Unio Mystica Vol 1 09

Ninth Discourse from the series of 10 discourses - Unio Mystica Vol 1 by Osho.
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For the wise man
evil and good
are both exceeding good.
No evil ever comes from God;
whenever you think to see
evil proceeding from him,
you were better to look on it
as good.
I’m afraid that on the way of faith,
you are like a squinter seeing double,
or a fool quarreling with the shape of a camel.
If he gives you poison, deem it honey;
and if he shows you anger, deem it mercy.

Be contented with your lot;
but if you have any complaints,
go and take them to the Cadi,
and obtain satisfaction from him.
– That’s how the fool’s mind works!

Whatever befalls you,
misfortune or fortune,
is unalloyed blessing;
the attendant evil
a fleeing shadow.

“Good’” and “evil” have no meaning
in the world of the Word:
they are mere names, coined
in the world of “me” and “you.”

Your life is just a morsel in his mouth;
his feast is both a wedding and a wake.
Why should darkness grieve the heart?
– for night is pregnant with new day.

You say you’ve unrolled the carpet of time,
step then beyond life itself and reason,
till you arrive at God’s command.

You cannot see anything, being blind by night,
and by day one-eyed with your foolish wisdom!
What is wisdom? It certainly is not knowledge. Knowledge is a pretender, it is a false coin. It looks like wisdom and because it looks like wisdom it is very dangerous. One can be easily deceived by it.
Knowledge comes from without, wisdom arises within. Knowledge is a commodity, you can purchase it in the marketplace; it is sold, it is bought. Wisdom is not a commodity, you have to risk your life to find it. It is not a bargain, it is gambling.
Knowledge consists of all that you have known in the past. Wisdom has nothing to do with the past at all, it is of the present. It has nothing to do with the past and it has nothing to do with the future either because the future is nothing but a projection of the past – modified, decorated here and there, a little changed, polished, painted, but it is the same old thing, renovated.
Knowledge exists in time. Time consists of the past and the future. Wisdom knows nothing of time, wisdom only knows of eternity. Eternity consists only of now, this moment, the present. Eternity does not come, does not go, it is always here.
Wisdom brings peace, knowledge brings anxiety. Howsoever alike they appear, they are diametrically opposite. Wisdom brings contentment, utter contentment. Knowledge brings more and more discontent, because mind exists only in the desire for more. Mind is nothing but another name for the desire of getting more and more and more. It is a constant hankering for more. If you have money, it desires more money; if you have power, it desires more power; if you have knowledge, it desires more knowledge. It is the same process. Objects differ but the process remains the same.
Wisdom knows nothing of “more,” it is utter contentment. And when the “more” is there surrounding you, you are in a constant tension, a chronic tension because nothing seems to be enough. You live in despair and anguish.
Knowledge gratifies the ego. In wisdom, ego simply disappears, it is not found at all. Knowledge knows of distinctions, knowledge depends on distinctions: this and that, here and there, now and then, good and bad, beautiful and ugly, the Devil and God. Knowledge is dualistic – I and thou – that’s its form. It divides reality. Knowledge is schizophrenic, wisdom unites.
Wisdom means unio mystica. Then there is no God and no Devil, only one is. What name you want to give to that one is just an arbitrary choice. You can call it God, but remember it is not God as opposed to the Devil. The God of wisdom is not opposed to the Devil; it contains the Devil in himself. You can call it Tao, you can call it dharma, you can call it Logos, or whatever you will. But remember one thing, it contains the opposite. That is the essential thing to be remembered. When a wise man asserts the word God, the Devil is contained in it.
Do you know the origin of the word Devil? It comes from a Sanskrit root dev, the same root from where the Sanskrit word devata comes; they both come from the same root. Devata means God, Devil means Satan, but they originate in the same root, dev. It is from dev that the English word Devil comes, and also the English word divine. The divine and the Devil are not two things.
Existence is one, utterly one, it is an organic unity. So when the wise man uses the word God it contains the Devil. When the wise man uses the word light, it contains all that is dark in it. It is comprehensive, it is inclusive, it does not exclude anything.
But when the man of knowledge uses the same words, his connotation is different. When he uses the word God, it is against the Devil. When he uses the word I, it is against thou. When he uses the word life, it is against death.
Wisdom knows no distinctions. All distinctions have to be dropped; only then does one become wise. The distinctions that morality creates, the distinctions upon which our mundane life exists and is built upon, all those distinctions have to be dropped. The distinction between man and woman is superficial, just on the surface. The distinction between matter and mind is also superficial, just on the surface. Matter is mind asleep, mind is matter awake. The distinction between the body and the soul is superficial. The body is only the visible part of the soul, and the soul is the invisible part of the body; they are not two. Wisdom knows nothing of the two.
And this wisdom is not accumulated by accumulating information. It does not happen sitting in a library or in a university. It happens when you dissolve into your own core. It happens by going withinward, it happens when you have touched your rock bottom. When you have touched your very ground it explodes. All distinctions disappear, suddenly life is one. Everything is connected with everything else, everything is dependent on everything else, everything is a member of everything else.
Then you don’t see the tree as separate from the earth – it is not. Then you don’t see the tree as separate from the sun, because it is not. Then the tree is joined with the sun by subtle rays. Without the sun the tree will disappear; it will not be green anymore, no flowers will come to it. And without the earth there will be no juice in it, it will not be alive; and without the ocean it will also die. If you go deep into the tree you will find it contains the whole existence.
Alfred Tennyson is right when he says, “If you can know a single flower, root and all, you would have known the whole existence.” Why? – because even a single flower contains all. It has been part of the sun, part of the moon, part of the millions of stars. They have all poured themselves into this small flower. It has been contributed to by all: by the earth, and by things which you don’t see connected at all. A child playing by the rosebush has helped the rosebush to grow; without the child playing around it the rosebush would have been different.
Now there are scientific ways to know about this, that when a child is dancing around the rosebush, happy and singing, there is a connection with the rose. The rose feels the dance, the vibe, grows faster. Now it is a well-established fact that if roses hear music, they grow faster, they become bigger. If plants hear music they grow faster, they bring bigger fruits, and they bring fruits sooner than they would have done otherwise. If they are fed with noise, not with music, not with harmonious notes but with discordant noise, their growth suffers. They remain stunted. Flowers come, but not to their optimum; something remains retarded.
So everything contributes to everything else. You are whatsoever you are because existence is whatsoever it is. You are an intrinsic part in this existence. Once you enter your own being, you will become available to the whole and the whole will become available to you. You will be able to see in a new perspective.
So wisdom is not knowledge. Then what is it? Wisdom is meditation, wisdom is silence, wisdom is quietude, wisdom is wu wei. Wisdom means a state of utter silence in absolute communion with existence. It is an orgasmic experience of being in tune with the whole.
The knowledgeable man is just like a donkey carrying the load of the past – of the scriptures, of theories, philosophies and theologies. He cannot answer a single real question, although he can answer millions of unreal questions.

