Osho - Finger Pointing to the Moon
Chapter 17. I Am This!
Listening to these teachings from the master, the disciple became enlightened and began to say: i had seen the world just now, where has it gone? Who has taken it away? Into what has it become dissolved? It is a great surprise! Does it not exist?
In this great ocean of brahma which is full of the nectar of infinite bliss, what have i to renounce now and what have i to take? What is other now and what is extraordinary?
Here i do not see anything, i do not hear anything and i do not know anything, because i am always in my blissful soul and i myself am my own nature.
I am unattached, bodiless, genderless; i am god myself; i am absolutely silent, I am infinite, i am the whole and the most ancient.
I am not the doer, i am not the sufferer, i am unchanging and inexhaustible. I am the abode of pure knowledge, i am alone and i am the eternal godliness.
This knowledge was given by the master to apantaram, apantaram gave it to brahma, brahma gave it to ghorangiras, ghorangiras gave it to raikva, raikva gave it to rama and rama gave it to all living beings. This is the message of nirvana and this is the teaching and discipline of the vedas.
Thus ends this upanishad.
Listening to these teachings from the master, the disciple became enlightened...
What is stated in this sutra is not only difficult to understand, it may appear impossible to us. How can one become enlightened just by listening? Our logical minds cannot understand it. If listening has really happened it is not impossible, but because we do not know how to listen it appears impossible that just by listening the disciple became enlightened.
Let us first understand this before we enter into the sutra. There is one fundamental difference between the present era of science and the era when the Upanishads were born. In those days when the Upanishads were born the basis of the mind was trust. Now the basis of the mind is doubt.
In those days trust was as natural as doubt is natural today. The mind has undergone a revolutionary change. With the birth of science, doubt has gained a sort of dignity. Why? Because science is born out of doubt.
Science only doubts. Right doubt is the key for the development of science. Scientific facts can be discovered only if one goes on doubting.
Doubt is a process of discovering the truths of science. When the discoveries of science started becoming useful to man, when it spread all over from the smallest needle to the atom bomb, science started acquiring prestige. And when it became impossible for man to live without science and science began to win in all fields and its victory flag began to flutter in the material world, naturally doubt also acquired prestige because science is born out of doubt.
When science became victorious in the material world, doubt also gained prestige. Today, throughout the whole world, whatever education we impart is the education of doubt. Right from the first grade to the last degrees of the university we teach doubt, because without doubt there is no thinking. If one has to think, one should doubt. The sharper the thinking is to be made, the sharper the edge of doubt required.
The whole structure of the modern world is created around science. Science has entered into everything - our eating, drinking, sitting, arising, walking and living. But because science exists on the foundations of doubt, doubt has also become the foundation stone of the present man's mind.
Today nobody can accept anything quietly. Trust is not the word of the day.
When the Upanishads were written, trust had the same prestige as doubt has today. Just as doubt is the basis for science, trust is the basis for religion. Let this be properly understood. Just as thinking cannot exist without doubt, the no-mind state cannot arise without trust.
Doubt and trust are opposites. If one wants to think, right doubt is necessary. One should then doubt courageously, every inch of ground should be put to the test, and nothing should be accepted without its passing through the test of logic. Whatever the consequence, logic has to remain the only shelter and doubt the only boat if one has to make any progress in thought processes. And if any conclusion has to be arrived at through thought, doubt is the way.
But religion has nothing to do with thought. The very process of religion is the opposite. Religion says one has to go beyond thoughts. And because one has to go beyond thought, there is no place for doubt, there is no use for doubt; the boat of doubt is useless here. If one is to go beyond mind, something that is the opposite of doubt would be of use, because doubt is the basis for thought.
Trust is the opposite of doubt; it is acceptance, faith. These are two different boats, their journeys are different.
If somebody wants to become a scientist, he cannot do so through trust. If somebody wants to become religious, he cannot do so without trust. Just as today science is at its height and has spread over our whole life, similarly, in the olden days, religion was at its height and had entered into every cell and tissue of our life. In those days attainment of success in religion was the goal. No matter how great a scientist one would become in those days, still it would not appeal to people as a status worth achieving. The greatest achievement in those days was that of a Buddha, a Krishna, an Angirasa, a Raikva. In those days we had held such people in high esteem. Just as today science is at the pinnacle of its glory, in those days religion was at the pinnacle of its glory.
When science is at its height, the number of things increases, the number of machines increases, efficiency increases and the means of enjoyment increases. When religion is successful, consciousness increases, soul develops and the unique mysteries of desirelessness are attained.
