We Suffer More in Imagination | OSHO

Truth is timeless, beyond space. Truth has no relation to space and time. Truth is eternal. It is beyond the limits of time.

But its expression is not timeless or beyond space. Expression exists within time. It is outside everyone's time. That which is known is not known in time. But that which is said is said in time. That which is known is in absolute solitude. There is no other there, but that which is said is always said to another.

The phenomenon of truth happens within an individual, while its expression happens in society, in a group. Naturally, Kapil spoke to those he was meant to speak to, Ashtavakra said it to his listeners. Krishna-murti speaks to whoever he naturally speaks to. Differences will arise in expression. But that which has been known remains undivided and one.

Don't misinterpret this to mean that Krishnamurti is repeating Ashtavakra, or Ashtavakra is repeating Kapil, or Kapil is repeating Krishnamurti. No one is repeating anyone. As long as there is repetition, there is no experience of truth. A repeated truth becomes a lie. Only a realized truth is true. A borrowed truth is false.

Each of them has realized it themselves. And when one realizes the truth for themselves, they do not feel, even for a moment, that anyone else could have known it too. That phenomenon is so divine, so unique, so original, that every person who realizes it, experiences it as if for the first time. As if this ray of light has descended for the first time.

Just like when someone falls in love, do they ever think that such love has been known by anyone else? There have been many lovers on Earth. Infinite lovers. But whenever the ray of love descends into a heart, they feel that only they are experiencing such love. Because love is not a repetition. You don't borrow it from anyone. When it happens, it happens to you. And when it does, it happens to you for the very first time. You cannot possibly know if it happened to others. How it happened to others, you cannot experience that either. You only feel your own experience.

That is why, whenever truth happens, an original proclamation is made. This is precisely why followers fall into a great illusion. Followers start claiming that what Kapil knew, no one else ever knew. What Ashtavakra knew, no one else ever knew. What Krishnamurti says, no one else has ever said. This is the follower's illusion. This is what has been known. Otherwise, there is nothing else to know. And this is what has been said, no matter the difference in words. No matter the difference in the listeners, this is what is known, what is said.

But whenever it is realized, it is the intrinsic nature of truth that it brings a spark of originality. You feel like for the very first time, nothing like this has ever happened, nor ever will. When Buddha experienced the truth, he proclaimed: Unprecedented. Never happened before. This is what I have experienced. This was his declaration about himself. But the disciples understood 'unprecedented' to mean that no one else had experienced what Buddha had. An illusion was born. Then those who follow Buddha claim that what happened to Buddha didn't happen to Mahavira. What happened to Buddha didn't happen to Shankara. What happened to Buddha is unprecedented. It is Buddha's own word that what happened to him was unprecedented. But the meaning of Buddha's word is very different. Buddha is solely talking about his own experience. He is saying that this had never happened to him before. This morning dawned for the first time. This night ended for the first time. This darkness has vanished for the first time. Buddha called it unmatched, unprecedented Samadhi. But whenever Samadhi happens to anyone, it is unmatched and unprecedented.

The chaos is created by the listener, the disciple, the follower, the sectarian. The moment you listen, a major problem arises. I am telling you something. Until I had not said it, it was truth. The moment I said it and you heard it, it became a lie. Because what I am saying is my experience. What you are hearing is not your experience. What I am saying is my realization. What you are hearing will, at most, be your belief. Belief is untrue. You will assume it, you haven't realized it. Assumptions create chaos.

Then, conflicts arise among believers. Because someone heard Buddha, someone heard Mahavira, someone Kapil, someone Ashtavakra, someone Krishnamurti. They heard different expressions. It is the same song, but the voice from each throat is different. Do you know what acousticians say? One of the greatest discoveries of modern acoustics is that just as your thumbprint is unique, every person's voice is completely different. A sound print. No two people have the exact same voice. Personality is so diverse that even two voices are not alike. Repeat the same song, the melody changes. Repeat the same song, the notes differ. Repeat the same song, the color shifts.

So, whatever Krishnamurti says, carries the imprint of his voice. It carries the imprint of his personality. His signature. What Kapil says carries his signature. If you get entangled in these signatures, a sect will be formed. But if you remove the signature and try to look at the essence, religion is born. Within all sects, religion is hidden somewhere. Sects are like clothes. And until you remove the clothing and discover the naked religion, you will never truly know what religion is. Hindu, Muslim, Christian, Sikh, Jain—these are all sects. These are differences in expression. Because of saying the same thing in different languages, there appears to be so much difference, and languages can be many. All religions are like languages.

But I am not telling you to establish a synthesis among all these religions. Do not fall into that illusion. That illusion would be purely intellectual. Read Ashtavakra, read Krishnamurti, read Kapil. Then find similarities among them and gather everything that seems to match, and create a synthesis. All of that will be a web of the intellect. It won't give you any understanding of religion. Where there were three sects, there will now be four. Just one more sect of yours will be added.

In a village, some people were fighting. Mulla Nasruddin was passing by, so he said, 'Brothers, why are you fighting?' 'This dispute can be settled by talking. Why have you drawn so many swords? There will be bloodshed. Stop.' He gathered a few village elders and said, 'Now both parties should choose five arbitrators each.' 'They will resolve the fight.' When Mulla returned there in the evening, he saw that where there were a few fighters in the morning, there was a massive crowd. Swords drawn. He asked, 'What is the matter?' They said, 'Now these arbitrators are fighting too.' 'Earlier in the morning,' 'the disputants were fighting. Now the arbitrators are fighting too, there's no other way.' Someone suggested, 'Nasruddin, appoint arbitrators for these arbitrators as well.' Nasruddin said, 'Enough. I have learned my lesson. It would have been better if you settled it this morning. The fight has only escalated.'

The synthesis-seekers. They do not put an end to sects. Where there are three sects, a fourth one, a synthesis, takes their place. 'Allah Ishwar Tere Naam', a fourth one arises. It starts making its own claims. The synthesis makes its own separate claim. You saw this happen with Mahavira. Mahavira said that all expressions of truth are true. Partial truths. No single expression is the absolute truth. That is why Mahavira gave birth to a principle: Syadvada. Syadvada means 'I am right. You are right too. He is right too.' 'There is some truth in everyone. Why should we fight?' Syadvada means accepting the element of truth within everyone. So there is no dispute. So there is no useless fighting. But what was the result? Syadvada created a whole new fight.

I was speaking with a Jain monk once. I asked him to explain to me briefly, what is the meaning of Syadvada? He said, 'Syadvada means that no one is the absolute truth.' 'All truths are partial.' 'Everyone has a little bit of truth. We look at everyone's truth. We are not disputants. We are harmonizers.' I talked about this and that for a while. Then I asked him, 'Let me ask you one thing. Is Syadvada the absolute truth or not?' He replied, 'It is absolutely the absolute truth.' Now, if Syadvada is the absolute truth, and if someone were to say it's only a partial truth, that it too is partial, a fight will break out. Everything is a partial truth. But what I am saying is the absolute truth. That was the whole fight to begin with. Syadvada was discovered to resolve this very fight. Now Syadvada has also become a part of the fighting factions. It became a party, a dispute. It became a sect too. If Syadvada had truly been understood, there would be no Jain sect at all. Because a sect cannot be established on the basis of Syadvada. Syadvada means that there is truth in everyone, and no one holds the absolute truth. Therefore, there is no room to establish a sect. A sect fundamentally means that truth is here, and not there. Syadvada had actually cut the very roots of sects. But a Jain sect stands today, which now protects the 'Syat' (partial truth).