A Jew driving a small cart drawn by a donkey came to a toll bridge. The toll collector came out of his house and said, “Here you’ve got to pay a toll before you can cross this bridge.”
“What! Pay a toll?”
“Yes, five cents to cross the bridge.”
After an argument the Jew paid the five cents and went on. In the afternoon he came back again, but this time he had the donkey sitting on the seat and he was dragging the cart himself.
The toll man came out and said, “Here you know you’ve got to pay five cents.”
The Jew shook his head, and pointing to the donkey said, “Don’t talk with me – ask the driver.”

The pundit, the scholar, the academician, is just like a donkey sitting in a cart pretending to be the driver. He is not a driver; he knows nothing. Although he has gathered much knowledge, still he knows nothing.
Knowing is a totally different phenomenon than knowledge.

The archbishop said once he was visiting a small Catholic parish in a mining district for the purpose of administering confirmation. During the course of the exercises he asked one nervous little girl what matrimony was.
“It is a state of terrible torment which those who enter are compelled to undergo for a time to prepare them for a brighter and better world,” she said.
“No, no,” remonstrated her rector. “That isn’t matrimony. That’s the definition of purgatory.”
“Leave her alone,” said the archbishop. “Maybe she is right. What do you and I know about it?”

Knowing is through experiencing; knowledge is not your own experience. You can know millions of things without knowing them, but then don’t depend on it. It cannot be in communion with truth, it cannot reveal to you the mystery of life.

Two ladies in Boston heard the bishop give a rousing sermon on the beauties of married life. The ladies left the church feeling uplifted and contented.
“It was a fine sermon His Reverence gave us this morning,” observed one.
“That it was,” agreed the other, “and I wish I knew as little about the matter as he does.”

