The Lotus Remains Untouched – Osho

When the activity of the mind is under control, the mind becomes like pure crystal, reflecting equally, without distortion, the perceiver, the perception and the perceived.

Savitarka samadhi is the samadhi in which the yogi is still unable to differentiate between real knowledge, knowledge based on words and knowledge based on reasoning or sense perceptions, which all remain in the mind in a mixed state.

Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras

What is mind? Mind is not a thing, but an event. A thing has substance in it, an event is just a process. A thing is like the rock; an event is like the wave: it exists but is not substantial. It is just the event between the wind and the ocean, a process, a phenomenon.

This is the first thing to be understood: that mind is a process, like a wave or like a river, but it has no substance in it. If it has substance, then it cannot be dissolved. If it has no substance it can disappear without leaving a single trace behind. When a wave disappears into the ocean, what is left behind? Nothing, not even a trace. So those who have known, they say mind is like a bird flying into the sky – no footprints are left behind, not even a trace. The bird flies but leaves no path, no footprints.

The mind is just a process. In fact, mind doesn’t exist, only thoughts, thoughts moving so fast that you think and feel that something is existing there in continuity. One thought comes, another thought comes, another, and they go on. The gap is so small you cannot see the gap between one thought and another. So two thoughts become joined, they become a continuity, and because of that continuity you think there is a mind. There are thoughts – no mind – just as there are electrons, no matter. Thought is the electron of the mind. Just like a crowd . . . a crowd exists in a sense, doesn’t exist in another; only individuals exist. But many individuals together give the feeling as if they are one. A nation exists and exists not; only individuals are there. Individuals are the electrons of a nation, of a community, of a crowd.

Thoughts exist, mind doesn’t exist. Mind is just the appearance. And when you look into the mind deeper, it disappears. Then there are thoughts, but when the mind has disappeared and individual thoughts exist, many things are immediately solved. First thing: immediately you come to know that thoughts are like clouds – they come and go – and you are the sky. When there is no mind, immediately the perception comes that you are no more involved in the thoughts. Thoughts are there, passing through you like clouds passing through the sky, or the wind passing through the trees. Thoughts are passing through you, and they can pass because you are a vast emptiness. There is no hindrance, no obstacle. No wall exists to prevent them.

You are not a walled phenomenon. Your sky is the infinitely open; thoughts come and go. And once you start feeling that thoughts come and go and you are the watcher, the witness, the mind is in control.

Mind cannot be controlled. In the first place, because it is not, how can you control it? In the second place, who will control the mind? Because nobody exists beyond the mind. and when I say nobody exists, I mean that nobody exists beyond the mind – a nothingness. Who will control the mind? If somebody is controlling the mind, then it will be only a part, a fragment of the mind controlling another fragment of the mind. That is what the ego is.

Mind cannot be controlled in that way. It is not, and there is nobody to control it. The inner emptiness can see but cannot control. It can look but cannot control. But the very look is the control, the very phenomenon of observation, of witnessing, becomes the control because the mind disappears. It is just like in a dark night, you are running fast because you have become afraid of somebody following you, and that somebody is nobody but your own shadow. And the more you run, the more the shadow is closer to you. Howsoever fast you run makes no difference; the shadow is there. Whenever you look back, the shadow is there. That is not the way to escape from it, and that is not the way to control it. You will have to look deeper into the shadow. Stand still and look deeper into the shadow; the shadow disappears because the shadow is not; it is just an absence of light. Mind is nothing but the absence of your presence. When you sit silently, when you look deep in the mind, mind simply disappears. Thoughts will remain, they are existential, but mind will not be found.

But when the mind is gone then a second perception becomes possible: you can see thoughts are not yours. Of course they come, and sometimes they rest a little while in you, and then they go. You may be a resting place, but they don’t originate in you. Have you ever watched that not even a single thought has arisen out of you? Not a single thought has come through your being. They always come from the outside. They don’t belong to you. Rootless, homeless they hover. Sometimes they rest in you, that’s all; a cloud resting on top of a hill. Then they will move on their own; you need not do anything. If you simply watch, control is attained.

The word control is not very good, because words cannot be very good. Words belong to the mind, to the world of thoughts. Words cannot be very, very penetrating; they are shallow. The word control is not good because there is nobody to control, and there is nobody to be controlled. But tentatively, it helps to understand a certain thing which happens. When you look deeply, mind is controlled. Suddenly you have become the master. Thoughts are there but they are no more masters of you, they cannot do anything to you; they simply come and go. You remain untouched just like a lotus flower amidst rainfall: drops of water fall on the petals but they go on slipping, they don’t even touch. The lotus remains untouched.

That’s why in the East lotus became so much significant, became so much symbolic. The greatest symbol that has come out of the East is the lotus. It carries the whole meaning of the eastern consciousness. It says, “Be like a lotus, that’s all. Remain untouched, and you are in control. Remain untouched and you are the master.”

Few things more about the mind before we can enter Patanjali’s sutras. From one standpoint, mind is like waves – a disturbance. When the ocean is calm and quiet, undisturbed, the waves are not there. When the ocean is disturbed in a tide or strong wind, when tremendous waves arise and the whole surface is just a chaos, mind from one standpoint . . . These are all metaphors just to help you to understand a certain quality inside which cannot be said through words. These metaphors are poetic. If you try to understand them with sympathy, you will attain to an understanding. But if you try to understand them logically, you will miss the point. They are metaphors.

Mind is a disturbance of consciousness, just like an ocean with waves is a disturbance. Something foreign has entered – the wind. Something from the outside has happened to the ocean, or to the consciousness – the thoughts, or the wind, and there is a chaos. But the chaos is always on the surface. The waves are always on the surface. There are no waves in the depth – cannot be because in the depth the wind cannot enter. So everything is just on the surface. If you move inwards, control is attained. If you move inwards from the surface you go to the center; suddenly, the surface may still be disturbed but you are not disturbed.

The whole yoga is nothing but centering, moving towards the center, getting rooted there, abiding there. And from there the whole perspective changes. Now still the waves may be there, but they don’t reach you. And now you can see they don’t belong to you, just a conflict on the surface with something foreign. And from the center, when you look, by and by, the conflict ceases. By and by, you relax. By and by, you accept that of course there is strong wind and waves will arise; you are not worried, and when you are not worried even waves can be enjoyed. Nothing is wrong in them.

The problem arises because you are also on the surface. You are in a small boat on the surface and a strong wind comes and it is [high] tide, and the whole ocean goes mad. Of course you are worried; you are scared to death. You are in danger. Any moment the waves can throw your small boat; any moment death can occur. What can you do with your small boat? How can you control? If you start fighting with the waves you will be defeated. Fight won’t help. You will have to accept the waves. In fact, if you can accept the waves and let your boat, howsoever small, move with them not against them, then there is no danger.

That is the meaning of Tilopa’s – “loose and natural”. Waves are there; you simply allow. You simply allow yourself to move with them, not against them. You become part of them. Then tremendous happiness happens. That is the whole art of surfing: moving with the waves – not against, with them – so much so that you are not different from them. Surfing can become a great meditation. It can give you glimpses of the inner because it is not a fight, it is a let-go. Once you know that even waves can be enjoyed – and that can be known when you look at the whole phenomenon from the center.

Just like you are a traveler and clouds have gathered, and there is much lightning, and you have forgotten where you are moving; you have forgotten the path, and you are hurrying towards home. This is what is happening on the surface: a traveler, lost; many clouds, much lightning . . . Soon, there will be tremendous rain. You are seeking home, the safety of the home. Then suddenly you reach home. Now you sit inside, now you wait for the rains, now you can enjoy. Now the lightning has a beauty of its own. It was not so when you were outside, lost in a forest. But now, sitting inside the house, the whole phenomenon is tremendously beautiful. Now the rain comes, and you enjoy. Now the lightning is there, and you enjoy, and great thunder in the clouds, and you enjoy, because now you are safe inside. Once you reach to the center, you start enjoying whatsoever happens on the surface. So the whole thing is not to fight on the surface, but rather slip into the center. Then there is a control, and a control which has not been forced, a control which happens spontaneously when you are centered.

Centering in consciousness is the control of the mind. So don’t try to control the mind. The language can mislead you. Nobody can control, and those who try to control, they will go mad; they will simply go neurotic, because trying to control the mind is nothing but a part of the mind trying to control another part of the mind.

Who are you who is trying to control? You are also a wave, a religious wave of course, trying to control. And there are irreligious waves. There is sex and there is anger and there is jealousy and possessiveness and hatred, and millions of waves, irreligious. And then there are religious waves: meditation, love, compassion. But these are all on the surface, of the surface. And on the surface, religious, irreligious doesn’t make any difference.

Religion is at the center, and in the perspective that happens through the center. Sitting inside your home you look at your own surface. Everything changes because your perspective is new. Suddenly you are control. In fact, you are so much in control that you can leave the surface uncontrolled. This is subtle. You are so much in control, so much rooted, not worried about the surface . . . In fact, you would like the waves and the tides and the storm – it is beautiful, it gives energy, it is a strength – there is nothing to be worried about it; only weaklings worry about thoughts. Only weaklings worry about the mind. Stronger people simply absorb the whole, and they are richer for it. Stronger people simply never reject anything. Rejection is out of weakness – you are afraid. Stronger people would like to absorb everything that life gives. Religious, irreligious, moral, immoral, divine, devil – makes no difference; the stronger person absorbs everything, and he is richer for it. He has a totally different depth ordinary religious people cannot have; they are poor and shallow.

Watch ordinary religious people going to the temple and to the mosque and to the church. You will always find very, very shallow people with no depth. Because they have rejected parts of themselves, they have become crippled. They are in a certain way paralyzed.

Nothing is wrong in the mind; nothing is wrong with thoughts. If anything is wrong, it is remaining on the surface, because then you don’t know the whole and unnecessarily suffer because of the part and the part perception. A whole perception is needed, and that is possible only from the center, because from the center you can look all around in all dimensions, all directions, the whole periphery of your being. And it is vast. In fact, it is the same as the periphery of existence. Once you are centered, by and by you become wider and wider and bigger and bigger, and you end with being brahman, not less than that.

From another standpoint, mind is like the dust a traveler gathers on his clothes. And you have been traveling and traveling and traveling for millions of lives and never taken a bath. Much dust has collected, naturally – nothing wrong in it; it has to be so – layers of dust and you think those layers are your personality. You have become so much identified with them; you have lived with those layers of dust so long they look like your skin. You have become identified.

Mind is the past, the memory, the dust. Everybody has to gather it. If you travel you will gather dust. But no need to be identified with it, no need to become one with it, because if you become one, then you will be in trouble because you are not the dust, you are consciousness. Says Omar Khayyam, “Dust unto dust.” When a man dies, what happens? – dust returns unto dust. If you are just dust, then everything will return to dust, nothing will be left behind. But are you just dust, layers of dust, or is something inside you which is not dust at all, not of the earth at all? That’s your consciousness, your awareness.

Awareness is your being, consciousness is your being, and the dust that awareness collects around it is your mind. There are two ways to deal with this dust. The ordinary religious way is to clean the clothes, rub your body hard. But those methods cannot help much. Howsoever you clean your clothes, the clothes have become so dirty they are beyond redemption; you cannot clean them. On the contrary, whatsoever you do may make them more unclean. […]

Religious people supply you [with] soaps and chemical solutions; how to wipe, how to wash the dirt, but then those solutions leave their own stains. That’s why an immoral person can become moral, but remains dirty, now in a moral way, but remains dirty. Even sometimes the situation is worse than before.

An immoral man is in many ways innocent, less egoistic. A moral man has all the immorality inside the mind. And new things that he has gathered: those are the moralistic, the puritan, egoistic attitudes. He feels superior. He feels he is the chosen one and everybody else is condemned to hell. Only he is going to heaven. And all the immorality remains inside, because you cannot control mind from the surface – there is no way. It simply doesn’t happen that way. Only one control exists, and that is the perception from the center.

Mind is like a dust gathered through millions of journeys. The real religious standpoint, the radical religious standpoint against the ordinary, is to simply throw the clothes. Don’t bother to wash them, they cannot be washed. Simply move like a snake out of his old skin and don’t even look back. This is exactly what yoga is: how to get rid of your personalities. Those personalities are the clothes.

This word “personality” is very interesting. It comes from a Greek root persona. It means the mask that actors used in ancient Greece, in drama, to hide the face. That mask is called persona, and you have personality out of it. Personality is the mask, not you. Personality, a false face, to show to others. And through many lives and many experiences you have created many personalities – clothes; they have all become dirty. You have used them too much, and because of them the original face is completely lost.

You don’t know what your original face is. You are deceiving others and you have become a victim of your own deceptions. Drop all personalities, because if you cling to the personality you will remain on the surface. Drop all personalities and be just natural, and then you can flow towards the center. And once from the center you look then there is no mind. In the beginning thoughts continue, but by and by, without your cooperation, they come less and less. And when all your cooperation is lost, when you simply don’t cooperate with them, they stop coming to you. Not that they are no more; they are there, but they don’t come to you.

Thoughts come only as invited guests. They never come uninvited, remember this. Sometimes you think, “This thought I never invited,” but you must be wrong. In some way, sometime – you may have forgotten about it completely – you must have invited it. Thoughts never come uninvited. You first invite them; only then they come. When you don’t invite, sometimes just because of old habit, because you have been an old friend, they may knock at your door. But if you don’t cooperate, by and by they forget about you, they don’t come to you. And when thoughts stop coming on their own, this is the control. Not that you control thoughts – simply you reach to an inner shrine of your being, and thoughts are controlled by themselves.

From still another standpoint, mind is the past, the memory, all the experiences accumulated. In a sense, all that you have done, all that you have thought, all that you desired, all that you dreamed – everything, your total past, your memory. Memory is mind. And unless you get rid of memory, you will not be able to control mind.

How to get rid of memory? It is always there following you. In fact, you are the memory, so how to get rid of it? Who are you except your memories? When I ask, “Who are you?” you tell me your name. That is your memory. Your parents gave you that name some time back. I ask you, “Who are you?” and you talk about your family: your father, your mother. That is a memory. I ask you, “Who are you?” and you tell me about your education, your degrees: that you have done the degree of Master of Arts, or you are a Ph.D., or you are an engineer or an architect. That is a memory.

When I ask you, “Who are you?” if you really look inside, your only answer can be, “I don’t know.” Whatsoever you will say will be the memory, not you. The only real authentic answer can be, “I don’t know,” because to know oneself is the last thing. I can answer who I am, but I will not answer. You cannot answer, “Who are you?” but you are ready with the answer.

Those who know, they keep silent about this. Because if all the memory is discarded, and all the language is discarded, then who I am cannot be said. I can look into you; I can give you a gesture; I can be with you with my total being – that is my answer. But the answer cannot be given in words because whatsoever is given in words will be part of memory, part of mind, not of consciousness.

How to get rid of the memories? Watch them, witness them. And always remember that “This has happened to me, but this is not me.” Of course, you were born in a certain family, but this is not you; it has happened to you, an event outside of you. Of course, somebody has given a name to you. It has its utility, but the name is not you. Of course, you have a form, but the form is not you. The form is just the house you happen to be in. The form is just the body that you happen to be in. And the body is given to you by your parents. It is a gift, but not you.

Watch and discriminate. This is what in the East they call vivek, discrimination: you discriminate continuously. Keep on discriminating – a moment comes when you have eliminated all that you are not. Suddenly, in that state, you for the first time face yourself, you encounter your own being. Go on cutting all identities that you are not: the family, the body, the mind. In that emptiness, when everything that was not you has been thrown out, suddenly your being surfaces. For the first time you encounter yourself, and that encounter becomes the control.

The word “control” is really ugly. I would like not to use it, but I cannot do anything because Patanjali uses it – because in the very word it seems somebody is controlling somebody else. Patanjali knows, and later on he will say that you attain to real samadhi only when there is no control and no controller. Now we should enter into the sutras.

When the activity of the mind is under control, the mind becomes like pure crystal, reflecting equally, without distortion, the perceiver, the perception and the perceived.

When the activity of the mind is under control . . . Now you understand what I mean by “under control”: that you are at the center and you look at the mind from there; that you are sitting inside the house and you look at the clouds, and the thunder, and the lightning and the rain from there; that you have dropped all your clothes – dusty clothes and dirty clothes – because in fact there are no clothes, only layers of dirt, so you cannot clean them. You have thrown them out, thrown them away. You are simply naked and nude in your being. Or, you have eliminated all that with which you have become identified. Now you don’t say who you are: form, name, family, body, mind, everything has been eliminated. Only that is there which cannot be eliminated.

That is the method of the Upanishads. They call it neti-neti. They say, “I am not this, nor that,” and they go on and on and on . . . A moment comes when only the witness has remained, and the witness cannot be denied. That is the last stratum of your being, the very core of it. You cannot deny it because who will deny it. Now two doesn’t exist, only one. Then there is control. Then the activity of the mind is under control.

So it is not like a small child forced by the parents into the corner, and they have been told, “Sit there silently” – looks under control, but he is not. He looks under control, but he is restless, forced, but inside – great turmoil. […]

You can force your mind to sit outwardly; inside it will go on running. In fact, it will run faster because mind resists control. Everybody resists control. No, that is not the way. You can kill yourself in that way, but you cannot attain to the eternal life. That is a sort of crippling. When Buddha is sitting silently there is no inward running, no. In fact, inside he has become silent, and that silence has overflown to his outside, not the reverse.

You try to force yourself to be silent on the outside, and you think that by silencing the outside, the inner will become silent. You simply don’t understand the science of silence. Inside if you are silent, the outside will be overflowed by it. It simply follows the inside. The periphery follows the center, but you cannot make the center follow the periphery – that is impossible. So always remember the whole religious search is from the inside towards the outside, and not vice-versa.

When the activity of the mind is under control, the mind becomes like pure crystal . . .

When there is perfect silence, you are rooted and centered inside, just watching whatsoever is happening. The birds are singing, the noise will be heard; the traffic is there on the road, the noise will be heard. And just the same, your inner traffic of the mind is there – words, thoughts, an inner talk. The traffic will be heard but you sit silently, not doing anything – a subtle indifference. You just look indifferently. You don’t bother this way or that; whether thoughts come or not, it is the same for you. You are neither interested for nor interested against. You simply sit and the traffic of the mind goes on. If you can sit indifferently . . . will be difficult, will take time – but once you know the knack of being indifferent . . . It is not a technique; it is a knack. A technique can be learned, a knack cannot be learned. You have simply to sit and feel it. A technique can be taught, a knack cannot be taught; you have simply to sit and feel. Someday in the right moment when you are silent, suddenly you know how it happened, how you became indifferent. Even for a single moment the traffic was there and you were indifferent, and suddenly the distance was vast between you and your mind.  The mind was at the other end of the world. That distance shows that you were at the center at that moment. If you have come to feel the knack, then anytime, anywhere, you can simply slip out to the center. You can drop in and immediately an indifference, a vast indifference surrounds you. In that indifference you remain untouched by the mind. You become the master.

Indifference is the way to become the master, and the mind is controlled. Then what happens?

When you are at the center, the confusion of the mind disappears. The confusion is because you are at the periphery. Mind is not really the confusion; mind plus you at the periphery is the confusion. When you move inwards, by and by, you see that mind is losing its confusion. Things are settling, things are falling in line. A certain order arises.

 . . . the mind becomes like pure crystal . . .

All the disturbance, confusion, crisscrossing thought currents, they all settle. This is very difficult to understand that because of you at the periphery is the whole confusion. And you, in your wisdom, are trying to settle the confusion by remaining there at the periphery. […]

Nobody can bring order to the mind. The very bringing of the order creates chaos. If you can watch and wait, and you can look indifferently, things settle by themselves. There is a certain law: things cannot remain unsettled for a long time. This law you have to remember. It is one of the foundations, very fundamental, that things cannot remain in an unsettled state for long because the unsettled state is not natural. It is unnatural. A settled state of things is natural; an unsettled state of things is not natural. So the unnatural can happen for the time being, but it cannot remain forever. In your hurry, in your impatience, you may make things worse. […]

Nature abhors chaos. Nature loves order. Nature is all for order, so chaos can only be a temporary state. If you can understand this, then don’t do anything with the mind. Let this mad mind be left to itself. You simply watch. Don’t pay any attention. Remember: in watching and in paying attention there is a difference. When you pay attention, you are too much interested. When you simply watch, you are indifferent.

Upeksha, Buddha calls it: indifference – absolute total indifference. Just sitting by the side, and the river flows by and things settle, and dirt goes back to the bottom, and the dry leaves have flown. Suddenly, the stream is crystal clear.

This is what Patanjali says:

When the activity of the mind is under control, the mind becomes like pure crystal . . .

And when the mind becomes like pure crystal, three things are reflected in it.

. . . reflecting equally, without distortion, the perceiver, the perception, and the perceived.

. . . the object, the subject, and the relation between the two.

When the mind is perfectly clear, has become an order, is no more a confusion, things have settled, three things are reflected in it. It becomes a mirror, a three-dimensional mirror. The outside world, the world of objects is reflected. The inside world, the world of subjectivity, consciousness, is reflected. And the relationship – and between the two, the perception . . . and without distortion.

It is because of you meddling too much in the mind that the distortion comes in. What is the distortion? Mind is a simple mechanism, just like the eyes; you look through the eyes and the world is reflected. But the eyes have only one dimension: they can reflect only the world; they cannot reflect you. The mind is a very three-dimensional phenomenon, very deep. It reflects all, and without distortion. Ordinarily it distorts. Whenever you see a thing, if you are not different from the mind the thing will be distorted. You will see something else. You will mix your perception in it, your ideas. You will not look at it in a purity of vision. You will look with the ideas, and your ideas will become projected on it. […]

There have existed tribes which don’t value gold at all. When they don’t value gold at all, they are not gold obsessed. Then the whole world is there, gold-obsessed: just the idea and the gold becomes very valuable.