When science develops, the journey into external objects increases; when religion develops, the inner journey increases. These two are opposites, their directions are opposite. In those earlier days there were high beacon lights of religion and the minds of entire masses were influenced by these lights. There were the schools, universities, the universities of the masters in the forests - all teaching trust. So trust was flowing in our blood. It was natural to accept, nonacceptance was very difficult. One had to make great effort in rejecting something, but acceptance was effortless.
Today the situation is just the reverse. Today no effort at all is necessary for rejection; that is our natural tendency. For accepting something one has to make tireless effort, and still something within you goes on continuously telling you that it may be right, it may not be right; it may be a trick, a deception. "I have not known it myself, somebody else has known it, who knows how true it is?"
When science wins, doubt wins. This is why science could not be born in India. It could not have been. Where trust is deep, there just cannot be any journey in science. This is why the days of the Upanishads were the days of no science; there was no development of science. This is also why there cannot be any development of religion in the West today, because science has become successful there and doubt has won. The two journeys are opposite.
The East has given religion, because it gave to mind the base of trust; the West has given science, because it gave to mind the base of doubt. I do not say that doubt is wrong, nor do I say that doubt is right. I do not say that trust is right, nor do I say that trust is wrong. Understand my viewpoint rightly.
If somebody uses trust for science, it is wrong. If somebody uses doubt for religion, it is wrong. If
someone uses trust in religion, it is right; if someone uses doubt in science, it is right. Doubt has its own capabilities.
For knowing matter, doubt has its accepted use; for knowing oneself it is impotent. Trust has no capabilities for knowing about matter, but for knowing oneself trust alone has the capability. When we try to use a means from one world in the opposite world we are in difficulty. There is no need to do such a thing. If I want to go out of my house I have to keep my face toward the outside of the house and my back toward the house. If I want to come into my house, my face has to be toward the house and my back toward the outside of the house.
Trust is to face toward the house, doubt is to face away from the house. Trust and doubt are the two sides of the same coin, but their uses are different and their achievements are different. One who is in confusion about the two falls into difficulty.
In the days when the Upanishads were born, trust was the foundation; what would be heard was assimilated instantly. Trust means receptivity, trust means loving acceptance.
This acceptance was intrinsic to the society. It was not that somebody casually told something to someone while walking on the road; one had to sit with the master for many years. One had to drink in the master for years, one had to live with the master for years. Slowly, slowly the rhythm of the master's breathing would become the rhythm of the disciple's breathing too. Slowly, slowly the sitting and the rising of the master, the movements of the master, would become the sitting and the rising of the disciple too. Slowly, slowly an attunement, an inner harmony would be created between the two, and then the disciple knew from his innermost being that the master was right.
This recognition used to commence slowly. It was not like asking someone passing on the road, "Is there a God?"
I come across such people. I am going to catch some train and they stop me in the middle of it, on the platform, and say, "One moment please, is there really a God?"
What are they really saying? - as if an answer can be given to you whether God is or not. As if there is no necessity for any preparation to receive an answer to this question. As if this is some routine question about some day-to-day dealing, like asking a shopkeeper, "Have you got a packet of cigarettes?"
Is there a God? To ask this, years of awaiting are necessary; to ask this a sort of fitness and worthiness are necessary. A right kind of mind has to be created so that when the answer comes one may be able to hear it, understand it.
This event is of a time when a disciple used to just sit near the master for many years. Just sitting, just watching the master... If the master said something, he listened to it but did not ask. He would ask only when he was convinced that he was in tune with the master, when he felt that some inner relationship between them has developed, when a bridge between them was established:
"Whatsoever the master says now will not stop at my ears, it will sink deep into my heart."
Until a connection is established with your heart and the heart of the master there is no sense in saying anything to you. But this Upanishad must have been told in such a moment. This is why
this sutra says intimacy with a master can become a spiritual discipline. But we are unaware of any such thing today. Today we have no intimacy even with those whom we love very much. We feel a distance even from those who may be very close to us. Today everybody has become closed within themselves, and the reason for this is doubt. How could intimacy happen with those about whom one has doubt? Intimacy can happen only with those about whom one has no doubt. Doubt closes the doors, locks itself up within; it needs security.
Trust is insecurity. Trust does not need security. The very meaning of trust is: "If you push me into a ditch, I will fall happily into it. If you are throwing me into a ditch there must be some secret reason for it."
What matters is not the ditch but who is throwing you into it. If the master was pushing the disciple into a ditch, a disciple from the days of the Upanishads would simply touch the feet of the master and fall happily into it. The question is not that it is a ditch, the question is who is the person throwing you.