There is a way of knowing without knowing at all – that is knowledge. There is a way of knowing by really knowing – that is the way of wisdom. Wisdom is existential, knowledge is intellectual. In knowledge only part of your mind is involved, in wisdom your totality is immersed. And the difference is tremendous, the difference is incredible, immeasurable.
To know about reality is not really to know it. The “about” takes you round and round, but never to the point. It is beating round the bush. You can go on beating round and round, but it is almost futile.
Wisdom needs a direct approach. Wisdom needs to jump into the center of the thing, not going round and round. Going round and round, you can become acquainted, but to be acquainted is not to know. In the ordinary sense, whatsoever is called knowledge is a misnomer because it is nothing but memory. It is not knowledge. Memory is not knowledge, it is parrotlike.
Knowledge is real only when you are an eyewitness to it – seeing is believing. But the people in the churches, in the temples, in the mosques, they say just the opposite. They say, “Believing is seeing.” How can believing be seeing? Believing can only be deceiving. Believing can create a kind of hallucination around you. If you really believe too much in something you may start seeing it. But it is not there, it has been created by your mind; it is just your projection.
Never start with belief, otherwise you will never know the truth. Go empty into the search, with no belief, with no disbelief either. Just go open, not knowing this way or that. Go innocent, utterly naked.
Only one thing is needed for the disciple and that is openness, vulnerability – not belief. The real disciple is an agnostic. He says, “I don’t know. I am ready to know but I don’t know, and until I know I am not going to believe. For or against, I am not going to believe either way. I will remain open to the truth to come and knock on my door. I will search.”
But great courage is needed to search without belief, without disbelief. The mind hankers to believe because it can cling to the belief; it gives it great consolation. It starts feeling, “I know, a little bit at least, but I know. I am not utterly ignorant.”
The disciple needs the courage to be utterly ignorant. In that ignorance innocence arises. In that innocence you cannot find any ego in you. Ego needs beliefs or disbeliefs, which are nothing but negative beliefs. One believes in God, one does not believe in God, but both are stubborn and dogmatic. Both have crutches to lean upon.
Throw away all your crutches. Only then is there a possibility to know the truth. And that is what I mean by “another kind of knowing,” by being the reality, not getting information about it.
Know love by being love, then it is wisdom. You can go to the British Museum and you can find all that has been written about love, and you can write a great PhD thesis about love, but you will not have known anything about love. You will not have tasted anything of love, not even a drop on your tongue. You may become very, very clever about love, you may be able to talk about it, but you will be incapable of living it. And unless you are capable of living it, remember, you don’t know it. The real knowing is by being that reality, by being one with or in unity or identity with that reality in its self-luminous state.
It is said in Zen that if you want to paint a bamboo, first go to the bamboo grove. Live with the bamboos in all kinds of seasons – let there be summer and winter and rains. And live with the bamboos so that you can feel how the bamboos feel. When it is dark and the night is silent and the stars are above, feel how the bamboos feel it. When the sun rises, and there is great wind and the bamboos sway and dance, feel how the bamboos feel it. And when it is raining and the bamboos are delighted, let that delight enter in your being.
First become a bamboo if you want to paint a bamboo. Unless you have known the bamboo from its inside, unless you have become utterly identified with the bamboo, whatsoever you paint will be only a photograph, not a painting. That’s the difference between a photograph and a painting. No camera will ever be able to do something like van Gogh; no camera can do that.
Just the other night, a famous painter, Kelly, took sannyas. He has painted a painting of me without ever seeing me but he has caught the feel. It may not be exactly true of my face because he had not seen me when he painted it, but it has the quality of my being.
He has painted me sitting surrounded by mountains. Not only has he caught my quality but even the mountains that are surrounding me have the same quality: the same meditativeness, the same stillness, the same calm, that same coolness. There is a tremendous harmony between me and the mountains. No camera can ever do it.
When for the first time the camera was invented, it was thought that now painting would soon become out of date, portraits would become out of date. What happened is just the opposite. Painting has taken a new dimension because of the camera. All the bogus painters have disappeared because their work can be done by camera. Now only the true and authentic painters can exist.
Before the camera, the technician who knew how to paint the face in exact proportion was thought to be a great painter. Now that can be done by the camera, and more accurately. So that kind of technician-painter is no longer needed. Now only a meditative painter is needed – one who can function not from without but from within.
The other day, giving initiation to Kelly, I could feel he has that quality inside him which can participate with something, which can fall in tune with something. I have given him a new name, Anand Nado, blissful soundless sound.
That is the quality of meditation. There is no sound, it is soundlessness, yet there is great melody – unheard, unhearable, but the melody is there. There is no specific color there, but it is very colorful. That state is a paradox. You are and you are not, and both are true. You are in fana and yet you are in baqa. You are utterly absent, fana, and you are utterly present, baqa. You are both together simultaneously.
Nado has that quality. Seeing him, looking into his eyes, I could see how he was able to paint me. From far away in America, without ever seeing me, he could catch the spirit. He must have fallen in a deep participation from that faraway land – a distance of thousands of miles, but he could commune with me.
Knowledge is about and about; it is not a communion. Wisdom is communion. That’s why I say again and again that the artist is far closer to the mystic than the scientist, than the technician, than the professor; the artist is far closer. And in some moments the artist is almost a mystic – although they are only moments; they come and disappear, and he falls back to the mundane.
The mystic lives on the heights, he has made his house there. The artist sometimes reaches to those heights; in some very precious moments he rises and soars. But he is not capable of living on those heights; he falls back. I hope Nado has the capacity of reaching those peaks and will now become a permanent resident there.
That’s what sannyas is all about. There is no need to come back to the mundane, one can remain in the sacred twenty-four hours. That is wisdom. And that state is self-luminous. Whenever you are able to commune, if you can commune with bamboos swaying and dancing in the wind and in the rain, that experience of communion has a self-luminosity in it. It is self-evident, you need not have any other proof.
