Instantaneous Cognition – Osho

Performing samyama on their power of cognition, real nature, egoism, all-pervasiveness, and functions brings mastery over the sense organs.

From this follows instantaneous cognition without the use of the body, and complete mastery over pradhana, the material world.

Only after the awareness of the distinction between sattva and purusha does supremacy and knowledge arise over all states of existence.

-Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras

Patanjali’s skill in expressing the inexpressible is superb. Nobody has ever been able to surpass him. He has mapped the inner world of consciousness as accurately as it is possible; he has almost done the impossible job.

I have heard one story about Ramkrishna:

One day he said to his disciples, “I will tell you everything today and will not keep anything secret.” He described clearly the centers and the corresponding experiences up to the heart and throat, and then pointing to the spot between the eyebrows he said, “The supreme self is directly known and the individual experiences samadhi when the mind comes here. There remains then but a thin transparent screen separating the supreme self and the individual self. The sadhaka then experiences . . .” Saying this, the moment he started to describe in detail the realization of supreme self, he was plunged in samadhi and became unconscious. When the samadhi came to an end and he came back, he tried again to describe it and was again in samadhi; again he became unconscious. After repeated attempts Ramkrishna broke into tears, started crying, and told his disciples that it is impossible to speak about it.

But Ramkrishna has tried, has tried in many ways, from different directions, and this always happened his whole life. Whenever he will come beyond the third-eye center and will be coming nearer sahasrar, he will be caught hold of by something inner, so deeply, that the very remembrance of it, the very effort to describe it, and he is gone. For hours he will remain unconscious. It’s natural because the bliss of sahasrar is such [that] one is almost overpowered by it. The bliss is so oceanic that one is possessed by it and taken over. One is no longer oneself, once you transcend the third eye.

Ramkrishna tried and failed, could not describe it. Many others have not even tried. Lao Tzu resisted, for his whole life, saying anything about the world of Tao because of this. Nothing can be said about it, and the moment you try to say it, you are plunged into an inner whirlwind, whirlpool. You are lost, drowned. You are bathed in such beauty and beatitude that you cannot utter a single word.

But Patanjali has done the impossible. He has described as exactly as possible each step, each integration, each chakra, its functioning, and how to transcend it, up to sahasrar — and he has even indicated beyond. On each chakra, on each wheel of energy, a certain integration happens. Let me tell you.

At the sex center, the first center, the most primitive but the most natural, the one that is available to all, the integration happens between the outer and the inner. Of course it is momentary. A woman meeting a man or a man meeting a woman come for a single moment, a split moment, where the outer and inner meet and mingle and merge into each other. That’s the beauty of sex, the orgasm, that two energies, the complementary energies, meet and become one whole. But it is going to be momentary because the meeting is through the most gross element, the body. The body can touch the surfaces but it cannot really enter into the other. It is like ice cubes. If you put two ice cubes together, they can touch each other, but if they melt and become water, then they meet and mingle with each other. Then they go to the very center. And if the water evaporates, then the meeting becomes very, very deep. Then there is no I, no thou, no inner, no outer.

The first center, the sex center, gives you a certain integration. That’s why there is so much hankering for sex. It is natural, it is in itself beneficial and good, but if you stop there, then you have stopped on the porch of a palace. The porch is good, it leads you into the palace, but it is not a place to make your abode, it is not a place to stop forever . . . and the bliss that is waiting for you on the higher integrations of other centers will be missed. And in comparison to that bliss and happiness and joy, the beauty of sex is nothing, the pleasure of sex is nothing. It simply gives you a momentary glimpse.

The second chakra is hara. At the hara, life and death meet. If you reach to the second center, you reach to a higher orgasm of integration. Life meeting death, sun meeting moon. And the meeting is inner now, so the meeting can be more permanent, more stable, because you are not dependent on anybody else. Now you are meeting your own inner woman or your own inner man.

The third center is the navel. There the positive and the negative meet — the positive electricity and the negative electricity. Their meeting is even higher than life and death because the electric energy, the prana, the bioplasma or bioenergy, is deeper than life and death. It exists before life; it exists after death. Life and death exist because of bioenergy. This meeting of bioenergy at the navel, nabhi, gives you even a higher experience of being one, integrated, a unity.

Then is the heart. At the heart center the lower and the higher meet. At the heart center the prakriti and purusha, the sexual and the spiritual, the worldly and the other-worldly — or you can call it the meeting of heaven and earth. It is still higher because for the first time something of the beyond dawns — you can see the sun rising at the horizon. You are still rooted in the earth, but your branches are spreading into the sky. You have become a meeting. That’s why the heart center gives the highest and the most refined experience ordinarily available — the experience of love. The experience of love is the meeting of earth and heaven; so love is in a way earthly and in another way heavenly.

If Jesus defined God as love, this is the reason, because in human consciousness love seems to be the higher glimpse.

Ordinarily, people never go beyond the heart center. Even to reach to the heart center seems to be difficult, almost impossible. People remain at the sex center. If they are trained deeply in yoga, karate, aikido, tai chi, then they reach to the second center, the hara. If they are trained in the deep mechanism of breathing, prana, then they reach the navel center. And if they are trained how to look beyond earth and how to see beyond the body and how to look so deeply and so sensitively that you are no longer confined to the gross, and the subtle can penetrate its first rays into you, only then, the heart center.