If someone whom you have loved so much, one with whom such an intimacy has happened, is pushing you into the ditch, it must be for some benefit and for your welfare: this attitude is called trust. When something is listened to with this attitude it sinks down to one's innermost being. And then no other spiritual discipline is necessary.
Spiritual disciplines are actually a way of compensating for the lack of trust. That empty space, which is there because of the absence of trust, has to be filled by means of spiritual endeavors. They are substitutes, otherwise they are not necessary, because the very viewpoint of the Upanishads is that whatsoever is to be achieved is already there within you. There is no question of seeking and searching, no effort is necessary, because what is to be achieved is already the case - you have only to look towards it.
If you have deep trust and if you are ready to open your eyes into the unknown at the hint of your master, the matter is over.
Marpa, an amazing monk of Tibet, has said, "I never meditated, I never made any effort, I did only one thing, I trusted my master."
The story of Marpa is very interesting. When he came to his master he said, "I have come prepared to trust you."
The master asked him, "Is this trust total?"
Marpa replied, "I have never heard that trust could also be fragmentary - how could that be?"
If there is trust it is total, otherwise it is not there. Let this be properly understood.
Some people say, "We have a little bit of trust." They do not know what they are saying. Trust cannot be in parts. If you say to somebody, "I have a little bit of love for you" - what does it mean? Or if you say, "I speak a little bit of truth" - what does it mean? A little bit of truth?
These things are indivisible, nobody can divide them. Either there is trust or there is not. A little bit means none. But you are not even honest enough to accept that you have no trust so you say, "I have a little bit."
Marpa said, "Trust is always complete. I have not heard of incomplete trust. I have trust."
So his master said, "Then jump off the cliff into this valley in front of us."
Marpa immediately ran and jumped into the valley. The master became anxious that one life was unnecessarily lost. He had not thought that Marpa would jump. The master and all his disciples ran down into the valley and saw Marpa sitting in deep meditation at the bottom of the cliff.
The valley was very deep and frightening and there was no possibility of surviving after the fall, but Marpa did not have even a scratch on his body. The master thought that probably it was a coincidence: some other test would have to be taken.
There was a house on fire and the whole village was running towards it. The master went with Marpa, and he asked Marpa to enter into the raging fire. Marpa ran into the fire, he ran deep inside the house and there he sat in meditation. The whole house was reduced to ashes. The master and his disciples thought Marpa must also have been burned to ashes. When the fire was extinguished they went inside; there was Marpa sitting amidst smouldering ashes. He had not been touched at all by the fire. The master then asked him, "What is this trick you have done? What is the power you have that you can do all this?"
Marpa replied, "Power? All I have is trust in you."
Then the master asked him to walk on water. He walked on the water too. The master then thought, "When Marpa can do such miracles in my name, what is there that I cannot do?" So the master tried to walk on water and started drowning!
It is not a question of being a master. The master had no trust that one can walk on water, that one can save oneself in fire, that a fall into a valley will also not hurt. The master himself was at a loss to understand how it was all happening. He was thinking that Marpa must know of some trick that he was not aware of, otherwise how could one walk on water?
Even after seeing Marpa walk on water, the master did not trust that someone could do this. He felt that there must be some mystery, some trick which was not known to him: "Marpa is only deceiving me by saying that he is doing everything just due to his trust. And if there is any truth in it, that he can walk on water because of his trust in me, then I myself should certainly be able to do so."
That was the mistake. Marpa was walking on water due to his trust. In whom the trust was placed is not the question - there was trust in his heart. All he felt was that if the master was asking him to walk on water, he would be able to - there was not even an iota of doubt about it. Had doubt entered even for a moment, Marpa would have drowned.
Trust is a boat, but if there is even one small hole in it the boat will sink. The master tried to walk and he started drowning. The master then said to Marpa, "You are deceiving me; you certainly know some tricks. You walked on water in my name and I myself could not do it!"
Marpa said, "Now you have made even my walking on water doubtful. Since I saw you drowning the matter is over, my trust is broken. Now even by mistake don't order me to do such things, because now I will not be able to carry them out. If I did, I would not come back alive. I have seen you drowning, now it will be difficult for me. The boat I moved in is broken." From then on Marpa could not walk on water.
This is a very beautiful story, and useful. Trust has its own power. If there is trust, spiritual disciplines are unnecessary - trust is enough. If there is no trust, techniques are absolutely necessary.
A very interesting thing happened... In the Middle Ages, the saints in India felt that people were becoming more and more atheistic and therefore nobody was becoming interested in religion.
Nobody would want to do the long spiritual practices, perform the austerities, practice yoga or follow tantra. They saw that people were becoming uninterested in religion. So they said that, in this kaliyuga, the era of darkness, chanting the name of Rama was enough. They thought that in this age of Kaliyuga people would at least do this much. This act would not cost them anything.
