is just a methodology for getting – but you are still for getting.
Really, unless you cease this craving to get you will never be mature. So look at it in this way: a child is born and the first state of mind is one of getting. The child is getting everything – the milk, the food, the love. He is not giving anything: he is just getting. This is the most immature state of mind – just getting. When an old man is also trying to get, he has remained just an immature person. It is okay for a child to be in a state of constant getting, he is getting everything. The child cannot even conceive of what giving means. So when you say to a child, “Give your toy to this boy,” he cannot even conceive of what you mean. The language is unknown, the language of giving is unknown. He can only get.
You have to train the child according to his language. So you say, “Give this toy to this boy, then I will give you more love.” Now you have to translate even giving into getting. “If you don’t give, then we will not give you love.” So a child begins to learn that if you want to get you will have to give. This giving becomes just a stepping-stone to get more. This is the state of our minds always; then we remain just immature. We are in a state of getting; if sometimes we have to give, it is only to get something else.
This purity of heart means quite the opposite of getting – just giving. That is the most mature mind. A child, the immature mind, is always concerned with getting. A Buddha, a Jesus, is always giving. That is the other extreme – giving not to get something, but giving because giving is a play, a bliss in itself. When I say understand desire, I mean understand getting, under-stand giving. Understand that your state is just of getting, getting and getting, and you will never be fulfilled – mm? – because there is no end.
Understand this: What have you got through this constant, eternal getting? What have you got? You are as poor as ever, as much a beggar as ever – rather, more. The more you get, the more you become a greater beggar, the more is the desire to get. So you only learn by getting, more getting. Where have you reached? What have you found? What is there which you can say is the achievement of this constant, mad getting? Nothing!
If you can understand this, the very understanding becomes a transformation; the getting drops. The moment getting drops a new dimension opens; you begin to give. This is the paradox: you have not got anything through getting – but when you give, you get. But that “get” is not concerned with your getting at all. The giving itself is a deep achievement, a deep fulfillment.
When I am saying this, I am afraid you may again translate it. You may say, “Okay. So to achieve that fulfillment we must leave this constant desire to get.” Understand this; don’t translate it. Your mind can distort anything. It has distorted everything. It distorts a Buddha, it distorts a Krishna, it distorts a Jesus, it distorts a Zarathustra – it goes on distorting. They say something, you translate it, and then it is something else altogether different – diametrically opposite even.
The understanding of desire becomes desirelessness; the knowing of desire is the cessation of desire. So know deeply, understand deeply. Don’t take any hurried step, and then a purity is discovered which is always there, which has always been there. The heart is pure already, but only covered with desires, with smoke, and you cannot look deeply.
This is invocation: if you are pure you have invoked. So be pure and the divine will be invoked. Nothing else is needed, not even a belief in the divine is needed. You need not believe that there is divine energy. You need not believe that there is someone – no need. Just be pure, and you will come to know. The divine is not a belief, it is a knowledge, a knowing.
When I say “purity” you may again misunderstand me, because for “purity” we have very moralistic connotations. We say a man is pure because he is moral, a man is pure because he is not a thief, a man is pure because he is not dishonest, a man is pure because he lives under the rules and regulations of his society; but if the society itself is impure, then by living according to its rules and regulations how can you be pure? If the society itself is dishonest, then by following it how can you be honest? If the whole foundation and structure is just immoral, then to adjust to it is the most immoral act possible.
So what really happens is that the more moral a person is, the more he goes against the society – because he cannot adjust. A Jesus has to be crucified: he becomes “immoral” because the whole society is immoral. A Socrates has to be poisoned. Why? Because a really moral man cannot exist in an immoral society.
Whenever an immoral society pays respect to someone and says that he is moral, it means only that he is adjusted and nothing else – adjusted to the society. Whatsoever the society has said, he follows. Really, he may be just dead. He may have no conscience of his own; he cannot assert anything. He is not – he just follows. He becomes very moral. So for “purity” we have a very moral connotation.
No, purity means innocence, and all those persons we call “moral” are very cunning, they are not innocent at all – because if you think that to be a thief is bad, or to be a thief is not respectable, or to be a thief you will have to suffer in hell, or by not being a thief you are going to gain heaven, then you are very cunning and calculating. You are not a thief because of your calculations and cunningness, and it may be that the person who is a thief and suffering imprisonment is less cunning and less calculating. That’s why he is suffering – he has become a thief. You are more cunning, more calculating, so you are moral and honest – but not pure.
Purity means innocence; innocence means a noncalculating mind. I don’t mean that he will be a thief. How can an innocent person be a thief? If he cannot calculate, how can he be a thief? – mm? To be a thief one needs calculation; not to be a thief, one again needs calculation. An innocent person is neither moral nor immoral, he is just innocent. That innocence is purity.