In the world of things, reality, nothing is more valuable or less valuable. Valuation is brought by the mind, by you. Nothing is beautiful, nothing is ugly. Things are as they are. In their suchness they exist. But when you are on the surface and get mixed with the ideas, and you start saying, “This is my idea of beauty. This is my idea of truth” – then everything is distorted.

When you move to the center and the mind is left alone, and you watch [look] from the center at the mind, you are no more identified with it. By and by, all ideas disappear. Mind becomes crystal clear. And in the mirror, the three-dimensional mirror of the mind, the whole is reflected: the object, the subject, and the perception, the perceiver, the perception, and the perceived.

Savitarka samadhi is the samadhi in which the yogi is still unable to differentiate between real knowledge, knowledge based on words and knowledge based on reasoning or sense perceptions, which all remain in the mind in a mixed state.

There are two types of samadhi: one Patanjali calls savitarka, the other he calls nirvikalpa, or nirvitarka. These are two states. First one achieves savitarka samadhi, that is, the logical mind is still functioning – samadhi, yet based on the rational attitude – the reason is still functioning, you are making discriminations. This is not the highest samadhi, just the first step. But that too is very, very difficult because that too will need a little going towards the center.

Just for example: the periphery is there, where you are right now, and the center is there, where I am right now, and between the two, just in the middle, is savitarka samadhi. It means you have moved away from the surface, but you have not reached the center yet. You have moved away from the surface, but still the center is far away. Just in the middle you are, still something of the old is functioning, and something of the new has entered – halfway. And what will be the situation of this halfway state of consciousness?

Savitarka samadhi is the samadhi in which the yogi is still unable to differentiate between real knowledge . . .

He will not be able yet to differentiate what is real because the real can be known only from the center. There is no other way to know it. He cannot know what real knowledge is. Something of the real is filtering in, because he has moved from the surface, has come closer to the center, not yet centered, yet has come closer. Something of the center is filtering in – some perceptions, some glimpses of the center, but the old mind still is there, not completely gone. A distance is there but the old mind still goes on functioning. The yogi is still unable to differentiate between the real knowledge . . .

Real knowledge is that knowledge when the mind does not distort at all, when the mind has completely disappeared in a sense. It has become so transparent that whether it is there or not makes no difference. In the mid-state, the yogi is in a very deep confusion. The confusion comes: something from the real, something from his knowledge that he has gathered in the past from words, scriptures, teachers – that too is there. Something from his own reasoning what is right and what is wrong, what is true and what is false, and something from his sense perceptions – eyes, ears, nose – everything is there, mixed.

This is the state where the yogi can go mad. If there is nobody to take care in this state, the yogi can go mad because so many dimensions meeting and such a great confusion and chaos . . . It is a greater chaos than he was ever in when he was on the surface, because something new has come in.

From the center now some glimpses are coming towards him, and he cannot know whether it is coming from the knowledge that he has gathered from the scriptures. Sometimes he suddenly feels aham brahamasmi “I am God.” Now he is unable to differentiate whether this is coming from the Upanishad that he has been reading, or he himself has reasoned it out. It is a rational conclusion that, “I am part of the whole and the whole is God, so of course I am God” . . . whether it is a logical syllogism or it is coming from sense perceptions.

Because sometimes, when you are very quiet and the doors of the senses are clear, this feeling arises of being a god. Listening to music, suddenly you are no more a human being. If your ears are ready and if you have the musical perception, suddenly you are elevated to a different plane. Making love to a woman you love – suddenly, in the peak of the orgasm, you feel you have become a god. It can happen through sense perceptions. It can happen through reasoning. It may be coming from the Upanishads, from the scriptures you have been reading, or it may be coming from the center. And the man who is in the middle doesn’t know from where it is coming. From all the directions millions of things are happening – strange, unknown, known. One can be in a real mess.

That’s why schools are needed where many people are working. Because these are not the only three points. Between the periphery and the center, there are many. A school means where many people of many categories live together. Just a school: the first-grade people are there, the second grade people are there, the third-grade people are there; the primary school, the middle school, the high school, then the university. A perfect school is from the kindergarten to the university. Somebody exists there at the very end, on the center, who becomes the center of the school.

And then many people, because they can be helpful . . . you can help somebody who is just behind you. A person from the high school can come to the primary school and teach. A small boy from the primary school can go to the kindergarten and help. A school means: from the periphery to the center, there are many stages, many points. A school means: where all types of people exist together in a deep harmony, as a family from the very first to the very last, from the beginning to the very end, from the alpha to the omega. Much help is possible that way, because you can help somebody who is behind you. You can say to him, “Don’t be worried. Just go on. This comes and settles by itself. Don’t get too much involved in it. Remain indifferent. It comes and it goes – somebody to stretch a hand to help you. And a Master is needed who can look through all the stages, from the very top to the very valley, who can have a total perception of all the possibilities.

Otherwise, in this stage of savitarka samadhi, many become mad. Or, many become so scared they run away from the center and start clinging to the periphery, because there is at least some type of order. At least the unknown doesn’t enter there, the strange doesn’t come there. You are familiar; strangers don’t knock at your door.

But one who has reached to savitarka samadhi if he goes back to the periphery, nothing will be solved, he can never be the same again; he can never belong to the periphery now, so that is not of much help. He will never be a part of the periphery. And he will be there more and more confused, because once you have known something, how can you help yourself not to know it? Once you have known, you have known. You can avoid, you can close your eyes, but it is still there, and it will haunt you your whole life.

If the school is not there and a Master is not there you will become a very problematic case. In the world you cannot belong, the market doesn’t make any sense to you; and beyond the world you are afraid to move.

Savitarka samadhi is the samadhi in which the yogi is still unable to differentiate between real knowledge, knowledge based on words and knowledge based on reasoning or sense perceptions, which all remain in the mind in a mixed state.

Nirvitarka samadhi is reaching to the center: logic disappears, scriptures are no more meaningful, sense perceptions cannot deceive you. When you are at the center, suddenly everything is self-evidently true. This word has to be understood – “self-evidently true”. Truths are there on the periphery, but they are never self-evident. Some proof is needed, some reasoning is needed. If you say something, you have to prove it. If on the periphery you say, “God is,” you will have to prove it, to yourself, to others. On the center God is, self-evidently. You don’t need any proof. What proof is needed when your eyes are open and you can see the sun rising? But for a man who is blind, proof is needed. What proof is needed when you are in love? You know it is there; it is self-evident. Others may demand proof. How can you give them any proof? The man at the center becomes the proof; he doesn’t give any proof. Whatsoever he knows is self-evident. It is so. He has not reached towards it as a conclusion of a reasoning. It is not a syllogism; he has not concluded; simply it is so. He has known.

That’s why in the Upanishads there are no proofs, in Patanjali there are no proofs. Patanjali simply describes, gives no proof. This is the difference: when a man knows, he simply describes; when a man doesn’t know, first he proves that it is so. Those who have known, they simply give the description of that unknown. They don’t give any proofs. […]

Look at the Upanishads – not a single proof exists. They simply say, “God is.” If you want to know, you can know. If you don’t want to know, it is your choice. But there is no proof for it.

That state is nirvitarka samadhi, samadhi without any reasoning. That samadhi becomes for the first time existential. But that also is not the last. One more final step exists. We will be talking about it later on.

-Osho

From The Mystery Beyond Mind, Discourse #3; Yoga: The Science of the Soul, V.3, (previously titled Yoga: The Alpha and the Omega).

Copyright © OSHO International Foundation

This discourse is the Listening Meditation in the fourth program of the module, Osho Yoga and the Discipline of Transformation, one of several modules in A Course in Witnessing.

An MP3 audio file of this discourse can be downloaded from Osho.com or you can read the entire book online at the Osho Library.

Many of Osho’s books are available in the U.S. online from Amazon.com and Viha Osho Book Distributors. In India they are available from Amazon.in and Oshoworld.com.

The Switchover is Absolutely Sudden – Jean Klein

When you have a glimpse of reality, it is already in a certain way in your background. You see things less and less personally. There comes the quality of global vision, where there is no choice, no selection. You see things more and more as they are, not as you wish them to be, but as they really are. You live in this perspective, you love it, it is a jewel you wear, maybe several times a day. Then there comes a moment in your life that even this geometrical representation, the perspective, dissolves in your real nature. And then there is no return. This switchover is absolutely sudden, instantaneous. You live now without anticipation, without end-gaining. You live absolutely in the now. Thinking is a practical, useful tool which you use when you need it, but you no longer think when there is no need to think. There is no more daydreaming. You enjoy really freedom from thought. Oh! You will become a happy man! What more do you want?

-Jean Klein

From The book of Listening, pp. 17-18

You can read more from Jean Klein here.

 

Surrender to Existence – Kiran

I first met Kiran in Pune in November 1993 at a friend’s house. I was in town to visit Dadaji [ch. 8] and, while I was waiting to be admitted into Dadaji’s presence, a middle-aged couple arrived. My friend introduced me saying, “This is Kiran, an enlightened Osho disciple who lives in Pune, and his wife, Vinodini. Dadaji is an old acquaintance of theirs.” This seemingly casual introduction had an electrifying effect on me. An enlightened disciple of Osho! A gurubhai who had achieved what I had been longing for all these years! Could it be true? Kiran was the first Osho disciple I met who was said to be awakened.

I was intrigued. I wanted to hear the story of his spiritual quest and how it had ended. I wondered if he had practiced the same sadhanas I had performed under the guidance of our common teacher. Had Kiran become awakened while Osho was still alive? Had Osho perhaps given him an individual spiritual transmission and recognized Kiran’s enlightenment, unknown to anyone else? How does his realization compare with that of Osho? What could I learn from Kiran’s example and life? Such questions raced through my mind. Unfortunately, the social event that evening offered no room for us to converse. But the following evening, at Kiran’s invitation, I went to visit him at his residence in Mukundnagar,2 near the famous hilltop temple of Parvati [Lord Shiva’s consort]. I was excited and very curious to meet him. Four of his disciple friends and I sat in his garden—as friends. At least that’s how Kiran put it. With his permission, I videotaped the following conversation.

Madhukar: How long have you been with Osho?

Kiran: I was his disciple for more than fifteen years.

Madhukar: Up to a point, you and I both traveled the same path with Osho. As a brother seeker of yours, the most important questions I have are: What exactly happened to you? And what did you do or not do to bring about your enlightenment? I want to know if you practiced exactly the same methods and meditations that I did. And if so, why did realization happen to you but not to me and other friends of ours? If you practiced different or additional meditations and methods, what were they? What can I learn from you? Can you assist me and your brother and sister seekers and gurubhais on their spiritual path?

Kiran: For many years, I was traveling together with you all; we were fellow travelers on the path searching for something—searching for truth, searching for the reality of life. While we were traveling together with Osho, we did many things—meditation, therapies, groups, work in the ashram. We did whatever Osho suggested to us. We followed him totally. We surrendered to him totally.

Madhukar: We had the privilege of experiencing Osho’s guidance “live” every day, twice a day.

Kiran: Me too—I sat there right in front of him and listened to his lectures for many years. I was following his suggestions with the hope that one day I would reach my goal of enlightenment. My spiritual and worldly lives were absolutely secure and safe with him. I was absolutely satisfied with him. However, I fell asleep.

Madhukar: How could you fall asleep in the presence of your teacher?

Kiran: When I met Osho for the first time in 1967, I was on fire and my thirst for truth was very strong. But as I came closer to him over the years, I fell—slowly, slowly—asleep. For a long time, I didn’t notice it. Only when he departed for the States in 1981 did I wake up to this fact—and remembered the search. With great intensity, I took it up again.

Madhukar: What happened then?

Kiran: By and by, I began to understand that something was wrong with searching. I felt that it was wrong to be after something all the time. I woke up to the understanding that I was making a mistake by searching for something, somewhere outside. I came to know that I was making a mistake by going to somebody, by asking for the way, by sitting at somebody’s feet, by waiting for something to happen, or by desiring that realization may happen with the help of effort and spiritual practice.

Madhukar: What did you do then? Did you stop practicing?

Kiran: I started to simply watch myself, to watch my mind. I was watching all my inner processes. And—ever so slowly—I began to understand that the desire, the effort, the doings and practices, were the actual disturbances of my peace. The seeking was the obstruction to realization. Osho had told us many times that we had to drop all our doings and efforts. He said that we had never lost our enlightenment—that it was already our nature. Sitting right in front of him, I had heard him say that so many times. But I could not understand him because I was sleeping and dreaming. I believe that’s what happened to all of us—we fell asleep and therefore didn’t hear him.

Madhukar: How did dropping all efforts and practices affect your life?

Kiran: I just became an ordinary man. And slowly, very slowly, I began to awaken. I worked in my business and I looked after my family. I did not desire anymore to achieve something spiritually. I was not after anything any longer. I said, “It’s there, it’s there. Let it happen, let it happen. I am not bothered.” The thirst was still there—inside me. That longing remained. But I was not doing anything about it. That’s why I stayed away from Osho’s physical presence for the last ten years of his life, three of which he lived here in Pune right around the corner.

Madhukar: What happened for you when Osho returned to Pune?

Kiran: I didn’t feel a pull to go to the ashram. There was no energy inside me that made me go and see Osho, because in my aloneness everything had started settling within me. Then one day it dawned on me that the search had ended. All my searching just dropped away by itself. I started accepting Existence. I found I could accept myself as I was. I did not desire any change. I was not even asking to become something.

I found myself saying to myself, “It’s okay. It’s fine.

I don’t want to become somebody. I don’t want to get anywhere.” I was not asking for enlightenment anymore. I was just relaxing with myself. I was happy, peaceful, and relaxed with how and what I was in the present moment. All questions had dropped. All questioning and searching were simply finished.

Madhukar: Let me ask you, “Are you enlightened?”

Kiran: For many years, I just sat quietly alone at home on this chair here. I was enjoying nature and myself in silence and aloneness. I did not bother whether this was enlightenment or not. I could feel the silence descending on me. I was feeling close to Existence and to everything and to everybody. Slowly, slowly I was dissolving. In my silence, I was becoming one with everything. Nothing could disturb the peace inside me. From January 1993 onward, people started coming to see me. This was a surprise for me, too.

Madhukar: So we practiced the same sadhana—except perhaps the most important one: Did I understand you correctly that the only additional spiritual method you applied was basically not doing anything? Your blooming and awakening happened only after all doing was left behind and “just being” remained. Is that correct?

Kiran: That is correct.

Madhukar: Was there anything that triggered your blooming? Was there any kind of cause and effect relationship? Usually we believe that practice leads to the goal. Please, tell me as much as possible about the blooming process and its workings. By describing your process, you may help me to understand my own. Furthermore, through your description, I may come to know where I am in my search.

Kiran: There is no cause-and-effect relationship in the awakening process. That is my basic understanding of the whole spiritual journey. Awakening is not an event that is going to happen because you are doing something with your mind—be that meditation or whatever. Awakening is uncaused. It cannot be achieved through effort, because you have never lost it.

Madhukar: Were all of our practices and our efforts in vain then? What was missing in our search for enlightenment with Osho?

Kiran: We forgot the main point: We have to seek the seeker. We always seek somewhere outside. We are always after some goal: We seek enlightenment. We seek buddhahood. We seek so many things. Because we are so busy with seeking, we have forgotten to ask who it is that is seeking. Who is it that wants to become enlightened? Who wants this enlightenment? Who wants to become a buddha? When we forget to ask this question, we go on trying in all directions. We go on making all the effort to seek outside of us.

Who is the seeker? We must go on asking, “Who am I?” And who is asking this question? You are asking this question! You are asking these questions because you want to know who you are. But it is a contradiction. How can you find yourself somewhere when you are not lost anywhere? All efforts and all doing are taking you away from yourself. Therefore, anybody who has awakened could come to “know” only after dropping all doing and all effort.

Madhukar: Please, explain further why, in your understanding, meditating is a mistake?

Kiran: We all were making this basic mistake of undertaking goal-oriented actions. Intentional and purposeful actions are initiated and done by the mind. The mind understands only the language of doing.

I can tell you, “Sit silently, do nothing, the spring comes and the grass grows by itself.” Osho said this so many times. We heard him say it again and again. But we don’t understand what “sitting silently, doing nothing” means. We keep asking, “How to do nothing?” We always want to know what to do, how to do it, and how to reach it—even when the “it” is “do nothing.” All these questions come from the mind.

Madhukar: And what we are—or rather, who we are—is beyond the mind.

Kiran: That’s right. In our quest, we are searching for a space which is beyond the mind. It is a space that the mind cannot reach. That space can only be reached when the mind has dropped. Actually, that space remains when the mind is dissolved. The mind is a wrong instrument here; it is of absolutely no use. How could you reach that space by using the instrument of the mind? The mind is actually a hindrance to reaching that space.

The practice of meditations, the undergoing of therapies and groups, and all such nonsense are done by the mind. We all were committing the same mistake. We were even doing meditations sitting right in front of Osho. These practices are actually the obstructions to awakening.

Madhukar: Are you saying, “Don’t meditate!”?

Kiran: Yes. I say, “Drop all your efforts! Drop all your doings! Just stop and see! Watch! Simply look at what is happening. Just drop all desire to become.” And when you drop all your doing, the doer starts to dissolve immediately. The doer is the mind. The more the doer dissolves, the more Existence expresses its own doing. And, in one fine moment, you’ll find yourself to be free. “Oh God! Is it so? Is this it? This is it!” you will say to yourself. And you just laugh. You just laugh at everything. It’s so simple, so easy. But we made it so complicated!

Madhukar: Your teaching seems to hold that Osho gave us a wrong teaching. He requested us to meditate and practice.

Kiran: As I said, if I tell you to do nothing, the mind will not understand it. What you really are is beyond the understanding of the mind. As long as you are using your mind, the master must give you something to do. He gives you something to do until you become frustrated and exhausted by all your doings. But at some point, you will be finished with all doing. At that time, you will know and feel that you have done everything possible, and that in spite of all your efforts, nothing has happened. Then you come to the point of total frustration. This will lead to total surrender. At that point, you say, “Oh, I can’t do anything anymore. I am finished.” This surrender will take you to total acceptance. You will start to accept Existence and yourself. And acceptance will cut all the roots of the mind that was nourishing all doing. Without nourishment, the ego will dissolve.

By witnessing what is happening around you and by not doing anything, this state of acceptance will start to come—slowly, slowly. Then you see that everything is just happening. When you come to that point of being the witness, you are “there.” You are at the end of your journey.

Madhukar: Okay, you seem to be saying, “Nothing can be done, no teacher can help, no technique or method is useful, and no meditation practice can cause enlightenment to happen.” On the other hand, I see seekers coming to you for advice and guidance. And I even notice people sitting and meditating in your meditation room. Did you teach a meditation technique to those people?

Kiran: No. I don’t give any techniques. I stick to what I am saying: “Nothing can help!” Sitting with me is not of any help as long as you’re not awakened and as long as you have an urge to do something.

I don’t claim to be a master. I am just sitting here as a friend helping you. I am not helping you in the sense that I teach you something or because I know something you don’t know. It is as if you were just closing your eyes and crying, “I can’t see the light.”

I say, “Just open your eyes and you will see that the light is here.” This is how I can help. I am telling you, “Just open your eyes!”

Madhukar: This sounds so simple!

Kiran: It is. But for many of you, even “open your eyes” may seem to imply some doing. How can I convey to you that “open your eyes” is not a doing? I have to use the words. Awakening is not even the effort to open your eyes. It is just a waking up. It is like when you wake up from sleep. I see you all asleep, dreaming, and crying. I am just shaking you and waking you up. I say, “Please, wake up! Don’t cry! No dreams!” This is what I am doing here.

Madhukar: So why, then, do those people meditate in your cottage over there?

Kiran: I allow the people to sit in the meditation room because for many, many years they have been in the habit of meditating. As long as they still want to enjoy their dreams, they can sit in meditation. I want to keep them with me. I let them sit in the hall so that they don’t escape. [laughter] But I am waiting for the opportunity to hit them and shake them again and again and shout at them, “Please, wake up!” This is what I am doing. [laughter] I am not proposing any method or any doing whatsoever. So if they enjoy sitting there, fine. I know I don’t sit there.

Madhukar: But you sit here as a teacher.

Kiran: When they come out of the hall, I hit them again. I ask them, “What are you doing there?”

Madhukar: What are they doing there?

Kiran: I am providing a space for them to sleep. When they come close to me, I shake them again. I try to wake them up in the hope that they will awaken at some point.

Madhukar: Can you do it just now? Please hit me! Please, wake me up once and for all!

Kiran: I am doing it. We are doing it now. That’s what we are doing in this conversation.

Madhukar: I know.

Kiran: But you are enjoying the dream. What can I do?

Madhukar: What would you do to me if I came out of the meditation room at this moment and sat down opposite you?

Kiran: I keep telling you this is a dream. You are enjoying it. I am sharing my awakening with you, although I know it is of no use to you. It has no meaning at all. If I try to wake you up all the time, I become your enemy. I want to remain your friend. That’s why I can’t keep on hitting and shaking. Once in while I have to be friendly to you.

Madhukar: Is that why you share dinner after these “friendly meetings” in your house? [laughter]

Kiran: Yes. Sometimes it is difficult for you because I must beat you hard. I know you want to run away from here. But there is no other way.

Madhukar: You claim not to have a teaching. On the other hand, you are suggesting three points to the seeker: One, accept Existence as it is; two, accept yourself as you are; and three, be totally aware of everything you do. For me, these suggestions imply that something actually can be done for enlightenment to happen. To whom are you talking? Who is the listener?

Kiran: This question is asked by the mind. It’s a logical question. You know who I’m talking to and who is listening and who is ready for this acceptance. You know it very well. What I really want to say I cannot convey with words. But when I speak to you, I have to use words. That’s why I give the three suggestions to enable people to stop their efforts: Surrender to Existence with total trust; accept yourself as you are, with love; do everything with total awareness.

You think that I am giving you a method or a technique when I share my suggestions. If you simply live my suggestions in this very moment, you will find that you are instantly being brought back to your own self. Those suggestions are calling you back to your own home.