But it was a great mistake. This advice was against the science of religion. In Kaliyuga, spiritual disciplines are needed the most because there is no trust.
Let us understand this, because what I am telling you is a very contrary statement. I say that in this Kaliyuga spiritual practices are most necessary; in satyuga, the era of truth, they were not. Since there is now no trust, how can one compensate for it? The name of Rama can work, but only for those who have trust. So chanting the name of Rama would have been the right thing in Satyuga, but not now.
So I affirm that in this Kaliyuga nothing is going to happen just by repeating the name of Rama, because the trustful heart that could be helpful does not exist. Now a great effort will have to be made, now rigorous spiritual practices will have to be gone through, a lot of effort will have to be put into it, only then something can happen. Why? Because what else can compensate for the lack of trust?
Trust means faith in someone else: in a master, or in God or in something else. Trust means such a deep faith that what the other says must happen. When there is no trust, one has to have faith in himself.
Spiritual endeavor is to place trust in one's own self: "Nothing will happen through others' help. I will have to make the effort myself."
In this Kaliyuga rigorous spiritual practices are necessary; nothing will happen through chanting the name of Rama. It was happening in Satyuga - merely taking the name of God was sufficient then.
All these were excuses, and any excuse would have done because people were ready and trustful - just a spark and the dry gunpowder would explode. Now that dry gunpowder of trust is not there in man so that a spark from the name of Rama could explode it. Now there is only the cold water of doubt within man. What to say of a spark - you could throw a big bomb in there and it would be extinguished in that water.
This sutra is worth understanding.
Listening to these teachings from the master, the disciple became enlightened and began to say...
Whatever the master has said has become evident to him. Whatever the master has said was not only heard by him, but had begun to be experienced by him. Whatever the master had said, he did not think or reflect, he had begun seeing it so. He began to say, I had seen the world just now, where has it gone?
He had heard that the world is an illusion, he had heard that beauty is our own projection, he had heard that all attraction is our own dreaming... But if one had really heard, one would immediately realize that whatsoever dreams one had been seeing up to now had disappeared. They would have broken.
A dream breaks the moment you know it as a dream. Even if you can hear somebody who is awake saying to you that it is a dream, it will break. The master says that the world is an illusion, a dream; you hear it but say, "Let it be, who knows?" How can you believe that the world is a dream, when it is so clearly present all around? It does not appear convincing that the world is a dream. Even if it may appear to be convincing, we do not want our own minds to be convinced because we have a big investment in our dreams, we have invested a fortune in them.
All our happinesses lie in our dreams. If the world is a dream, then what will happen to our happinesses? And what will happen to our lifelong investments in them, in the hope that some day they will come true? All that invested capital will become a waste. And suddenly somebody is saying the world is a dream...
For example, you have become an emperor in your dream and you are enjoying it immensely; you are sitting on a throne studded with diamonds, pearls and diamonds are surrounding you in abundance. By that time your wife begins to shake you and tells you that you are dreaming. You tell her to keep quiet, she is spoiling the whole pleasure. After such a long time this dream has come...
It seems difficult to break such dreams.
We are all dreaming. The master goes on saying that all this is a dream, an illusion. But who wants to agree with this? Only the one who is ready to put aside his happinesses and unhappinesses, his greed and his attachments, and then look into this truth and inquire whether it is really so. Is this world really nothing but a rainbow that vanishes as you get nearer to it? Is it only from a distance that it looks so colorful, as if it has stolen all the colors of the butterflies for itself, as if all the flowers have flown above to form a rainbow? But as you get closer to it, it is nowhere. If you try to hold it in your hands all you get is a few drops of water - which contain neither any colors nor any beauty in them.
The disciple had heard everything and began to say, I had seen the world just now... He had seen it before he heard the master, he had seen it before he met the master. He had seen it so much that he had felt that he should go on seeing it more and more and more... Everything was there up until now, now where had it gone?
This statement is very deep. The disciple is saying to the master, "What have you done? You have shattered everything like a dream. Where has that world gone which I had seen until just moments
ago, which I had believed was there, which I had thought was there? Today, suddenly, that world has slipped away from my hands and I have become empty. Who took it away from me?" There is in it a sort of pain also - of its being taken away. There is in it a sort of awakening also - that now he will not have it again. An understanding has grown. A happening has taken place.
And ... Into what has it become dissolved? It is a great surprise! Does it not exist?
Certainly, what greater surprise can there be than knowing that whatever we had known, whatever we were living and were busy in, and whatever we had cherished - all our dreams of happiness and heaven - have all suddenly disappeared? It is a great surprise!... does it simply not exist?