I am not asking you to seek a synthesis between these three. I am only telling you that if you go into the depths of meditation, If you attain the state of a witness, suddenly you will realize that from the peak of this witnessing, you see that all paths lead to the peak of this very mountain. The starting points of those paths may be vastly different, but their ultimate culmination happens on the very same peak. All paths lead to where the witnessing state is. How you arrive is up to you—on a bullock cart, a horse, on foot, by airplane, train, or a motor bus. How you get there is entirely up to you. If there's even a little understanding, there's no need to fight over it. Someone arrives on a horse, someone on a bullock cart. To each their own joy. Someone comes from a mosque, someone from a temple. Someone arrives through prayer, someone through meditation. Some by dancing, some by sitting in silence. But if the state of witnessing is awakening, if a ray of awareness is sprouting within you, if dawn is breaking and your consciousness is deepening, you no longer live in unconsciousness. You start living with awareness, and the shade of compassion and love begins to enter your life. From your life, anger and violence begin to dissolve.

There are only two things to know. And those two things are simply two sides of the same coin. If meditation happens within, love happens without. If love happens without, meditation inevitably happens within. If you pray, love will follow, and meditation will trail right behind it. If you meditate, meditation will happen, and prayer will follow in its wake. You master just one of the two, the other is accomplished automatically. Only upon reaching the state of a witness will you perceive the harmony among all the truths of the world. I am pointing towards that experience. Do not try to create an intellectual synthesis of it.

Second question. You said yesterday that all practices are a labyrinth of rituals. But at the same time, you have made meditation mandatory for your sannyasins. This puts the mind in a dilemma. By not meditating, it feels like something is being missed, and while doing it, the mind asks if time is just being wasted. Please guide us.

Certainly, all rituals are convoluted games. But this does not mean you shouldn't perform rituals. For example, if I tell you to get on a boat, but step off once you reach the other side. You might say, "You are putting us in a dilemma. On one hand, you tell us to get on. And at the same time, you say to step off. If we have to step off anyway, why board the boat at all? And if we do board it, why step off? This is putting us in a dilemma, telling us to both board and to step off." But where is the dilemma in this? You will have to board the boat, and you will have to step off it too.

There are two kinds of fools in the world. They are very logical. Logic can be quite insane. It can be. Alright, this logic. I've heard that some people were going on a pilgrimage. To Haridwar. And the train was incredibly crowded. And one man was trying really hard to get in, but couldn't board. Someone jokingly said to him, "Hey, why are you killing yourself trying to get on? Eventually, you'll have to get off anyway." So, that man must have been a great thinker. He just backed off. He stopped trying to board. His friends who had already boarded said, "Brother, why are you standing there? The train is about to leave, get on!" He replied, "Don't you know we have to get off? If we have to get off anyway, why go through so much pushing and shoving to get on?" Understand? He just stayed off. They panicked because the train was leaving, and they had brought him along. Where could they leave him? A few of them got off and forcibly pulled him onto the train. He kept shouting and screaming, saying, "What are you doing? If we have to get off anyway, why get into this trouble?" But they didn't care. They said, "We'll debate this later, just get on first. Where could we possibly leave you in this unfamiliar place?" They came from a village. Anyway, somehow they managed to pull him in. With great difficulty, he got on. The train was already crowded, and on top of that, he was creating a scene trying to board. He just wanted to get off. He got on, and then they reached Haridwar. Now came the hassle of getting him off. He refused to budge. He said, "Now that we're already on..." "Now that we're on, why get off again? Then there will be the hassle of boarding again. So I will just stay on it. You guys can leave me here. You go ahead." Now they were forcibly trying to get him off. The man was screaming, "How inconsistent you all are!" "A moment ago you forced me on, and now you force me off." "Look at the inconsistency." "You are putting me in a dilemma. Give me a straight formula—whether to board or step off, so we can settle this once and for all."

If you navigate life with this kind of logic, you will miss out terribly. If you never board, you won't reach the pilgrimage site, and if you just stay on board, you still won't reach the destination. That is why I tell you to meditate, and remember that one day, you will have to let go of meditation as well. I am telling you both things. You would prefer if I said just one, so it's convenient for you. You are seeking convenience. You are not focusing on your spiritual practice. You are looking for comfort. You are not seeking a revolution. And for convenience, there are two ways. Either I tell you not to do it at all. Like Krishnamurti says, his message is very clear. There is no need to meditate at all. Those who don't want to meditate gather around him. Even though nothing has happened to them. People come to me. They say, "We are tired of listening to Krishnamurti. We even understood that there is nothing in meditation and such things. But nothing has happened to us either." Nothing has happened, yet they have understood that there is nothing in meditation and such. They remained on this shore. They never boarded the boat.

Then on the other hand, there is Mahesh Yogi or people like him. Who say, "Meditate, meditate, meditate," and they never tell you to let it go. So, there are some people who are just chanting, "Ram, Ram, Ram." They just keep chanting for their entire lives. They come to me too. They say, "We are tired of chanting Ram-Ram. How much longer should we chant? And meditation cannot be abandoned. Meditation is a religious method."

Try to understand my position. I tell you to begin meditating. Otherwise, the danger is that you will hear Krishnamurti's ultimate truth and just sit there. It is true that the boat has to be abandoned. But on the other shore, not this one. And Krishnamurti abandoned the boat, which is why he is telling you to abandon the boat as well. But that is applicable to the other shore. Not this shore. If you abandon it on this shore, you will never reach the other side. You saw Krishnamurti getting off the boat. This is true. But don't you step off, because you are still on this shore. If you step off now, you will be lost. And you saw Mahesh Yogi boarding the boat. This is true as well. Now, don't just stay on board, because when the other shore arrives, remember to step off.

So when I say these paradoxical things, telling you to meditate and also to drop meditation, these pertain to two different shores. Begin on this shore, and abandon it on the other shore. If I just tell you to meditate, there is a danger. When the time comes to let go, you won't be able to. If I just tell you to drop it, you won't even do it. The question of letting go doesn't arise. If you never do it, how on earth will you let it go? I tell you to earn, and then give it away. There is a joy in earning. But the joy of giving it away is immense. There is immense bliss in meditation. But then, abandoning it brings ultimate bliss. You do not need to fall into any dilemma. It is a straightforward matter. I want to make use of all paradoxes. You want a non-contradictory statement that causes you no trouble. You want to follow a set path blindly and just walk on. You are so eager to blindly follow an established path, that you just want to be handed a flag. And then you'll just keep marching.

Certainly, there is a paradox in my words, because all of life is made of paradoxes. Birth happens, death happens. This is a paradox. You never ask life, "What is this about?" You never stand up to God and complain, "What is going on here? If you gave birth, why do you kill? And if you must kill, then stop giving birth altogether." altogether. Even if you said it, God wouldn't listen to you. Many people have said it many times. But God gives birth, and He gives death. He gives birth with one hand, and with the other, He takes life away. Here, there is night, and there is day. Summer arrives, winter arrives. Here, seasons keep changing. This is precisely the rich essence of life. It is the union of opposites. If life had only one dimension, there would be no joy. It would not have this richness. Here, contradictory elements merge to birth an unprecedented harmony. Here, between birth and death, the play of life goes on. The dance of life is created. That is exactly what I am telling you. Do meditate, but also remember that it must be dropped. One day, it must be dropped. One day, the method must be dissolved.