All paths of devotion, bhakti yoga, work on the heart center. Tantra starts from the sex center. Tao starts from the hara center. Yoga starts from the navel center. Bhakti yoga, paths of devotion and love, Sufis and others, they start from the heart center.

Higher than heart is the throat center. Again there happens another integration, even more superior, more subtle. This center is the center of receiving and giving. When the child is born, he receives from the throat center. First, life enters into him from the throat center — he sucks air, breathes; and then he sucks milk from his mother. The child functions from the throat center, but it is half functioning and soon the child forgets about it. He just receives. He cannot give yet. His love is passive. And if you are asking for love, then you remain juvenile, you remain childish. Unless you mature, that you can give love, you have not become a grown-up. Everybody asks for love, demands love, and almost nobody gives. That’s the misery all over the world. And everybody who demands thinks that he is giving, believes that he is giving.

I have looked into thousands of people — all hungry for love, thirsty for love, but nobody in any way trying to give. And they all believe that they are giving but they are not receiving. Once you give you receive, naturally. It has never happened otherwise. The moment you give, love rushes in you. It has nothing to do with persons and people. It has something to do with the cosmic energy of God.

The throat center is the meeting of receiving and giving. You receive from it and you give from it. That is the meaning of Christ’s saying that you must become a child again. If you translate it into the yoga terminology it will mean: you must come to the throat center again. The child forgets by and by. […]

When Jesus says you have to be a child again, he means you have to come back to the throat center, but with a new energy to give. All creative people are givers. They may sing a song for you or dance a dance or write a poem or paint a picture or tell you a story. For all these, the throat center is again used as a center to give. The meeting of receiving and giving happens at the throat. The capacity to receive and to give is one of the greatest integrations.

There are people who are only capable of receiving. They will remain miserable because you never become rich by receiving. You become rich by giving. In fact, you possess only that which you can give. If you cannot give it, you simply believe that you possess. You don’t possess it; you are not a master. If you cannot give your money, then you are not the master of it. Then the money is the master. If you can give it, then certainly you are the master. This will look like a paradox but let me repeat it: you are the possessor only of that which you give. The moment you give, in that very moment, you have become a possessor, enriched. Giving enriches you.

Miserly people are the most miserable and poor people in the world — poorer than the poorest. They cannot give; they are stuck. They go on hoarding. Their hoarding becomes a burden on their being; it does not free them. In fact, if you have something you will become freer. But look at the misers. They have much, but they are burdened; they are not free. Even beggars are more free than them. What has happened to them? They have used their throat center just to receive. […]

These people are always constipatory; hoarders, misers always suffer from constipation. Remember, I am not saying that all people who have constipation are misers; there may be other reasons. But misers are certainly constipated. […]

I have heard about two Buddhist bhikkhus. One of them was a miser and a hoarder and he used to collect money and keep it, and the other used to laugh at this foolish attitude. Whatsoever will come on his way, he will use it; he will never hoard it. One night they came across a river. It was evening, the sun was setting, and it was dangerous to stay there. They had to go to the other shore; there was a town. This side was simply wilderness.

The hoarder said, “Now you don’t have any money, so we cannot pay the ferryman. What do you say now about it? You are against hoarding; now if I don’t have any money, we both will die.” You see the point? He said, “Money is needed.” The man who believed in renunciation laughed, but he didn’t say anything. Then the hoarder paid, and they crossed the river; they reached the other shore. The hoarder again said, “Now remember, next time don’t start arguing with me. You see? Money helps. Without money we would have been dead.” The whole night on the other shore, it was dangerous to survive [because of] wild animals.

The other bhikkhu laughed and he said, “But we have come across the river because you could renounce it. It is not because of hoarding that we have survived. If you had insisted on hoarding it, and you were not going to pay the ferryman, we would have died. It is because you could renounce — because you could leave it, you could give it — that’s why we have survived.”

The argument must be continuing still. But remember, I am not against money. I am all for it but use it. Possess it, own it; but your ownership arises only the moment you have become capable of giving it. At the throat center this new synthesis happens. You can accept and you can give.

There are people who change from one extreme to another. First, they were incapable of giving, they could only receive; then they change, they go to the other extreme — now they can give, but they cannot receive. That too is lopsidedness. A real man is capable of accepting gifts and giving them back. In India, you will find many sannyasins, many so-called mahatmas, who will not touch money. If you give them any, they will shrink back, as if you have produced a snake or something — poisonous. Their shrinking back shows that now they have moved to the other extreme: now they have become incapable of receiving. Again, their throat center is half-functioning — and a center never functions really unless it functions fully, unless the wheel moves the full way, goes on moving and creates energy fields.

Then, is the third-eye center. At the third eye center the right and left meet, pingala and ida meet and become sushumna. The two hemispheres of the brain meet at the third eye that is just between the two eyes. One eye represents the right, another eye represents the left, and it is just in the middle. These left and right brains meeting at the third eye, this is a very high synthesis. People have been capable of describing up to this point. That’s why Ramkrishna could describe up to the third eye. And when he started to talk about the final, the ultimate synthesis that happens at sahasrar, he again and again fell into silence, into samadhi. He was drowned in it; it was too much. It was flood like; he was taken over by the ocean. He could not keep himself conscious, alert.