If you can commune with a human being – your woman, your man, your friend, your child – that communion is self-evident. It is so powerful, it is so overwhelming, that you need not have any other proof. It is enough unto itself. That’s why the whole world goes on saying there is no God, but when Jesus comes to that communion he is ready to risk his life, but he is not ready to say that there is no God.
The whole world says to Mansoor, “Stop declaring yourself a God!” The risk is great; Mansoor is made alert of it again and again. Even by his own master, Mansoor was told, “Stop asserting ‘Anal haq, I am God, I am truth’ because people are fanatical, they will kill you.”
Mansoor said, “That is acceptable, they can kill me. But what is happening in me is so self-evident – even with the whole world against me it won’t make any difference at all. I will still declare ‘Anal haq, I am truth’ – because I am.” It is a self-luminous state. Wisdom is self-luminous. Knowledge is not self-luminous, knowledge needs support.
Many times I receive letters from professors, academicians pundits, saying, “In your books, why don’t you give footnotes or an appendix, so one can know where these quotations have been taken from, on what authority?”
What I am saying is self-luminous. It needs no footnotes, it needs no appendixes, it needs no support. I am enough unto myself. What I am saying is being said on my own authority. I am not trying to prove any hypothesis by supporting it with footnotes, by arguments, by collecting data in support of it.
The Upanishads don’t have any footnotes, the Koran is unaware of footnotes. Buddha has not given his sources – from where, on what authority he is saying. Whenever truth arrives, it is self-luminous.
It is untruth that needs proof – remember. It is doubt inside you that collects proof. Your statement is not a statement which can stand on its own; it needs props. Knowledge gathers much information, data, arguments.
Wisdom is simply there – nude, innocent, available for all those who are ready to drink it. In those moments of self-luminous wisdom there is the distinct realization that objects as such are never really directly related to or known, but rather it is only the knowledge of objects, as it takes place in consciousness, that is ever experienced or known. Therefore, all objects are essentially only objectifications of, and reducible to, pure consciousness, the one and only reality.
In other words, what is known is not essentially different from the process of knowing or awareness of the known, and knowing is not essentially different from the knower, so that one realizes that the world is essentially the knower himself or pure consciousness, and so all is one.
When you are in that state of wisdom – self-luminous, silent, utterly relaxed, absolutely at home – this realization arises that consciousness is all, because whatsoever is known is known through consciousness. Whatsoever is known is nothing but a reflection in consciousness; whatsoever is known is nothing but a formation in consciousness. All forms arise in the ocean of consciousness and disappear, but the consciousness remains, abides, it is eternal.
For example, when in the day you open your eyes after the deep sleep of the night, you change from one world to another. Just a moment ago you were completely unaware of this world – the house, the wife, the children, the people, the neighborhood. You were lost in another world, the world of dreams, and you had completely forgotten this world.
Now you open your eyes. The world of dreams starts disappearing. Within seconds it is gone and you become fully alert of this world, the waking world. The whole day you will live in it. In the night again you will fall asleep and this world will disappear. The dream world will unfold itself. In the day you forget all about the dream world. In the dream world you forget all about the waking world.
But one thing remains permanently there – the consciousness, the one who watches the waking world, the one who watches the dreaming world. Only one thing remains constant. That constant thing is called your supreme self, atma, I-am-ness. It is not the ego, because the ego itself is a formation that comes and goes.
There are moments when you don’t feel the ego. If you are watching a beautiful sunset, you forget all about the ego; you are there as a pure witness, with no idea of the ego. Listening to music you forget all about your ego; you don’t remember who you are, you become oblivious to it. But still the watcher is there.
In deep love, particularly in the peak moments of orgasmic release, you forget all about your ego. You are just a throbbing energy, a great pulsating energy, with no ego at all. But the witness is there. Your mirror goes on reflecting whatsoever is happening.
Wisdom means to know this mirror that reflects all. It reflects the good, it reflects the bad; it reflects the ugly, it reflects the beautiful. But once you have understood that all those are reflections and you remain the same behind all the reflections, then what is the difference between the ugly and the beautiful, the good and the bad? They are both reflections in you; they are both formations in you; they are both waves in you. One wave you call ugly, another wave you call beautiful, but both waves are your waves. It is just consciousness dancing. This realization liberates. It liberates from duality and makes you capable of becoming one with the nondual.
Now the sutras:
For the wise man
evil and good
are both exceedingly good.
No evil ever comes from God;
whenever you think to see
evil proceeding from him,
you were better to look on it
as good.
For the wise man, evil and good are both exceedingly good. For the wise man, one who knows that all is one, how can there be a distinction between good and bad, between the saint and the sinner? There is no possibility of distinction.
The moment you make a distinction you have already become a chooser, you have fallen back into the world of choice. You are no longer a choiceless awareness – and that’s what wisdom is all about.
…whenever you think to see evil proceeding from him… The whole consists only of God, how can there be anything evil? But if sometimes you think that evil is happening: …you were better to look on it as good. Because you must be wrong somewhere. It must be your interpretation.
For example, somebody is dying. Now death looks evil. Death is not evil, and if it looks like evil it is your misunderstanding, just your misunderstanding. You don’t know what death is, hence it looks evil.
Death is nothing but a change of garments. If somebody is throwing away his old garments because he has got new ones, will you call it evil? You know that he is getting new garments and that’s why he is throwing away the old ones. You will really congratulate him. You will not start feeling sorry for him. You will feel happy that the poor man at last has got new garments – the old were getting really rotten.
Exactly so is the case with death. The body is a composite phenomenon: one day it is born, one day it is young, one day it becomes old, and one day it has to die. It is just a preparation. Death is a preparation for a new birth. Those who know it will not say that death is evil. It is good, exceedingly good – but all depends on your interpretation.