Have you noticed how skillful Hindus are in this regard? They make an idol of Lord Ganesha out of clay, perform the worship, and then go and immerse it in the sea. No other religion in the world has this kind of courage. If they place an idol in a temple, the thought of immersing it never even arises. Then they say, 'Now its worship will continue forever.' Look at the courage of the Hindus. First, they make the clay idol of Ganesha. Through the clay idol, they invoke and manifest the divine. Dancing, singing, prayers, and worship—everything is completed. Then they say, 'Now let's go, My Lord. We have other work to do as well.' 'Now You rest in the sea. We will pick You up again next year.' Do you see this courage? What does it truly mean? It has a deeply symbolic meaning. Use the ritual, and then dissolve it in the sea. Use the method, and then do not remain bound to it. Let it go. In a world where everything comes and goes, you can even make and dissolve God. Whatever God does with you, you do the same with God. This is the religion of a wise person. He creates and destroys you; you should learn His art too. Create Him, and then dissolve Him away.

When Hindus create the idol, they do it with such devotion. People of other religions are quite astonished. is over. With such devotion they sculpt it, how beautifully they paint the idol. They make it so beautiful, spend so much money, and for months they work hard on it. When the idol is ready, with such deep devotion they worship it, offering flowers, singing hymns and chanting. But they are wonderful people. Then comes the day of its immersion. Then they set out, playing bands, dancing as they go. If birth is a dance, death too should be a dance. They go to immerse the divine. They gave birth to it, now the time for its death has come. Everything created in this world eventually perishes. And one must make use of everything in this world, without getting attached to anything. One shouldn't even remain attached to God. I am not saying that Hindus are perfectly aware of what they are doing. But those who started this journey, they must have been aware. People might have forgotten now, they might not have any idea what they are doing. They might be doing it unconsciously, as an old tradition—creating and then immersing it. But try to understand its essence. The essence is simply this: use the method, and then do not become bound to it. Once the ritual is complete, let it go. That is exactly what I tell you: Dance, jump, meditate, worship, and pray, but don't get entangled in them. These are paths, not the destination. When the destination arrives, do not say, "I am an old traveler, how can I leave the path now?" Let it go. "I walked this path for so many days, for lifetimes. Now that the destination is here, should I betray the path? Should I become a traitor? This path was my companion for so long, the path that brought me here, how can I abandon it? I can abandon the destination, but not the path." Then you will realize what a foolish situation that would be. You walked the path to reach this very destination. You formed a relationship with the path, only for it to be broken. The success of the path lies in the arrival of the moment when it must be left behind.

Among the ultimate sutras of meditation, one is that when the time comes to let go of meditation, meditation is complete. Until meditation can be dropped, know that you are still unripe. You have not yet ripened. When a fruit ripens, it falls from the tree. And when the fruit of meditation ripens, it too drops away. When the fruit of meditation drops, Samadhi blossoms. Patanjali divided the process of meditation into three parts: Dharana, Dhyana, and Samadhi. Dharana (concentration) is a small trail that connects you to the highway. The highway doesn't pass through where you are right now. There is a small trail that connects to the highway, the path that connects you to the highway is Dharana. Then, the highway is Dhyana (meditation). Then the highway connects you to the destination, to the temple, to the ultimate goal. Dharana is left behind when meditation begins, and meditation is left behind when Samadhi arrives. That is why you should meditate with the same devotion as Hindus sculpt Ganesha, with that same awe. Don't keep the thought in your mind that "since it has to be dropped, why paint it? Why bother making it beautiful?" "Just slap on any color, whether the face looks right or not, whether the eyes pop out or the nose is shaped right. Why bother, when in four days we have to say goodbye to it anyway?" But you must make it worthy of worship. Otherwise, if the worship doesn't happen, the moment to let go will never arrive. If Ganesha isn't even created, how will the immersion happen? So when you meditate, do it as if your whole life is at stake. Only then will that great moment arrive, that ultimate moment of fortune. When you will find that now it is time for immersion. Now, let go of meditation as well. Now, rise even beyond meditation. Now Samadhi. Now the resolution. Now the destination. That is why I tell you this paradox: only those who meditate with totality will one day be able to drop meditation totally. And those who do it half-heartedly, remaining lukewarm, never reaching boiling point and evaporating, their moment of letting go will never come. They will remain stuck on this very shore.

There is a story in the Jain scriptures. A monk was taking a bath. And he saw a man arrive. He got into a boat and started rowing, but he seemed perplexed. The monk started laughing. The man asked, "Brother, you probably know what the matter is? Why isn't this boat moving?" The monk replied, "Dear sir, my friend, the boat is tied to the shore. Rowing the oars won't do anything. First, untie the rope from the peg." He was rowing the oars. Rowing them fast. Thinking that maybe it's not moving because he was rowing too slowly, so he rowed faster. He was drenched in sweat. But the boat was tied to the shore. It wasn't untied. Before rowing the boat, untying it from the shore is essential. So, if you meditate half-heartedly, the boat will never leave the shore. And you will never reach the other shore. The moment to disembark will never arrive. Ashtavakra told Janaka that all rituals are bondage. He was absolutely right. But remember this, these words are said only when the boat has reached the other shore.

[Continuation] That's why I called it the Maha Gita. Krishna's Gita, I just call the Gita. Ashtavakra's Gita, I call the Maha Gita. Because Krishna's Gita was spoken to Arjuna on this shore. He isn't even boarding the boat. He is trying to run away. He is saying, "I want to take sannyas. I won't get on the boat. What's the point? Let me go." He is running away. He says, "My limbs are trembling. My Gandiva bow is slipping. I don't want to get on." He sits in the chariot, dejected. He says, "I don't want to board the boat at all." Krishna has to hold him, persuade him, and put him on the boat. Thus, Krishna's Gita is simply the Gita. On this shore, Arjuna has to be put on the boat. Ashtavakra's Gita is the Maha Gita. It is about the other shore. Janaka is on that shore. But perhaps he is not ready to get off the boat. Or he has just remained sitting in it. He traveled in the boat for a long time. He made a home out of the boat itself. Ashtavakra says, "Step down, all rituals are bondage. Drop the rituals." Krishna says, "Step into the struggle, do not run away. Leave everything to God. Do whatever He makes you do. Become just an instrument. You have to board this boat. This is your destiny, your fate."