A mother is calling her children from the window of the house: “Come children, the meal is ready.” The mother wants the children to come home. To make them come home, she tempts them with foods or chocolates. I am doing the same thing with you. I want you to come back to your own home. My suggestions are temptations with which I try to coax you home.

Madhukar: Why is surrendering to Existence so important?

Kiran: When you surrender to Existence, all your efforts drop automatically. For a long time, you have tried to achieve something through the ego. You wanted to mark your place in this world. When you surrender, you come to realize that you are nothing in relation to Existence. You are just a tiny dot. What can you claim as yours in this vast Existence? In it, everything is just happening. You think you can go your own way just because you want to. That’s ridiculous!

Madhukar: Well, the human being has reached the moon.

Kiran: So what! It has reached the top of Everest. So what! It has reached the bottom of the ocean. So what! Great achievements! What you are calling great achievements by the human being have no value at all in the spiritual realm. They are like the climb of an ant from the ground to the top of the microphone. The ant’s climb means nothing. The achievements of the human being mean nothing as well. But for the ego they mean a lot. Remember, you are nobody in this vast existence. The whole Existence has been working for billions of years. What impact are you going to have on it during your short life of sixty, eighty, or a hundred years? Basically no impact!

You must have trust in Existence, which has given you life on this Earth. Let God decide what is going to happen to you. Why bother? Listen to Existence, which speaks as your own inner voice, and follow it. Trust that He knows what is best for you. Let Existence decide your destination. Don’t you decide it.

Madhukar: What does your second suggestion, “Accept yourself as you are,” accomplish?

Kiran: Your surrender to Existence in the outer world cuts short the outer journey of worldly achievements. Accepting yourself as you are cuts short the inner journey. You give up all demands for inner growth and inner achievements. You step inwards. When you are no longer focused on an inner journey and spiritual growth, you start to love yourself. Hate is rooted in the nonacceptance of yourself and in the desire to become somebody else. Nonacceptance and hate go together. But acceptance brings love.

Madhukar: Total acceptance is difficult for me because I want to be a better person, inside and outside.

Kiran: Yes. You want to improve yourself, not only on the outside but also on the inside. You want to get rid of all the diseases of the mind like anger, hatred, and jealousy. You keep doing therapy groups and all such nonsense. You keep cleaning the mind. All these activities are part of the inner search. I say, “Why waste time? Just accept yourself as you are. Cut off your inner and outer search altogether!”

Madhukar: If a seeker can follow your suggestion, what is supposed to occur next?

Kiran: Then a miracle happens, a miracle nobody can believe. Surrender and acceptance bring you to the point of witnessing. And no doing, effort, practice, or method was necessary!

By accepting yourself, you are cutting the roots of the mind. The mind survives only as long as you desire to become something. When there is no becoming, there is no goal. Without a goal, where is the mind? It becomes just a beautiful instrument. The moment you accept the mind —which was fighting all the time to become something—the problem is finished. Then you are not fighting with the mind. You aren’t trying to win over the mind. You are not cleaning the mind.

This mind is the mud. When you leave it alone, the mud starts settling by itself. Because there is acceptance, the mud settles. Through acceptance, without any effort or any doing, the mind starts to become quiet. This is a miracle. Your mind will not accept it. It will ask, “How is this peace, silence, and joy even possible without doing and effort?”

Although you were searching everywhere, you couldn’t find peace and joy. That’s why I call it a miracle. The moment you accept yourself and you listen to the inner voice of Existence, you become a witness. The doer, which is the mind, dissolves. The ego dissolves.

Madhukar: For that to occur, witnessing needs to be cultivated.

Kiran: Correct. When you keep simply witnessing, you will slowly, slowly begin to realize that you are “just looking” and everything is “just happening.” The sudden recognition and awakening arise that you are not part of the whole worldly rut of problems and sorrow and misery, but instead are part of the whole beautiful Existence.

Madhukar: You mentioned the inner voice. Where does it come into the picture?

Kiran: While you are witnessing and watching everything that happens, you can hear your inner voice and guidance. Now you are just following that inner voice and your inner force, wherever they take you. You got rid of all your bondage, bindings, and clingings by surrendering to Existence. You let things happen and you float in the current of events. You don’t swim. You float in the acceptance of What Is and what you are. When you just relax in the water, the miracle occurs—the current takes you wherever it wants, and you accept it. The current has no destination.

This current is the force that comes through from inside. You keep floating according to the inner voice and the inner current. They are tuned with the life force that is moving them at all times. Floating in this manner is so beautiful. You just keep floating without any effort or any fight. You just keep watching and witnessing. Now you are enjoying the whole Existence.

Madhukar: At this stage, witnessing has become constant and natural. Is that correct?

Kiran: That’s right. When you don’t let yourself be pulled down by any burden and you stay relaxed, you will notice a lot of joy springing up. Silence begins to arise because there is no hindrance of any kind. And Existence starts expressing itself through your personality. Without any effort, you become quiet. You become joyful. Love starts flowing from you. Energy starts flowing from you. Fragrance starts flowing from you—the fragrance of Existence. Joy, love, beauty, and fragrance are the qualities of Existence.

When you are still, you are in oneness with Existence, which is your own space. Then you have come back to your own home. You have come back to your natural state and you remain there for good. To be in oneness, joy, and love becomes your way of life. You simply live moment to moment. You celebrate each moment with joy. For you, there is no fight anywhere. You enjoy whatever comes your way. This is what I want to share.

Madhukar: I have heard you say that realization is a gradual blooming process. On another occasion, you said that waking up from a dream is always sudden. How do you reconcile these seemingly opposing statements?

Kiran: It is very difficult to express this “happening” with words. Usually one uses a metaphor to explain it. Often the metaphors of flowering and of waking up from a dream have been used. These metaphors are not to be taken literally. Flowering indicates a slow process or a growing. Waking up stands for a sudden event like lightning. These metaphors are indicating what cannot be said with words. They are only hints. Flowering and waking up are experiences known and understood by everybody. That’s why they are used as indications.

Madhukar: Are you saying that awakening occurs outside of time and space and therefore doesn’t happen either due to a gradual process or a sudden event?

Kiran: Realization has nothing to do with an event—whether it is a slow process or a sudden awakening. Realization means just coming back to your natural state. What is this natural state? When a flower blooms, it is in its natural state. In this natural state, its fragrance starts flowing. The flowering of a flower is not a slow process during which—at some point of time—you observe that it flowers and starts giving its fragrance. It is the state of becoming a flower. The flower experiences being in the state of flowering which is its highest peak.

That flowering is the flowering of the human consciousness, its highest peak, at which you start to give out fragrance. Actually, the fragrance of Existence starts flowing through you. The fragrance is not of the flower. The joy which flows from Existence is expressed as fragrance. This fragrance and this joy start bubbling up in a totally silent space. Silence— the quality of Existence—starts to come up in you.

Madhukar: If you will, Kiran, please explain the meaning of the second metaphor: “Realization is like waking up from a dream.”

Kiran: The whole mind game is similar to a dream. When you wake up, you have total understanding and knowing and clarity. The first understanding is that you were living in the mind, which took you for a ride. When you wake up, you realize that the dream has no reality anymore. At the moment you wake up, the pleasures that you enjoyed in the dream are gone. Thus the enlightened state is similar to the feeling of having woken up.

As I said, these are all metaphors. Don’t take them in the literal sense. What really happens is not a slow growth or a sudden enlightenment. Coming back to your natural state means just accepting yourself. When you start to accept yourself—slowly, slowly—you are cutting off the roots of the mind. And at some point, you come to the total understanding. You come back to your own natural rhythm. You become one with the whole Existence. Trees are in that natural rhythm. The birds are in that natural rhythm. You too, you come back to that natural rhythm. Free from all effort of becoming, you are just relaxed. This is what freedom is. Freedom means arriving back at your own home.

Madhukar: One can be told, “Be!” or “Be aware!” or “Accept yourself!” or “Accept existence!” But is it something we can “do”? I believe that acceptance and awareness are actual and existential expressions of an egoless state.

Kiran: These suggestions are the expressions of the enlightened state reflected in words. When you awake from your sleep and from your dreams, you say, “I am awake.” You describe the state of waking with those words. Similarly, you use the words “acceptance” and “awareness” to describe the state of spiritual awakening. To really know the inner awakening, one needs to be awakened. The expressions “acceptance” and “being aware” are merely words describing that inner state.

Madhukar: When I talk to my friends about you, they often ask me, “Who is this Kiran?” Let me ask you, “Kiran, who are you?”

Kiran: You just tell them that I am an ordinary man. I live like everybody else. There is only one difference between you and me: You are still in the dream and I am awake. I understand that the whole manifestation and life is nothing but a dream, a play. I am playing the whole game. While doing anything, I keep myself detached. I am simply witnessing what is happening. I am simply accepting what is happening. I am simply enjoying life. I have no complaints of any kind. I have no goals or aims to reach or to fulfill. I returned from spirituality to an ordinary life. I am back in my own natural space.

Madhukar: Outwardly, you appear to be ordinary. What is the difference between you and me?

Kiran: Outwardly, I am just ordinary like you. Inside, I have no frustration, no misery. I have total clarity. The more I understood, the more ordinary I became, because I came to understand that I know nothing at all. I am just stunned by this mystery. I am not exerting any effort in order to know or understand something. Who would understand it? From where do I have the knowing and oneness that do not demand any knowledge or understanding? I have it because of the “tuning” that is part of Existence itself.

Madhukar: So what can you claim?

Kiran: I don’t claim anything. What is there to claim? When you awaken in the morning from your dream do you claim, “I am awake! I am great!” Is it an achievement? It is a feeling of freedom. You feel freed from all those dreams of suffering. You feel you are coming back home. You are relaxing, enjoying, and celebrating life.

Madhukar: If you have no teaching, and you are not a teacher, what function do you have?

Kiran: I am not teaching anything. Teaching implies some knowledge. Teaching is a demand from the mind for someone to understand something. When you are asking me questions, I am not giving you answers which add to your knowledge. I am just sharing what I have.

Madhukar: What is the difference between sharing and teaching?

Kiran: Sharing is sharing your joy, silence, and understanding. Because I am awake, I share my awakening. Because you cry in your dream, I shake you and try to wake you up.

You may ask someone in your dream, “Please give me some method or some technique which will awaken me!” If that someone answers you and gives you some techniques, he and his methods are also part of the same dream. In fact, you only can be shaken and woken up by someone who is outside the dream. What technique can be applied in a dream? There is no communication possible except to hit you hard and wake you up—shaking you so much so that you wake up. We can share no other thing. When you wake up, you just laugh and I laugh. There is nothing to understand, nothing to know, and nowhere to go. All is a dream. Your practices of methods and techniques for awakening are part of the dream. And the one who is suggesting methods for waking up is also taking part in the dream. You are dreaming about him and he is dreaming about you. No communication is possible.

Madhukar: How do you handle people who make you their guru and become attached to you?

Kiran: At all times, I am very alert that I don’t become part of somebody else’s dream. When I realize that somebody is clinging to me, and he is making me part of his dream, I create a device which forces him to return to his normal waking. If he doesn’t wake up, the device forces him to leave me. On the other hand, if I let him dream and cling to me, I create a situation which compels the seeker to get hooked to me. Then I am not helping him, I am harming him. This may sound contradictory. But it is the bitter truth. That is why a real teacher does not allow the student to hang on to him. Rather, he hits him, shakes him, and wakes him up. Therefore, one always hates the person who wakes one up from one’s dream—more so when the dream was very beautiful.

Madhukar: Are you a guru?

Kiran: I share what I have understood. I don’t claim “I am enlightened” or “I am awakened” or “I am a free bird.” I have come to my home, to my own natural space. It is so beautiful there. I invite you all to partake. I want to share it. I don’t want it all for myself. I don’t want it for my own exclusive enjoyment. It belongs to you too.

I am not afraid of any comments. If somebody misunderstands me, it is his problem. In spite of misunderstandings, I go on hammering and pounding until somebody wakes up and laughs with me. If it was possible for me to wake up, why should it not be possible for you too? Existence is speaking through me.

Madhukar: You say that enlightenment has no cause and that no effort can help it to occur. Why then do you give satsangs and take us out on picnics with you?

Kiran: I am just making all the efforts to wake you up to the understanding that there is no effort to be made and nothing to reach. To tell you this, I need some excuse. Therefore, I create the excuse with the name “satsang.” Because you understand only your language, I have to speak in that language. That’s why I call our meetings satsang. I am not doing any bhajans in satsang. I am just calling you to come to me in the name of satsang. When you are here, I am talking to you. I am simply waking you up to the fact of my understanding, which is: There is nothing to do. You must only understand the whole game of the mind. I repeat myself endlessly every evening in our meetings which are called satsang. There is no sat—there is no sang!

Madhukar: I like your term, “friendly meeting.”

Kiran: Yes, this is just a friendly meeting in which a friend is speaking with another friend. I am just standing at the corner of the street, telling people that this road doesn’t lead anywhere. If I stood on the street silently, you wouldn’t listen to me or understand me. Therefore, I create a small shop, a guide shop to which you can come to ask for directions. When you visit my shop, I can tell you, “Please, don’t take the path of doing and effort. It doesn’t lead to enlightenment.” The purpose of the signboard “Guide” is to attract the people so that they can be told the truth.

Madhukar: You could put up another sign that reads, “No way!”

Kiran: Once the people come to my shop, I tell them, “There is no way!” [laughter] The signboard “Guide” gives the impression that there is somebody who is able to show the way. I am sitting in the shop playing the guide. The seekers are attracted to the guide. When they enter my shop, I show them that there is no way. Therefore, satsang is just an excuse. A picnic is also an excuse. In your language, to picnic means to be together in nature and share some food. I use the occasion to tell you that there is no way to reach enlightenment through effort. I say, “Just eat, relax, and don’t expect anything.” Is that difficult?

Wherever I am, I say the same thing: “Just go inside yourself! Look within and wake up!” I am using all these tricks to make you listen to this simple understanding.

What touched me most about Kiran was his friendly, innocent smile, as well as his humor. His almost fatherly love came right from his heart. Being in his presence was naturally uplifting. Joy and kindness beamed from his eyes. Kiran extends his deep affection and love not only to his wife and family but to everyone he meets. He referred to each spiritual seeker as “friend.” Besides sharing his caring attention during the Sunday afternoon picnics in the forests surrounding Pune, he often invited us for dinner in his home after satsang.

Kiran cared about everyone. He wanted to see everyone happy. He even visited seekers at their homes or in the hospital when they were ill. In short, he was as much a loving householder as he was a teacher. Once a year, he took his “friends” on a week-long retreat to Goa, a small state on the Indian west coast. Here he emphasized a type of spiritual vacation. He had all who joined him focus on getting deep rest, letting the psyche unwind and taking time to withdraw from life’s usual activities as well as one’s mental activities. He invited us to let go and sink into the vast simplicity of just being.

Kiran’s guru, Osho, had emphasized the practice of meditation, communal work and the power and transmission of the teacher’s direct physical presence. In contrast, Kiran taught that any effort toward enlightenment is actually detrimental to reaching that goal.

Between 1993 to 2000, I had frequent meetings with Kiran. We became dear friends. And very slowly I began to understand that I was making an error by searching for something somewhere outside of myself. I came to feel how important it was to connect with my own truth and became less consumed about finding the perfect teacher.

Kiran’s five-step teaching, “Become completely frustrated, surrender to Existence, accept yourself as you are, witness everything that arises, and what remains is your true home,” was profound. It helped me enormously. However, I wondered what Kiran suggested to all those who hadn’t yet reached what he called the “boiling point of frustration.” He seemed to have created that beautiful meditation cottage in his garden especially for the type of student who needed to keep meditating in order to reach maturity. At times he sent selected students to other teachers whose guidance in severe austerities and sadhanas facilitated the boiling point of frustration for them.

Without a sampradaya [lineage], Kiran—like his guru Osho—is a Vedanta mystic teaching his own singular path of surrender. Once surrendered to the ordinariness of life through the renunciation of all seeking, what else is to be done other than celebrating moment-to-moment experience, and attending friendly picnics and spiritual vacations with fellow nonseekers? However, Kiran’s joyful sadhana of celebration seems fitting only for those students who have already moved through their frustration, their “dark night of the soul.”

Under Kiran’s guidance I still did not yet experience a consistent disidentification with my ego. Consequently, I kept practicing the self-inquiry process that I had learned from Sri Ramana’s direct disciples. A knowing that was somehow beyond my mind compelled me to continue my odyssey.

-Berthold Madhukar Thompson

Excerpt from The Odyssey of Enlightenment, Chapter 9

See the post from chapter 5: Practice Until Stillness Becomes Permanent.

See the post from chapter 8: You have to Work for the Fulfillment of Your Destiny.

Here you can watch a video of Kiran speaking: Kiran-ji Talks About the Nature of the Self.

The Self is Light – Lucy Cornelssen

In December 31, 1989. Lucy Cornelssen – “Lucy Ma” to us, the Ashramites – “went gently into the night”. She did not “rage against the ending of the light”. Why should she? It was the end of the shadow, not the light. Her Sadguru Ramana had shown her that the Self, one’s own true Being, is eternal Light. So she went gently. After ninety beautiful years on earth, her last day here was also the last day of the year.

Lucy Ma came from a land which has produced great Indologists, like Max Mueller and Heinrich Zimmer. In earlier times, Arthur Schopenhauer, who saw the world as a Will and an Idea, lost his heart to Indian metaphysics. “If I were to be reborn,” said he, “I would like it to be in India.” Goethe, Germany’s Shakespeare was enraptured by Kalidasa’s famous play and sang in praise of its heroine Sakuntala. One may see in Lucy Ma’s return to the Source the restoration of her Fatherland’s unity.

This love of India was in Lucy’s blood too. Her mother was an Indologist of impressive erudition. Young Lucy often saw “Mutti” poring over huge tomes. One day, the girl was struck by the jacket of a book on her mother’s table and opened it at random. This book fascinated her before she read a single word of it.

A page in it had a strange picture which t

ransformed her all at once. She lost all sense of her body and surroundings. All that remained was an awareness of immense joy. After a while, her mother came in, shook the girl, and brought her back to herself. Lucy pointed to the picture and asked, “Mutti, what is that?” The mother said: “My dear child! This is Siva, the great god of India. There are three main gods for them: Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva. Brahma creates, Vishnu preserves, while Siva destroys to make way for re-creation. See, how fierce Siva looks as He dances on the cremation ground! But to His devotees, He is sweet and gentle like a mother.” Precocious young Lucy was thrilled! From that moment she became a devotee of Siva at heart. It was years later that she realized that the trance-like state induced in her by that picture was very deep meditation which comes but rarely to people, what we call ‘samadhi’.

Siva became for her a living god. During many of her wakeful moments, she saw the fierce-looking figure dancing before her mind’s eye. Far from resisting that experience, she revelled in it.

Lucy was a beautiful girl. Left to herself, she would have remained single, wedded only to Siva. But “the stars that govern our conditions” decided otherwise and lovely Lucy married and became Frau Lucy Cornelssen. Lucy took to writing or rather was called to that vocation. Those were days when serious writers could just manage to keep the wolf from the door. “I was always poor!” said Lucy Ma once. But that was sadhana in a rich sense. Did she not in later years become a very articulate, highly polished writer, producing such well-received books as ‘Hunting the I’ and very perceptive German translations of Sri Bhagavan’s works?

The Second World War broke out in 1939, which did not spare a single household. “Wars always devour the best”, says a German proverb. The best in physical strength and valour, in patriotism and heroism. The best-minded Germans, like the great novelist Thomas Mann, left the Fatherland reluctantly and in disgust. Bertolt Brecht, the dramatist and passionate pacifist, dared the warmongers who burned his inflammable books, to burn him, and moved from one country to another to escape the evil of war. Einstein, the greatest German since Goethe, had left the country earlier, an exit which was later to prove disastrous to those who made him quit. Many stayed and suffered; Lucy was one of them. she had already found a measure of inward poise; the war did not touch her inmost being. She quietly retired to a life of solitude in a little hut in the midst of a dense forest.

Siva had come to Lucy in her childhood. Now Arunachala Siva Ramana came, for she was ready to receive and spread His teaching.

One night Lucy had lost the way to her hut and was groping around in the dark. Weary and dispirited, Lucy was about to collapse, when she saw a dot of light at some distance. When she reached the spot, she saw that it was another hut. The door was open. Lucy was not the kind of person to walk into a house unannounced. But on that night, she neither knocked nor called out. She just walked in. On a table near the candle, whose little flame had guided her to that hut, there stood the photograph of the head and shoulders of a man whose eyes shone with a rare lustre. Lucy saw the photo and stood still, a monument of bliss. . . Lucy found it strange that she now felt fully alive as never before and yet her body was nowhere.

The owner of the hut walked in after a while. She was surprised to see a youthful lady standing entranced and statue-like, a look of rapture on her radiant face. She shook Lucy and brought her out of the trance.

Lucy learnt that the person was the lady’s spiritual Master, that he lived at the foot of Arunachala, the Hill of the Holy Beacon, in South India, and was called Sri Ramana Maharshi.

Not much later a copy of Heinrich Zimmer’s book “Der Weg zum Selbst” (The Way to the Self) in which the great Indologist had written a glowing account of the Sage’s life and teachings and had made first-class translations of some of His works, “somehow found its way into my deep forest solitude.” That photograph and that book totally transformed Lucy’s life. The devotee of Siva had found her Sadguru!

Lucy Ma wrote in The Mountain Path in 1979: “I should say that it was my spiritual earnestness which brought about my acquaintance with Sri Ramana Maharshi through that book. I was able to perceive that Ramana was an authentic representative of the lofty Upanishadic Wisdom in our own days.”

Lucy started saving money to go to South India to be at the feet of her Master. Just when she was ready to leave, news came of His Mahasamadhi. She was just not destined to see her Sadguru in the body. True, he often said that He was not the body, but she was sad.