Still the disciple is standing at the midpoint. The world which was there on that side is now lost, and he has not yet quite settled with the new one. It is like a sudden coming of light and the disappearance of darkness: the darkness is dispelled but the eyes have not yet adjusted to the light - they blink.
When the world that has been known to us for birth after birth disappears in a flash, the world is lost but we do not yet see the Brahma. It will take a little time; the eyes will have to become adjusted to seeing the light. Our long habit of seeing darkness creates a hindrance in seeing the light - the eyes are dazzled. For this reason also there is usefulness in spiritual practices, in that the light may come gradually so that the eyes are not dazzled.
If the truth comes directly in front of you, you will go blind because eyes cannot see the truth as they are; they will have to develop the capacity to see the truth. It is such an immense explosion of light that your tiny eyes will not be able to bear it, they will lose their sight and go blind. It is like approaching the sun with open eyes.
The disciple is now able to see that what he believed to be there has disappeared, but he has not yet been able to see that which should be seen in its place.
It is a great surprise! How did such a big mistake become possible? How was such a great illusion possible, that the whole of life was nothing but a dream? We will also feel this if the same happens to us some day, that there can be no bigger surprise than this. But it happens, it has happened many times, it has happened to many people. It is in the present age that such happenings have become less and less frequent. There are many reasons for this. One reason is a lack of a sense of wonder. Our capacity to wonder has declined. That too has a reason.
Science has opened up many mysteries for us. And with every mystery decoded it is not only that the mysteries become fewer, but our capacity to wonder also becomes less.
Children are full of wonder. Everything looks miraculous to them. We scold them and tell them to be quiet and say that whatever they are questioning has no big surprises in it. We explain things away to them. But are you aware that by doing so you are snatching away from them their world of wonder where every small happening... A small flying butterfly gives so much happiness to a child which later on even the whole world of your sciences cannot give. A small blossoming flower, or a shooting star in the sky, fills the child with such a thrill that when later on the whole wealth of the
world is given to him, or even if he is made the owner of all the stars, that childhood thrill cannot come back.
A child sees everything with wonder. Why? Because he is still ignorant, he does not know anything.
Now that science has made so many things known, you have a feeling that you know this, that and the other, and this has reduced your sense of wonder. It does not need to be so, but in order to arouse, and in order to maintain your sense of wonder, you will need to go very deep into science - there is no other way.
At the time of his death Einstein said, "I am dying as a mystic. I had thought that I would be able to unlock all the mysteries of the world. I did unlock many mysteries, but upon the unlocking of each mystery, greater mysteries confronted me." It is just as a magician takes out one box from within another box, and goes on taking out box after box - there are mysteries within mysteries, but in order to know them now one will have to go beyond many boxes.
When the genius of an Einstein starts cutting through all the boxes, it finds the mysteries have not lessened. But we who have accumulated some petty knowledge, our sense of wonder dies. We begin to explain everything, we think we have all the answers.
When everything has been defined and given a meaning our sense of wonder declines. And when the sense of wonder is lessened, the possibility of our being religious disappears. Religion is a mystery, the ultimate mystery; it is the supreme wonder. The greatest miracle that can happen in this world is to become religious. Why? Because on becoming religious, one begins to talk like this disciple who is saying: "IT IS A GREAT SURPRISE! Is the world which was here a few moments ago, the world that I had known a few moments ago, not there? Where has it gone? In what has it dissolved?"
But immediately after that the second statement comes. The first statement is of wonder, the second is of bliss. The bliss hides right behind the wonder. One who has lost his sense of wonder will never be able to attain bliss, because wonder is the door to bliss. He whose door of wonder is closed will not be able to enter the palace of bliss. The second statement follows immediately.
In this great ocean of brahma which is full of the nectar of infinite bliss, what have i to renounce now and what have i to take? What is other now and what is extraordinary?
"If the whole world has turned out to be false, then I don't have anything to renounce. Whatsoever could have been renounced has already disappeared. Now I do not have anything to indulge in either, because whatsoever I could have indulged in has also disappeared." Nothing is to be clung to and nothing is to be renounced. Nothing is to be taken and nothing is to be removed; that whole world of indulgence and renunciation has disappeared.
Let this sutra be properly understood. Do not think that with the disappearance of the world only indulgence disappears; renunciation also disappears, because indulgence and renunciation were both part of that world which is no more.
One person was accumulating money, he was an indulger; one person was renouncing money, he was a renouncer - but for the one whose world itself has disappeared, the wealth itself has
disappeared... what is indulgence and what is renunciation? Hence the sages of the Upanishads were not renouncers by your definitions, by your definitions they were not indulgers either. The sages of the Upanishads were of a totally different kind, a third category of people.