Jesus has been condemned for many things which his society thought immoral – because a prostitute invites him to come to her home and he goes. Then the whole village begins to be filled with rumors: “Jesus has gone to a prostitute’s house. Why should he go? A moral man can never go to a prostitute’s house.” This is what you would have thought also: “Why should Jesus go there? What is the need? Not only has he gone, he has remained the whole night.” He has slept there, and in the morning, of course, whatever can happen in a “moral” village happens. Everyone is against him. Even his friends are not with him now, even his followers have escaped, and the village encounters him and asks him, “Why did you go to a prostitute’s house?” and Jesus says, “Who is not a prostitute, tell me? How do you decide and how do you judge? What are the criteria?”
This is a noncalculating person. He says he cannot judge who is a prostitute and who is not. He cannot judge. How can he judge, and who is he to judge? Here is an innocent man, a pure man, but he is to be crucified because you cannot think that he is innocent, you cannot think that he is pure. How can he be pure when he has slept in a prostitute’s house? Our minds are really so immoral and so impure that we cannot conceive of a different dimension of purity. And this same prostitute is the only person who remains when Jesus is crucified. Everyone has escaped; no one is there. Only this prostitute, Mary Magdalene, is standing there – the only person! No apostle is there; no follower is there. They have all escaped because it is dangerous to be there, even they can be crucified. Only this prostitute is standing there, and this prostitute helped to take Jesus’ dead body down from the cross. So it seems pertinent to ask “Who is not a prostitute?” Was it good for Jesus to stay with this prostitute or not? – because only this poor woman remained with him in the end.
What is moral and what is immoral? As far as religion is concerned, innocence is moral and cunningness is immoral. To be innocent is enough. That childlike innocence is the purity. That purity becomes aawahanam – invocation.
We have distorted everything, every word. Every word has become just ugly. When you say that someone is pure what do you mean? Just find out the meaning and you will find very ugly things. By “someone is pure,” what do you mean? Innocence? Never – because innocence can be dangerous. Innocence may not fit into your pattern. Really, it will not fit. How can it fit? You cannot persuade it, you cannot force it, you cannot bribe it – and the society depends on force, on bribery, on persuasion, on punishment, on appraisal, on fear, on greed. So we say that if you do this, you will get this.
Many, many have asked Buddha, “If we follow you, what will we get?” and Buddha says, “Nothing.” So how can you follow this man? He says, “Nothing.”
We are always out to get something. Even from a Buddha we want to get something, promises: “If you promise us this, then we can do this.” Then it becomes logical to us, relevant. Buddha says, “Be pure, and you get nothing.” Then why be pure? Then it is better to be impure, at least then we are getting something. Buddha says that you have not got anything. You are only in the illusion of getting and you will never get.
So I say just be pure and forget getting, because unless you forget getting you cannot be pure. If you have to get something, you have to be cunning and calculating. You have to be violent, you have to be greedy, and you have to be always in the future, never here. Then you can never remain at home. You are always abroad, somewhere else, always on a journey.
To be desireless, pure, is to have a deep understanding of the futility of all that we have been doing, of all that we are. The moment this purity is there, invocation happens. Then you have called, then you have asked and invited. Then, in the very deepest core of existence, your invitation has penetrated. Now, suddenly you feel that you have been taken over, someone has come into you. Now you are possessed by something else which is more than you. Something infinite, something more vital has come. You have been taken over, you are flooded – for this flooding is the invocation.
Of course you have to be open, otherwise this flooding will not happen. An innocent mind is always open; a cunning mind is always closed. A cunning mind is always in defense. A cunning mind always thinks in terms of enmity, competition, because if you are to get something then you have to be a competitor. Everyone is. Everyone is out to get, and you also have to get. Then you have to be a competitor, and this is a very tough competition. So you have to be violent, cunning, closed, defensive. Then you cannot be flooded by the divine. You are so narrow, so closed, that the flood cannot come to you.
A pure heart, a desireless heart, is not competitive, not concerned for the future, not against anybody, not for anybody, with no calculations, with no desire to get, with no achieving mind. A pure heart is here and now; open, with no defense. When I say with no defense, I mean that even if death comes it is open. If you are not open for death, you will never be open for the divine. If you are afraid of death, you will be afraid of the divine.
But this is strange, because whenever we are afraid of death we always go to the divine to pray. So all those who are praying in mosques, in temples, in churches, are really not praying, they are just afraid of death. They are making arrangements with the divine in order that they should not be afraid. Their prayer is based on fear and their gods are just created out of fear.
If the mind is innocent, you can be like a child playing with a snake. Now he is open for both. Death can come and he is open; he can play with death. The divine can come and he is open; he can play with the divine. Death and the divine are, in a subtle way, one. If you are not open to death you will never be open for the divine, and a person who is concerned with desires is always afraid of death.