If Arjuna boards the boat—and he did—listening to Krishna, then there is a danger. He was also a highly logical person. One day, he too would need an Ashtavakra. Because upon reaching the other shore, he won't step down. He will argue just as much to get off as he did to get on. Perhaps even more. Because he will say, "Krishna made me board. Now stepping down would be a betrayal. It would be deceiving my own Guru. I got on with such difficulty. Now you are here to make me get off. I was telling you from the start that I didn't want to get on. What kind of game is this?" And Ashtavakra says, "All rituals are bondage. Meditation is bondage. Dharana is bondage. Yoga is bondage. Prayer and worship are bondage. Everything is bondage." Krishna's Gita is for the one who is just learning the ABCs of spirituality. Ashtavakra's Gita is for the one whose lessons are all complete, whose time of graduation has come. Krishna's Gita is the initiation, Ashtavakra's Gita is the convocation address. Between these two Gitas, the entire journey is completed. One gets you to board through rituals, the other unburdens you from them. One teaches how to sculpt Ganesha, how to fill it with devotion and colors. The other teaches how to dance, sing, and hum while immersing it. Just as life exists between birth and death, the experience of the divine exists between boarding the boat and stepping off it.

Third question: "When I listen to your discourse, I don't know why, but I get lost in its melody of love. I feel as though you are playing the sitar and I am playing the tabla. Sometimes I feel I am playing the tanpura and you are singing the notes. O Lord, what is happening to me? Please hold me. Or push me."

[Continuation] Such an auspicious moment has arrived. You say, "Please hold me." This is exactly what I want everyone to experience, what you have experienced. What I am saying is not just words, it is music itself. And if you want to listen to it, the best way to listen is that you also become a participant in my music. In this rhythm of mine, you at least play the tanpura. At the very least. Do not remain standing far away like that. Become a part of this orchestra. Only then will you understand. Something beautiful is happening. A fortunate event is occurring. Do not be afraid. Keep the beat on the tabla, play the tanpura, sing along with me. Dance with me. You will lose yourself in this dance. From this losing, your authentic being will begin. You will dissolve yourself in this dance. Your boundaries will drown in the boundless. Suddenly, for the first time, you will wake up and realize who you truly are. In this very losing, your sleep will break. Awakening will happen. And you say, "Lord, hold me." I understand your difficulty, I understand your question too, because when someone starts to drown like this, panic is natural. "What is happening? Am I going crazy? Here, what veena and what tabla?" You must have been scared even to ask this question. When I read it, many people laughed too. They also felt, "What madness is this?" You too must have felt, "What madness is this? What am I doing? Did I come here to listen or to play the tabla? And what tanpura have I brought along? What kind of imagination am I getting tangled in? Is this some sort of hypnosis? Is this a mental derangement? What is this wave that has risen within me?" Do not panic. This very wave will take you to the other shore. This wave will become your boat. I am telling you to ride this very wave. Board this wave. Do not miss it. If this wave drowns you, drown. If it saves you, be saved. If it drowns, drown. Merge your self with this wave. Become one with it. Do not fight this wave. Do not swim against it. Do not try to escape from it.

"Then who calls me to the other shore, like a distant melody?" Who is it that is calling you? Right now, it is a distant melody. If you start playing the tanpura with it, it will come closer. "Who calls me to the other shore, like a distant melody?" Right now, the music is far away. Become a participant. One way to listen is with a neutral attitude, as if you have nothing to do with it. Just listening. In a completely passive state, like a corpse. "Who is speaking?" You just listen. One is passive listening, and the other is active listening. Joyful, blissful, dancing, and cooperating. As if I am not the one speaking. You are the one speaking. As if your own future is speaking. As if the hidden potential within you is speaking. I am simply your own humming. The song that you haven't sung yet, I am just giving you a few lessons on how to sing it. What feels like a tanpura to you right now, as you keep playing it, it will become your veena. Right now, you will play along with me. Slowly, you will find that the distance between you and me has vanished. Neither I exist, nor you; the Divine is playing. And then you will become capable that when someone comes to you, they will start playing their tanpura with you.

"O ultimate guest of my life's breath, Like a dark cloud spreading a lightning smile, Flying on fragrant wings of the breeze, showering from the sky, come like that rain cloud. Just as on a quiet path, the night spreads its dark smiling shadow, slowly pouring the honey of sleep into heavy eyelids, make this life unconscious just like that. Like rays secretly descending from an unknown realm, opening the hearts of flowers to quench their thirst with nectar. Come secretly, O shadowy form." Let me come within you. Don't even bring up the thought of holding back. You have to become intoxicated, you have to become a drunkard. You have to sway in some divine wine. Don't even talk about holding back. I understand your fear: "What is happening? Will I lose my senses? Will I become unconscious?" "Just as on a quiet path, the night spreads its dark smiling shadow, slowly pouring the honey of sleep into heavy eyelids, make this life unconscious just like that." Let this be your prayer now: "Make this life unconscious just like that." Tell me to hurry. Tell me. Tell me, "I no longer have the fear that I should hold onto something and stop." Tell me, "Drown me." "Make me unconscious." Because what you considered awareness till now was actually unawareness. What you thought of as consciousness was actually unconsciousness. And what you thought of as awakening was nothing more than dreams. It was a deep, dark night and a deep sleep. Now, this unawareness that I want to give you, this unconsciousness that I want you to drink, is the arrival of true consciousness. It feels like unconsciousness to you, because it is the exact opposite of what you've known as consciousness so far. This is a wine that brings true awareness.

"Like rays secretly descending from an unknown realm, opening the hearts of flowers to quench their thirst with nectar, come secretly, O shadowy form." You let me come in. You asked me to "hold" you. That means you have become afraid. It means if I knock on your door, you will not open it. It means seeing me come near, you will shut your door. It means you are terrified of madness. But remember, religion is a unique madness. Such a madness, that is far more intelligent than the intellects of the intellectuals. Such a madness, that goes far beyond ordinary intellect. Such a madness that takes you closer to the Divine. In this world, two types of people go mad: those who fall below the intellect, and those who go far beyond the intellect. That is why it's not surprising that psychologists categorize saints along with madmen. They consider both abnormal. In psychology textbooks, you won't find separate classifications for saints and madmen. According to them, there are only two types of people: normal and abnormal. The ordinary and the sick. You are ordinary, and they are sick. Two types of people. It doesn't matter if they are religiously sick or irreligiously sick, whether they are atheists or theists, they are all abnormal. Even today, books are written about Jesus in the West that claim Jesus was mad, that he was neurotic. Right now, psychology doesn't have that much influence in India yet. That is why Buddha, Mahavira, and Ashtavakra are still spared. But this won't last for long. Soon, Indian psychologists will also gather the courage. Right now, they don't even have that much courage. But they will gather it soon. What is being written against Jesus today will, one day, be written against Mahavira too. And you can be absolutely sure that there isn't as much proof to prove Jesus mad as there is abundant proof to prove Mahavira mad. You have seen Mahavira standing naked; at least Jesus wore clothes. Now, that looks like madness. You have seen Mahavira plucking his hair out. There is a specific group of mad people who pluck their hair out. You might have seen such people. You might have even noticed it yourself, when a fit of madness takes over you, you say, "I feel like tearing my hair out." There is a saying, "I feel like tearing my hair out." When women get extremely angry, they tear at their hair. In moments of madness. The severely mad people in asylums pluck their own hair out. Mahavira used to pluck his hair out. Kesh-lunchan. You have a term of abuse, 'Nanga-Luchha' (naked rogue), that was first given to Mahavira, because he was naked and plucked his hair: Nanga-Luchha. If you want to find madness in Mahavira, you will find plenty of it. But psychologists know absolutely nothing right now. Their classifications are rooted in ignorance.