What we mean by someone who renounces today is in opposition to someone who indulges. The sages of the Upanishads who have given these statements were not people who had given up and run away from everything, going about naked. They were not roaming around here and there.
They were neither renouncers nor indulgers, they were extremely ordinary and simple people, living like children. For them the whole world where renunciation and indulgence both happen had disappeared. Neither of them had any value.
When the ideology of renunciation became popular in this country, under the influence of the Buddhist and Jaina religions, it came to be understood as the opposite of indulgence and slowly, slowly the sages of the Upanishads started fading away from our memories, because they were an entirely different kind of people. We cannot call them indulgers, because they were never eager to accumulate anything; we cannot call them renouncers, because they were not eager to give up anything either. If anybody gave them anything, they would take it; if anybody took anything from them, they were not going to chase him. I shall tell you one anecdote that may give you some idea...
Kabir had a son called Kamal. Kabir did not accept any gifts or money, whereas Kamal was like the sages of the Upanishads. Kabir's disciples asked him to throw Kamal out of his place. They said, "When somebody offers you gifts or money you tell him that you don't need it, just keep this rubbish yourself, but this Kamal sits outside and accepts all those things from the people that you have refused. He blesses them and then keeps the things. This boy is a trouble."
I don't know if Kabir made this statement - I don't believe Kabir could have done it, it must have been some follower of Kabir who also was familiar with Kamal - the statement is: "A son called Kamal is born and the whole pedigree of Kabir is drowned forever." The statement means that Kabir's son Kamal spoiled the name of his whole family.
So Kabir told Kamal what people were saying about him and asked him what he thought about it.
Kamal then suggested that he would go and stay in a separate hut, that was no problem.
Kamal moved into a separate hut. The king of Kashi came to know of this. The king had never felt that Kamal was an indulger. That he did not follow renunciation was a clear fact, but the king also doubted that he was an indulger. The king thought that it would be better to check it out, so he came with a very valuable diamond and presented it to Kamal. Kamal said, "What sort of a gift have you brought me? It can neither be eaten nor drunk."
The king was surprised to hear the remark. He had heard people saying that Kamal kept everything that he was offered, and here he was giving him a diamond worth millions of rupees and this Kamal was calling it just a stone. Thinking that the talk of the people was not correct and that Kamal would not take the gift, the king took back the diamond and began to put it in his pocket. Kamal stopped him, saying, "Are you mad? First you carried this burden here, and now you will also carry it back?
Leave it here!"
Now the king became very suspicious, thinking something was fishy about this man. But do you see how our minds work? What Kamal did was the perfectly logical thing: "If it really is just a stone, you
have suffered the trouble of carrying its burden to this place, and now you want to bear its burden in carrying it back. Just let go of it."
But the first idea had appealed to the king. Any idea of renunciation always appeals to the indulger.
Kamal's second remark about letting go of the diamond did not appeal to him at all - now he became suspicious. Still the king asked, "Where shall I leave it?"
Kamal said, "Now you are asking where to leave it - it means you do not take it to be a stone. Then you had better take it back with you. Why does the question arise as to where to put it? It is just a stone after all - just let it remain anywhere."
To test the matter further the king said, "Okay." The hut was made with a straw roof, so the king pushed the diamond into the roof and said, "I will leave it here."
Kamal said, "Fine. Do as you like, but I don't see the point of trying to keep such an account of a stone."
The king came back after a month. He was sure that the very next day the diamond would have been sold or hidden away elsewhere. So he came back after a month and asked Kamal, "A month ago I left a diamond here. Is it still there?"
Kamal said, "I told you at that time that it was only a stone. Now you are creating a difficulty. Where did you put it? Maybe somebody has taken it away, maybe it is there - just find out."
The king thought Kamal was trying to be clever in saying, "Maybe somebody has taken it away." But when the king actually looked for it the diamond was still there in the same spot, in the straw of the roof.
The sages of the Upanishads were like that. For them neither indulgence nor renunciation had any meaning. All the respect for renunciation is there because of one's indulgence. This is why a renouncer appeals highly to an indulger - because it is the opposite it attracts. One's attention is drawn to it, one feels that one cannot do such a thing, and this man is doing it.
So indulgers touch the feet of renouncers. And there is a reason for it. They feel that they cannot skip even one meal and here is this man who has been fasting for a month. "Bow down, bow down at his feet. We cannot renounce our homes, and here this man has renounced everything. We cannot remain without clothes, and here this man is standing naked on the road. Bow down to him!"