It was a typical Holy Roller revival service, and the minister had just appealed to the pent-up audience to “hit the sawdust trail.”
One buxom old dame who had been quivering convulsively all evening suddenly sprang to her feet and yelled, “Last night I was in the arms of the Devil, but tonight I am in the arms of the Lord!”
A voice from the rear of the tabernacle called out, “Have you got a date for tomorrow night, sister?”

People have their own attitudes, choices, understandings, interpretations, inferences. They listen through that thick layer of many, many thoughts. They see things through many, many colored glasses, and then things look colored. And those colors are just projected by their glasses.

An Irishman at work on a building missed his footing on a scaffold, and fell from the ninth floor. He struck a telephone wire on the way down, whirled around, struck a clothes line, and landed in a pile of hay put there to feed the horses.
The doctor who arrived decided that, by a miracle, no bones were broken. As the Irishman came to, the doctor was holding a glass of water to his lips to aid in reviving the patient.
“What the devil happened? Did the building fall?”
“No, but you did, my man. You had a very narrow escape from death.”
“What’s that you’re giving me to drink?”
“Water to revive you,” answered the doctor.
“Giving me water, after falling nine stories! Faith, and how far would I have to fall to get a drink of whiskey?”

Just look inside yourself. You have expectations, you have prejudices, you have fixed, a priori ideas, and you are always looking through them.
The wise man drops all his thoughts, drops all his a priori conclusions. The wise man is one who lives without any conclusion. And once you can see reality without any conclusions, you will be surprised how much you have been missing. It is tremendously beautiful, it is absolutely good. It is satyam, it is truth; it is shivam, it is good; it is sundaram, it is beautiful – satyam, shivam, sundaram.
But we go on seeing that which is not the case.
I’m afraid that on the way of faith,
you are like a squinter seeing double,
or a fool quarreling with the shape of a camel.
If he gives you poison, deem it honey;
and if he shows you anger, deem it mercy.
Sanai says, “Don’t be like a squinter who goes on seeing double, and don’t be like a fool who quarrels about the shape of a camel.” There are people who think that the camel could have been made in a better way, more shapely. The camel is perfect as it is, the world is perfect as it is. Don’t get into unnecessary arguments.
There are people who go on thinking that, if they had made the world, it would have been a better world. If they had made the world, they would have done this and they would have done that. There would have been no disease, there would have been no death, there would have been no ugliness, there would have been no stupidity. And it looks so logical: “Yes, if there is a world where no disease exists, how beautiful won’t it be.”
But do you know? – if there is no disease, there will be no health either. Do you know? – if there is no ugliness, there will be no beauty either. Do you know? – if there are no thorns, there will be no flowers either. Do you know? – if there is no death, there will be no life either. You cannot have a life without death. And if you can have a life without death it will be utterly boring. There would be no way to get rid of it.

The story is told of Alexander the Great when he came to the East… He had heard that in the desert there was a certain cave he was going to pass, where there was a small pond of nectar in the cave. If you drank that nectar you will become immortal.
The story is beautiful. Alexander reached the cave. He entered. He was so tremendously happy. Just think of his happiness if you had been in his place. The nectar was there; just a moment more and he would be immortal. He cupped his hands, and just as he was going to drink, a crow that was sitting on the rock said, “Wait just a minute!”
Alexander was surprised – a crow speaking? He asked, “What do you want to say?”
The crow said, “Just one thing – that’s why I am sitting here. I have drunk from this pool. Now I am here for millions of years. I want to die. The only idea that persists in me twenty-four hours a day is that of death. I want to get rid of this rotten body, but I cannot. I have tried, but nothing succeeds. I have taken poison but it does not work. I have fallen from the mountains, it does not do. I have entered fire, it won’t burn. Now there is no way to die, and I am tired.
“Just think, for millions of years I have to go on doing the same repetitive nonsense every day. And there is no hope even in the future. I will never be able to die, I cannot commit suicide, and I am tired of life! So now this is my mission. I sit here to prevent other people.”
And it is said Alexander thought for a moment, dropped the idea of drinking the nectar, and rushed out of the cave – afraid that he may be tempted to drink it.

Without death, life would be an impossibly unbearable burden. Death relieves. And it is because of disease that you have the feeling of health. It is because of the dark night that the morning looks so beautiful.
Existence is dual and existence is imperfect. But it is because of imperfection that there is growth. Just think, if everybody was perfect then there would be no growth. Then the world would be a graveyard; nothing would ever grow.
There are some modern paintings which are very horrible. They paint life as if life is something made of cement and concrete, as if all has stopped, nothing is growing. Just think of the nightmare if all stops, no tree grows, no child grows. If time stops and there is no growth ever and everybody is stuck, that will be the state of a perfect world. It will be very, very stale and dull, and it will be unlivable.
Life is imperfect; hence it has possibilities for growing. If you watch deeply, if you observe deeply, you will drop that foolish idea of improving upon it. It is good as it is.
This is the testimony of all the wise people of the world, “The world is perfect in its imperfection, you cannot improve upon it.” But our minds go on thinking that we are cleverer. Our minds are cunning and we think we can use that cunningness to improve upon the very quality of life.
Our cunning minds succeed in the world, in the marketplace; they succeed in the universities, in the scientist’s lab. But they cannot succeed in the world of meditation.

Muldoon was a man who lived by his wits, and his most famous talent was getting free drinks in strange pubs.
One night he went into a pub on the other side of town. The barman said, “What will you have?”
“A small whiskey,” said Muldoon.
He got the whiskey, drank it but refused to pay for it. The barman called his boss but Muldoon said he had not asked for a drink. The barman had asked him what he was having. The boss, realizing he was dealing with a smart aleck and not wishing to have any trouble, told the barman to let Muldoon get away with it but to see that it didn’t happen again.
Some months later, Muldoon again visited the pub.
“You’re the fellow who got a drink here one night,” said the barman, “and wouldn’t pay for it.”
“Oh no, it wasn’t me.”
“Then,” said the barman, “you must have a double.”
“Thanks very much. I will,” said Muldoon.