It could be that a man is intoxicated with alcohol, walking on the path, stumbling and staggering. And someone else might be walking, intoxicated by love. Staggering. And someone else might be swaying in prayer. All three are staggering on the path. Their feet are faltering. They can barely contain themselves. Inner joy is overflowing. If you look at all three from behind, they all look like drunkards. Because just as a drunkard staggers, Meera staggers too. And Chaitanya staggers too. Just as a drunkard hums a song, Meera hums a song too. If you look from behind, they will both look the same to you. But what a difference between Meera and a drunkard, between Chaitanya and a drunkard. The drunkard lost his mind by drinking alcohol. Meera lost her mind too. Meera says, "I lost all worldly shame." But she drank a much greater wine. The wine made from grapes is not the only wine. There is another wine made of divine love. She drank that and became intoxicated, but Meera is not sick. If Meera is sick, then your definitions of health are wrong. Because Meera is joyful and blissful. Bliss and joy should be the very symptoms of health. The ordinary person whom psychologists call normal looks highly restless, anxious, troubled, and miserable. What kind of definition of health is this? These worried, miserable, troubled people, in whose lives a flower has never bloomed. No melody has ever burst forth. No stream of joy has ever flowed. Are these healthy people? If these are healthy people, then wise people will choose Meera's madness. It is worth choosing. What difference does the name 'madness' make? What name do you give a rose? What difference does it make? A rose is a rose. A rose will remain a rose. What difference does it make if you call it a marigold? What difference does it make if you call Mahavira mad? Or if you call him a Paramhansa, what does it matter? Mahavira is Mahavira. Keep this in mind. Do not panic. If you are with me, then certainly preparations for serving wine are underway. This is a tavern. It is more appropriate to call it a tavern than a temple. Here, I want you to sway and dance. Here, you should plunge into a deep ecstasy. Let a new dimension open up.

"All bitterness has vanished from the heart. Life has become so beautiful." Drink a little of me... All bitterness has vanished from the heart. All worry, anxiety, restlessness, and turmoil will all disappear. Life has become so beautiful, and life will indeed become beautiful. In every single flower, you will see a thousand flowers blooming.

"It is so shallow, the joy of this world is so utterly shallow, that the heart is now yearning for sorrow." And when you know the true bliss of life, you will be amazed. You will find that compared to the joys of this world, the sorrow born from the longing for God, the sorrow born from separation from the Divine, is far better. Compared to the joys of this world, weeping in separation from God is better. Compared to the smiles of this world, tears shed for the Divine are better. "The joy of this world is so utterly shallow, that the heart is now yearning for sorrow." "Your memory dwells in me like this, my beloved, it has become the idol of my heart's temple." "Your memory has illuminated my heart." "Your love has adorned this gathering." "Where no other name could enter, only your name echoes day and night. A shehnai has played in my heart." Let this shehnai play. Let this ektara play. Let this tanpura play. Let the rhythm rise on the tabla. Dance, sing, and hum. In my vision, true religion is dancing, and the world needs a dancing God. A sad God has been of no use. A sad God has not proven to be true. Because man was already sad, and he just ended up with a sad God. A sad God seems like the invention of a sad man. Not the real God. A dancing... We need a smiling God. A religion that does not bring laughter, a religion that does not bring joy, a religion that does not fill your life with smiles, celebration, and enthusiasm—that religion is not a religion at all; it is suicide. Do not accept it. That is a religion for the old or a religion for the dead. For those whose life's stream has run dry and withered away. Religion needs to be youthful. Religion needs to be young. Religion should be like little children—bouncing, skipping, and dancing. It should be full of wonder. So I am not here to teach you how to wear long, sad faces. And I do not want you to become very serious and start taking life so seriously here. Seriousness itself has become a stone weighing upon your chest. Seriousness is a disease. Remove the stone of seriousness. That stone is slipping. And the tanpura is about to play. You say, "Hold me." You ask me to hold you. Tell me to push you. Tell me to push you so hard that I simply dissolve, leaving only the tanpura playing.

Fourth question. "Listen, O Giver of Life, I've had my fill of your world. Living here has become impossible for me. The nights do not end, the days do not pass. The wound you inflicted refuses to heal. The eyes are desolate, the heart is troubled, only sorrow remains. Listen, O Giver of Life, I've had my fill of your world."

If you are truly fed up. If you truly have had your fill of the world, then the result is not sadness. Its result is not despair either. Its result is the birth of an unprecedented exuberance. Someone who is truly done with life has realized that life is meaningless. So why the despair? You need hope to feel despair. Try to understand this: as long as you have hope in your life that you will get something from life, that you will achieve something, life will continue to disappoint you, because there is nothing to be gained. The day your hope disappears, on that very day your despair will also disappear. People think that when hope leaves, they will become completely depressed. If hope is gone, there is simply no way to feel despair, because hope and despair depart together. Despair is the shadow of hope. The more hope you have, the more despair will grow. The more you will lose. You can only lose as much as you desire. Lao Tzu says, "No one can defeat me, because I do not want to win." How will you defeat a man who has no desire to win at all? Lao Tzu says, "I am already defeated. How will you defeat me?" A man who desires to win will face defeat, and the greater the desire, the greater the defeat. A man who wants to be rich will remain poor, and the more he desires wealth, the poorer he will feel. Because his expectation of wealth can never be fulfilled. Whatever he gets will seem small. It will feel inadequate. The vessel of his desire is vast. Whatever he receives will be lost in that vessel. Keep this principle in mind: your hope is the mother of your despair. Your desire is the root cause of your failure. Your demands are the source of your life's sorrow.

If you were truly done with life... It doesn't seem so. "Listen, O Giver of Life, I've had my fill of your world." You haven't had your fill yet. You must be tired. Your hopes haven't been fulfilled, but they haven't ended either. What you call being 'done with life' is actually a state of sorrow. What you wanted didn't happen, so you are bored with it. But if God were to tell you right now that it's possible, you would start running again. If someone were to tell you again to run, that you will get it now, that it's just nearby, you would set off again. The lamp of hope would start burning again. This is your defeat, not your understanding. It's your defeat, not your realization. And do not mistake defeat for realization. A defeated person sits down, exhausted, but deep down, they are still thinking, "Maybe I will get it, maybe I should try another way, maybe there is another method to find it. Maybe I searched the wrong way, not correctly, or maybe I didn't put all my effort into searching." No matter how much effort you put in, defeat is certain in this world. There is no victory in this world.

I have heard a story. A woman was buying children's toys at a shop. She was trying to assemble a toy that was in pieces and meant to be put together. She tried very hard. Her husband also tried very hard, but it wouldn't fit together. Finally, she asked the shopkeeper, "Listen, we are buying these toys for a five-year-old child. Neither I can put it together, nor my husband can. My husband is a mathematics professor. Now who else will be able to assemble this? How will my five-year-old child assemble it?" That shopkeeper said, "Listen, don't worry. This toy wasn't made to be put together. It is a lesson for the child that the world is also like this. No matter how much you try to put it together, it won't fit. The child should learn this truth of life from now on." The child will try to put it together. He will try a thousand times, but it wasn't made to be put together. It simply cannot be assembled. You will keep failing at it. Defeat is certain here. The world is a

training ground. It is not meant to be put together. It has never been put together. Alexander couldn't do it. Napoleon couldn't do it. You won't be able to do it either. It has never been put together by anyone. If it could have been put together, Buddha and Mahavira wouldn't have left it behind. They would have put it together. If Buddha and Mahavira couldn't do it, you won't be able to either. It's not meant to be put together. It has been designed in such a way that defeat is certain. Sorrow is inevitable.