If somebody does what we cannot do, we feel he deserves our respect. All our respect for renunciation is because of our indulgence. Hence a very interesting thing happens: the more affluent a society, the more indulgent a society, the more it respects the renouncers. The Jainas are wealthy, they have all the amenities of life, so they expect a very strict conduct of renunciation from their monks. It is very interesting that a society of indulgers, of affluent people, expects renunciation of a high order from their monks, otherwise they cannot give them respect.
Hindus do not emphasize renunciation so much - that renouncers should renounce this much, should do this, should do that, therefore no Hindu renouncer stands a chance if he is to be compared
with a Jaina renouncer. The whole reason for this is that the Hindu society by and large is not as rich as the Jaina society. Comparatively it is a very poor group, and a poor society does not expect a very high degree of renunciation from their renouncers.
So the more affluent a society, the higher the criterion for renunciation will be. Only with great renunciation will it accept that yes, this man has done something, he has renounced something. We evaluate according to our own minds.
The Upanishads say, as long as there is a value placed on renunciation, know well that there is a value placed on indulgence as well. As long as there is respect for renunciation, understand well that you also have an attraction towards indulgence. This respect is only a reflection of the attraction.
The sages of the Upanishads say that for an awakened person, for a conscious being, the whole world - both renunciation and indulgence - disappears.
The disciple says, "What shall I renounce? What shall I take and what shall I give up? I am already drowned in an ocean of infinite bliss."
It happens simultaneously: no sooner is the world lost than the new immortal world is attained. This happening takes place in the same moment, although a time gap may appear to be there in seeing it.
Here I do not see anything, i do not hear anything and i do not know anything...
The disciple says, "In this ocean of the nectar of infinite bliss in which I am drowned, I do not see anything. I do not see anything because only things that are separate from this can be seen. I do not hear anything because only the sound of the other can be heard. I do not know anything because even knowing is also of the other. I am only experiencing bliss.
I am always in my blissful soul...
Neither I have any other knowledge, nor have I any sight, nor do I hear anything; none of my senses function anymore. Now only one thing is happening within me and that is, I am constantly experiencing bliss. And what is being experienced by me today is unique and unparalleled. There is no way, there is no symbol with which to explain or define it. I MYSELF AM MY OWN NATURE.
I am unattached, bodiless, genderless; I am god myself; I am absolutely silent, I am infinite, I am whole and I am the most ancient.
The disciple is experiencing this. These experiences begin the moment this world disappears. The moment the dreaming is broken the realization of this truth begins that ... I am unattached, bodiless, genderless; I am god myself; I am absolutely silent, I am infinite, I am the whole and am the most ancient.
I am not the doer, I am not the sufferer, I am unchanging and inexhaustible. I am the abode of pure knowledge, I am alone and I am the eternal godliness.
This declaration is from the disciple.
The master had said so, had explained to him that it was like this. The disciple could have taken it in two ways. Had he made it a part of his intellectual knowledge and said, "Okay, I agree with you; whatsoever you have said makes sense to my intellect," and then given these statements, this Upanishad would have become useless. But the explanation also became the experience of the disciple and he said, "Whatsoever you are saying is being seen by me. I am also experiencing it." And the disciple announces further, "I am God myself; I am the most ancient and I am eternal godliness."
This knowledge was given by the master to apantaram...
The name of the master is not mentioned. The name of the first seeker is not given. Who the first person was to have known this is not known.
This is very interesting and should be properly understood, because spirituality is not something new. Spirituality is most ancient, eternal. Spirituality has been here ever since man has been here.
We cannot imagine a time when spirituality may not have been here. We can imagine a time when there was no science, we can also imagine a time when there were no art forms - when thousands of things were not there - but we cannot imagine a time when man may have been there but no spirituality, because the spiritual thirst is the basic characteristic of man.
Even if there is no science, man can be man. Even if there is no money, man can be man; even if there is no education man can be man - an illiterate man is also a man and a man of an unscientific society is also a man - but if there is no spirituality man is not a man, he becomes an animal.
Spirituality is the basic characteristic of man.
In defining man, Aristotle has said, "Man is a rational being." This definition is not so correct because, after all, even an irrational man will have to be called a man. Rationality is not an invariable characteristic of man. Machiavelli has said, "Man is a political being." If we look at men of today his statement is right; man is a completely political being. Politics is his food, politics is his drink; the newspaper is his first need early in the morning and discussing about politics till late in the night is his last - politics seems to be his life. But politics is also not the fundamental characteristic of man.
Research now shows that politics is found even among monkeys and wild animals. Just as there are presidents, prime ministers and their cabinets in the nations, similarly there are chiefs, prime ministers and their cabinets in groups of monkeys also.