The ultimate synthesis happens at sahasrar, the crown chakra. Because of this sahasrar, all over the world kings, emperors, monarchs, and queens, use the crown. It has become formal, but basically it was accepted because unless your sahasrar is functioning, how can you be a monarch, how can you be a king? How can you rule people, you have not even become a ruler of yourself? In the symbol of the crown is hidden a secret. The secret is that a person who has reached to the crown center, the ultimate synthesis of his being, only he should be the king or the queen, nobody else. Only he is capable of ruling others because he has come to rule himself. He has become a master of himself; now he can be helpful to others also.

Really, when you achieve to sahasrar, a crown flowers within you, a one-thousand-petaled lotus opens. No crown can be compared with it, but then it became just a symbol. And the symbol has existed all over the world. That simply shows that everywhere people became alert and aware in one way or other of the ultimate synthesis in the sahasrar. Jews use the skullcap; it is exactly on the sahasrar. Hindus allow a bunch of hair, they call it choti, the peak, to grow exactly on the spot where the sahasrar is or has to be. There are a few Christian societies which shave just that part of the head. When a Master blesses a disciple, he puts his hand on the sahasrar. And if the disciple is really receptive, surrendered, he will suddenly feel an upsurge of energy running from the sex center to the sahasrar.

Sometimes when I touch your head and you suddenly become sexual don’t be afraid, don’t shrink back, because that is how it should be. The energy is at the sex center. It starts uncoiling itself. You become afraid, you shrink, you repress it — What is happening? And becoming sexual at the feet of your Master seems to be a little awkward, embarrassing. It is not. Allow it, let it be, and soon you will see it has passed the first center and the second, and if you are surrendered, within a second the energy is moving at the sahasrar, and you will have a feeling of a new opening within you. That’s why a disciple is supposed to bow down his head, so the Master can touch the head.

The last synthesis is of object and subject, the outer and inner, again. In a sexual orgasm outer and inner meet but momentarily. In sahasrar they meet permanently. That’s why I say one has to travel from sex to samadhi. In sex ninety-nine percent is sex, one percent is sahasrar; in sahasrar ninety-nine percent is sahasrar, one percent is sex. Both are joined, they are bridged by deep currents of energy. So if you have enjoyed sex, don’t make your abode there. Sex is just a glimpse of sahasrar. Sahasrar is going to deliver a thousandfold, a millionfold, a bliss to you, benediction to you.

The outer and the inner meet: I and thou meet, man and woman meet, yin and yang meet; and the meeting is absolute. Then there is no parting, then there is no divorce.

This is called yoga. Yoga means the meeting of the two into one. In Christianity, mystics have called it unio mystica; that is the exact translation of yoga. Unio mystica: the mysterious union. At the sahasrar, the alpha and the omega meet, the beginning and the end. The beginning is in the sex center, sex is your alpha; samadhi is your omega. And unless alpha and omega meet, unless you have attained to this supreme union, you will remain miserable because your destiny is that. You will remain unfulfilled. You can be fulfilled only at this highest peak of synthesis.

Now the sutras.

Performing samyama on their power of cognition, real nature, egoism, all-pervasiveness, and functions brings mastery over the sense organs.

The first thing to be understood is that you have senses but you have lost sensitivity. Your senses are almost dull, dead. They are there hanging with you, but energy is not flowing in them; they are not alive limbs of your being. Something has deadened within you, has become cold, blocked. It has happened to the whole of humanity because of thousands of years of repression. And thousands of years of conditioning and ideologies which are against the body have crippled you. You live only in name’s sake.

So the first thing to be done is: your senses should become really alive and sensitive. Only then can they be mastered. You see but you don’t see deeply. You see only the surface of things. You touch but your touch has no warmth; nothing flows in and out from your touch. You hear also. The birds go on singing and you hear and you can say, “Yes, I am hearing,” and you are not wrong — you are hearing — but it never reaches to the very core of your being. It does not go dancing within you; it doesn’t help a flowering, an unfolding within you.

These senses have to be rejuvenated. Yoga is not against the body, remember. Yoga says go beyond the body, but it is not against the body. Yoga says use the body, don’t be used by it; but it is not against the body. Yoga says the body is your temple. You are in the body, and the body is so beautiful an organism, so complex and so subtle, so mysterious, and so many dimensions open through it. And those senses are the only doors and windows through which you will reach to God — so don’t deaden them. Make them more alive. Let them vibrate, pulsate, and what Stanley Keleman has said, let them “stream.” That is exactly the right word: let them flow like a stream, rushing. You can have the sensation. Your hand — if it is rushing like a stream of energy — you will feel a tingling sensation, you will feel something inside the hand is flowing and wants to make contact, wants to be connected.

When you love a woman or a man and you take her hand in your hand, if your hand is not streaming, this love is not going to be of any use. If your hand is not jumping and throbbing with energy and pouring energy into your woman or into your man, then this love is almost dead from the very beginning. Then this child is not born alive. Then sooner or later you will be finished — you are already finished. It will take a little time to recognize because your mind is also dull; otherwise, you would not have entered into it because it is already dead. For what are you entering? You take time to recognize things because your sensitivity, brilliance, intelligence, is so much clouded and confused.