Your cleverness may do in your world that you have created, but your cleverness will not do in the world that God has created. Your knowledge will be helpful to you in the man-made world, but in God and his world only wisdom can penetrate.
Knowledge is clever, wisdom is innocent. I’m afraid that on the way of faith, you are like a squinter seeing double, or a fool quarreling with the shape of a camel. If he gives you poison, deem it honey; and if he shows you anger, deem it mercy.
Those who are following the path of faith, of trust, of love, will know that if God gives poison then it must be honey, it can’t be otherwise. We may not understand it right now because our understanding has limits. We may not be able to see the point of it right now because our vision is very small, our perspective very narrow. And existence is vast, and everything is linked with everything else.
Our situation is like those five blind men who went to see the elephant, and each touched a part of the elephant and each thought that he knew the whole of it, and they all started quarreling. That’s how philosophers go on quarreling with each other. Nobody has seen the elephant, and each seems to be very, very certain about his standpoint. And in a way he has seen a part, he has at least felt a part. Somebody has touched the legs and feels that an elephant is like a pillar. And he is not absolutely wrong – true. He is partially right, but whenever any partial truth starts claiming to be the whole, then there is danger – and then it is more dangerous than a lie.
But that’s what philosophical systems go on doing. Knowledgeable people are blind people; they have not seen the elephant. They have only specialized in a certain way. All those five blind people were specialists, experts. One had touched the leg, another had touched the ear, still another had touched the trunk. They were all specialists, only with a part…
And this is the situation today. The chemist only knows about chemistry, and the physicist only knows about physics, and the psychologist knows only about the mind, and so on and so forth; there seems to be no meeting ground. And there is a great quarrel among all these blind experts. The physicist does not know anything about chemistry, and the chemist knows nothing about poetry, and the poet knows nothing about music, and the musician knows nothing about mathematics, and they are all quarreling. The quarrel is coming to bigger and bigger proportions. Each branch of knowledge is becoming so specialized, so narrow, that it seems almost impossible for any person to have contact with other specializations.
It is very difficult to find a man who is a poet and a mathematician and a physicist and a philosopher and a mystic; it is very difficult. And we need such people. Without such people, man will fall apart. Without such people there will be no possibility of a synthesis. Who will these people be? Is it possible for a man, is it feasible for a man, to know all that physics knows and chemistry and biology and geology and so on and so forth? It is humanly impossible. Nobody can know all the branches of knowledge that are available today.
Oxford University teaches three hundred and fifty subjects, and each subject has a tremendous amount of knowledge that has accumulated down the ages. They say the specialist is one who knows more and more about less and less. And the greatest specialist is one who knows nothing or who knows all about nothing.
This is a very strange situation humanity is facing for the first time. Then who will become the bridge? Only the wise man can become the bridge. The wise man is not one who will know all these branches. The wise man will be one who goes deep into his own being and knows the consciousness out of which all these branches have arisen. The wise man will get to the roots, will understand the roots. And by understanding the roots, all the branches and all the foliage and all the fruits and all the flowers are understood.
The lover has died and left both
belief and unbelief.
Burning in love of the flame,
the moth does not distinguish
between the light of the mosque
and the light of the monastery.
This is a Sufi saying, “Wisdom arises when you die, when the ego disappears.”
“The lover has died and left both belief and unbelief. Burning in love of the flame, the moth does not distinguish between the light of the mosque and the light of the monastery.”
The moth will not be concerned whether the flame that has called it forth is burning in the mosque or in the temple. The moth recognizes only the flame; wherever it is, that is irrelevant.
And so is the case with a lover, with a Sufi, with a disciple. He is not worried where the master is available. The flame is available – in the temple, in the mosque, in the church. He is not worried about that. Wherever he sees the flame he is ready to die in the flame, disappear into the flame, and in that very disappearance wisdom arises.
The death of the ego is the resurrection of wisdom in you. You are again a child, innocent, wondering, full of awe. And then the whole of existence is a mystery. Then it is fantastic. Then its beauty is unbelievable, then its joy is unbearable, then its ecstasy is overwhelming.
Be contented with your lot;
but if you have any complaints,
go and take them to the Cadi,
and obtain satisfaction from him.
– That’s how the fool’s mind works!
If you dissolve your ego into your supreme self, then there will be great contentment. You will be contented with things as they are. Then there will be no desire to go anywhere else, to be somebody else. Then you will be utterly grateful, whatsoever you are. You will bow down immediately to God in great contentment, in great gratitude.
Be contented with your lot; but if you have any complaints… And the wise man has no complaints, he knows nothing but contentment. …if you still have any complaints, then go to the priest, the Cadi… Then go to the priest …and obtain satisfaction from him because that is his function.
Just see the difference between two words, contentment and satisfaction. Contentment arises out of wisdom, it is a fragrance of wisdom, and satisfaction is just imposed through knowledge. If you go to the priest he will satisfy you. If you go to the priest and say, “I am getting old and I am becoming afraid of death,” he will say, “Don’t be worried. Only the body dies, the soul is immortal.” He will simply give you knowledge. He himself has not attained, otherwise he wouldn’t have been a priest.
The function of the priest is to console you. The function of the priest is to somehow keep you adjusted to the world. That has been the function of the priest up to now.
Now, particularly in the West, the function is being transferred to the psychotherapist. The priest has functioned as the psychotherapist is functioning today. The priest is the ancientmost psychotherapist, and the psychotherapist is the modern priest. Their function is to keep people satisfied, to help people remain adjusted to the society in which they are living. This satisfaction is not contentment, this is just patchwork. Sooner or later, again the doubt will arise. The priest says the soul is immortal, but who knows? He may be wrong, he may be lying, he may be deceived. Because you have also seen the priest in different situations…
It happened…

For a few days I lived in Raipur. A professor’s wife died, so I just went to see him. There were many people and they were consoling him, saying, “Don’t be worried.” A man, a knowledgeable man, a brahmin scholar, was saying, “The soul is immortal, only the body dies.”
Few days afterward, just a coincidence, that scholar’s wife died. I went there, just to see what the scholar was doing now. He was crying. I said, “This is absurd. You crying? I have seen you consoling a professor whose wife had died, and you were telling him the soul is immortal. What happened to your knowledge?”
He said, “Forget all about it. Who knows? – I was just consoling the man. And please don’t raise such uncomfortable questions at this moment. My wife is dead, and you are bringing in some philosophical argument.”