You must see the relationship. A person who is concerned with desires is desirous, is out to get something – is always afraid of death. Why? Because desire is in the future and death is also in the future, and it may be that death comes first and desire is not fulfilled. Remember this: desire is never in the present; death is also never in the present. No one has died in the present. Can you be fearful of death here and now? No, because either you are alive or dead. If you are alive here and now, there is no death; and if you are already dead, there is no fear. So you can only fear death in the future. Desires have a planning for the future and death may disturb everything, so we are fearful of death.
No animal is afraid of death because no animal has plannings for the future. There is no other reason than this: no plannings for the future. The future is not, so death is not! Why be afraid of death if there is no planning for the future? Nothing is to be disturbed by death. The more you have planned, the greater the plans, then the greater the fear. Death is not really a fear that you will die, but a fear that you will die unfulfilled. It may not be possible to carry desires to their fulfillment, and death may come any time.
If I am to die unfulfilled, of course there is fear: “I am as yet unfulfilled. I have not known a moment of fulfillment and death may come, so I have lived in vain. I have been a futility, just a uselessness. I have lived without any fulfillment, without any peak, without any moment of truth, beauty, peace, silence. I have just lived in futility, meaninglessness, and death may come any moment.” Then death becomes a fear.
If I am fulfilled, if I have known that which life can allow one to know, if I have felt what living really is, if I have known a single moment of beauty and love and fulfillment, where is the fear of death? Where is the fear? Death can come; it cannot disturb anything, it cannot destroy anything. Death can only destroy the future. For me, the future is now nothing. I am fulfilled this very moment. Then death cannot do anything. I can accept it; it may even prove to be a bliss.
So one who is open to death can be open to the divine. Openness means fearlessness. Innocence gives you openness, fearlessness, a vulnerability with no defense arrangements. That is invocation.
If you are just in that moment when even death can come to you and you receive it, embrace it, welcome it – then you have invoked the divine. Now death will never come, only the divine will come. Even in death, death will not be there now, only the divine.

Marpa, a Tibetan mystic, is dying. Everyone is weeping and Marpa shouts, “Stop! On such a moment of celebration, why are you weeping? I am going to meet the divine – he is just here and now.” He laughs and he smiles and he sings the last song, and everyone goes on weeping because no one can see the divine there – everyone is seeing death.
Marpa says, “The divine is here and now. Why are you weeping? Such a moment of celebration. Such a moment of festivity. Sing and dance and enjoy – because Marpa is going to meet the friend. The divine is here just now. I have waited long and now the moment has come. Why are you weeping?” Marpa cannot understand why they are weeping; they cannot understand why Marpa is singing. Has he gone mad? Of course, for us he has gone mad. Death is there and it seems that he has gone mad. Marpa is seeing something else. Marpa was really one of the most open flowerings of humankind.

When Marpa comes to his teacher, the teacher says, “Faith is the key.”
So Marpa says, “Then give me something to try my faith. If faith is the key, then give me something to try my faith.”
They are sitting on a hill and the teacher says, “Jump!” and Marpa jumps. Even the teacher thinks he will die. Many, many followers are there and they think that he is just mad, that they will not even find a piece of his bones.
They rush down, and Marpa is sitting there singing and dancing. The teacher asks, “What has happened?” It seems like a coincidence. The teacher thinks silently in his mind that it is just a coincidence: “Why? This is impossible! How did this happen? It is a coincidence, so I must try him in some other ways.” Then many ways are tried.
The teacher tells Marpa to go into a burning house. He goes, and he comes out without even being touched by the flames. He is ordered to jump into the ocean, and he jumps. There are many, many trials, and the teacher cannot say now that this is just a coincidence, so he asks Marpa, “What is your secret?”
“My secret?” says Marpa. “You told me faith is the key, so I took your word for it.”
The teacher says, “Now stop because I am afraid. Anything may happen.”
Marpa says, “Now anything can happen because I just took your word. Now if you yourself are wavering, I cannot take it. I thought faith was the key, but now it will not work. So please don’t order me again. Next time I will die, so don’t order me again.”
This is purity – childlike purity. In Tibet, Marpa is known as Marpa the Faithful – just childlike faith.
So the story is told that Marpa became the teacher of his own teacher, and his teacher bowed down and said, “Now give me the key of faith because I don’t have any. I was just talking, I have only heard that faith is the key so I was just talking. Now you give it to me.” So Marpa became the teacher of his own teacher.

The purity, the innocence, the noncalculating mind…. There is not a single moment of calculation and cunningness – not even to see how deep the abyss is. Not asking, “Am I to take it verbally, or is it just a metaphor, or are you just saying something in mystical language? Am I really to jump, or do you mean some inner jump?” With no calculation, no cunningness, he jumps. The teacher says, “Jump,” and he jumps; there is no gap between the two. A single moment’s gap, and there is calculation. A single moment’s gap, and you have calculated.
This purity opens you; you become an opening. That is the invocation.

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