Only a streaming love can become a source of blissfulness, of joy, of delight. But for that you will need senses streaming.

Sometimes you have that glimpse also; and everybody had it when he was a child. Watch a child running after a butterfly. He is streaming, as if any moment he can jump out of his body. Watch a child when he is looking at a rose flower. See his eyes, the brilliance, the light that comes to his eyes. He is streaming. His eyes are almost dancing on the petals of the flower.

This is the way to be: be riverlike. And only then is it possible to master these senses. In fact, people have had a very wrong attitude. They think that if you want to master your senses you have to make them almost dead. But then what is the point of mastering? You can kill, and you are the master. You can sit on the corpse. But what is the point of being a master? But this looked easier: first to kill them, and then you can master. If the body feels too strong, fast. Make it weak, and then you start feeling that you are the master. But you have killed the body. Remember, life has to be mastered, not dead things. They will not be of any use.

But this has been found to be a shortcut, so all the religions of the world have been using it. Destroy your body by and by. Disconnect yourself from the body. Don’t be in contact. Remove yourself away. Become indifferent. When your body is almost a dead tree; no longer do leaves come to it, no longer does it flower, no longer do birds come to rest. It is just a dead stump. Of course you can master it, but now what are you going to gain from this mastery?

This is the problem; that’s why people don’t understand what Patanjali means.

Performing samyama on their power of cognition . . . Your eyes see, your ears hear, your nose smells, your tongue tastes, your hands make contact, your feet make connectedness with the earth — that is their power of cognition.

Performing samyama on their power of cognition. . . But they have to be powerful. Otherwise you will not be able to even feel what power is. These senses have to be so full of power, so high with power, that you can perform samyama, that you can meditate upon them.

Right now, when you look at a flower, the flower is there, but have you ever felt your eyes? You see the flower, but have you felt the power of your eyes? It should be there because you are using your eyes to see the flower. And of course eyes are more beautiful than any flower because all flowers have to come through the eyes. It is through the eyes that you have become aware of the world of flowers, but have you ever felt the power of the eyes? They are almost dull, dead. They have become passive, just like windows, receptive. They don’t go to their object. And power means being active. Power means your eyes going and almost touching the flowers, your ears going and almost touching the songs of the birds, your hands going with the total energy in you, focused there and touching your beloved. Or you are lying down on the grass, your whole body, full of power, meeting in contact with the grass, having a dialogue with the grass. Or you are swimming in the river and whispering with the river and listening to the whispers of the river. Connected, in communion, but power is needed.

So the first thing I would like you to do is when you see, really see, become the eyes. Forget everything. Let your whole energy flow through the eyes. And your eyes will be cleaned, bathed in an inner shower, and you will be able to see that these trees are no longer the same, the greenery is no longer the same. It has become greener, as if dust has disappeared from it. The dust was not on the trees. It was on your eyes. And you will see for the first time and you will hear for the first time.

Jesus goes on saying to his disciples, “If you have ears listen. If you have eyes see.” They were not all blind, and they were not all deaf. What does he mean? He means that you have almost become deaf and almost become blind. You see and yet you don’t see. You hear, yet you don’t hear. It is not a power, it is not energy, it is not vital.

Performing samyana on their power of cognition, real nature . . . Then you will be able to see what is the real nature of your senses. It is divine. Your body embodies the divine. It is God who has looked through your eyes!

I remember Meister Eckhart’s famous saying. The day he realized and became enlightened, his friends and disciples and brothers asked, “What have you seen?” He laughed. He is the only one in the whole of Christianity who comes very close to Zen Masters, almost a Zen Master. He laughed; he said, “I have not seen him. He has seen himself through me. God has seen himself through me. These eyes are his. And what a game, what a play. He has seen himself through me.”

When you really feel the nature of your senses, you will feel it is divine. It is God who has moved through your hand. It is God’s hand. All hands are his. It is God who has loved through you. All love affairs are his. And how can it be otherwise? Hindus call it leela, God’s play. It is he who is calling you through the cuckoo, and it is he who is listening through you. It is he and he alone spread all over.

Performing samyama on their power of cognition, real nature, egoism, all-pervasiveness, and functions brings mastery over the sense organs.

This word “egoism” has to be understood because in Sanskrit we have three words for the ego, and in English there is only one word. That creates difficulty. The Sanskrit word in the sutra is asmita, so let me first explain it to you.

There are three words, ahankara, asmita, atma, all mean “I.” Ahankar can be translated as the “ego,” the very gross, too much emphasis on I. For asmita there is no word in English. Asmita means amness, I am. In ego the emphasis is on “I”; in asmita the emphasis is on “am.” Amness, purer than ego. Still it is there, but in a very different form. Amness. And in atma, even amness has disappeared. In the ego “I am”; in asmita only “am”; in atma even that has disappeared. In atma there is pure being, neither I nor amness.

In this sutra asmita is used, amness. Remember, the ego is of the mind. Senses have no ego. They have a certain amness but no ego. The ego is of the mind. Your eyes don’t have any ego; your hands don’t have any ego. They have a certain amness. That’s why if your skin has to be replaced and somebody else’s skin is planted on you, your body will reject it because the body knows “it is not mine.” So your own skin has to be replaced from some other part of the body, from your thighs. Your own skin has to be replaced, otherwise the body will reject. The body will not accept it, “It is not mine.”