However, she soon braced herself and her grief was transmuted into energy for action. She resolved to bring out accurate translations in German of Bhagavan Ramana’s works, and towards this end, she made up her mind to acquire adequate proficiency in Tamil. By the time she left for India in 1956, she had a good passive knowledge of Tamil and had put together a manuscript of her German translation of His works. She said that she completed the draft translation “in a matter of weeks”. But then deeply meditative preparation had lasted years.

Lucy Ma came to Sri Ramanasramam because it was there that her Master had lived and sanctified every inch of the Holy Hill and the ashram by His footsteps. She would place her manuscripts at His feet and also seek confirmation from His disciples that her translation was flawless and worthy of the original. At the Ashram she got an excellent guide. T.K. Sundaresa Iyer – popularly called TKS – was well-read in English, Tamil and Sanskrit and had a deep understanding of Sri Bhagavan*s teachings. Affectionately called “Sundaresa” by Bhagavan, he was held in esteem by everyone in the Ashram. Lucy found in TKS a match for her Teutonic diligence and thoroughness.

When her translations were printed – In three volumes – Lucy Ma in characteristic humility, had hidden behind the nome-de-plume “Satyamayi”. Lucy Ma and TKS allowed me the privilege of assisting them in this project.

Lucy Ma, lover of peace and loneliness, spent more than seven months in sylvan surroundings at “Nirudhi Lingam” shrine on the hill-round route. It was here that Nayana (Kavyakantfia Ganapati Muni) had done tapasya before he met the young Swami whom he recognized and named as Bhagavan Sri Ramana Maharshi. Now around this sacred spot has sprung up a colony of very earnest sadhakas, deeply devoted to Sri Bhagavan, most of them from West Germany.

Lucy Ma kept shuttling between Germany and Tiruvannamabi. In response to my humble request and Ashram’s invitation, she finally came to Arunachala forever in the 70’s. Her daughter, Heike Becker-Foss, kept coming from Germany to spend some time with her mother, but Lucy Ma stayed put in Arunachala. Heike, daughter of her mother, tall and regal, bright and sensitive, wrote of the Ashram: “It Is another world than we are used to live in; strange and yet as if it were, the real world of the Soul, seemingly lost since centuries, yet never forgotten!”

Lucy Ma lived, till her last day, in a little apartment offered by me in front of the ashram. Once during my long absence from the town, she had arranged for her permanent stay in an Old Women’s Home in Germany. When I returned, she divulged her plan to me. With tears in my eyes, I pleaded with her not to leave dozens of her spiritual children, and me, her son, who needed her guidance most. She pleaded she was becoming too weak and a burden on the Ashram. I reasoned with her. Where was the question of burden? Lucy Ma magnanimously relented and said she would stay on if only for my sake. I was overwhelmed. When comes such another mother?

Lucy Ma observed silence on Mondays. The board “MOUNAM ~ MONDAY” hung at her door every Monday. But she would graciously consent to receive and talk to a serious seeker who could not wait till Tuesday. Actually, it was an atmosphere of silence prevailed in Lucy Ma’s apartment on all days. Her soft-spoken words had the quality of silence. She spoke little, but with great effect.

And wrote likewise. Her book ‘Hunting the I’ is one of the best and most original books on Sri Bhagavan on our shelves. It has fascinated many seekers with an intellectual bent of mind. Using her knowledge of philosophy, sociology, biology, archaeology, psychology, and other disciplines, she has interpreted Sri Bhagavan’s teachings in a novel and convincing way, anticipating all questions and copiously quoting Sri Bhagavan’s own words. …

The little book of 100 pages is a masterpiece of rigorous analysis and clarity of thought. Lucy Ma showed her gracious affection when she dedicated the original German version of ‘Hunting the I’ to me.

Her clarity impressed visitors. Only those were sent to her who would benefit by talking to her – mainly those who wanted to see her and those who knew only German or French. After a brief session of conversation with her, many came away clearer in mind.

Like me, Helga, the brave Bulgarian-born German lady, regularly visited Lucy Ma. She is now sorting out Lucy Ma’s few unpublished writings and translating them into English.

It so turned out that neither Helga nor I was at Lucy Ma’s bedside when she passed away. We were both out of town. Before I left, when I went to her to take leave, she was intensely emotional and said: “Thank you for everything, my son! You are taking leave of me and I am taking leave of everybody soon. I bless you!” I drenched her feet with my tears and walked away.

A day after I left, she was absorbed in Arunachala. Her body was interred inside the Ashram premises; her samadhi is built near those of Major Chadwick, S.S. Cohen and H.C. Khanna.

She went gently, happily. It was into the great Light that she went. Goethe, in his last moments, muttered: “Light, more light”. To Lucy Ma that great Light was never in doubt, ever since she realized the truth of Sri Bhagavan’s teaching, “the Self is Light”.

– The Mountain Path 1990

Here you can see more posts from Lucy Cornelssen.

From the Many to the One: Transcending the Seven Bodies, Part 1 – Osho

You said we have seven bodies: an etheric body, a mental body and so on. Sometimes it is difficult to adjust the Indian language to the terms of Western psychology. We have no theory for this in the West, so how can we translate these different bodies into our language? The spiritual is no problem, but the etheric? The astral?

The words can be translated, but from sources where you haven’t looked for them. Jung was better than Freud as far as the search beyond superficial consciousness is concerned, but Jung too is just a beginning. You can get more of a glimpse of what is meant by these things from Steiner’s Anthroposophy or from Theosophical writings: Madame Blavatsky’s Secret Doctrine, Isis Unveiled and other works, or the works of Annie Besant, Leadbeater, Colonel Alcott. You can get a glimpse from Rosicrucian doctrines. There is also a great Hermetic tradition in the West, as well as the secret writings of the Essenes, the Hermetic fraternity by whom Christ was initiated. And more recently, Gurdjieff and Ouspensky can be of help. So something can be found in fragments, and these fragments can be put together.

And what I have said I have said in your terminology. I have used only one word that is not part of Western terminology: the nirvanic. The other six terms – the physical, the etheric, the astral, the mental, the spiritual and the cosmic – are not Indian. They belong to the West as well. In the West the seventh has never been talked about, not because there were no persons who knew about it, but because the seventh is impossible to communicate.

If you find these terms difficult, then you can simply use “the first,” “the second,” “the third” and so on. Don’t use any terms to describe them; just describe them. The description will be enough; terminology is of no consequence.

These seven can be approached from so many directions. As far as dream is concerned, Freud’s, Jung’s and Adler’s terms can be used. What they know as the conscious is the first body. The unconscious is the second – not exactly the same, but near enough to it. What they call the collective unconscious is the third – again, not exactly the same but something approximate to it.

And if there are no common terms in usage, new terms can be coined. That is always better, in fact, because new terms have no old connotations. When a new term is used, because you have no previous association with it, it becomes more significant and is understood more deeply. So you can coin new words.

The etheric means that which is concerned with the sky and with space. The astral means the minutest, the sukshma, the last one, the atomic, beyond which matter ceases to exist. For the mental there are no difficulties. For the spiritual there are no difficulties. For the cosmic too there are no difficulties.

Then you come to the seventh, the nirvanic. Nirvanic means total cessation, the absolute void. Not even the seed exists now; everything has ceased. Linguistically the word means extinction of the flame. The flame has gone out; the light is turned off. Then you cannot ask where it has gone. It has just ceased to be.

Nirvana means the flame that has gone out. Now it is nowhere, or everywhere. It has no particular point of existence and no particular time or moment of existence. Now it is space itself, time itself. It is existence or non-existence; it makes no difference. Because it is everywhere, you can use either term. If it is somewhere it cannot be everywhere, and if it is everywhere it cannot be somewhere, so nowhere and everywhere mean the same thing. So for the seventh body you will have to use ‘nirvanic,’ because there is no better word for it.

Words in themselves have no meaning at all. Only experiences have meaning. Only if you have experienced something of these seven bodies will it be meaningful to you. To help you, there are different methods to be used on each plane.

Begin from the physical. Then every other step opens for you. The moment you work on the first body, you have glimpses of the second. So begin from the physical. Be aware of it moment to moment. And not only outwardly aware. You can become aware of your body from the inside also. I can become aware of my hand as I have seen it from the outside, but there is an inner feeling to it too. When I close my eyes the hand is not seen, but there is still an inner feeling of something being there. So do not be aware of your body as seen from the outside. This cannot lead you inward. The inner feeling is quite different.

When you feel the body from within, you will know for the first time what it is to be inside the body. When you see it only from the outside you cannot know its secrets. You know only the outer boundaries, how it looks to others. If I see my body from the outside, I see it as it looks to others, but I have not known it as it is for me. You can see my hand from the outside and I can see it. It is something objective. You can share the knowledge of it with me. But my hand, looked at in that way, is not known inwardly. It has become public property. You can know it as well as I.

Only the moment I see it from within does it become mine in a way that is unsharable. You cannot know it; you cannot know how I feel it from within. Only I can know it. The body that is known to us is not our body. It is the body that is objectively known to all, the body that a physician can know in a laboratory. It is not the body that is. Only private, personal knowing can lead you inward; public knowledge cannot. That is why physiology or psychology, which are observations from without, have not led to a knowledge of our inner bodies. It is only the physical body that they know about.

So many dilemmas have been created because of this. One may feel beautiful from within, but we can force him to believe that he is ugly. If we are collectively agreed upon it, he may also come to agree. But no one feels ugly within. The inner feeling is always of beauty.

This outer feeling is not really a feeling at all. It is just a fashion, a criterion imposed from without. A person who is beautiful in one society may be ugly in another; a person who is beautiful in one period of history may not be in another. But the innermost feeling is always of beauty, so if there were no outside criteria there would be no ugliness. We have a fixed image of beauty that everyone shares. That is why there is ugliness and beauty, otherwise not. If we all become blind, no one will be ugly. Everyone will be beautiful.

So the feeling of the body from within is the first step. In different situations the body will feel different from within. When you are in love, you have a particular inner feeling; when you experience hate, the inner feeling is different. If you ask Buddha he will say, “Love is beauty,” because in his inner feeling he knows that when he is loving he is beautiful. When there is hatred, anger, jealousy, something happens inwardly that makes you begin to feel ugly. So you will feel yourself to be different in different situations, in different moments, in different states of mind.

When you are feeling lazy, there is a difference from when you are feeling active. When you are sleepy, there is a difference. These differences must be distinctly known. Only then do you become acquainted with the inner life of your body. Then you know the inner history, the inner geography of yourself in childhood, in youth, in old age.

The moment one becomes aware of his body from within, the second body automatically comes into view. This second body will be known from the outside now. If you know the first body from the inside, then you will become aware of the second body from the outside.

From outside the first body, you can never know the second body, but from inside it you can see the outside of the second body. Every body has two dimensions: the outer and the inner. Just like a wall has two sides – one looking outward and the other looking inward – every body has a boundary, a wall. When you come to know the first body from the inside, you become aware of the second body from the outside.

You are now in between: inside the first body and outside the second. This second body, the etheric body, is like condensed smoke. You can pass through it without any hindrance, but it is not transparent; you cannot look into it from the outside. The first body is solid. The second body is just like the first as far as shape is concerned, but it is not solid.

When the first body dies, the second remains alive for thirteen days. It travels with you. Then, after thirteen days, it too is dead. It disperses, evaporates. If you come to know the second body while the first is still alive, you can be aware of this happening.

The second body can go out of your body. Sometimes in meditation this second body goes up or down, and you have a feeling that gravitation has no pull over you; you have left the earth. But when you open your eyes, you are on the ground, and you know that you were there all the time. This feeling that you have risen comes because of the second body, not the first. For the second body there is no gravitation, so the moment you know the second you feel a certain freedom that was unknown to the physical body. Now you can go outside of your body and come back.

This is the second step if you want to know the experiences of your second body. And the method is not difficult. Just wish to be outside your body and you’re outside it. The wish itself is the fulfillment. For the second body no effort has to be made because there is no gravitational pull. The difficulty for the first body is because of the gravitational force. If I want to come to your house, I will have to fight with the gravitational force. But if there is no gravitation, then the simple desire will be enough. The thing will happen.

The etheric body is the body that is put to work in hypnosis. The first body is not involved in hypnosis; it is the second body. That is why a person with perfect vision can go blind. If the hypnotist says that you have gone blind, you become blind just by believing it. It is the etheric body that has been influenced; the suggestion goes to the etheric body. If you are in a deep trance, your second body can be influenced. A person who is alright can be paralyzed just by suggesting to him that “you are paralyzed.” A hypnotist must not use any language that creates doubt. If he says, “It appears that you have gone blind,” it will not work. He must be absolutely certain about it. Only then will the suggestion work.

So in the second body just say: “I am outside the body.” Just wish to be outside it, and you will be outside it. Ordinary sleep belongs to the first body. It is the first body – exhausted by the day’s labor, work, tension – relaxing. In hypnosis, it is the second body that is put to sleep. If it is put to sleep, you can work with it.

When you get any disease, seventy-five percent of it comes from the second body and spreads to the first. The second body is so suggestible that first year medical students always catch the same disease that is being studied. They begin to have the symptoms. If headache is being discussed, unknowingly everyone goes inside and begins to ask, “Do I have a headache? Do I have these symptoms?” Because going inward affects the etheric body, the suggestion is caught and a headache is projected, created.

The pain of childbirth is not of the first body; it is of the second. So through hypnosis, childbirth can be made absolutely painless – just by suggestion. There are primitive societies in which women do not feel labor pains because the possibility has never entered their minds. But every type of civilization creates common suggestions that then become part and parcel of everybody’s expectations.

Under hypnosis there is no pain. Even surgery can be done under hypnosis without any pain because if the second body gets the suggestion that there will be no pain then there is no pain.

As far as I am concerned, every type of pain, and every type of pleasure too, comes from the second body and spreads to the first. So if the suggestion changes, the same thing that has been painful can become pleasurable, and vice versa.

Change the suggestion, change the etheric mind, and everything will be changed. Just wish totally and it will happen. Totality is the only difference between wish and will. When you have wished something totally, completely, with your whole mind, it becomes willpower.

If you wish totally to go outside of your physiological body, you can go outside it. Then there is a possibility of knowing the second body from within, otherwise not. When you go outside your physical body, you are no longer in between: inside the first and outside the second. Now you are inside the second. The first body is not.

Now you can become aware of your second body from the inside, just as you became aware of your first body from the inside. Be aware of its inner workings, its inner mechanism, the inner life. The first time you try it is difficult, but after that you will always be within two bodies: the first and the second. Your point of attention will now be in two realms, two dimensions.

The moment you are inside the second body you will be outside the third, the astral. As far as the astral is concerned, there is no need even of any will. Just the wish to be inside is enough. There is no question of totality now. If you want to go in, you can go in. The astral body is a vapor like the second body, but it is transparent. So the moment you are outside, you will be inside. You will not even know whether you are inside or outside because the boundary is transparent.

The astral body is the same size as the first two bodies. Up to the fifth body, the size is the same. The content will change, but the size will be the same up to the fifth. With the sixth body the size will be cosmic. And with the seventh, there will be no size at all not even the cosmic.

The fourth body is absolutely wall-less. From inside the third body, there is not even a transparent wall. It is just a boundary, wall-less, so there is no difficulty in entering and no need of any method. So one who has achieved the third can achieve the fourth very easily.

But to go beyond the fourth, there is as much difficulty as there was in going beyond the first, because now the mental ceases. The fifth is the spiritual body. Before it can be reached there is again a wall, but not in the same sense as there was a wall between the first body and the second. The wall is between different dimensions now. It is of a different plane.

The four lower bodies were all concerned with one plane. The division was horizontal. Now, it is vertical. So the wall between the fourth and the fifth is bigger than between any two of the lower bodies – because our ordinary way of looking is horizontal, not vertical. We look from side to side, not up and down. But the movement from the fourth body to the fifth is from a lower plane to a higher plane. The difference is not between outside and inside but between up and down. Not unless you begin to look upward can you move into the fifth.

The mind always looks downward. That is why yoga is against the mind. The mind flows downward just like water. Water has never been made the symbol of any spiritual system because its intrinsic nature is to flow downward. Fire has been the symbol of so many systems. Fire goes upward; it never goes downward. So in moving from the fourth body to the fifth body, fire is the symbol. One must look upward; one must stop seeing downward.

How to look upward? What is the way? You must have heard that in meditation the eyes must be looking upward to the ajna chakra. The eyes must be focused upward as if you are going to see inside your skull. Eyes are only symbolic. The real question is of vision. Our vision, our faculty for seeing, is associated with the eyes, so eyes become the means through which even inward vision happens. If you turn your eyes upward, then your vision too goes upward.

Raja yoga begins with the fourth body. Only hatha yoga begins with the first body; other yogas begin from somewhere else. Theosophy begins from the second body, and other systems begin from the third. As civilization goes on progressing to the fourth body, many persons will be able to begin from there. But only if they have worked through the three lower bodies in their past lives can the fourth be used. Those who study raja yoga from scriptures or from swamis and gurus without knowing whether or not they have worked through their three lower bodies are bound to be disillusioned because one cannot begin from the fourth. The three must be crossed first. Only then does the fourth come.

-Osho

From Psychology of the Esoteric, Discourse #7, Part 1

Copyright © OSHO International Foundation

For related posts see:

Beyond the Gateless Gate: Transcending the Seven Bodies, Part 2

Also see: The Mysteries of the Seven Bodies

An MP3 audio file of this discourse can be downloaded from Osho.com or you can read the entire book online at the Osho Library.

Many of Osho’s books are available in the U.S. online from Amazon.com and Viha Osho Book Distributors. In India they are available from Amazon.in and Oshoworld.com.

Beyond the Gateless Gate: Transcending the Seven Bodies, Part 2 – Osho

Raja yoga begins with the fourth body. Only hatha yoga begins with the first body; other yogas begin from somewhere else. Theosophy begins from the second body, and other systems begin from the third. As civilization goes on progressing to the fourth body, many persons will be able to begin from there. But only if they have worked through the three lower bodies in their past lives can the fourth be used. Those who study raja yoga from scriptures or from swamis and gurus without knowing whether or not they have worked through their three lower bodies are bound to be disillusioned because one cannot begin from the fourth. The three must be crossed first. Only then does the fourth come.

The fourth is the last body that it is possible to begin from. There are four yogas: hatha yoga for the first body, mantra yoga for the second, bhakti yoga for the third, and raja yoga for the fourth. In ancient days, everybody had to begin with the first body, but now there are so many types of people: one has worked up to the second body in a previous life, another up to the third, et cetera. But as far as dreaming is concerned, one must begin from the first body. Only then can you know the whole range of it, the whole spectrum of it.

So in the fourth body, your consciousness must become like fire – going upward. There are many ways to check this. For example, if the mind is flowing toward sex it is just like water flowing downward, because the sex center is downward. In the fourth body one must begin directing the eyes up, not down.

If consciousness is to go upward, it must begin from a center that is above the eyes, not below the eyes. There is only one center above the eyes from which the movement can be upward: the ajna chakra. Now the two eyes must look upward toward the third eye.

The third eye has been remembered in so many ways. In India, the distinction between a virgin and a girl who is married is made by a color mark on the third eye of the married one. A virgin is bound to look downward toward the sex center, but the moment she is married she must begin to look upward. Sex must change from sexuality to beyond sexuality. To help her to remember to look upward, a color mark, a tilak, is used on the third eye.

Tilak marks have been used on the foreheads of so many types of persons: sannyasins, worshippers – so many types of color marks. Or it is possible to use chandan – sandalwood paste. The moment your two eyes look upward toward the third eye, a great fire is created at the center; a burning sensation is there. The third eye is beginning to open, and it must be kept cool. So in India, sandalwood paste is used. It is not only cool; it also has a particular perfume that is concerned with the third body and the transcendence of it. The coolness of the perfume, and the particular spot where it is placed, becomes an upward attraction, a remembrance of the third eye.

If you close your eyes and I place my finger at your third eye spot, I am not really touching your third eye itself, but you will still begin to feel it. Even this much pressure is enough. Scarcely a touch, just a gentle fingering. So the perfume, the delicate touch of it and its coolness, is enough. Then your attention is always flowing from your eyes to the third eye.

So to cross the fourth body there is only one technique, one method, and that is to look upward.

Shirshasan, the headstand, the reverse position of the body, was used as a method to do this because our eyes are ordinarily looking downward. If you stand on your head, you will still be looking downward, but now the downward is upward. The flow of your energy downward will be converted into an upward flow.

That is why in meditation, even without knowing it, some persons will go into reverse positions. They will begin to do shirshasan because the flow of energy has changed. Their minds are so conditioned to the downward flow that when the energy changes direction they will feel uncomfortable. When they begin to stand on their heads they will feel at ease again, because the flow of energy will again be moving downward. But it will not really be moving downward. In relation to your centers, your chakras, the energy will still be moving upward.

So shirshasan has been used as a method to take you from the fourth body to the fifth. The main thing to be remembered is to be looking upward. This can be done through tratak – staring at a fixed object, through concentration on the sun, through so many objects. But it is better to do it inwardly. Just close the eyes!

But first, the first four bodies must be crossed. Only then can it be helpful, otherwise not. Otherwise, it may be disturbing; it may create all sorts of mental diseases, because the whole adjustment of the system will be shattered. The four bodies are looking downward, and with your inner mind you are looking upward. Then, there is every possibility that schizophrenia will result.

To me, schizophrenia is the result of such a thing. That is why ordinary psychology cannot go deeply into schizophrenia. The schizophrenic mind is simultaneously working in opposite directions: standing outside and looking inside; standing outside and looking upward. Your whole system must be in harmony. If you have not known your physical body from the inside, then your consciousness should be facing downward. That will be healthy; the adjustment is right. You must never try to turn the outward moving mind upward or schizophrenia, division, will be the result.

Our civilizations, our religions, have been the basic cause for humanity’s split personality. They have not been concerned with the total harmony. There are teachers who teach methods to move upward to persons who are not even inside their own physical body. The method begins to work and part of the person remains outside his body while a second part moves upward. Then there will be a split between the two. He will become two persons: sometimes this, sometimes that; a Jekyll and Hyde.