Your priest may say to you that the soul is immortal, but how long will you be able to trust it? One day you will see the priest behaving in just the opposite way. The priest says one thing, behaves in another way. It is not possible to attain contentment through the priest. But the priest’s function is that he keeps you satisfied.
Satisfaction is not contentment, satisfaction is again a false coin. Just as knowledge is a false coin compared to wisdom, satisfaction is a false coin compared to contentment. Contentment arises in your own understanding, satisfaction is given by others.
Always beware of the borrowed; the borrowed is always false. But that is the fool’s mind, how it works. The fool’s mind is more interested in consolation than in wisdom.

I had an old friend whose son died. He was seventy when the son died. The son was young, not more than forty. It was a great shock to the old man. I went to see him and told him, “Stop crying and weeping, it is pointless. Now you know that even a young man, perfectly healthy, can die. And you are old, you are seventy, and you are no longer healthy either. So take a hint, don’t waste your time in crying and weeping and suffering. It is an indication that your death is coming.”
He said, “What?” He forgot all about his son. He was angry at me because these are the moments when people are searching for consolation. I said, “Yes, it is an indication that your death is coming. Now prepare for your death. Existence has simply made you aware. This is an alarm.”
He became very angry with me. Who wants to hear about one’s own death? He wanted me to say something nice about the son. And he said, “Can’t you say anything nice?”
I said, “Nice things won’t help; they will only console you, they will satisfy you, and many other people are doing it already. Let me do what is really necessary. What is really necessary is that you shouldn’t waste your time in crying and weeping and getting consoled and enjoying sympathy. The time has come to be shocked. Only such a shock can destroy your shock absorbers. Look at the corpse of your son. Forty years old, perfectly young, healthy and he could die within a moment. He wasn’t ill. In the night suddenly he died; by the morning he was found dead in his bed. He had gone to bed perfectly healthy. Now think about you!”
He became so angry that he stopped coming to me. And within a year he died. But he didn’t prepare. If he had been a little more intelligent, he would have prepared. He would have met his death in a totally different way; he would have met his death meditatively.

But the fool’s mind works in a certain way. He is only worried about consolations and satisfactions.
The real thing is contentment. And contentment is possible only when you have known your reality – when you have penetrated your innermost core of being and you have seen there that there is no death, and you have seen there that there is no disease, and you have seen that there it is eternal, it is beyond time. Then all fear, all fear of death, all anguish, all anxiety disappears and great contentment arises. That contentment is prayer.
Whatever befalls you,
misfortune or fortune,
is unalloyed blessing;
the attendant evil
a fleeting shadow.