The body has no I but it has an amness. If you need blood, anybody’s blood won’t do. The body will not accept all sorts of blood, only a particular blood. It has its own amness. That will be accepted; some other blood will be rejected. The body has its own feel of its being, very unconscious, very subtle and pure, but it is there.

Your eyes are yours, just like your thumbprints. Everything yours is yours. Now physiologists say that everybody’s heart is different, of a different shape. In the books of physiology, the picture that you will find is not a real picture. It is just average; it is just imagined. Otherwise each person’s heart has a different shape. Even each person’s kidney has a different shape. These parts all have their signatures; everybody is so unique. That is the amness.

You will never be here again, you have never been before, so move cautiously and alertly and happily. Just think, the glory of your being. Just think, that you are so superb and unique. God has vested much in you. Never imitate because that will be a betrayal. Be yourself. Let that be your religion. All else is politics. Don’t be a Hindu, don’t be a Mohammedan, don’t be a Christian. Be religious, but there is only one religion, and that is just being yourself, authentically yourself.

Performing samyama on their power of cognition, real nature, asmita (the subtle amness), all-pervasiveness, and functions brings mastery over the sense organs.

And if you meditate on these things, you will become a master. Meditation brings mastery; nothing else brings mastery except meditation. If you meditate on your eye, first you will see the rose flower; by and by you will be able to see the eye that is seeing. Then you have become a master of the eye. Once you have seen the seeing eye, you have become a master. Now you can use all its energies; and they are all-pervasive. Your eyes are not as limited as you think them to be. They can see many more things which you have not seen. They can penetrate many more mysteries that you have not even dreamed about. But you are not master of your eyes, and you have used them in a very haphazard way, not knowing what you are doing.

And having been in contact with objects too much, you have forgotten the subjectivity of your eyes. It happens, if you keep company with someone, by and by you become influenced by him. You have been in contact with objects too much and you have forgotten the inner quality of your senses. You see things, but you never see your seeing. You hear the songs, but you never hear the subtle vibration that goes on within you, the sound of your being. […]

We have kept company with objects so long that we have forgotten our subjectivity. We have remained focused outwardly so long on things that we have forgotten that we are persons. This long association with objects has completely destroyed your image of yourself. You have to come back home.

In yoga, when you start seeing your seeing eye, you come across a subtle energy. They call it tanmatra. When you can see your eye seeing, just hidden behind the eyes you see a tremendous energy. That is tanmatra, the energy of the eye. Behind the ear you see tremendous energy accumulated, tanmatra of the ear. Behind your genital organs you see tremendous energy accumulated, tanmatra of sexuality. And so on and so forth. Everywhere, behind your senses there is a pool of energy — unused. Once you know it, you can pour that energy into your eyes, and then you will see visions which only sometimes poets see, painters see. Then you will hear sounds which only sometimes musicians hear, poets hear. And then you will touch things which only sometimes, in rare moments, lovers know how to touch.

You will become alive, streaming.

Ordinarily you have been taught to repress your senses, not to know them. It is very foolish, but very convenient. […]

That’s what you have done with your senses, with your body. You have repressed it. But you were helpless. I don’t say that you are responsible for repressing it. You were brought up in such a way, nobody allowed your senses freedom. In the name of love, only repression continues. The mothers, the fathers, the society, they go on repressing. By and by they teach you a trick, and the trick is not to accept yourself — deny. Everything has to be channelized into conformity. Your wilderness has to be thrown into the dark part of your soul and a small corner has to be clean, like a drawing room, where you can see people, meet people, and live and forget all about your wilder being, your real existence. Your fathers and your mothers are not responsible either because they were brought up in the same way.

So nobody is responsible. But once you know it, and you don’t do anything, then you become responsible. Being near me, I am going to make you very, very responsible because you will know it, and then if you don’t do anything, then you cannot throw the responsibility on anybody else. Then you are going to be responsible.

Now you know how you have destroyed your senses and you know also how to revive them. Do something. […] Unblock yourself. Start flowing again. Start connecting again with your being. Start connecting with your senses again. You are like a disconnected telephone line. Everything looks perfectly okay, the telephone is there, but the line is disconnected. Your eyes are there, your hands are there, your ears are there, but the line is disconnected. Reconnect it. If it can be disconnected, it can be reconnected. Others have disconnected it because they were also taught in the same way, but you can reconnect it.

All my meditations are to give you a streaming energy. That’s why I call them dynamic methods. Old meditations were just to sit silently, not to do anything. I give you active methods because when you are streaming with energy you can sit silently, that will do, but right now first you have to become alive.

From this follows instantaneous cognition without the use of the body, and complete mastery over pradhana (prakriti), the material world.

If you can see tanmatras, the subtle energies of your senses, you will become capable of using your cognition without the grosser instruments. If you know that behind the eye there is an accumulated pool of energy, you can close your eyes and use that energy directly. Then you will be able to see without opening your eyes. That’s what telepathy, clairvoyance, clairaudience is. […]

This is what yoga calls tanmatra. […]

Once you know the tanmatra, the subtle energy, that is being used by your eyes, eyes can be discarded. Once you know that it is not really the sense that is functioning but the energy, you are freed of the sense. […]

I have heard a story.