There is every possibility that a person can become seven people simultaneously. Then the split is complete. He has become seven different energies. One part of him is moving downward, clinging to the first body; another is clinging to the second; another to the third. One part is going upward; another is going somewhere else. He has no center in him at all.

Gurdjieff used to say that such a person is just like a house where the master is absent, and every servant claims he is the master. And no one can deny it, because the master himself is absent. When anybody comes to the house and knocks on the door, the servant who is nearby becomes the master. The next day, another servant answers the door and claims to be the master.

A schizophrenic is without any center. And we are all like that! We have adjusted ourselves to society, that’s all. The difference is only of degrees. The master is absent or asleep, and every part of us claims ownership. When the sex urge is there, sex becomes the master. Your mortality, your family, your religion – everything will be denied. Sex becomes the total owner of the house. And then, when sex has gone, frustration follows. Your reason takes charge and says, “I am the master.” Now reason will claim the whole house and will deny sex a home.

Everybody claims the house totally. When anger is there, it becomes the master. Now there is no reason, no consciousness. Nothing else can interfere with the anger. Because of this, we cannot understand others. A person who was loving becomes angry, and suddenly there is no love. We are at a loss now to understand whether he is loving or not loving. The love was just a servant, and the anger too is just a servant. The master is absent. That is why you cannot ordinarily rely on anybody else. He is not master of himself; any servant can take over. He is no one; he is not a unity.

What I am saying is that one should not experiment with techniques of looking upward before crossing the first four bodies. Otherwise, a split will be created which will be impossible to bridge, and one will have to wait for one’s next life to begin again. It is better to practice techniques that begin from the beginning. If you have passed your first three bodies in past births, then you will pass them again within a moment. There will be no difficulty. You know the territory; you know the way. In a moment, they come before you. You recognize them – and you have passed them! Then you can go further. So my insistence is always to begin from the first body. For everyone!

To move from the fourth body is the most significant thing. Up to the fourth body you are human.  Now you become superhuman. In the first body you are just an animal. Only with the second body does humanity come into being. And only in the fourth does it flower completely. Civilization has never gone beyond the fourth. Beyond the fourth is beyond the human. We cannot classify Christ as a human being. A Buddha, a Mahavira, a Krishna, are beyond the human. They are superhuman.

The upward look is a jump from the fourth body. When I am looking at my first body from outside it, I am just an animal with the possibility of being human. The only difference is that I can become human and the animal cannot. As far as the present situation is concerned, we are both below humanity, subhuman. But I have a possibility to go beyond. And from the second body onward, the flowering of the human being happens.

Even someone in the fourth body looks superhuman to us. They are not. An Einstein or a Voltaire looks superhuman, but they are not. They are the complete flowering of the human being and we are below human, so they are above us. But they are not above the human. Only a Buddha, a Christ or a Zarathustra is more than human. By looking upward, by raising their consciousness upward from the fourth body, they have crossed the boundary of the mind; they have transcended the mental body.

There are parables worth our understanding. Mohammed, looking upward, says that something has come to him from above. We interpret this above geographically, so the sky becomes the abode of the gods. For us, upward means the sky; downward means the layer below the earth. But if we interpret it in this way, the symbol has not been understood. When Mohammed is looking upward he is not looking toward the sky; he is looking toward the ajna chakra. When he says that something has come to him from above, his feeling is right. But, ‘up’ has a different meaning for us.

In every picture, Zarathustra is looking upward. His eyes are never downward. He was looking upward when he first saw the divine. The divine came to him as fire. That is why the Persians have been fire worshippers. This feeling of fire comes from the ajna chakra. When you look upward, the spot feels fiery, as if everything is burning. Because of that burning, you are transformed. The lower being is burnt, it ceases to be, and the upper being is born. That is the meaning of “passing through fire.”

After the fifth body you move into still another realm, another dimension. From the first body to the fourth body the movement is from outside to inside; from the fourth to the fifth it is from downward to upward; from the fifth it is from ego to non-ego. Now the dimension is different. There is no question of outside, inside, upward or downward. The question is of “I” and “non-I.” The question is now concerned with whether there is a center or not.

A person is without any center up to the fifth – split in different parts. Only for the fifth body is there a center: a unity, oneness. But the center becomes the ego. Now this center will be a hindrance for further progress. Every step that was a help becomes a hindrance for further progress. You have to leave every bridge you cross. It was helpful in crossing, but it will become a hindrance if you cling to it.

Up to the fifth body, a center has to be created. Gurdjieff says this fifth center is the crystallization.

Now there are no servants; the master has taken charge. Now the master is the master. He is awakened; he has come back. When the master is present, the servants subside; they become silent.

So when you enter the fifth body, crystallization of the ego happens. But now, for further progress, this crystallization must be lost again. Lost into the void, into the cosmic. Only one who has can lose, so to talk about egolessness before the fifth body is nonsense, absurd. You do not have an ego, so how can you lose it? Or you can say that you have many egos, every servant has an ego. You are multi-egoistic, a multi-personality, a multi-psyche, but not a unified ego.

You cannot lose the ego because you do not have it. A rich man can renounce his riches, but not a poor one. He has nothing to renounce, nothing to lose. But there are poor people who think about renunciation. A rich person is afraid of renunciation because he has something to lose, but a poor one is always ready to renounce. He is ready, but he has nothing to renounce.

The fifth body is the richest. It is the culmination of all that is possible for a human being. The fifth is the peak of individuality, the peak of love, of compassion, of everything that is worthwhile. The thorns have been lost. Now, the flower too must be lost. Then there will simply be perfume, no flower.

The sixth is the realm of perfume, cosmic perfume. No flower, no center. A circumference, but no center. You can say that everything has become a center, or that now there is no center. Just a diffused feeling is there. There is no split, no division – not even the division of the individual into the “I” and the “non-I,” the “I” and “the other.” There is no division at all.

So the individual can be lost in either of two ways: one, schizophrenic, splitting into many sub persons; and another, cosmic – lost into the ultimate; lost into the greater, the greatest, the Brahma; lost into the expanse. Now the flower is not, but the perfume is.

The flower too is a disturbance, but when only the perfume is, it is perfect. Now there is no source, so it cannot die. It is undying. Everything that has a source will die, but now the flower is not, so there is no source. The perfume is uncaused, so there is no death and no boundary to it. A flower has limitations; perfume is unlimited. There is no barrier to it. It goes on and on, and goes beyond.

So from the fifth body the question is not of upward, downward, sideways, inside, outside. The question is whether to be with an ego or without an ego. And the ego is the most difficult thing of all to lose. The ego is not a problem up to the fifth body because progress is ego-fulfilling. No one wants to be schizophrenic; everyone would prefer to have a crystallized personality. So every sadhaka, every seeker, can progress to the fifth body.

There is no method to move beyond the fifth body because every type of method is bound with the ego. The moment you use a method, the ego is strengthened. So those who are concerned with going beyond the fifth, talk of no-method. They talk of methodlessness, of no-technique. Now there is no how. From the fifth, there is no method possible.

You can use a method up to the fifth, but then no method will be of use because the user is to be lost. If you use anything, the user will become stronger. His ego will go on crystallizing; it will become a nucleus of crystallization. That is why those who have remained in the fifth body say there are infinite souls, infinite spirits. They think of each spirit as if it were an atom. Two atoms cannot meet. They are windowless, doorless; closed to everything outside themselves. Ego is windowless. You can use a word of Leibnitz: ‘monads’. Those who remain in the fifth body become monads: windowless atoms. Now you are alone, and alone, and alone.

But this crystallized ego has to be lost. How to lose it when there is no method? How to go beyond it when there is no path? How to escape from it? There is no door. Zen monks talk about the gateless gate. Now there is no gate, and still one has to go beyond it.

So what to do? The first thing: do not be identified with this crystallization. Just be aware of this closed house of “I.” Just be aware of it – don’t do anything – and there is an explosion! You will be beyond it.

They have a parable in Zen….

A goose egg is put in a bottle. The goose comes out of the egg and begins to grow, but the mouth of the bottle is so small that the goose cannot come out of the bottle. It grows bigger and bigger, and the bottle becomes too small to live in. Now, either the bottle will have to be destroyed to save the goose, or the goose will die. Seekers are asked: “What is to be done? We do not want to lose either. The goose is to be saved and the bottle also. So what to do?” This is the question of the fifth body. When there is no way out and the goose is growing, when the crystallization has become consolidated, what to do now?

The seeker goes inside a room, closes the door and begins to puzzle over it. What to do? Only two things seem to be possible: either to destroy the bottle and save the goose, or to let the goose die and save the bottle. The meditator goes on thinking and thinking. He thinks of something, but then it will be cancelled because there is no way to do it. The teacher sends him back to think some more.

For many nights and many days the seeker goes on thinking, but there is no way to do it. Finally, a moment comes when thinking ceases. He runs out shouting, “Eureka! The goose is out!” The teacher never asks how, because the whole thing is just nonsense.

So to move from the fifth body, the problem becomes a Zen koan. One should just be aware of the crystallization – and the goose is out! A moment comes when you are out; there is no “I.” The crystallization has been gained and lost. For the fifth, crystallization – the center, the ego – was essential. As a passage, as a bridge, it was a necessity; otherwise, the fifth body could not be crossed. But now it is no longer needed.

There are persons who have achieved the fifth without passing through the fourth. A person who has many riches has achieved the fifth; he has crystallized in a way. A person who has become president of a country has crystallized in a way. A Hitler, a Mussolini, is crystallized in a way. But the crystallization is in the fifth body. If the four lower bodies are not in accordance with it, then the crystallization becomes a disease. Mahavira and Buddha are crystallized too, but their crystallization is different.

We all long to fulfill the ego because of an innermost need to reach the fifth body. But if we choose a shortcut, then in the end we will be lost. The shortest way is through riches, power, politics. The ego can be achieved, but it is a false crystallization; it is not in accordance with your total personality. It is like a corn that forms on your foot and becomes crystallized. It is a false crystallization, an abnormal growth, a disease.

If the goose is out in the fifth, you are in the sixth. From the fifth to the sixth is the realm of mystery. Up to the fifth, scientific methods can be used, so yoga is helpful. But after that it is meaningless, because yoga is a methodology, a scientific technique.

In the fifth, Zen is very helpful. It is a method to go from the fifth to the sixth. Zen flowered in Japan but it began in India. Its roots came from Yoga. Yoga flowered into Zen.

Zen has had much appeal in the West because the Western ego is, in a sense, crystallized. In the West, they are the masters of the world; they have everything. But the ego has become crystallized through the wrong process. It has not developed through the transcendence of the first four bodies.

So Zen has become appealing to the West but it will not help because the crystallization is wrong.

Gurdjieff is much more helpful to the West because he works from the first body to the fifth. He is not helpful beyond the fifth, only up to the fifth, to the crystallization. Through his techniques, you can achieve a proper crystallization.

Zen has been just a fad in the West because it has no roots there. It developed through a very long process in the East, beginning with hatha yoga and culminating in the Buddha. Thousands and thousands of years of humbleness: not of ego but of passivity; not of positive action but of receptivity – through a long duration of the female mind, the receptive mind. The East has always been female, while the West is male: aggressive, positive. The East has been an openness, a receptivity. Zen could be of help in the East because other methods, other systems, worked on the four lower bodies.

These four became the roots, and Zen could flower.

Today, Zen has become almost meaningless in Japan. The reason is that Japan has become absolutely Western. Once the Japanese were the most humble people, but now their humbleness is just a show. It is no longer part of their innermost core. So Zen has been uprooted in Japan and is popular now in the West. But this popularity is only because of the false crystallization of the ego.

From the fifth body to the sixth, Zen is very helpful; but only then, neither before nor beyond. It is absolutely useless for the other bodies, even harmful. To teach university level courses in the primary school not only does not help; it may be harmful.

If Zen is used before the fifth body you may experience satori, but that is not samadhi. Satori is a false samadhi. It is a glimpse of samadhi, but it is just a glimpse. As far as the fourth body – the mental body – is concerned, satori will make you more artistic, more aesthetic. It will create a sense of beauty in you; it will create a feeling of well-being. But it will not be a help in crystallization. It will not help you to move from the fourth body to the fifth.

Only beyond crystallization is Zen helpful. The goose is out of the bottle, without any how. But only at this point can it be practiced, after so many other methods have been used. A painter can paint with closed eyes; he can paint as if it is a game. An actor can act as if he is not acting. In fact, the acting becomes perfect only when it does not look like acting. But many years of labor have gone into it, many years of practice. Now the actor is completely at ease, but that at-easeness is not achieved in a day. It has its own methods.

We walk, but we never know how we do it. If someone asks you how you walk you say, “I just walk. There is no how to it.” But the how takes place when a child begins to walk. He learns. If you were to tell the child that walking needs no method – “you just walk!” – It would be nonsense. The child would not understand it. Krishnamurti has been talking this way, talking with adults who have children’s minds, saying, “You can walk. You just walk!” People listen. They are charmed. Easy! To walk without any method. Then, everyone can walk.

Krishnamurti too has become attractive in the West, and just because of this. If you look at hatha yoga or mantra yoga or bhakti yoga or raja yoga or tantra, it looks so long, so arduous, so difficult. Centuries of labor are needed, births and births. They cannot wait. Some shortcut, something instantaneous must be there. So Krishnamurti appeals to them. He says, “You just walk. You walk into God. There is no method.” But no-method is the most arduous thing to achieve. To act as if one is not acting, to speak as if one is not speaking, to walk effortlessly as if one is not walking, is based on long effort.

Labor and effort are necessary; they are needed. But they have a limitation. They are needed up to the fifth body, but they are useless from the fifth to the sixth. You will go nowhere; the goose will never be out.

That is the problem with Indian yogis. They find it difficult to cross the fifth because they are method-enchanted, method-hypnotized. They have always worked with method. There has been a clear-cut science up to the fifth and they progressed with ease. It was an effort – and they could do it! No matter how much intensity was needed, it was no problem to them. No matter how much effort, they could supply it. But now in the fifth, they have to cross from the realm of method to no-method. Now they are at a loss. They sit down, they stop. And for so many seekers, the fifth becomes the end.

That is why there is talk of five bodies, not seven. Those who have gone only to the fifth think that it is the end. It is not the end; it is a new beginning. Now one must move from the individual to the non-individual. Zen, or methods like Zen, done effortlessly, can be helpful.

Zazen means just sitting, doing nothing. A person who has done much cannot conceive of this. Just sitting and doing nothing! It is inconceivable. A Gandhi cannot conceive of it. He says, “I will spin my wheel. Something must be done. This is my prayer, my meditation.” Non-doing to him means doing nothing. Non-doing has its own realm, its own bliss, its own adjustment, but that is from the fifth body to the sixth. It cannot be understood before that.

From the sixth to the seventh, there is not even no-method. Method is lost in the fifth, and no-method is lost in the sixth. One day you simply find that you are in the seventh. Even the cosmos has gone; only nothingness is. It just happens. It is a happening from the sixth to the seventh. Un-caused, unknown.

Only when it is un-caused does it become discontinuous with what went before. If it is caused then there is a continuity and the being cannot be lost, even in the seventh. The seventh is total non-being: nirvana, emptiness, non-existence.

There is no possibility of any continuity in moving from existence to non-existence. It is just a jump, un-caused. If it were caused there would be a continuity, and it would be just like the sixth body. So to move from the sixth body to the seventh cannot even be talked about. It is a discontinuity, a gap. Something was, and something now is – and there is no connection between the two. Something has just ceased, and something has just come in. There is no relationship between them. It is as if a guest has left from one door and another guest has entered from the other side.

There is no relationship between the going of one and the coming of the other. They are unrelated.

The seventh body is the ultimate, because now you have crossed even the world of causation. You have gone to the original source, to that which was before creation and that which will be after annihilation. So from the sixth to the seventh there is not even no-method. Nothing is of any help; everything can be a hindrance. From the cosmic to nothingness there is just a happening: uncaused, unprepared for, unasked for.

It happens instantaneously. Only one thing is to be remembered: you must not cling to the sixth. Clinging will prevent you from moving to the seventh. There is no positive way to move to the seventh, but there can be a negative hindrance. You can cling to the Brahma, the cosmos. You can say, “I have reached!” Those who say they have reached cannot go to the seventh.

Those who say, “I have known,” remain in the sixth. So those who wrote the Vedas remained in the sixth. Only a Buddha crosses the sixth because he says, “I do not know.” He refuses to give answers to the ultimate questions. He says, “No one knows. No one has known.” Buddha could not be understood. Those who heard him said, “No, our teachers have known. They say Brahma is.”

But Buddha is talking of the seventh body. No teacher can say he has known about the seventh because the moment you say it you lose touch with it. Once you have known it, you cannot say. Up to the sixth body symbols can be expressive, but there is no symbol for the seventh. It is just an emptiness.

There is a temple in China that is totally empty. There is nothing in it: no image, no scriptures, nothing. It is just bare, naked walls. Even the priest resides outside. He says, “A priest can only be outside the temple; he cannot be inside.” If you ask the priest where the deity of the temple is, he will say, “See it!” – And there is emptiness; there is no one. He will say, “See! Here! Now!” and there is only a naked, bare, empty temple.

If you look for objects then you cannot cross the sixth to the seventh. So there are negative preparations. A negative mind is needed, a mind that is not longing for anything – not even moksha, not even deliverance, not even nirvana, not even truth; a mind that is not waiting for anything – not even for God, for Brahma. It just is, without any longing, without any desire, without any wish. Just is-ness. Then, it happens . . . and even the cosmos is gone.

So you can cross into the seventh by and by. Begin from the physical and work through the etheric; then the astral, the mental, the spiritual. Up to the fifth you can work and then, from the fifth on, just be aware. Doing is not important then; consciousness is important. And finally, from the sixth to the seventh, even consciousness is not important. Only is-ness, being. This is the potentiality of our seeds. This is our possibility.

-Osho

From The Psychology of the Esoteric, Discourse #7, Part 2

Copyright © OSHO International Foundation

For related posts see:

From the Many to the One, Transcending the Seven Bodies, Part 1

Also see: The Mysteries of the Seven Bodies

An MP3 audio file of this discourse can be downloaded from Osho.com or you can read the entire book online at the Osho Library.

Many of Osho’s books are available in the U.S. online from Amazon.com and Viha Osho Book Distributors. In India they are available from Amazon.in and Oshoworld.com.

A True Mystic – Lucy Cornelssen

A True Mystic

There are a few individuals who come into this world, live a remote, almost obscure life, yet radiate a special presence. They are like a little lantern on a worn path that, if one stumbles across, lights one’s way. Lucy Cornelssen was one such lantern. She was a true mystic, born with an intense inner calling, the gift of compassion, and a smile that melted one’s heart.

We met her when she was in her mid-eighties and knew her well into her nineties. Lucy spent her last decade living in a small, one-room, thatched-roofed cottage at the foot of the sacred hill, Arunachala, in the South Indian town of Tiruvannamalai. She possessed the rare quality of grace and resignation and permeated the space around her with the magic of inner silence.

Her outer life was nondescript. In her later years she rarely left the cottage, yet she was always an inspiration to be with. At least once a week over a period of several years, my husband and I would visit her modest cottage. Often we would simply sit quietly together, with the silence broken by stories from Indian lore or pieces from the colorful quilt of her life. The most memorable scenes were of her young days as a German mother taking refuge from World War II in the depths of the Black Forest of Southern Germany. It was during these years, living like Thoreau, that awakened her sense of “living in the moment,” of becoming truly quiet. It was here that she listened to the sounds of nature and the rain tapping on the roof—she simply became one with nature. In the forest, Lucy learned the art of waiting without expectation and living one day at a time.

Through her mother, she came to learn of Indian art and philosophy. One day when entering a room in her Mother’s house, her eyes fell upon a bronze figure of Nataraja, the Hindu diety Shiva, in its dancing aspect. Immediately she felt a previous or karmic connection and became unconscious to the outer world. From that time on, she lived as one who felt the presence of Shiva in her heart.

As a trained journalist, Lucy Ma (as she was affectionately called) translated the Talks with Ramana Maharshi into German. Her translation became widely read by those interested in the teachings of this great sage. This attraction to Ramana grew into a deep mystical relationship with the Arunachala Hill, for this sacred hill is considered to be the physical manifestation of Shiva himself. To Lucy Ma, Arunachala was not merely a hill of red boulder and stone but the living presence of Shiva, a place that radiates silence and peace, turning one’s mind toward the Self.

While her philosophical outlook was resolutely non-dualistic, her devotion to Shiva was deeply interwoven into her nature, revealing a beautiful balance of head and heart. Lucy Ma loved stories, especially allegorical ones, and would always see the teachings within them rather than the theory. Often she would entertain us from her endless source of stories, and each story seemed to be appropriate for us at that moment. When she sensed we were taking events around us too seriously, she would often tell us a story to put us back on track. One of her favorites was about a King who asked the spiritual teachers of his land to give him something which would make him happy when he was sad and sad when he was happy. After much deliberation they presented him with a ring on which was inscribed the saying: “This too shall pass.”

The last time we saw her we knew it would be our last. She was eating very little then, and we knew she would effortlessly slip away in a silent, graceful manner like a butterfly whose purpose has been fulfilled through metamorphosis. She stood at the entrance to her small cottage waving and smiling radiantly. I turned to look just before entering the main road and saw her gazing at the peak of her beloved Arunachala.

For a number of years, while living in the United States, we had a regular correspondence. Even though she became frailer and found writing difficult, she continued. Lucy Ma’s last letter to us was written a few weeks before her passing, in 1990, and contained a very pointed and strong admonition to be at peace with whatever life brings, that the secret of true peace lies in acceptance and letting go. For Lucy Ma these were not mere words but a living testimony of her life.

Excerpts from Hunting the “I”

Lucy’s understanding of Truth was always deep and original. She translated, into German, a number of books on Ramana Maharshi, learning the Tamil language to better facilitate the translation. But there was one book that she wrote directly in English, and it remains her special contribution: Hunting the ‘I’. Excerpts below are from the chapter entitled “Obstacles on the Path.” It is both personal and practical, offering excellent tips for the spiritual seeker.