It was created to wake you up, so that you look, get defeated repeatedly, and wake up. One day, when you wake up, you will understand that it just doesn't fit together. It's not that there was a flaw in my approach, not that I worked less hard, not that I lacked intelligence, not that I didn't run fast enough—if I had run a little faster, I would have reached there. The day you understand that it was never meant to be put together, on that day, sorrow will vanish. On that day, all inner feelings of defeat and failure will disappear. On that day, you will laugh out loud. You will say, "This was quite a joke." Recognizing this joke, the Hindus called the world 'Leela' (divine play). A great game indeed. As long as you hold expectations from this world, there will be restlessness.

"O heart familiar with death, you've heard the answer to the letter, and yet you remain restless, and yet you wait." Sitting there. Waiting eagerly for the beloved's letter to arrive. "O heart familiar with death..." O heart devoted to the beloved, O heart familiar with death, you've heard the answer to the letter... and yet you remain restless, and yet you wait.

Now wake up. You've waited long enough. Look, there is nothing to be gained here. It's a game. Play it like a game. Don't get lost in it. Don't take it too seriously.

And you are so foolish that you go to watch a movie and take it seriously. Seeing someone get murdered in a film, many sighs are let out. Have you gone mad? Have some sense. If you take people's handkerchiefs after a movie and check them one by one, you'll find them wet. Tears flow. They wipe their tears and quickly hide their handkerchiefs. It's a good thing it's dark in the cinema hall, so no one can see. The wife is crying next to him, the husband is crying too. Both are wiping their tears, but neither of them realizes that there is nothing on the screen. Just light and shadow. But even that affects you. Even that moves you deeply. Symbols affect you. Words affect you. So it's natural that this life spread all around, such a vast stage... if you get lost in it, it's no surprise.

You are not aware. You are unconscious. "Listen, O Giver of Life, I've had my fill of your world." "Living here has become impossible for me." Impossible means that expectations are still there. Otherwise, what is the difficulty? Impossible means you still wish for some convenience, for some success, for some relief. "Don't just keep handing me defeat after defeat. Let there be some excuse, some reason to live." "The nights do not end, the days do not pass. The wound you inflicted refuses to heal."

Look closely again, because the wise ones have said that the world is Maya (illusion), so there can be no wound from it. This is exactly what Ashtavakra repeatedly says: "Like a snake in a rope." Just as someone sees a rope in the dark and runs away, thinking it's a snake. Sweating profusely from running. Heart pounding. On the verge of a heart attack. And someone brings a lamp and says, "You fool, just look! There is nothing to run from, nothing to fear. It's just a rope lying there." In my village, there was a sadhu of the Kabirpanthi sect. He would constantly give this example of 'the snake in the rope'. I'd been listening to him since I was a little boy. Whenever I went to hear him, this example would always be there. It's a very ancient Indian example.

Finally, one day it occurred to me that he talks about this so much, that the world is like 'a snake in a rope,' let's put it to the test. Every night, he would walk past my house. His house was behind mine, across a small stream. So, tying a thin thread to a rope, I sat inside my house. I threw the rope to the other side of the road, near the drain. When he came walking by with his walking stick, I slowly started pulling the thread. Because I was sitting on the other side... And when he saw that rope slithering, he ran so fast, making such a ruckus that I was hiding behind a cot. In his panic, the cot fell over. I was caught. I was scolded heavily that this is not right. Playing such a prank on an old man. But I said, he's the one who suggested the prank! I got tired of hearing him say it. "Like a snake in a rope, like a snake in a rope." So I thought, at least he won't be scared. He will realize it's just a rope. If even he failed, what can be said about others?

This world appears, it seems to exist, and it appears so vividly that it seems real. But one day you did not exist, and one day again you will cease to exist. This brief play in between, this will one day dissolve like a dream. Look back. You have lived for 30 years, 40 years, or 50 years. These 50 years that you have lived, can you decide with absolute certainty today whether you saw those 50 years in a dream or actually lived them? Now, only memories remain. Even dreams leave behind memories. Today, what means do you have to verify that the 50 years I lived, I lived in reality? Or was it actually a story seen in a dream? You will find yourself in great difficulty. Your mind will become very restless if you sit down to think about it. If you meditate on this, you will break out in a cold sweat of anxiety. Because you won't be able to grasp the formula to prove that what I think I saw, I truly saw. Or was it just a mirage? At the time of death, when death stands at your door, and the darkness of death begins to surround you, will you not remember that the 60, 70, or 80 years of life I lived, was it real? How will you determine that it existed? Death will erase everything.

How many people have lived on this earth? How many people have passed through this earth, come and gone? Today, there is no trace of them whatsoever. Scientists say that the place where you are sitting right now, at least 10 human bodies are buried beneath it. So many people have died on this earth. This earth is a graveyard. Do not think that the graveyard is outside the village. Where the village is now, there was once a graveyard. There was once a cemetery, a cremation ground. Where the cremation ground is now, there was once a village. Everything has been constantly changing. Over how many millions of years? Every single inch of the earth is covered with human corpses. In every inch, 10 corpses are buried. Where you are sitting right now, 10 dead bodies are buried beneath you. You too will quietly become the 11th. You will slip right in among them. Then what is the meaning of all this running around, this craving, this longing, this ambition? What is the essence?

The one who wakes up by seeing this truth, he no longer says that 'the night doesn't end, the day doesn't pass.' He no longer says that 'the wound you inflicted refuses to heal. The eyes are desolate, the heart is troubled, only sorrow remains.' These are all just shadows of hope and expectation. These things don't make anyone religious. And a person who becomes religious because of these things simply continues his worldly demands in the name of religion. Even if he goes to a temple, he will ask for the very things he couldn't get in the world. His heaven will simply be the fulfillment of those things which he couldn't attain in the world. He will fulfill his desires there. That is why we have planted wish-fulfilling trees (Kalpavriksha) in heaven. Sit beneath them...

...and everything is fulfilled. I've heard that a man, wandering lost, ended up beneath a Kalpavriksha. He didn't know it was a Kalpavriksha. He sat beneath it, very tired. He said, "I am so exhausted. In such a state, if only someone would give me some food. But there's no one in sight." The thought had barely crossed his mind when suddenly, plates of food appeared. He was so hungry that he didn't even pay attention to where they came from, or what was happening. The hungry man was starving. He ate the food. After eating, he thought, "This is very strange." "But it's the world, anything can happen here. Everything happens. Right now is not the time to worry about it either." His stomach was completely full. He had eaten his fill. Having eaten more than he needed, he felt sleepy. He started thinking, "If only there was a bed. You could sleep comfortably." The moment he thought it, a bed appeared. He got up slightly, but then he thought, "Is this the time to figure it out? Let's just sleep now, I'll see later." "There is a whole life ahead, what's the rush? I'll figure it out." And so he fell asleep. When he woke up, he was a bit more relaxed. Now he looked around, wondering, "What exactly is going on here? Could there be ghosts and spirits around?" And instantly, ghosts and spirits appeared, because it was a Kalpavriksha (wish-fulfilling tree). He said, "I'm dead. I'm dead." The ghosts and spirits pounced on him, and he died.