So, this guy phoned Cohen & Goldberg, wholesalers.

“Put me through to Mr. Cohen, please.”

“I am afraid Mr. Cohen has gone out, sir,” said the switchboard girl.

“Then get me Mr. Goldberg.”

“I am afraid Mr. Goldberg is tied up at present, sir.”

“Okay, I will phone back later.”

Ten minutes later: “Mr. Goldberg, please.”

“I am afraid Mr. Goldberg is still tied up, sir.”

“I will phone back.”

Half an hour later: “Get me Mr. Goldberg.”

“I am terribly sorry, sir, but Mr. Goldberg is still tied”

“I will phone back.”

Another half an hour later: “Goldberg!”

“I have dreadful news for you, sir. Mr. Goldberg is still tied up.”

“But look, this is ridiculous. How can you run a business like that? The one partner is out all morning and the other is tied up for hours on end. What is going on there?”

“Well, you see, sir, whenever Mr. Cohen goes out, he ties up Mr. Goldberg.”

This is what is happening inside you also.

Whenever you go out, through the eyes, through the hands, through your genital organs, through your ears, whenever you go out, continuously a certain type of bondage and tying is created. By and by you become tight with the particular sense — eyes, ears — because that is from where you go out, again, again, again. By and by you forget the energy that is going out.

This getting in bondage to the senses is the whole world, the samsar. How to untie yourself from the senses? And once you are tied up with the senses, you start thinking in terms of them. You forget yourself. […]

The whole attachment to the senses is as if you are the senses, as if you cannot live without them, as if your whole life is confined to them. But you are not confined to them. You can renounce them, and you can live still and live on a higher plane. Difficult. Just as if you want to persuade a seed that “Die, and soon a beautiful plant will be born.” How can he believe because he will be dead? And no seed has ever known that by his death a new sprout comes up, a new life arises. So how to believe it? Or if you go near an egg, and you want to persuade the bird within that “Come out,” but how is the bird to believe it, that there is any possibility of life without the egg? Or if you talk to a child inside the womb of a mother and tell him, “Come out, don’t be afraid,” but he knows nothing outside the womb. The womb has been his whole life; he knows only that much. He is afraid. The same is the situation: surrounded by the senses, we live in a sort of confinement, an imprisonment.

One has to be a little daring, courageous. Right now, wherever you are and whatsoever you are, nothing is happening to you. Then take the risk. Then move into the unknown. Then try to find out a new way of life.

“From this follows instantaneous cognition without the use of the body, and complete mastery over prakriti, the material world.” Up to now you have been possessed by the material world. Once you know that you have your own energy, totally independent from the material world, you become a master. The world possesses you no more; you possess it. Only those who renounce become the real masters.

Only after the awareness of the distinction between sattva and purusha does supremacy and knowledge arise over all states of existence.

And the subtlest discrimination has to be made between sattva and purusha — intelligence and awareness. It is very easy to separate yourself from the body. The body is so gross you can feel it; you cannot be it. You must be inside it. It is easy to see that you cannot be the eyes. You must be someone hidden behind who looks through the eyes; otherwise who will look through the eyes? Your glasses cannot look. Behind the glasses eyes are needed. Your eyes are also like glasses. They are glasses; they cannot look. You are needed somewhere behind to look.

But the subtlest identification is with intelligence. Your power to think, your power of intellect, understanding, that is the subtlest thing. It is very difficult to discriminate between awareness and intelligence. But it can be discriminated.

By and by, step by step, first know that you are not the body. Let that understanding grow deep, crystallize. Then know that you are not the senses. Let that understanding grow, crystallize. Then know that you are not the tanmatras, the energy pools behind the senses. Let that grow and crystallize. And then you will be able to see that intelligence is also a pool of energy. It is the common pool, in which eyes pour their energy, ears pour their energy, hands pour their energy. All the senses are like rivers, and intelligence is the central thing, in which they bring information and pour.

Whatsoever your mind knows is given by the senses. You have seen colors: your mind knows. If you are colorblind, if you cannot see the color green, then your mind does not know anything about green. Bernard Shaw lived his whole life unaware that he was colorblind. It is very difficult to come to know it, but one accidental incident allowed him to become aware. On one of his birthdays, somebody presented him a suit, but the tie was missing, so he went to the market to find a tie which could fit with the suit. The suit was green, and he started purchasing a yellow tie. His secretary was watching, and she said, “What are you doing? It won’t fit. The suit is green and the tie is yellow.” He said, “Is there any difference between these two?” For seventy years he had lived not knowing that he could not see yellow. He saw green. Whether it was yellow or green, both the colors looked green. Now yellow was not part of his mind; the eyes never poured that information into the mind.

The eyes are like servants, information collectors, probes, roaming all over the world, collecting things, pouring into the mind. They go on feeding the mind; mind is the central pool.

First you have to become aware that you are not the eye, not the energy that is hidden behind the eye, then you will be able to see that every sense is pouring into the mind. You are not this mind also. You are the one who is seeing it being poured. You are just standing on the bank, all the rivers pouring into the ocean — you are the watcher, the witness.