Hunting the ‘I’ means trying to overcome obstacles before Awakening to the Truth . . . but how many faces it has! The one which soon betrays itself as a great deposit of obstacles is the so-called mind, with its main qualities of restlessness and dullness. The cardinal remedy that has been mentioned is to develop an attitude of unconcerned witnessing—watch the restless thoughts, and the rushing torrent of the mind will slow down.

——-

Looking for other obstacles, we meet another one which may trouble us a lot, our changing moods. We are aware that they change; much to our annoyance. Sometimes we are restless or inclined to flare up, at other times we feel dull or even depressed, and sometimes we seem to be the very embodiment of harmony, peace and happiness itself. Of course, there always seems to be some reason for it. And this idea is wrong. For in respect to changing moods, we are merely a biological phenomenon, an organism, simply reacting to some cosmic influence. Sattva, corresponding to light, peace, and harmony; rajas, communicating heat, movement, passion, and wrath; and tamas, relating to dullness, ignorance, stagnation, and depression are three gunas (qualities), of nature itself, which are in perfect balance among each other during the unmanifested period of the dormant universe. Their manifestation into activity is prompted by a disturbance in the balance and is kept in motion by them. They cause the rhythm in which the universe is swinging, and there is absolutely nothing which can withdraw from their influence. Beyond the gunas is Absolute Consciousness, because It is beyond nature.

——-

The understanding of the true nature of our moods unfolds great insight in our spiritual practice, insofar as it effectively undermines our long cherished feeling of individuality. Aren’t joy and sorrow, happiness and misery, suffering and high elation the very ‘stuff’ of our souls? Where is our individuality, if all this is superimposed on some quite impersonal changes, caused regularly by the rhythmic change in the balance of nature? How can we get control over the amazing mystery, which reveals itself as a cosmic power far beyond the reach of our personal ‘I’? . . . We can renounce the desire to seek and find and even invent reasons for changes in our conditions- bodily, mentality and spiritually. We can simply watch the coming and going of our moods and each time make the best of them.

——-

There is another rather harmless mistake which happens regularly to beginners. Many are blessed with various glimpses- spiritual experiences. These experiences carry the stamp of a genuine change of consciousness, and of course the seeker is happy and convinced that he has made real progress. There is no harm in it, but soon he faces the reality that these ‘experiences’ fade away. When this happens again and again, he learns to understand these sparks for what they are, glimpses that propel him forward in his spiritual endeavor. They only become a pitfall when he, by vanity of impatience, gets stuck in one of them, taking it for final Realization. Then further progress is blocked.

——-

The duty of the seeker is to watch himself ceaselessly; he has to know what is going on within himself. When he looks at others, his personal ‘I’ at once makes comparisons, and the result will be: ‘I am holier than thou.’ With this idea he gives his ‘personal I’ a strong chance to develop into a ‘spiritual I’, which is much worse than his original, quite ordinary ‘I’. The result is a spiritual pride, made worse the more advanced the seeker has become, because his attainments serve only to confirm his ‘right’ to be proud of his success. But even if he perceives the gentle voice from within, warning him against this trend going on and reminding him of the secret of real ‘attainment’, silent humility, and even if he is quite prepared to accept the warning, there is still the risk of the cunning ego concealing itself in the pride of his humility!

——-

Luckily the sadhaka (seeker) is not left alone in his secret struggle against himself on his lonesome inner journey. How could he ever reach it, were it not already within himself? And It never fails to send signals of warning when the traveler is nearing a pitfall or has ever been caught by one due to inadvertence.

From Hunting the “I”, by Lucy Cornelssen. Copyright © 1979, 2003 by Sri Ramanasramam. All rights reserved. Reprinted by arrangement with Sri Ramanasramam, Tiruvannamalai, South India.

As seen on Inner Directions.

Here you can see more posts from Lucy Cornelssen.

www.sriramanamaharshi.org

You have to Work for the Fulfillment of Your Destiny – Dada Gavand

I first met Dadaji in Pune in the fall of 1993, shortly after my return from Germany where, for a few weeks, I had tried in vain to become a “normal” citizen again. I had been feeling stuck and disillusioned with my spirituality for some time. My search had neither direction nor drive. I felt I needed a teacher who could understand my predicament, provide a fresh impulse for continuing the journey, and offer support, encouragement, and guidance.

In these circumstances, I met an old friend of mine in the Osho commune who had been a disciple of Osho for many years. With a joyous twinkle in her eyes, she invited me to meet a new teacher at her home on the premises of the ashram. I gladly accepted the invitation – surprised and excited that such a meeting could actually take place within the commune, which did not welcome other teachers to hold meetings on the grounds.

Before she introduced me to Dadaji, she told me that, in contrast to Osho’s emphasis on living together with the teacher in his commune as a device for generating growth and higher consciousness, Dadaji taught, “The best practice is to be alone.” Such a teaching seemed quite in line with my natural inclination toward sitting practices; the sadhana of Buddhist vipassana and Zazen meditation had proved very beneficial for me. Although they hadn’t led to final enlightenment, they definitely were quieting the chatter of my mind and making me deeply aware of the impermanence of everything that arises and exists – including my thoughts, my feelings, my body, and the world around me.

I followed my friend into Dadaji’s room, and instantly my whole being was permeated with such an exquisite and peaceful vibration that my mind went into a complete standstill. Heavenly silence soaked with stark presence melted away any sense of unfamiliarity and separation. Though I continued walking my feet seemed not to touch the marble floor; I felt as if I were levitating.

And then I saw him! He was sitting cross-legged and motionless on a bed with a white cover. He had a long white beard and his thin, shoulder-length hair was white as well. From underneath the white shawl that covered his torso, his folded hands greeted me in namaste while is eyes emanated radiant love. His being brimmed with presence.

As I moved slowly toward the bed, my heart began to fill with love and devotion, and I witnessed my body kneeling down in front of him as if moved by a divine power. My own namaste met his silence while our eyes gazed into and through each other into the beyond.

Then, light as a feather, my head – face down – began to sink onto the bed until it could find rest. At the same time, my hands stretched – unintended – finding, touching and holding on to Dadaji’s feet. From his feet, heat and energy flowed into my hands, arms and body. Soon I felt his warm and benevolent hands touching my head and resting there. A deep sense of timelessness, peace, and presence filled the space. No one moved, and not a word was spoken.

After what seemed like an eternity, our “divine embrace” loosened. I, still kneeling, straightened up slowly and bowed in namaste again. With the sweetest and most loving smile, Dadaji beckoned me with a gesture to sit down on one of the cushions on the floor near his bed. I sat, crossed my legs, closed my eyes, and rested my hands gently in my lap. By now only the two of us were in the room.

After an hour or so, I heard my friend quietly announce that Dadaji’s dinner was ready. I opened my eyes and saw Dadaji smiling at me. “Come tomorrow!” he said – the only words spoken in this first encounter.

Prior to his return to Thane, near Mumbai, I went to Dadaji’s house to visit him several times. Sometimes I was alone with him; at other times, a few other seekers were present.

The following account of our second meeting is reconstructed from memory. I began our conversation by relating the main stages of my spiritual odyssey up to that point and expressing my disenchantment with my life as a seeker.

Madhukar: I find myself in a state of disillusionment. I wish I could let go of this whole madness of searching for enlightenment. If only I could drop the search! I don’t want to be a seeker anymore. I want to just be normal. I want to live ordinarily and in peace.

Dadaji: I understand. You have come to a point when it is best for you to be on your own, to be alone. There is no need for you to visit any guru anymore. You don’t need to listen to them any longer. It is time for you to start to go within.

Madhukar: Are you suggesting practice and formal meditation?

Dadaji: You need to be alone! In aloneness, you begin to watch every incoming thought. You will come to understand that the past is nothing but the “I.” With the preservation of the “I,” the past continues. When you discover the deceptions of the “I” — which is the mind – your journey toward the spirit begins.

In this innerness, in this inner attentiveness, you will watch every thought, idea, and desire that comes into the mind. If you continue to stay in that inner space of observation, the activity of the mind will quiet down. Through constant, unmotivated looking within, you can step out of the field of thought.

Madhukar: Can I do what you suggest in the company of my lady friend? Can sitting and meditating in her company also be beneficial? Or are you saying that physical seclusion is the only way to support meditation?

Dadaji: You have to decide once and for all to make all your energy available for the meeting with what I call the spirit. Once you have decided, you need to concentrate all your energies towards this watchfulness. Then proceed slowly and quietly and discover what meditation is. Attention without thought is meditation. Slowly through watchful attention, you step out of the field of mind. You will be able to act without the prompting of thought and desire. And that freedom from desire is being in the present. That freedom is in the now.

You should work with all your understanding, senses, and energy and less with the thought and desire for activity. Do not choose to be motivated by desire! Choose not to discriminate between good and bad. It is the mind that gives labels. The best practice is being alone.

Madhukar: As I said earlier, I just want to be finished with the spirituality trip. But somehow I am not able to walk out of it. The search seems to continue in spite of my desire to drop it.

Dadaji: There are two things. One: you have come to the point at which it is made clear to you that you have to leave all gurus behind. You have to understand that nothing can be gained from outside or from other people. You alone have the means within yourself to discover and experience that quality we call the spirit.

Two: The search will keep hold of you until you have experienced the Divinity. How can we experience the quality that is the spirit, the soul, the Divinity? We never ask this question quietly in the depth of our being . We always hope to find the spirit outside, via someone else or something else. Gather all your energies! Go directly to the core, to that center in which the whole secret and mystery of life lies. To be with the inner spirit, you have to be really alone and anonymous.

Madhukar: But being alone and meditating doesn’t stop the mind either. That is my experience so far.

Dadaji: Only through watchfulness will you be able to see and know the mind completely. The whole secret of spiritual life is to understand the inadequacy of the mind and its thoughts, and to be free of them. This imaginative and desirous mind can be eliminated only through watchfulness and understanding. Thought activity and the thought process are blocking the incoming spirit. Not seeing this clearly as a fact is the main hindrance to realization of the spirit.

The more you stay in that inner attentiveness, the more you will become free from all the reactions of the known, the past – which is the mind. Then one faces the unknown, and the energy becomes pure and sensitive. This energy is then free from all ideas and desires, which are born out of the past.

Madhukar: How can I get out of my own way?

Dadaji: On the one hand, the “I” is the mind that seeks the spirit. On the other hand, the “I” is the cumulative effect of the whole past. The elimination of the past is freedom from the mind, which is the seeker. And as the seeker himself is dissolved, all seeking comes to an end. At that point, living becomes the experiencing of the total moment, and times merges into the timeless. To discover this eternal moment and live in it anonymously is the beginning and the end of all human searches.

Madhukar: Right now I can feel this timeless and eternal moment here with you. I wish this feeling would remain for all time, everywhere, and for everybody [a long beautiful moment of silence and peace ensued].

Dadaji: We are living in a very crucial period of human history. Nature expects beings to change a great deal. This dimensional change, which is the discovery of the beyond, is the challenge of our time.

I gave Dadaji’s teachings a lot of reflection. I knew from my own experience how important single-pointed focus on practice is. His tenet, “To be in the present is freedom from desire” was quite often my own experience, but when this state occurred, it was short-lived. According to Dadaji, this situation would change for the better if only I would leave my partner and be alone. But I had strong reservations about this suggestion. True, the time spent with my partner I could instead be spending it in meditation. However, I felt I did meditate enough and, as far as I could see, my relationship was not blocking my spiritual growth. My partner and I meditated together regularly and thus were supporting each other. Furthermore, during my practices I was alone anyway – with or without a partner. I was convinced that enlightenment did not require complete solitude.

Secondly, I really enjoyed investigating my true nature in the presence of teachers as well as by myself. In short, I was not willing to let go of the opportunity to deepen my understanding through communion with the teachers that I was meeting. I wanted to keep my ongoing inquiry as open as possible.

Therefore, it didn’t surprise me that it was almost three years before I met Dadaji again.

In April 1996, I took Sunderam, Sri Annamalai Swami’s personal assistant and interpreter, to meet Dadaji in Thane. Another friend of mine, Mr. Gurudayal, accompanied us. The following conversation was video-recorded at Dadaji’s residence.

Madhukar: I heard that you met Ramana Maharshi while he was alive, could you say something about your meeting with him?

Dadaji: Yes, I have been to Arunachala. I visited Bhagavan when he was still in his body. I stayed with him for three days at a time when I was wandering all over India. I asked him a few questions. I also took food with him. I don’t remember exactly the year of my visit.

Madhukar: So in the early years of your search, you were also visiting various teachers, just as I do today. Is that correct?

Dadaji: There is always a time in one’s life when one has to wander and see and understand the wise people. In my time of wandering, I went to Bhagavan. I came to realize, however, that we cannot really learn much from others. What we look for is not to be found outside of ourselves but within ourselves. But as long as the mind is wandering and curious about outside things, you will never get satisfied. And even when that thirst for realization is there, you have to wait for it to become strong. Only when it is strong can you enter into yourself.

Madhukar: I feel I have that thirst for realization you are talking about, but . . .

Dadaji: All that you want is inside you. But we never generate enough power within ourselves. We go out all the time; our energy goes out. But you must realize that nobody can give you anything on a platter. Let me repeat: You will get nothing from outside. This is the real secret of life.

There are people who have realized their reality, found their own Self. But they have discovered it within themselves, by their own effort. They didn’t get if from outside. Such people are rare. They are beautiful.

Madhukar: People like Ramana Maharshi  . . .

Dadaji: When Ramana lived at Arunachala, he stayed most of the time in the mandir [hall]. He didn’t go much here and there. He didn’t go to get something from others. This is what is called tapasya [intense practice] – the inward search, the inward questioning. That inwardness is very rare in life.

As long as you don’t see the futility of that kind of search, your search will not come to an end. But let me tell you, realization will take time.

Madhukar: What is the real hindrance to realization?

Dadaji: At all times, the mind is eager to look outward. It is always trying, searching, moving. All this activity of the mind is the real hindrance to realization. As long as the mind is active in looking outside itself and is focused outward, there is no chance for realization.

You must realize that all that is important in spirituality is within you. But you never come to that “inner.” You never come to that inner with your total energy of life, with your totality. You are halfway here, halfway there; halfway in, halfway out. When all that outer focus comes to the inner, we realize that the key to realization lies hidden within ourselves. And that innerness is all we really want from life.

Gurudayal: Is it destined that some people become seekers? And is it destined whether we will become enlightened or not? In my opinion, it must be destined because not everybody can achieve the inwardness you talk about. Perhaps a few souls like you were destined to realize the Self.

Dadaji: What is destiny?

Gurudayal: All our efforts are futile – that’s destiny.

Dadaji: Who says effort is futile? First you adopt the idea of destiny and then you expect everything from it – too much, too soon. What is destiny? What created destiny? Who created destiny? Who has created your destiny? The concept that realization happens through destiny is just a convenient idea.

You must create the situation in which realization can happen. Somehow you are here at this place in this life to make a beginning for realization to happen – somewhere, sometime. Some people have done this; they have come to that realized state by practicing.

Gurudayal: But some teachers say that realization happened in their case because it was destined.

Dadaji: Such a teaching makes their students think that realization can be obtained without doing anything for it. But let me tell you again: There is no such thing as destiny! Realization happened to some individuals because they have worked hard for that goal for some time, somewhere. It happened for them because of their own effort.

Gurudayal: There is something in a person that makes them an artist or a musician. What is that “something”?

Dadaji: In order to become an artist or a musician, one has to work. Practice – not destiny – makes people masters in their field. They had to do all kinds of practices for a long time for that to happen. If someone attains mastership in a short time, it means that he or she has had some experience with it in an earlier life or lives. They were not simply born into this present life without any responsibility to work to develop the talents that were seeded in another life.

Madhukar: But wasn’t their birth also predestined?

Dadaji: Birth doesn’t alone create your destiny. Unless you really work for it, your destiny will not be created. You have to work for the fulfillment of your destiny.

Gurudayal: Fulfillment because of destiny or because of personal free will and effort? This is the only point that is not clear to me.

Dadaji: Where are we? What do we really want? Let us ask, “Are we really working for realization? Are we really hungry for spiritual fulfillment?” No! Many of us have only a lukewarm interest in that: many of us have only a superficial curiosity, and the mind takes over and plays with it. But those who are really hungry, passionately hungry for realization, will approach that hunger in a different way than those who are only interested, curious, and excited about enlightenment. The latter want realization without having to work for it. On the other hand, the ones who “arrive” worked very differently – they worked hard for their realization to occur. They are of a different breed. So, don’t wait for destiny to make realization happen to you! You have to create the situation in which this transformation can take place.

Sunderam: Yesterday and this morning, I went to see Ramesh Balsekar. He is a guru who is teaching Advaita Vedanta in Bombay. He was mostly talking about destiny. I told him that I took care of my guru, Annamalai Swami, for twenty years, but enlightenment I still do not have, it hasn’t happened to me yet. Balsekar replied, “Unless . . . ”

Dadaji: . . . it is destined . . . No! No!

Sunderam: “. . . it is will not happen.” He said to me, “Just live your normal life. If enlightenment is predestined for you, it will happen. You do not need to worry about it.”

Dadaji: Some people talk that way.

Sunderam: If the guru only stresses destiny, the seekers will not make an effort and they become lazy. I think people will not be helped by this approach.

Dadaji: Listening to such talk, people will become fatalists. They will only wish for the fate that enlightenment is going to happen to them. They will not work for it. Destiny is just a word, a concept There is no such thing as a destiny that falls on us from somewhere.

Sunderam: Balsekar kept repeating, “Unless it is God’s will, enlightenment will not happen. No practice and effort will help it to occur.”

Dadaji: Who will give enlightenment? Does this mean that unless it is given, it will not happen? Are there some preferences by means of divine will? Is there a God with His preferences? Does He give enlightenment to some people and not to others? If so, God must be a partial person then – no? Do you think that God is such a partial person?

Madhukar: You indicate very clearly that the occurrence of enlightenment mainly depends on the seeker’s practice.

Dadaji: Absolutely. If you work with your whole intensity and with your whole life energy for something to happen, it has to happen, and it will happen. In that case, nobody is going to be refused by anybody. Nobody can halt such an effort. But you must be ready to pay the full price for what you want.

It is like scaling Mt. Everest. To reach the top, you really have to work hard for it. Those people who reach the summit have to pay a price. They don’t reach it by sitting at home. They don’t reach it because it is destined that somebody else will take them there. No way! If you wait for that, you might just keep sitting where you are without ever reaching even the bottom of Mt. Everest.

Gurudayal: Don’t you think the body-mind organism called Sunderam was destined to visit you? Sunderam wasn’t aware of your existence until yesterday.

Dadaji: No, he wasn’t. But his appearance in front of me is not caused by destiny. His visit to me was not predestined. Why do you call it destined?

Gurudayal: Well, destiny many be just a word . . .

Dadaji: [To Sunderam] How did you come here? How did you hear about me? Don’t think so much of destiny! The fact is that you have come. And that happened because you were moving with Mr. Gurudayal from his house to my house. It happened because you were interested in meeting me.

[To Gurudayal] And you had the interest to bring Sunderam to me. That’s how our meeting happened.

[To Sunderam] Don’t you have an interest in visiting wise men?

Sunderam: Yes, I am interested to see enlightened beings.

Dadaji: That’s what it is! Unless you have that interest, you will not come to visit me.

Gurudayal: Swamiji, I agree that the eagerness and desire to meet you arises only if such an interest exits in him, but I believe that that interest is not his choice. Didn’t the interest just come to him one fine day? Isn’t that what destiny is?

Dadaji: Why does he have this interest? If he had been interested in music, he would have become a musician. [To Sunderam] And if you were interested in music, you would have visited musicians in Bombay, wouldn’t you? You would not be visiting wise men.

Gurudayal: But is it really in our power to choose which interest we have or are going to have? My real question is, “Is it up to us and is it in our power to have the interest in spirituality?”

Dadaji: What gives power to your quest, sir? Isn’t it your interest? What will satisfy your interest, your longing? Your hunger for spirituality. You give all these mysterious names to this simple fact of life. We make so much fuss about it. If you have a real interest and a real desire to meet a wise man, you will. If you have no interest and you refuse to visit a person, nobody will take you to him or her against your own wish. And there will be no meeting. It has nothing to do with destiny.

Sunderam: I remember, Osho said in a discourse . . .

Dadaji: Ah! Oh, God! Don’t tell me what he has said! Don’t listen to all these people! So many people say so many things! And you go to all of them. This is how you are deceived – because Osho said this, because that man said that, because that saint said this and that . . .

Sunderam: The scary fact is . . .

Dadaji: What about you? Find out about your “inner”! Of what use is it to listen to all these people and what they say? Enough of all these things now! You are caught up in the opinions of all these people. Osho is quoted. Ramana Maharshi has said . . . Krishnamurti proclaimed . . . These people may have realized something in their own way, yes. Now your challenge is to discover that realization in your own personal way. That’s important. But you never come to that.

Sunderam: I simply want to learn from these teachers That’s why I visit them.

Dadaji: You are always carried away by the images and ideas of other people. And you are hooked to their opinions. That is the problem. As long as you live with the opinions of others, you will never have the realization of your own inner understanding. But you have to work for that. You have to wait for that. Then realization can happen within yourself. And it will be your experience. Then you will not quote what other people have said.

These people carried out their mission. On the other hand, you keep yourself busy playing with their opinions and their findings. By doing so, you become only a second-hand individual. You don’t need to do that. Be what you are. If you have the interest to know what you really are, pursue that interest. Do something! Find! Go and pay the price for it! But you don’t!

Madhukar: Are you urging us to go beyond word, beyond the mind and concepts?

Dadaji: Mind is so clever. It is just making words after words. By doing so, it is fragmenting and dividing itself. It keeps asking: “Why this? Why that? Doesn’t this guru say so and so? Doesn’t that wise man say that?”