People have imagined a Kalpavriksha in heaven. Whatever isn't available here, will be attained there just by desiring it. Have you seen what human desires are like? Here, one has to work hard. Things aren't attained just by desiring. Even if you work hard, it's not guaranteed that you will get it. Where do you get it? Even after working hard, where do you find it? So, heaven is exactly the opposite of this. There, you think it, you haven't even fully formed the thought, and you get it. Instantly. In that very moment, there is no time gap whatsoever. But remember, you won't be able to be happy there either.

Did you see what happened to this man? Where everything is provided, even there you won't be able to be happy. Because you can never be happy as long as you believe in the pursuit of happiness. Awaken from the desire for happiness. As soon as you awaken from the desire for happiness, sorrow dissolves.

A man came to Buddha. He was his monk, his sannyasin. He had meditated for many days. He had become very peaceful too. One day, while meditating, it occurred to him that Buddha never answered the real questions. He came running to him. He said, "Listen, you have never told us whether God exists or not. Nor have you ever told us whether heaven exists or not. Nor have you ever told us where the soul goes after death, whether rebirth happens or not. Answer these questions." Buddha said, "Listen, if I answer these questions, before the answers reach you, I will die, and before you understand them, you will die." "Answers to these questions are meaningless. It is like a man who has been struck by an arrow and is lying near death. And I tell him, 'Let me pull out this arrow,' and he says, 'Wait, first answer my questions. From which direction did this arrow come? Who shot it? Was the shooter a friend or an enemy? Was it shot by mistake or deliberately? Is the arrow poisoned or ordinary? Answer these questions first.' Then I would tell that man, 'Then you will die. Let me pull out the arrow first, then you can worry about these questions. First survive!'" So Buddha told that monk, "I have told you that there is suffering in life, and I have told you that there is a path to liberation from the suffering of life. My teaching is complete. I have nothing more to tell you than this. Once your suffering is eradicated, then you go and find out for yourself."

This is something worth pondering deeply. Why did Buddha say this? Did Buddha not want to answer questions about God? Buddha knows that you are seeking God only because of suffering. The day your suffering is eradicated, you will stop all this nonsense about God and the like. God is also just an expression of your desire to end suffering, to end suffering somehow. If not in this world, then in heaven. Here, you are exhausted from asking. Here, you don't get justice. But you will get it at God's house. People say, "There is a delay there, but no denial of justice." They say, "No matter how long the delay, whether you get it after this life, after many lifetimes, or after death, justice will be served. There is no denial of justice." But your desires still stand their ground. You say, "Someday they will be fulfilled. There is a delay, but no denial." Buddha said, "I have taught only two things: there is suffering, awaken to it; and there is a way to transcend suffering. Become a witness." "That is all I have to say. My teaching is complete. You do these two things. The rest, you find out yourself." And Buddha was absolutely right. The man whose suffering is eradicated doesn't worry at all whether heaven exists or not. It is already heaven. The man whose suffering is eradicated, the man whose suffering is eradicated doesn't ask whether God exists or not. The man whose suffering is eradicated becomes God himself. Now what else is left? The one who has asked the question needs to understand a great deal.

Do not look at life through the veil of desires. Do not look at life through the lens of expectations. Look at life as it is, and do not bring your desires in between. And then you will suddenly find that the snake has vanished, only the rope remains. Then it doesn't evoke fear, nor does it cause wounds. There is no defeat, no failure, and no despair. And from that, the lamp will start burning within you, which Ashtavakra calls the state of the witness.

Observe suffering. Do not desire happiness; observe suffering. There are only two types of people in the world: those who desire happiness, and those who observe suffering. The one who desires happiness keeps creating new sorrows because the birth of new sorrow lies in every desire for happiness. And for the one who observes suffering, suffering dissolves. And in the dissolution of suffering is the manifestation of happiness.

Let me repeat this. There are only two types of people, and it is your choice which type of person you want to become. Ask for happiness, and suffering will increase. Because happiness is never found; it is never found by asking. Therefore, suffering continues to increase. Then, the more suffering increases, the more you demand happiness. The more you demand it, the more the suffering increases. A huge vicious cycle, from which it will become difficult to escape. This is exactly what the enlightened ones call the wheel of samsara (the cycle of worldly existence).

The ocean of existence keeps becoming a vaster ocean, because as your suffering increases, you think you should search for more happiness, and as you search for happiness, suffering increases. Now there is no shore to this, no end to it. The ocean of existence is created.

The second type of people are those who observe suffering. There is suffering. Okay. What is the point of desiring its opposite? Let's just look at it, where is it, what is it, how is it? Suffering is a fact, so awaken to it.

You can try a small experiment with this. Whenever you are sad, whenever you are suffering, sit down quietly. Stay in your room. Suffer fully. Become as miserable as you possibly can. Exaggerate it. There is an experiment in Tibet. Exaggeration is a deep method of meditation. They say, whatever you want to be free from, exaggerate it so that it manifests in its complete form. Let it not be mild. You are feeling sad? Close the doors and windows, sit in the middle of the room, and become completely miserable. Suffer as much as you can. Agonize. Sigh, scream. If you need to roll around, roll around on the floor. If you need to beat yourself, beat yourself. But exaggerate the suffering. Elevate the suffering to its full intensity. Light the fire of suffering.

And when the fire of suffering begins to blaze fiercely, burning brightly, then stand in the middle and start observing it. What is it? What is suffering like? Become a witness to this suffering. You will be amazed. You will be astonished. That as soon as you became a witness, the suffering started fading away. Between you and... Between you and suffering, a distance was created. As you became a witness, the distance grew. As you became an even deeper witness, the distance grew further. And as the distance grew, the melody of happiness started playing. The fragrance of happiness arrived, because the distancing of suffering means the approach of happiness.

Slowly you will find that suffering has gone so far that you can't even tell if it's there or not. It reached the distant stars, and the veena of happiness started playing within. Then comes a moment when suffering simply vanishes. When suffering vanishes, what remains is happiness. Happiness is your true nature. It is. Happiness is not the opposite of suffering. You do not have to fight suffering to attain happiness. Happiness is the absence of suffering. The non-presence of suffering is happiness. Look at suffering fully, and suffering is gone.

Do the same with anger, do the same with greed, do the same with anxiety. And in 90 out of 100 cases, you can do the exact same thing with physical pain as well. Great psychological experiments are happening in the West right now, which have borne witness to the truth of this. In 99 out of 100 cases, a headache disappears simply by observing it as a witness. Out of 100, there is only one case where it might not go, because its cause is purely physical. Otherwise, its causes are mental.

The next time you get a headache, don't rush to take a painkiller. Don't take it. Don't take an aspirin. This time, when you feel pain, use the method of witnessing. You will be amazed. It is experimental. It is now scientifically proven. Religiously, it has been proven for centuries. Now, it is scientifically proven that when your head aches, you should sit down.