Swami Ram has said: “Science is difficult to define, but perhaps the most essential feature of it involves the study of something which is external to the observer. The techniques of meditation offer an approach which allows one to be external to one’s own internal states.” “The techniques of meditation offer an approach which allows one to be external to one’s own internal states” — and the ultimate of meditation is to know that whatsoever you can know, you are not it. Whatsoever can be reduced to a known object, you are not it, because you cannot be reduced to an object. You remain eternally subject — the knower, the knower, the knower. And the knower can never be reduced to the known.

This is purusha, awareness. This is the final understanding that arises out of yoga. Meditate over it.

-Osho

From Yoga: The Path to Liberation, Yoga: The Science of the Soul, V.9, Discourse #3 (Previously titled Yoga: The Alpha and the Omega, V.9).

Copyright © OSHO International Foundation

This discourse is the Listening Meditation in the seventeenth 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.

Beyond the Error of Experiencing – Osho

Experience is the result of the inability to differentiate between purusha, pure consciousness, and sattva, pure intelligence, although they are absolutely distinct.

Performing samyama on the self-interest brings knowledge of the purusha separated from the knowledge of others.

From this follow intuitional hearing, touching, seeing, tasting, and smelling.

These are powers when the mind is turned outward but obstacles in the way of samadhi.

-Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras

One of the most important sutras of Patanjali – the very key. This last part of Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras is called “kaivalya pada.” Kaivalya means the summum bonum – the ultimate liberation, the total freedom of consciousness which knows no limitation, which knows no impurity. The word kaivalya is very beautiful; it means innocent aloneness; it means pure aloneness.

The word “aloneness” has to be understood. It is not loneliness. Loneliness is negative: loneliness is when you are hankering for the other. Loneliness is the feeling of the absence of the other; aloneness is the realization of oneself. Loneliness is ugly; aloneness is tremendously beautiful.

Aloneness is when you are so content that you don’t need the other, that the other has completely disappeared from your consciousness – the other makes no shadow on you, the other creates no dream in you, the other does not pull you out.

The other is continuously pulling you off the center. Sartre’s famous saying, Patanjali would have understood it well, is, “The other is hell.” The other may not be hell, but hell is created by your desire for the other. The desire for the other is hell.

And to be desireless of the other is to attain to your pristine clarity of being. Then you are and you are the whole, and there exists nobody except you. This Patanjali calls kaivalya.

And the way toward kaivalya, the path, is first the most essential step, viveka, discrimination; the second important step is vairagya, renunciation; and the third is the realization of kaivalya, aloneness.

Why are you hankering so much for the other? Why this desire – this constant madness for the other? Where have you taken a wrong step? Why are you not satisfied with yourself? Why don’t you feel fulfilled? Why do you think that somehow you lack something? From where arises this misconception that you are incomplete? It arises out of the identity with the body. The body is the other. Once you have taken the first wrong step, then you will go on and on, and then there is no end to it.

By viveka Patanjali means: to discriminate yourself as separate from the body – to realize that you are in the body but you are not the body, to realize that you are in the mind but you are not the mind. To realize that you are always the pure witness – sakshi, drashta – the seer. You are never the seen; you are never the object. You are pure subjectivity.

Søren Kierkegaard, one of the most influential existential thinkers in the West, has said, “God is subjectivity.” He comes very close to Patanjali. What does he mean when he says God is subjectivity? When all objects are known as separate from you, they start disappearing. They exist through your cooperation. If you think you are the body, then the body continues. It needs your help, your energy. If you think you are the mind, the mind functions. It needs your help, your cooperation, your energy.

This is one of the inner mechanisms: that just by your presence nature becomes alive. Just by your presence the body functions as alive; just by your presence the mind starts functioning. In yoga they say it is as if the master had gone out, then he comes back home. The servants were chitchatting and sitting on the steps of the house and smoking, and nobody was worried about the house. The moment the master enters, their chitchat stops, they are no longer smoking, they have hidden their cigarettes and they have started working, and they are trying to show that they are so much involved in their work that you cannot even conceive that just a moment before they were gossiping, sitting on the steps idling, lazy, resting. Just the presence of the master and everything settles – as if the teacher had gone out of the class and there was much turmoil, almost a chaos, and the teacher comes back and all the children are in their seats and they have started writing, doing their work, and there is complete silence. The very presence.

Now scientists have something parallel to it. They call it the presence of the catalytic agent. There are a few scientific phenomena in which a certain substance is needed just to be present. It does not act in any way, it does not enter into any activity, but just the presence of it helps some activity to happen – if it is not present that activity will not happen. If it is present it remains in itself; it does not go out. Just the very presence is catalytic – it creates some activity in somebody else, somewhere else.

Patanjali says that your innermost being is not active; it is inactive. The innermost being is called, in yoga, the purusha. Your pure consciousness is a catalytic agent. It is just there doing nothing – seeing everything but doing nothing, watching everything but getting involved in nothing. By the sheer presence of the purusha, the prakriti, nature – the mind, the body, everything – starts functioning.

But we get identified with the body, we get identified with the mind: we slip out of the witnesser and become a doer. That’s the whole disease of man. Viveka is the medicine – how to go back home, how to drop this false idea that you are a doer, and how to attain to the clarity of just being a witness. The methodology is called viveka.