You don’t see this factor. You don’t see how you are caught up in the opinions of other people. To have an opinion about something does not mean you have an understanding about it. You can collect the opinions of all the wise men in the world, and you will remain ignorant.

Madhukar: More important that any intellectual understanding is experience – and more so the lasting experience of peace.

Dadaji: Yes, experiencing is something different. Only that inner experiencing is the real understanding. Opinions are merely concepts in the mind. Realization is not an idea.

You are already fragmented human beings. And by playing with other people’s ideas and philosophies, you get yourself even more divided.

Madhukar: But there are different stages on the spiritual journey and . . .

Dadaji: Yes, yes, I understand. At the beginning of the search, there is a little curiosity and an interest in finding out what spirituality is all about. Finding out what, and where – in books? From other people? Finally, the searching has to lead to yourself. There is a place, a seat, within yourself where you can find and realize what you were looking for. Your own realization will be your own wisdom about life. Then you will not be bothered by the opinions of other people. But you don’t want to do what is necessary for that to occur; you don’t want to pay the price, nor do you have the necessary patience.

Gurudayal: Guruji, what actually is realization?

Dadaji: Realization means to realize the truth. It means to actually experience the truth within ourselves.

Gurudayal: And what is the truth? 

Dadaji: What do you want? An explanation of the word? Truth is what is real.

Gurudayal: What are we? What is real in us? What is the truth in us?

Dadaji: We are whatever is real. What is it that is real? The answer is: experiencing the real – the realization of That, of the “inner.”

To have concepts and ideas about this is not enough. Concepts and ideas are part of the thought process. It is the mind that has concepts and ideas. But it is life itself that realizes, knows, and understands the truth.

That is all.

It was already my experience that the activity of the mind did quiet down when I stayed in the inner space of observation and witnessing. Only through witnessing or self-inquiry was I able to see and know the mind more clearly and understand its inadequacy. But to be free of the thoughts it kept generating necessitated more practice on my part. Therefore, I felt deeply met and supported by Dadaji’s insistence on rigorous practice.

“Freedom from desire is to be in the present,” Dadaji taught, and I knew that that freedom was only available in the now. How could I aways be in the present moment? I couldn’t! But in my meditation sadhana and in my self-inquiry practice, presence remained each time the thought process came to a stop through awareness. More freedom from the mind meant more presence. I felt grateful for Dadaji’s simple equation, which is congruent with my own experience.

This time, Dadaji’s persistent suggestion to leave all teachers behind and be on my own struck a chord in me. Even before meeting Dadaji, I knew that the day was not far off when I would be alone on my odyssey. But did Dadaji want me to remain without any other teacher except him? Is that why he invited me to stay as long as I wanted and to live and meditate in the gazebo next to his house? Did he want to instruct and guide me in my practices? If so, what about aloneness? Yes, I wanted to – and did – practice, but I didn’t want to do so exclusively with him as my teacher.

On my last visit to him, I didn’t have the chance to ask Dadaji these questions. In any case, I was not inclined to take up his offer.

Dadaji had kindly offered me what he owned: his house and his wisdom. And from his compassionate heart, he suggested devices to me that he knew and taught from his personal experience: aloneness and practice. They were part of Dadaji’s own path that helped him reach the state he was in. Like Ramana Maharshi, he has remained a bachelor all his life.

At this point, I didn’t care much anymore about the issue of predestination versus free will. If everything was predestined, I thought, then my practicing was predestined too. Within that system of belief, if I thought that doing spiritual practice was a function of free will and an act of person doership, having that belief and doing those practices – which Ramesh Balsekar felt were unnecessary for enlightenment – was itself destined. By the same token, I could even get enlightened against my own will, if it were so destined. So why bother about predestination at all?

I was deeply touched by Dadaji’s personal example and attainment. His pointing out again and again the importance of practice strengthened the roots of meditation even more deeply in me. I am profoundly grateful to him for that.

Spurred on my Dadaji’s loving presence, deep peace, gentleness, and fatherly goodwill, I was now happy to continue my odyssey.

-Berthold Madhukar Thompson

From The Odyssey of Enlightenment: Rare Interviews with Enlightened Teachers of Our Time, chapter 8

See the post from chapter 5: Practice Until Stillness Becomes Permanent.

Amido and I spent some time with Dadaji, which you can read about on A Visitor From Beyond the Mind.

Practice Until Stillness is Permanent – Annamalai Swami

I first met Annamalai Swami in June 1993, during my initial visit to Arunachala and the Sri Ramanashramam. As I explained earlier, I was eager to meet with disciples of Papaji’s guru, Sri Ramana Maharshi, in the hope that they would be able to assist me in my predicament as a seeker and guide me further in my spiritual endeavor.

At the time of my visit, I was Papaji’s ardent disciple and one of his right-hand men. I was deeply grateful for the fact that through his presence and guidance, he had helped to recognize my true nature. He facilitated many dips into the Self during the time I was with him, but I was still not satisfied with my own awakening. In addition, I had doubts about several aspects of Papaji’s teachings. Annamalai Swami was the first of Papaji’s gurubhais that I sought out, hoping he could clarify these issues for me.

I wanted to hear more about the qualifications of the true guru, the necessity of practice, the initial recognition of the Self, and how the latter related to final enlightenment. I also wanted to determine if and how far Papaji had departed from his own guru’s teaching. I hoped that such an exploration would help me better understand my own teacher and myself. I was determined to ask my questions in a humble search for truth, and I was clear that I did not want to shed a bad light on my own guru, Papaji.

Let me be more specific about my dissatisfaction: Since I’d had my enlightenment experience with Papaji, my life hadn’t changed significantly. I still got angry and judgmental. At times I also found myself fearful, or immersed in desire or aversion. Obviously, I was not permanently happy and in peace. Foremost was the fact that I still had the desire for true enlightenment.

My meeting with the swami shortly after my arrival in Tiruvannamalai was preceded by an unexpected encounter that surprised and encouraged me. I was heading back to my lodgings in the Ramanashramam after an evening walk on the slopes of Arunachala, when I happened to pass a white bungalow in which fast, rhythmic music was playing. The familiar sounds stopped me in my tracks. I could hardly believe my ears—it was the music for Osho’s Dynamic Meditation! Somebody in Tiruvannamalai was practicing one of Osho’s meditations! Who could it be? I was overcome with curiosity and resolved to try and find out.

The entrance to the bungalow’s compound lay a few yards ahead of me along the path. It was marked by an iron gate set in an archway with an inscription identifying the place as the Sri Annamalai Swami Ashram. I passed quietly through the gate and followed the sound of the music. It led me to a wooded door at the side of the bungalow. It wasn’t locked. I opened it as quietly as possible, just enough to be able to take a peek inside. A lean, bearded man, clad only in a lunghi, had reached the third phase of the meditation. He was alone and oblivious to my presence. Smiling to myself, I closed the door softly and withdrew, walking back home through the gathering dusk. The next morning, when I took my seat in Annamalai Swami’s presence, I was surprised to find that his personal attendant and interpreter was the many I had seen doing Dynamic Meditation the evening before. Swamiji spoke only Tamil, the language of Tamil Nadu, his native state. His interpreter’s name, I learned was Sunderam.

I met with Annamalai Swami almost every day during my two-week stay at the Sri Ramanashramam, and Sunderam was always present as interpreter. Our exchanges were not recorded, but the conversation that follows represents a digest of our various encounters during that two-week period. I reconstructed it from memory shorty after our last meeting.

In daily life, Annamalai Swami was simply called Swamiji, and that’s how I addressed him in our conversations. In order to keep the interview in the same intimate climate that occurred in his presence, I will call him the swami, or Swamiji, in what follows.

Madhukar: Poonjaji told me that I have done whole work, that I have realized the Self. However, I still find myself confronted with questions and doubts about it.

Swamiji: Who has questions? Who has doubts?

Madhukar: Me . . . Now I suppose your next question will be: “To whom do doubts appear?” Right? [laughter] And I will answer, “To me,” and then I will need to continue to inquire, “Who am I?”—Sri Ramana’s self-inquiry.

Swamiji: That’s the right way to practice.

Madhukar: In my case, I have doubts about my realization in spite of Poonjaji’s assurance that it has really happened. My awareness of the Self is not without a break.

Swamiji: If there are breaks in your Self-awareness, it means that you are not a jnani [enlightened sage] yet. Before one becomes established in the Self without any breaks, without any changes, one has to contact and enjoy the Self many times. By steady meditation and the continued practice of self-inquiry, one will finally become permanently established in the Self, without any breaks.

Madhukar: How can I repeat the experience of peace and stillness that I often feel in Poonjaji’s presence?

Swamiji: Your experience of stillness is due to the influence of the milieu in which you find yourself when you are with your guru. However, your experience is momentary. Therefore, you need to practice until the experience of stillness is permanent.

Madhukar: Is the blissful and ecstatic state that I experience in Poonjaji’s presence samadhi [experience of the Self]?

Swamiji: Samadhi is perfect peace. But it is only momentary. Ecstasy arises when the mind comes back at the end of samadhi. It arises with the remembrance of the peace of samadhi. When the ego has finally died, the symptoms of bliss and ecstasy cease.

Madhukar: Poonjaji holds that no practice is necessary in order to realize the Self. You and Bhagavan Sri Ramana, however, contradict this stand quite clearly. To demonstrate this, I would like to read a quote from Sri Ramana. Is that okay?

Swamiji: Please, go ahead.

Madhukar: “In the proximity of a great master, the vasanas [latent tendencies of the mind] cease to be active, the mind becomes still, and samadhi [blissful experience of the Self] results. Thus the disciple gains true knowledge and right experience in the presence of the master. To remain unshaken in it, further efforts are necessary. Eventually the disciple will know it to his real being and will thus be liberated even while alive.”

Swamiji: I agree fully with Bhagavan. Bhagavan’s teaching is my own experience. I don’t know what Poonjaji is teaching.

Madhukar: As far as I have understood him, he teaches that self-inquiry needs to be done only once in the presence of the guru. In the first or perhaps second or third encounters with Poonjaji, the Self is realized. Papaji says that after the initial recognition of the Self, no further practice is necessary. However, he stresses that the guru’s presence and the association with him in satsang are usually required before that recognition can occur.

Swamiji: Only the serenity that is void of the ego is the highest knowledge. Until you attain the state in which you are the egoless reality, you must continue to seek the annihilation of the “I”-notion. This happens by associating with the teacher and by diligently practicing self-inquiry.

Madhukar: How long should one stay with one’s guru?

Swamiji: The association with the guru is necessary until the seeker has realized the Self. Only in the company of a teacher who has realized the Self can one become aware of one’s Self. Until you have realized the Self, you should study and practice the teachings of the guru.

Madhukar: What are the characteristics of a proper guru?

Swamiji: In the guru’s association or presence, you should find peace whenever your mind is attuned with him. He should have virtues like patience, quietness, forgiveness, and compassion. The one I whom you have faith is your guru. The one you feel a deep sense of respect for is your guru.

Madhukar: Although Poonjaji is my guru, I have met quite a few other gurus during my present stay at Arunachal. Is that okay? Is it okay to be in contact with more than one spiritual master?

Swamiji: Dattattreya had twenty-four masters. In fact, gurus can even be inanimate. Bhagwan’s master was Arunachala. The master is the Self. Through the grace of the guru, the seeker will come to know that Self which is true reality. Thus he recognizes that the Self is really his master.

Madhukar: While staying at the holy mountain, it becomes clearer to me with every passing day that I will have to leave my guru’s physical presence. However, the thought of leaving him makes me uncomfortable.

Swamiji: As I said, the Self is the reality, and the Self is the real master. So where could you go? You are not going anywhere. Even supposing you are the body, let me ask you, “Has your body come from Lucknow to Tiruvannamalai?” You simply sat in an airplane and in a car, and finally you say that you have come here. But you are not the body. The Self does not move at all. The world moves in the Self. You are only what you are. There is no change in you—the Self. Even if you depart from Poonjaji, you are here and there and everywhere. Only the surroundings change.

Madhukar: I am afraid perhaps to be missing out on Poonjaji’s grace.

Swamiji: Grace is within you. If grace is outside you, it is useless. Grace is the Self. You are never outside its operation. It is always there.

Madhukar – I have already told you something about my first teacher, Osho. I would like to share the most disturbing incident I had with him.

Swamiji: Please, don’t hesitate to speak. However, your doubts must naturally relate to the level of the body and mind and manifestation. They can only relate to what is unreal. Perhaps one day all your doubts will be removed once and for all—when you realize who you really are.

Madhukar – About six weeks before his own death, Osho’s lover and companion, Nirvano, took her own life in his ashram in Pune. She had lived intimately in Osho’s presence for almost twenty years. Her suicide shocked me more deeply than my guru’s death. It wasn’t just that she did not attain enlightenment; she must also have lived in a state of terrible misery and depression. My hopes of ever getting enlightened crashed with her death. I thought that if she, who had had such intimate contact with the master for such a long time, could not achieve enlightenment, then what chance was there for the rest of us? Her death quite disillusioned me.

Does her example demonstrate how difficult it is to become enlightened? And what about meditation? In her case, two decades of meditation practice failed to lead to enlightenment, and indeed it couldn’t even save her from committing suicide. 

Swamiji: I can understand your feelings about the lady’s death and the conclusions you have drawn from it. Each person’s life evolves according to his or her destiny and karma [the law of retributive action] from the previous life. Everything that happens, happens according to the Supreme Power. An event in a devotee’s life does not occur because of the influence of his or her guru. It happens because it is so destined. Such an event has nothing to do with the ability or inability or power or powerlessness of the guru to govern events.

Take the example of Sri Ramana. In the 1920s, Bhagavan had a personal attendant who had served him for many years. He was called Annamalai Swami, like me. That devotee had the privilege of being in his master’s presence around the clock. At some point, he left Bhagavan and lived alone in the forests some thirty kilometers from here, because he thought he was not worthy to be near his master. Several times Bhagavan tried to bring him back to the ashram. He sent several people to fetch him. But Annamalai Swami refused to return. Instead, he committed suicide by hanging himself from a tree.

The swami’s narration shocked me. I felt deep compassion for these two devotees who couldn’t even be saved by the proximity of their teachers’ presence. I knew that further questioning about this topic wouldn’t help dissolve my pain. If anything could, it was nothing less than the presence of the Self. When Annamalai Swami finished narrating this story, we sat together for a long time in silence.

I returned to Arunachala six months later, in December 1993. My earlier conversations with Annamalai Swami convinced me that I had come to a spiritual impasse with Papaji. Consequently, I had decided to leave my teacher and return to the womb of his guru’s holy mountain.

Since Papaji had offered no further guidance, Annamalai Swami’s words during my earlier visit were a big help to me: “If there are breaks in your Self-awareness, it means that you are not a jnani yet. Before one becomes established in the Self without any breaks, without any changes, one has to contact and enjoy the Self many times. By steady meditation and continued practice of self-inquiry, one will finally become permanently established in the Self, without any breaks.” After researching Sri Ramana’s works, I came to the conclusion that Annamalai Swami taught what his teacher did. And that teaching was now being confirmed by my own experience. On the other hand, Papaji had established his own, unique teaching in this respect, which wasn’t congruent with my experience. I was now beginning to face this reality.

On my previous visit to Tiruvannamalai, I had considered myself still associated with Papaji as a student. However, on this visit, I felt I could ask other teachers questions without inhibitions. I wasn’t yet sure if I was looking for a new teacher. I stayed for six weeks, and during this time I had a further series of conversations with Annamalai Swami. The following talk was recorded on December 24, 1993 at the Sri Annamalai Swami Ashram. In addition to the swami, Sunderam, and myself, four other seekers were also present.

Madhukar: You lived with Sri Ramana Maharshi in the Ramanashramam from 1928 to 1938. After ten years of ashram life, you moved out and lived on your own. You chose to distance yourself physically from the Maharshi. I would like to know what made you stay away from Bhagavan while he was still in his body?

Swamiji: When Bhagavan entered my being, my life became natural, and so there was no need to stay with him. Bhagavan acknowledged this, and therefore I went on my own. When a flower becomes a fruit, there is no need for it to stick to the tree any longer.

Madhukar: From 1938 to 1993, for fifty-five years, Swamiji has been living in his own ashram. Is that right?

Swamiji: In the years 1938 through 1942, I was living on my own, but I was going for Bhagavan’s darshan on a daily basis. I was meditating with him every day.

On one occasion in 1942, Bhagavan covered his face with a cloth when I came for his darshan. I became very worried and I asked him, “Why have you covered your face as soon as you saw me? Does it mean that I should not come anymore, or what?” Bhagavan remained silent. He was not saying anything. After a while he said, “When I am just relaxed in my own Self, why do you come and disturb me? That is what I want to say.” I understood that Bhagavan did not want me to come to him any longer.

After I had left the hall and walked away for some distance, Bhagavan called me back and said, “If human beings don’t think of God or meditate on God or truth, they will live in misery and suffering. Similarly, if one has reached the state of maturity and if one—in spite of one’s maturity—keeps thinking that one is different from the guru or from God, such an attitude will produce the same suffering.”

These words made me understand that Bhagavan didn’t want me to come to the ashram anymore. He didn’t want me to come to see him any longer. He wanted me to stay by myself. That’s why I stayed by myself in Palakottu from that time onwards.

Madhukar: Was Bhagavan happy with your decision? Did he comment on it?

Swamiji: Not directly. He had his own way of communicating with me— like in another incident in which Bhagavan made it clear to me that I should stop seeing him. Bhagavan used to go for a walk on the hill almost every day. He was using the path which led past my hut in Palakottu. I used to go to the hillside to meet Bhagavan on his walk. True, Bhagavan had indicated that I shouldn’t meet him in the ashram anymore. But he had not told me not to come to the hill and have his darshan during his daily walk. I had thought that Bhagavan didn’t mind my habit. But when I met Bhagavan on this specific occasion on the hill, he asked me three times, “Why have you come? Why have you come? Why have you come?” Then he said to me, “Staying by yourself, you will be happier than me.”

Madhukar: Could you finally let go of his physical presence?

Swamiji: Yes. I did.

Oh! Now I remember another incident which happened before the one on the hill. One day, Bhagavan came to Palakottu. I saw him standing outside my hut. When I went outside to greet him and prostrate to him, Bhagavan said, “I have come for your darshan.” His words shocked me. I said to him, “Why is Bhagavan saying something like that to an ordinary man like me? Why is Bhagavan using big words like this? It is not correct to say things like this!” Bhagavan said, “You are living by my words. Is it not great?!”

Bhagavan told me that I did not need to go anywhere. He told me to just stay at my place in Palakottu. He told me just to be by myself. He told me just to be my Self. And he told me that whatever I will be needing will happen by itself. He said there is no need to ask anybody for money. “Money will come to you whenever it is needed,” he said.

Madhukar: Did his words come true?

Swamiji: Yes, in every respect. Bhagavan’s words all became true. And I did stop seeing him. Even on his mahasamadhi, I remained by myself— with my own Self.

Madhukar: I heard that Swamiji has never left Tiruvannamalai during the past fifty-five years. Is there a reason for this or did it just happen?

Swamiji: Bhagavan told me to stay at this place. I followed my guru’s words. I found that there is no happiness outside. So I stayed “at home.” There isn’t anything outside. Whatever you are seeking is your Self. Whatever you are seeking is the atman. That’s why there is no need to go outside. Bhagavan told me, “Don’t even go to your neighbor’s room.” So I didn’t.

Madhukar: But you used to do the thirteen-kilometer-long pradakshina [the practice of circumambulating a holy object] around Arunachala once a day, didn’t you?

 Swamiji: Yes, I used to do that.

Madhukar: Are you still doing that practice?

Swamiji: No, nowadays I am not doing pradakshina anymore.

Madhukar: Let me tell you what I understand as discernment by means of inquiry:

 A thought arises.

 Now the “I” or the ego asks, “To whom does this thought arise?”

 The answer is, “To me.”

 The “I” then asks, “Who am I?” There is an “answer” that has no words.

Somehow, nothingness or silence is present. Nothingness or silence is there as an answer to the question “Who am I?”

Swamiji: Correct.

Madhukar – Is it necessary to keep asking, “To whom does this nothingness and silence appear?” When nothingness and silence “appear,” do I need to ask further?

Swamiji: As soon as you realize that there is only a rope and not a snake, you don’t need to keep questioning whether what you see is a snake or not. But you should not forget that there is only a rope.

Madhukar – Do you mean to say that there is no need to ask again, “To whom does nothingness appear?”

Swamiji: That’s right. There is no need for any further questioning, because there is no duality in that silence and nothingness. Silence and nothingness are not things you experience—they are what you are.

Madhukar – I am asking this question because it seems to me that there is duality. Isn’t it the “I” or the “I”-thought that is perceiving nothingness or silence? There is nothingness. But this nothingness or silence is still perceived by something that I think is the ego.

Swamiji: In that nothingness or silence there is no “I”-thought. That is real life. That is reality.

Madhukar – I am still not clear. Let me ask again: Is the perceived nothingness, or silence, perceived by the “I”?

Swamiji: Let us take an example. First you misunderstand yourself to be somebody else—not a human being. Some day you come to know that you are a human being. This understanding will always stay with you. After you have this understanding, what more do you need? So it is with the Self. Knowing the Self is being the Self.

Say you are Madhukar, but you think you are somebody else. Now you come to know that you had mistaken yourself to be somebody else; you have come to know that you are Madhukar. You realized that you were Madhukar before, but you just didn’t know it. Having come to know your true identity, there is no need to do anything further. Now you know you are Madhukar. There is only one Madhukar. Whatever exists is in a state of oneness. And in oneness there is no duality.

Madhukar – Swamiji, please clarify one more time for me: After asking “Who am I?” and “To whom does this thought appear?” there is simultaneously beingness or nothingness and the awareness of perceiving the object “nothingness.” If inquiry is done correctly, should there be only nothingness without the sense that an object called beingness or nothingness is perceived?

Swamiji: For whom does this duality exist?