”Good” and “evil” have no meaning
in the world of the Word:
they are mere names, coined
in the world of “me” and “you.”
Whatever befalls you… If contentment has arisen in you, just a little taste of contentment, a little light of wisdom, just a little part of your being has become luminous, then whatever befalls you, misfortune or fortune, is unalloyed blessing. Then all is blessing because all can only be blessing, because all comes from God. This whole existence is divine. How can evil happen?
But if you see the attendant evil, then know well it is a fleeting shadow, just as when you walk in the sun a shadow is created, but the shadow is nonexistential. Just as when you are in great ecstasy a shadow is created, that shadow is nonexistential. Know well that the nonexistential need not be worried about, it is just a shadow.
Evil is a shadow of good, and hate is a shadow of love, and anger is a shadow of compassion, and ugliness is a shadow of beauty, and sadness is a shadow of joy. Once you have seen it on your own, not because I say so but when you have seen it on your own, then the whole of life is nothing but a constant showering of blessings.
Good and evil have no meaning… Then there is no question of good and evil. All is good, supremely good. …in the world of the Word – Logos, God, Tao, good and bad are – mere names, coined in the world of “me” and “you.” There is no me and no you. This is adab; Sufis call it adab, being in the presence of the master, seeing and feeling that there is no me and no you.
Feel it right now. I am not here simply to talk to you on great things, I am here to give you a taste of those great things. Even if for a single moment you are not there as you, and you don’t think of me as separate from you, just for a single moment we are bridged. In that very moment you will see great blessings descending. That is the grace of being with a master.
And it is easier to drop your “me” and “you” with a master than anywhere else. Why? Why can’t you drop it anywhere else? – because anywhere else two persons will have to drop it and it will become complicated. And two persons will have to drop it simultaneously, only then can there be a fleeting moment of joy. With the master it is possible because on one side, the master’s side, there is no “I,” no “you,” half the work is already done. Now it is only on your side. So whenever you can drop your “you,” your “I,” immediately you are in contact, immediately you are bridged.
The master is an absence. Whenever you become an absence, two zeros dissolve into each other. Two zeros cannot remain separate. Two zeros are not two zeros; two zeros become one zero.
Just a few days ago, I said that from my side there is no relationship, the relationship between a master and a disciple is one-way traffic. It is from the disciple’s side. Chetna wrote me a beautiful letter saying, “You told it very nicely, it was a sugar-coated pill but it has stuck in my throat.” Chetna, drink a little more of me, so that it can go down the throat. Drink a little more of me, drink a little more of this absence, drink a little more of one who is not. I can understand, it hurts. It is a bitter pill, although sugar-coated. It hurts to feel that the relationship is only from your side and not from the master’s side. You would like that the master also needs you. You would like me to tell you, “I need you, I love you very much.”
I can understand your need, but that will not be true. I can only say, “I don’t need you, I love you.”
Need exists only with the ego. I cannot relate with you because I am not. You can relate with me because you are still there. Because you are there you can go on relating with me, but that relationship will remain only so-so, lukewarm. If you also disappear the way I have disappeared, then there will be a meeting – no relationship, but a merging.
Relationship cannot satisfy. You have known so many relationships. What has happened through them? You have loved, you have been friendly, you have loved your mother and father, your brother and sister, you have loved your woman, your husband, your wife. You have loved so many times, you have created relationships so many times. And you know, each relationship leaves a bitter taste in the mouth. It does not make you contented. It may satisfy for a moment, but again there is dissatisfaction. It may console, but again you are left in the coldness of loneliness.
Relationship is not the true thing. The true thing is communion, the true thing is merger. When you relate you are separate, and in separation there is bound to remain the ugly, the mischievous, the agony-creating ego. It disappears only in the merger.
So, Chetna, drink a little more of my absence, drink a little more of my love which does not need you, and then the pill will go down the throat and you will be able to digest it. And one day will arise the great day, when you will also love me and will not need me.
When two persons love and both have no need for each other, love takes wings. It is no longer ordinary, it is no longer of this world, it belongs to the beyond. It is transcendental.
Your life is just a morsel in his mouth;
his feast is both a wedding and a wake.
Why should darkness grieve the heart?
– for night is pregnant with new day.
We are all in God’s mouth – a very tremendously pregnant statement. Your life is just a morsel in his mouth… Be absorbed by him. Don’t resist, don’t fight, dissolve yourself in him. Your life is just a morsel in his mouth… Be eaten up by him. Don’t fight, don’t escape, because it is only if you absorb yourself in him you will come to know what true life is.
…his feast is both a wedding and a wake. This is something beautiful – meditate over it: …both a wedding and a wake… A wake means when somebody dies and you have to look at the corpse. A wedding and a wake: both together?
Yes, it is together, because your death is your resurrection. On one hand you die – it is a wake. On the other hand you become married to him forever and forever – it is a wedding. It is a cross, a crucifixion, and a resurrection follows. And only those who are ready to die in God are born anew. Then they have cosmic souls, then they have eternal beings.
Why should darkness grieve the heart? Don’t be worried about death and darkness: …for night is pregnant with new day. Soon, as the night darkens and becomes more and more densely dark, the morning comes closer and closer. Die, learn to die, and you will be able to attain to life abundant.
You say you’ve unrolled the carpet of time,
step then beyond life itself and reason,
till you arrive at God’s command.
How long have you lived in time? – millions of lives. If you trust the East, then eighty-four million lives. It is a long journey. You have unrolled the carpet of time long enough. Now be finished, now be a little more intelligent. Have you not learned any lessons? You have lived so long and you have done all that you can desire to do, millions of times, and still you are not fed up, not bored?
You say you’ve unrolled the carpet of time, step then beyond life itself and reason… Now the moment has come. Step beyond life, die into God. And of course, if you want to die into God you will have to step beyond reason because reason will say, “What are you going to do? Death? Who knows? Resurrection may follow, may not follow. Who knows? The seed may die, and there may come no sprout and no tree in its place. How can it be guaranteed?” Reason will create a thousand and one doubts.
But you have been reasoning and reasoning for millions of lives and reason has not given you a single conclusion, it has not made you a little bit more intelligent. It keeps you in the old rut.
If you have seen that it keeps you in the old rut, be courageous – trust. Courage means trust, trust means courage. Take the risk, go beyond reason and go beyond life: …till you arrive at God’s command.
And if you can go beyond reason and beyond your so-called life, suddenly you are taken up, possessed by God. Then he starts living through you. Then you become a flute, a hollow bamboo; then he sings the song.
You cannot see anything, being blind by night,
and by day one-eyed with your foolish wisdom!
At night you cannot see because it is dark. In ignorance you cannot see because you are ignorant, and in knowledge you cannot see because your knowledge covers your eyes. The ignorant person is suffering because he is ignorant, and the knowledgeable person is suffering because he is knowledgeable.
Drop both ignorance and knowledge. Simply be utterly clean of both knowledge and ignorance – just be an opening. And in that opening comes the great guest, in that opening you become the host. God is ready to penetrate you, but either your ignorance prevents him or your knowledge prevents him. Remember, innocence is the absence of both ignorance and knowledge. The innocent man is not aware that he knows, is not aware that he does not know. He is simply a pure mirror, reflecting whatsoever the case is.
Become a pure mirror – that’s what meditation is all about.
Enough for today.

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