There is not much difference between politicians and monkeys. Among men it is those who have more monkeyness in them who become attracted towards politics.
But man is a spiritual being. And that is his true characteristic.
So whoever discovered this knowledge first, his name is not given. And this is a very good thing.
It means that this knowledge is so ancient, so eternal that the name of the first man who became the knower is not known. In place of the name of the first man all that has been said is that ... The master gave it to apantaram.
Apantaram too is a wonderful word. It means a disciple whose name is not known. The master gave the knowledge to a disciple whose name is not known. The name of the first disciple is not known,
hence his name is nominally given as Apantaram. The first master who came to know is not known and the first disciple who heard from him is also not known, because when it is the first master, the first disciple also does not know that he is a disciple, or who is a master. Being a master and a disciple are all later developments.
When the first master came to know, the first person who came to him must have been a disciple.
We call him a disciple, only for the sake of a name, but he would not have been aware of it. He must have come, just drawn towards the magnet as it were, and the knowing was transferred. Hence the sutra says, this knowledge was given by the master to apantaram, and apantaram gave it to brahma...
Brahma is the creator of the universe. It is very interesting that the one who created the universe is also ignorant, has also to receive the knowledge from someone. In this respect it becomes difficult to fathom the depth of Hindu thought. We call Brahma the creator, but we do not consider him also a knower, because if he were a knower he would not have created this dream world.
If this world is a dream, its creator cannot be a knower. The work of Brahma is just to develop the dream world - just spreading the dreams.
This is why we did not make many temples of Brahma; there is only one temple in India. They should have numbered more than any other, because the one who created this world should be installed in more temples for worship than any other deity. But there is only one temple. Why? - because we came to understand this world is a dream, and the one who created this dream does not deserve many temples.
We have made a maximum number of temples of Shiva, because he is the destroyer of this world. In every town, every village, you will find a shivalinga - the phallic symbol of Shiva - installed virtually under every tree. We have filled the whole land with Shiva and there is a reason. Why remember Brahma? - he is the one who has unnecessarily put us in this trouble. We have remembered Shiva more often, and on purpose, because he is the destroyer, he will destroy everything.
Apantaram gave it to brahma, brahma gave it to ghorangiras, ghorangiras gave it to raikva, and raikva gave it to rama...
Thus in that chain there have been thousands, but a few important names have been selected. There have been thousands whose names are not even known. Some of the most well-known names have been selected here. Ghorangiras is one of the greatest of knowers from the Upanishadic period and he passed on the knowledge to Raikva. Raikva too is an amazing sage, he gave it to Rama, and Rama in turn gave it to all living beings.
Through Rama this knowledge grew wide, reached to the masses. Before that this knowledge was esoteric and a master would only pass it on to a disciple in secrecy. Rama made it available for all living beings. In the hands of Rama it no longer remained esoteric, it became open for all.
Rama gave it to all living beings. This is the message of nirvana...
The message of Nirvana is that of dissolution of the 'I'. Just the way a lamp is extinguished the 'I' is extinguished. He who extinguishes himself attains to that absolute reality which cannot be extinguished in any way.
What can be extinguished within us is our ego; what cannot be extinguished is the Brahma within us.
So extinguish that which can be extinguished so that the non-extinguishable can be experienced.
This is the teaching of the Vedas. This is the essence of all the Vedas. And this is the discipline of the Vedas.
Thus ends this upanishad.
This Upanishad ends in a very unique way. It does not end with the teachings of the master, but ends with the attainment of the disciple. It does not end on what the master said, but it ends on what happened to the disciple. And as long as a teaching does not become a living phenomenon it has no value. As long as a teaching is not alive it is only a mind-play.
This Upanishad is not a mind-play, it is a transformation of life.
The master gave it ... To apantaram, apantaram gave it to brahma, brahma gave it to ghorangiras, ghorangiras gave it to raikva, raikva gave it to rama and rama gave it to all living beings.
... And we have again tried to enliven this wonderful teaching, this experiencing and this spiritual technique within ourselves. We have again excited the flame by moving the wick.
After going from here, continue to excite this flame. One day that moment will definitely come in your life when you will also be able to say, I had seen the world just now, where has it gone?... Does it simply not exist? And the day this will be experienced by you, you will also be able to say, "I am God myself, I am the eternal godliness, I am infinite, I am bliss, I am Brahma."
As long as this has not happened within you, what use is this message of nirvana, what use is this essence of the Vedas? And until then, though t
his Upanishad ends here, it has not ended for you.
May there be a day when you can also say, "The teachings of the Upanishad end here for me."