Madhukar – For me. In Sri Ramana’s inquiry, the next question would be “Who am I?” In my case the “answer” is a nothingness and silence without words. The sequence is, “To whom does this nothingness, this silence, appear?”

 “To me.”

 “Who am I?”

 “Nothingness, silence.”

 So you can see, my situation is like a dog biting its own tail. There seems to be no way out of the circle. How should I proceed with my inquiry practice?

Swamiji: You are Madhukar, you know that. After you have come to know that, why do you repeat that you are Madhukar or why do you forget that you are Madhukar? Be Madhukar! You are Madhukar. Knowing that you are Madhukar, you are Madhukar. At the moment of recognizing that silence and nothingness as your Self, you are the Self. In that instant, you will also recognize and know that you were never anything else than the Self, and you will never be anything else than the Self.

Madhukar – In each attempt of self-inquiry “Who am I?”, the “me”—the “I,” the ego, the “I”-thought—dissolves, and that nothingness and silence remain as my true nature. And each time, I recognize that the “I” or “me” or the “I”-thought actually never really existed. Inquiry leads back to nothingness and silence and being what I truly am. But at times I forget this and I am back where I started.

Swamiji: Who forgets it?

Madhukar – Me! Well, here we go again! [laughter]

 May I ask you another question: Somebody who sits in a cave has more time to do sadhana [spiritual practice] than somebody who has a family and a job. Has the meditator a better chance to reach enlightenment?

Swamiji: One doesn’t realize one’s true Self. The true Self is already there. One person may do a job while another person is playing. Whatever one does, it is of no use. While working, abide in your Self as if you are living in a cave. There is no outside and no inside.

Madhukar – I would like to go back to what we discussed before. Is it advisable to focus on this nothingness and wait for the next thought to arise, or is it advisable to keep inquiring as to whom this nothingness appears?

 Please excuse me if I keep repeating this question; I do so intentionally. Because self-inquiry is the most important and fundamental practice for me, I need absolute clarity about its correct, practical application.

Swamiji: If you stay constantly in that nothingness, then no thoughts will arise. Only if you give up the hold on that state will something come up and take you away from it. So in that case, you have got to inquire again. If you live always with the understanding that there is only a rope, then how can a snake arise from it?

Or let us take another example. If you fill your pots full of water and you pour more and more water into them, they will not contain it. Like that, if one knows oneself, there is nothing else to know. The one who knows his own Self becomes content within himself, like a pot full of water.

Madhukar – In the waking state, the “I”-thought, the “I” notion, seems to be always present as an underlying silent sense of “I.” It is a kind of “I”- consciousness.

 When I wake up in the morning, the “I”-thought slides in without being noticed because I am so used to believing that I am the body and the mind, and therefore I call them “I.” I believe that is why the “I”-thought seems to be always there. It is an ever-present feeling, although it is not always noticed.

Swamiji: To whom does this “I”-thought arise? Who is sleeping? We are all asleep. Only the sage is not asleep.

Madhukar – Okay. Let me formulate my question in a different way. It is difficult to ask the precise question. I’ll try.

 What I am pointing to is how I perceive this “I”-thought or this “me.” What I am describing is how this “I”-feeling happens to Madhukar. It seems as if the “I”-feeling appears in the moment of waking up from sleep. Then the thought arises, “I want to have a cup of coffee.” It seems as if the “I”- thought and the thought of wanting a cup of coffee exist together. They become “my” thought. Is this correct?

Swamiji: To whom does all this happen? Whatever thoughts may arise, you are not that. For example, so many people in the world are thinking so many thoughts. Their thoughts are just arising by themselves. We can see all these thoughts as “just thoughts.” We can have the same kind of view regarding our own thoughts: “Whatever thoughts may arise, I am not these thoughts.” Because for the real I there is no thought. The real I is not connected with any thought. It is free from all thought. As in sleep, there is no thought.

Madhukar – Do I hear you say that thoughts are not “my” thoughts? Are thoughts just thoughts arising or appearing?

Swamiji: Thoughts appear by themselves only in waking or in dreaming. Otherwise they would need to appear in deep sleep too. Do they appear in deep sleep too?

Madhukar – No, they don’t.

Swamiji: Sleep is a miracle. In sleep there is no thought, no mind, no world, only samadhi. After waking up—as soon as the mind begins to function—the body appears and the entire manifestation begins to function.

When you have come to know who you really are, nothing affects you because you know that all is your own Self. Mind is Me. Everything is Me. All is Me. I am searching for my own Self. Take an example: There is only one gold but many different kinds of ornaments. Different kinds of ornaments are made of the same gold.

The one who does not realize his true Self thinks that the body is the true Self. The one who realizes his true Self finds that everything is his true Self. For him there is no samsara [cycle of birth and death], no nirvana [liberation from samsara] no maya [manifestation mistakenly believed to be real], no ego. All is Self. That is why this state is called the wakeful sleep. All and everything are the Self.

As Swamiji explained these things, I was overcome with tears of gratitude and bliss as a further recognition of the Self occurred. All at once my heart energy expanded and expanded until it finally burst out of all confines and fountained upward as intense light and heat that consumed my body awareness. Everything stood still. When I became aware of my body-mind self again, I found myself prostrated headlong in front of Annamalai Swami, gently touching his feet in reverence and devotion. I was unable to speak, and a deep silence permeated the room. After a long time, I sat up and resumed questioning Swamiji.

Madhukar – Listening to you, my questions don’t make sense anymore.

Swamiji: For each lock there is a key. I remember the incident when four famous pundits came to Bhagavan with a list of sixty-three questions in hand. It was a very long list. They gave the list to Bhagavan. He looked at the list. After seeing all those questions, Bhagavan asked them from whom or from where all these questions came. They just looked at each other. They looked at me, then at Bhagavan. Then they asked, “What is the answer to this question?”

Bhagavan said, “All questions have the same answer. Find out to whom the questions and the answers come. Who is the questioner? Who wants moksha [spiritual liberation]? When you know it, all questions will be answered once and for all times.” Hearing Bhagavan’s words, the pundits became silent.

Madhukar – Bhagavan seemed to have used his final weapon on the pundits. Wasn’t atma vichara, self-inquiry, called the supreme weapon by Bhagavan?

Swamiji: Yes, he called it brahmastra, the ultimate weapon. This weapon is able to defeat all other weapons. If you put armor around your body, nothing can harm your body. This is brahmakosam, the ultimate armor. Therefore if you wear the armor of your Self or if you remain in your Self, no misery, no thought—nothing—can disturb you. You get only shanti [peace] and that’s it. Shanti.

Bhagavan often used to repeat a particular teaching: He used to say about himself, “Others should not be jealous of me, because there is nobody in the world who is smaller than me. I am the smallest. I am nothing. I am less than nothing.” What he wanted to say was that one should not have an ego at all. Only a person who has that kind of humbleness can realize the Self. The one who has no ego is greater than all others. When we are nobody and no one, the Self remains. By being the Self, one is All.

On one occasion, I returned to Bhagavan when I had completed all the ashram building works he had asked me to do. Bhagavan said to me, “Don’t look back on what you have done!” From that moment onward, I have lived my life and done all my work with this selfless attitude.

A few days later, on New Year’s Eve 1993, another interview took place at the Sri Annamalai Ashram. On this occasion, only Annamalai Swami, Sunderam, and I were present.

Madhukar – On the occasion of my previous visit, I asked you for guidance regarding my self-inquiry practice. Today I would like to ask you for further guidance.

Swamiji: Don’t hesitate to ask.

Madhukar – I think I am going to repeat myself. Is that okay?

Swamiji: Ask your questions!

Madhukar – When I arrived at Arunachala, my practice of self-inquiry proceeded in the following manner:

 When a thought appeared I would ask myself, “To whom does this thought appear?”

 Answer: To me.

 Question: Who am I?

 Answer: Emptiness, nothingness. This answer expresses itself not as a word but rather as something like a feeling within myself.

 Question: To whom does this emptiness appear?

 Answer: To me.

 Question: Who am I?

 Answer: Emptiness, nothingness.

 Then the next futile circle of inquiry would start again. There seemed to be no way out. As I told you, the situation was similar to a dog chasing its own tail.

 Now, after having been four weeks at Arunachala, the content of the answer to the inquiry “Who am I?” seems to have changed. The same “I” that is present in the inquiry “Who am I?” stays present as the all-pervading and silent “I”—as an unspoken answer. The “I” is everywhere and in everything. Would you comment, please?

Swamiji: That is the real I.

Madhukar – At times, the perception of the I pervading everything is stronger than at other occasions. Why is that?

Swamiji: The perception is less to whom? [laughter] In fact, in the Self there is no “more” and no “less.”

Madhukar – In this I, there is neither good nor bad. In this I, is nothing but I.

Swamiji: In the days with Bhagavan, there was no such thing as good or bad. There was nothing to judge. We didn’t judge what was good and what was bad. Whatever was, was accepted.

Madhukar – I heard you say, “Hold on to the I!” You said that the all-pervading I that I have described to you is the real I. How can I know it is the real I?

Swamiji: If you don’t hold on to the real I, there will be the idea, “I am the body and the mind.” They look real. That is why it is suggested to hold on to the real I until you have become firmly established in the real I. The conclusion of meditation is to remain in your real state. But the truth is that nobody is doing meditation. All is the Self.

Madhukar – That state is not really a state, and therefore it cannot be “my state.” That state is “nobody’s state.”

Swamiji: In this state, you are not remembering and you are not forgetting anything. You are not thinking and not remembering “I am Madhukar” or “I am not Madhukar.” When you have the feeling “I am Madhukar,” you are self conscious. As long as we are referring to the body and mind, we have to meditate on the Self. Remember, all thoughts and methods regarding karma yoga [path of action], bhakti yoga [path of devotion], dhyana yoga [path of meditation], and jnana yoga [path of wisdom] are not the truth. We should not meditate on the body and on the mind but only on the Self. When we become established in the Self, there is no need to think about the Self.

Take the example of the snake and the rope.

As long as the illusion of the snake is there, the truth is not revealed. When you are fully convinced that there is only a rope, then there is not even the need to remove it.

Madhukar – When a rope is a rope there is no need for inquiry. When the rope appears to be a snake, there is a need for inquiry. Is that what you are saying?

Swamiji: To reinforce what I taught you in your first visit, I will quote a song from Bhagavan: “I am a man. And once I know that I am a man, what is the need to think that I am a man? But if I think I am somebody else or something else, then I must first come to know and to recognize that I am a man. And I then must give up that illusion to be something else.”

The vasanas—the latent tendencies, conditionings, and habits of the mind carried over from many past lives—hinder the realization of the realized state. These tendencies appear and cover the truth. That is why you must inquire, “Who am I?” and “To whom does this happen?” Such practice will irradicate the vasanas.

Madhukar – Are you saying that inquiry is essential in every moment and in every situation?

Swamiji: As long as light is lit in the house, darkness cannot enter. Likewise, as long as meditation and self-inquiry are practiced, vasanas cannot stay on. Continuous meditation is like a river. The flow of the river is always uninterrupted. When a constant flow of awareness is going on, vasanas cannot enter. This is constant meditation.

Madhukar – In a state of bliss, is it also necessary to keep inquiring, “To whom does bliss happen? Who am I?” and so on?

Swamiji: Try to inquire into happiness and you will find the same peace and quiet of the Self that is underlying both happiness and misery.

 

Madhukar – For many years, my understanding was that the experience of permanent bliss is the experience of the Self. Bliss or misery is experienced by the “me.” Both are experienced on the same level. How can I go beyond happiness and unhappiness?

Swamiji: Only on the level of the mind do opposites exist, like pain and pleasure, unhappiness and happiness. But in the Self there is no such thing.

Let me give you an example. Because of the eyes, you are able to see everything around you. But you cannot see your eyes with your own eyes. Even though you can’t see your own eyes, you cannot deny the existence of your eyes. You know with absolute certainty that they exist. The Self is like that. You cannot see the Self as an object, but you are the Self. Being one’s Self is jnana [wisdom]. Being the Self is knowing the Self. In that state, there is no duality. You are always That. You think that you are different from the Self, and that is the mistake. Giving up the difference is sadhana.

In the deep-sleep state, there is no difference between you and the Self. At this moment—here-now—there is also no difference between the Self and you and everything else. All is One. All is the One. All is one Self.

Madhukar – Bliss and misery don’t touch the Self. Seen from the viewpoint of the Self, they happen like a dream. In the realized state, bliss and misery are happening within awareness but without personal identification. Is that correct?

Swamiji: Ultimately you cannot divide anything. All is Self. Take the body as an example. The whole body is yours: The two legs are yours; the two hands are yours; the two eyes are yours. In bodily life, happiness and misery always coexist. It is important to meet both with equanimity. In a small baby, you can see vividly that happiness and misery merge into one.

I had one last interaction with Swamiji. I wanted to hear one more time what he had to say about the issue of gurus declaring their students enlightened, and in particular, about Papaji’s declaration of my enlightenment. I expected him to have at least some reservations about Papaji’s distinctive custom. I decided to seek from Annamalai Swami a more private answer in the intimate context of a personal letter. Thus, the following questions and answers were conveyed by mail in summer of 1994. They are set out below, along with his answers (translated by Sunderam).

Madhukar – Did Bhagavan ever declare any of his disciples enlightened?

Swamiji: As far as I know, Sri Bhagavan did not declare anybody enlightened except his mother and the cow, Lakshmi. Nevertheless, many seekers reached very high states and attained peace and maturity in his presence.

Madhukar – Do you believe that my guru, your gurubhai, Poonjaji, is enlightened?

Swamiji: Although I never met Poonjaji in person, I consider him as an enlightened being.

Madhukar – Poonjaji declared me enlightened several times. But I didn’t consider myself to be enlightened. Was Poonjaji fooling me as well as others?

Swamiji: You said in your letter that Poonjaji declared you enlightened.

Poonjaji is correct. But you did not trust and stay by his words. You moved away from the state of enlightenment and got yourself caught in the trap of the mind and its doubts. So it is not Poonjaji’s mistake. It is your mistake. Realize the tricks of the mind and be free from it.

Madhukar – I wish I could meet my real, final, and last guru in this life. How can I find him? What can I do to find him?

Swamiji: If you have the intense desire to live with a guru in whom you have total trust, that intensity will take you to a master. If you are fully ready to receive a master, the master will come to you.

At the end of 1995, I received a letter from Sunderam that contained the sad news and some of the details of Sri Annamalai Swami’s mahasamadhi. He wrote that Swamiji had not been feeling well and his body had become increasingly weak during the preceding months. Early one morning after Annamalai Swami awakened, he had asked Sunderam and a French devotee to help him sit in his armchair. As he sat there, the swami closed his eyes and seemed to go into samadhi. However, his breath soon became weaker.

Sunderam sat on the floor in front of Swamiji, and the French devotee sat in a chair behind Swamiji, holding and steadying him in a gentle embrace. There was no talk. Both devotees knew that Swamiji was leaving his body; both devotees sat in silence and with full awareness. They knew that nothing could or should be done other than what they were already doing— just being there. A short while later, Swamiji’s breathing ceased. His mahasamadhi had occurred in the early morning hours of November 9, 1995.

When I met Sunderam in Bombay in spring 1996 I asked him what he had felt or experienced just before Swami’s death, at the moment of his death, and right after his death. Sunderam said that he did not experience anything special during his guru’s passing away. There was no special transmission or energy phenomenon, he said. Swamiji died exactly in the same way he lived—ordinarily and simply. Sunderam told me that after the traditional rituals had been performed, his master’s enbalmed body was lowered in the lotus posture into the samadhi shrine that Swamiji had prepared a few years prior to his death. Sunderam said that it didn’t seem to matter to Swamiji where he sat—in a chair or in his samadhi. Death, in the sense of the ending of his attachment to the body, had happened way back in 1938 when Sri Ramana’s words, “Ananda [bliss], ananda, ananda!” had confirmed his enlightenment.

I was deeply touched by the simplicity of Annamalai Swami’s teaching and lifestyle. In fact, I was in love with him. During my conversations with him, I became immersed several times in the peaceful and blissful experience of the Self. It happened without effort. It was so easy!

Questioning Annamalai Swami repeatedly about the technique of the self-inquiry process, and my experiences of practice in his presence and under his guidance, opened up a new spiritual vista for me. Swamiji’s clarifications enabled me to directly and easily experience the Self. This ability inspired me to sing with joy and relief. A deep relaxation and tremendous satisfaction occurred in me when the understanding arose that my own Self is available anytime. In fact, I am the Self! I knew with certainty that it could perhaps be forgotten momentarily but never again would it be lost. Until my meeting with the swami, I wasn’t aware that the Self revealed itself so often during my self-inquiry practice. Like the manner in which a windshield wiper provides a clear view after pushing off rain with each swing, my thoughts now dissolved anew during each attempt of self-inquiry, revealing my true nature. My meditations now became an opportunity to directly and frequently experience—on my own! —the peace and quiet of the Self.

From my experience with Papaji, I knew first hand that the initial “pointing out” by the guru and the subsequent recognition of the Self by the seeker through self-inquiry were crucial to the awakening process. But contrary to Papaji’s teaching—and congruent with my own experience—I now was convinced that the first conscious experience of my true nature was not enough for me to be permanently established in enlightenment. I had learned from Annamalai Swami that one needs many dips into the Self through ongoing practice, perhaps over lifetimes, until one can remain constantly in and as the Self.

At one point, I had asked Annamalai Swami how many of his own disciples had become enlightened and whether he proclaimed the event of their moksha. He replied that it was up to them to discern if enlightenment had occurred and to declare so if they wanted to. He added that he didn’t know who or how many of his devotees had found freedom so far. Shouting his own enlightenment or that of others from the rooftop was not his business, he said.

What I heard from the swami made me ponder Papaji’s custom of declaring seekers enlightened. I contemplated particularly the fact that about one hundred seekers—including myself—supposedly had become enlightened in his presence!

But could this be true? I began anew to question Papaji’s claims. Why didn’t Sri Ramana declare his disciples enlightened? Why didn’t I hear about similar enlightenment success rates of other teachers of Advaita Vedanta or of other traditions in India, or in other schools such as Tibetan Buddhism and Zen?

Perhaps I would not have needed to struggle so much, had Papaji only told me that what I had experienced was a recognition of the Self and not the final experience of enlightenment. Then my odyssey would probably have unfolded in a rather different fashion. It is quite possible that I would have relaxed and kept practicing with Papaji until his last day on Earth.

My meetings with Annamalai Swami convinced me that final enlightenment in my case simply required more practice. I was ready to do just that. By the same token, I was still not ready to let go of the concept that enlightenment is a Big Bang event that in its culminating moment is complete once and for all. I still believed in a sudden transformation after which every one of my perceptions would be different from then on, rather than a continuous vigilance and expanded awareness grounded in my essential nature. In spite of my own experience, part of me still hoped that Papaji was somehow right in his assessment of my enlightenment and that it merely remained mysteriously veiled. And I still believed that the spiritual power of a guru could be synchronized with my consciousness and act with the aid of practice as a catalyst for awakening. By my simply lifting the veil, enlightenment would remain. Driven by such hope and possibility, my odyssey continued.

-Berthold Madhukar Thompson

Excerpt from The Odyssey of Enlightenment: Rare Interviews with Enlightened Teachers of Our Time, Chapter 5

See the post from chapter 8: You have to Work for the Fulfillment of Your Destiny.

Slowly, Slowly the Madman Disappears – Osho

The first step in awareness is to be very watchful of your body. Slowly, slowly one becomes alert about each gesture, each movement. And as you become aware, a miracle starts happening: many things that you used to do before simply disappear, your body becomes more relaxed, your body becomes more attuned, a deep peace starts prevailing even in your body, a subtle music pulsates in your body.

Then start becoming aware of your thoughts; the same has to be done with the thoughts. They are more subtle than the body and of course, more dangerous too. And when you become aware of your thoughts, you will be surprised at what goes on inside you. If you write down whatsoever is going on at any moment, you are in for a great surprise. You will not believe ‘This is what is going on inside me.’ Just for ten minutes go on writing. Close the doors, lock the doors and the windows so nobody can come in, so you can be totally honest, and keep a fire so you can throw it in the fire! (laughter), so nobody will know except you. And then be truly honest, so on writing whatsoever is going on inside the mind. Don’t interpret it, don’t change it, don’t edit it. Just put it on the paper as naked as it is, exactly as it is.

And after ten minutes you read it — you will see a mad mind inside! We are not aware that this whole madness goes on running like an undercurrent. It affects everything that is significant in your life. It affects whatsoever you are doing; it affects whatsoever you are not doing, it affects everything. And the sum total of it is going to be your life! So this madman has to be changed. And the miracle of awareness is that you need not do anything except to become aware.

The very phenomenon of watching it, changes it. Slowly, slowly the madman disappears, slowly, slowly the thoughts start falling into a certain pattern: their chaos is no more, they become more of a cosmos; and then again, a deeper peace prevails. And when your body and your mind are at peace you will see that they are attuned to each other too, there is a bridge. Now they are not running in different directions, they are not riding on different horses. For the first time there is accord and that accord helps immensely to work on the third step — that is, becoming aware of your feelings, emotions, moods. That is the subtlest layer and the most difficult, but if you can be aware of the thoughts then it is just one step more. A little more intense awareness is needed as you start reflecting your moods, your emotions, your feelings.

Once you are aware of all these three, they all become joined into one phenomenon. And when all these three are one, functioning together perfectly, humming together, you can feel the music of all three – they have become an orchestra. Then the fourth happens, which you cannot do — it happens of its own accord. It is a gift from the whole. It is a reward, for those who have done these three.

And the fourth is the ultimate awareness that makes one awakened. One becomes aware of one’s awareness — that is the fourth. That makes one a Buddha, the awakened. And only in that awakening one comes to know what bliss is. The body knows pleasure, the mind knows happiness, the heart knows joy, the fourth knows bliss. Bliss is the goal of sannyas and awareness is the path towards it.

-Osho

From The Old Pond, Plop, Chapter #22 (an unpublished darshan diary)

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