Try to locate exactly where the pain is. Precisely. So that you can put a finger on it. If it feels like it's in the whole head, try to locate it. Where is it? Exactly. You will be amazed. As you search for it, the pain starts shrinking. Its area starts getting smaller. First it felt like the whole head, now it feels confined to a small spot. Keep searching, keep searching, keep looking within. And do not make any effort to stop the pain. Let it hurt. Accept it.

And you will suddenly find, a moment will come when the pain will feel like a needle pricking at a tiny point. And then you will be surprised that sometimes the pain will vanish, sometimes it will return, sometimes it will vanish again, and sometimes return again. And then one thing will become clear to you: whenever your witnessing state is steadfast, the pain will vanish. And whenever you waver from the witnessing state, the pain will return. And if the witnessing state is perfectly established, the pain will disappear completely. Just try this experiment.

Mental pains certainly disappear. Physical pains might not. Now, if someone has hit your head with a stone, I'm not talking about that. That's why I left a 1 in 100 exception. If you have banged your head against a wall and it hurts, that pain is physical. It has nothing to do with the mind. But even if someone has hit your head with a stone, even then, if you observe it as a witness, the pain won't disappear, but one thing will become clear: you are not the pain. You are separate from the pain. The pain will remain. If it is mental pain, it will disappear. If it is physical pain, the pain will remain. But in both situations, you will transcend the pain.

If mental, the pain is gone. If physical, the pain remains, but now "I am in pain"—this feeling will not be there. "There is pain." As if someone else's head is hurting. As if someone else's leg is hurting. As if someone else got hurt. It will become very distant. You stand and watch. You are merely an observer, a witness.

Do not panic. "Listen, O Giver of Life, I've had my fill of your world. Living here has become impossible." The one who gave you life hasn't caused this. It has happened because of you. That is why you shouldn't panic, because if it happened because of Him, then nothing is in your hands. But it has happened because of you, so everything is in your hands. If you awaken, it can be erased.

And singing this song will do nothing. You will have to do something. Some effort will be needed to break the inner sleep. Sleep can be broken. This darkness you see will not last forever. Morning can dawn. This is everyone's yearning. Let the morning dawn.

"With burdens on their heads, daily life will pass. From the heart of the wind, the desire of dust is scattered. Surely some cavalcade will pass this way. O Nasim, awaken, gird your loins, pack up your bed, for the night is short." The night will pass anyway, prepare yourself. "O Nasim, awaken, gird your loins, pack up your bed, for the night is short." It is short.

The witnessing state is like packing up your bed, knowing morning is near. And the day you pack your bed, morning draws near. This morning is such that it depends entirely on you packing your bed. The moment you pack it, the moment you prepare yourself, you wake up and stand, and it is morning. Morning simply means your awakening. Night simply means your remaining asleep.

Crying and talking about pain won't solve anything. You've been doing this all along. This crying has gone on long enough. You've been crying for lifetimes, saying that the creator of the world should fix it. Whether he exists or not. You don't even know whom you are praying to. He might exist, he might not. He might be deaf, and he might enjoy causing you pain. He might exist, and your pain might not look like pain to him. Whom are you praying to? And whether he exists or not is not even certain.

Man, out of his fear, created Gods, and out of his suffering, sculpted idols. And in his pain, to find someone's support, he projected figures into the sky. Nothing will come of these. Ashtavakra, Buddha, or Kapil don't tell you to do such things. They simply say that the only possible thing is this: consciousness exists within you. This much is certain. Otherwise, how would you know the suffering? Polish that consciousness which is aware of the suffering. Polish it. Cleanse it. Separate it from the rubbish. Ignite it so brightly that it becomes a torch. Let it blaze. In that very torch lies liberation.

The final question. And the final question isn't a question. "Ekti Namaskar Prabhu, Ekti Namaskar" (One salutation, Lord, one salutation).

"Let this entire body be laid to rest in your world. Like the heavy rain clouds of Shravan, bowed down by the weight of nectar, one salutation, salutation Lord, one salutation. Let the entire mind lie exhausted at the door of your abode. Let the restless streams of many melodies merge into self-forgetfulness, one salutation. Lord, one salutation. Let all songs end in the silent ocean. Like a swan journeying to Manasarovar, let my mind receive that signal day and night. One salutation Lord, one salutation. Let all life-breath fly across the great death."

Swami Anand Sagar... Pranam. Anand Sagar has offered this. It is not a question, but these are meaningful lines. Remember them.

"Let this entire body be laid to rest in your world." "Everything is lost in your world. Now, only a salutation remains." "One salutation, Lord, one salutation. Let this entire body be laid to rest in your world." Like the heavy clouds of Shravan, and just as clouds fill with water in Ashadh, "bowed down by the weight of nectar," filled with nectar, they bow down to the earth and pour. "One salutation, Lord, one salutation." May I pour myself at your feet like that. Just as nectar-filled clouds pour down.

"Let the entire mind lie exhausted at the door of your abode." At the door of your abode, let me exhaust and break my entire mind. Let me become free from the mind at your door. This is my only prayer.

"Let the restless streams of many melodies merge into self-forgetfulness, one salutation. Lord, one salutation. Let all songs end in the silent ocean." May all my songs now be lost, let only the silent ocean resound. Let the song of the void begin. Let a voiceless, soundless song begin. "Let all songs end in the silent ocean." Now, let the final song be silent. Let it be unspoken, without words. Let silence itself be the final song.

"Like a swan, journeying to Manasarovar, let my mind receive that signal day and night." The life-breath is meant for Manasarovar. For Manasarovar, this life-breath is flying. It is like a swan yearning for its home. "Like a swan, journeying to Manasarovar, let my mind receive that signal day and night." Just one prayer: how to return to that void, how to return to that great expanse, how to return to that Manasarovar. How can this swan return? How can it find its home again?

"One salutation, Lord, one salutation. Let all life-breath fly across the great death." May it happen that all life-breath leaves behind this birth and death, and flies towards that which is beyond birth and death. Let it fly. May only such a salutation remain. May only such a prayer remain. And like the clouds, may your life-breath bow down at the feet of the infinite. Then everything manifests as divine grace. It happens. You simply bow down, and everything happens. You stand stiffly with ego, and you remain deprived. By your doing, by your ego and arrogance, and by your willpower, there will only be restless running around. Through your surrender, through your dissolution, through your drowning, the ultimate grace will descend. You bow down.

"Bowed down by the weight of nectar, like the heavy clouds of Shravan, one salutation, Lord, one salutation. Let the entire mind lie exhausted, let all songs end. Let all life-breath fly across the great death." The ultimate truth of life is beyond death. The ultimate truth of life is exactly where you dissolve. Your death is Samadhi, and your non-existence is the existence of the Divine. As long as you exist, the Divine is blocked. You are the wall. You dissolve, and the door opens. Learn to dissolve.

And there are only two ways to dissolve. Either become a witness, which is the path of Ashtavakra, Kapil, Krishnamurti, and Buddha. Or drown in love, which is the path of Meera, Chaitanya, Jesus, and Mohammed. Both paths lead you there. They do. Either awareness or devotion. But the essence of both paths is the same. In awareness too, you dissolve, because ego cannot survive in the witness. And in love too, you dissolve, because in love, there is no possibility for the ego to survive. So the ultimate essence is this: let the ego not remain. Then the Divine manifests. It does. Hari Om Tat Sat. That is all for today.