Once you have understood that you are not the doer, and you are the watcher, the second thing happens spontaneously – renunciation, sannyas, vairagya. The second is: now, whatsoever you were doing before, you cannot do. You were getting involved too much in many things because you were thinking you are the body, because you were thinking you are the mind. Now you know that you are neither the body nor the mind, so many activities that you were following and chasing and getting mad about simply drop. That dropping is vairagya; that is sannyas, renunciation. Your vision, your viveka, your understanding, brings a transformation: that is vairagya. And when vairagya is complete, another peak arises which is kaivalya – you for the first time know who you are. But the first step of identification leads you astray; then once you have taken the first step, once you have ignored your separation and you have got caught in the identity, then it goes on and on and on; and one step leads to another, then to another, and you are more and more in the mire and in the mess.

Let me tell you one anecdote:

Two young friends were breaking into society, and young Cohen had high hopes of marrying an heiress. To give him moral support, he took young Levy along with him to meet the girl’s parents. The parents smiled at young Cohen and said, “I understand you are in the clothing business.”

Cohen nodded nervously and said, “Yes, in a small way.”

Levy slapped him on the back and said, “He is so modest, so modest. He has twenty-seven shops and is negotiating for more.”

The parents said, “I understand you have an apartment.” Cohen smiled, “Yes, a modest couple of rooms.”

Young Levy started laughing, “Modesty, modesty! He has a penthouse in Park Lane.”

The parents continued, “And you have a car?”

“Yes,” said Cohen. “Quite a nice one.”

“Quite nice nothing!” interjected Levy. “He has three Rolls-Royces, and that is only for the town use.”

Cohen sneezed. “Do you have a cold?” asked the anxious parents. “Yes, just a slight one,” replied Cohen.

“Slight, nothing!” yelled Levy. “Tuberculosis!”

One step leads to another, and once you have taken a wrong step, your life becomes an exaggeration of that wrong. It is mirrored and reflected in millions of ways. And if you don’t correct it there – you can go on correcting all over the world – you will not be able to correct it.

Gurdjieff used to tell his disciples, “The first thing is to become nonidentified and to remember continuously that you are a witness, just a consciousness – neither an act nor a thought.” If this remembrance becomes a crystallized phenomenon in you, you have attained to viveka, discrimination; then spontaneously follows vairagya. If you don’t become discriminate, spontaneously follows samsar, the world. If you become identified with the body and the mind, you move out – you go into the world. You are expelled from the Garden of Eden. If you discriminate, and you remember that you are in the body and the body is an abode and you are the owner and the mind is just a biocomputer, you are the master and the mind is just a slave; then – a turning in.

Then you are not moving into the world because the first step has been removed. Now you are no longer bridged with the world, suddenly you start falling in. This is what vairagya is, renunciation.

And when you go on falling in and in and in and there comes the last point beyond which there is no go, the summum bonum, it is called kaivalya: you have become alone. You don’t need anybody. You don’t need the constant effort of filling yourself with something or other. Now, you are in tune with your emptiness, and because of your tuning in with the emptiness, the very emptiness has become a fullness, an infinity, a fulfillment, a fruition of being.

This purusha is there in the beginning, this purusha is there in the end, and between the two is just a big dream.

The first sutra:

Experience is the result of the inability to differentiate between purusha, pure consciousness, and sattva, pure intelligence, although they are absolutely distinct.

Performing samyama on the self-interest brings knowledge of the purusha separated from the knowledge of others.

Each word has to be understood because each word is tremendously significant.

“Experience is the result of the inability to differentiate . . .” All experience is just an error. You say, “I am miserable,” or you say, “I am happy,” or you say, “I am feeling hungry,” or you say, “I am feeling very good and healthy” – all experience is an error, is a misunderstanding.

When you say, “I am hungry,” what do you really mean? You should say, “I am conscious that the body is hungry.” You should not say, “I am hungry.” You are not hungry. The body is hungry; you are the knower of the fact. The experience is not yours; only the awareness. The experience is of the body; the awareness is yours. When you feel miserable, again, the experience may be of the body or of the mind – which are not two.

Body and mind are one mechanism. The body is the gross mechanism of the same entity; the mind is the subtle mechanism. But both are the same. It is not good to say “body and mind”; we should say “body-mind.” The body is nothing but mind in a gross way, and if you watch your body, you will see that the body also functions as a mind. You are fast asleep, and a fly comes and hangs around your face – you remove it with your hand without in any way getting up or waking up. The body functioned, very mindfully. Or something starts crawling on your feet – you throw it away. Fast asleep. You will not remember in the morning. The body functions as a mind – very gross, but it functions as a mind.

So body-mind has all the experience – good or bad, happy, unhappy, it makes no difference. You are never the experiencer; you are always the awareness of the experience. So Patanjali says in a very bold statement, “Experience is the result of the inability to differentiate . . .” All experience is an error. The error arises because you don’t discriminate, you don’t know who is who. […]

Patanjali says all experience is an error – error in your vision. You become identified with the object, and the subject starts thinking as if it is the object. You feel hunger, but you are not hungry – the body is hungry. You feel pain, but you are not in pain – the body is in pain; you are only alert.

Next time something happens to you – and every moment something or other is happening – just watch. Just try to keep hold of this remembrance that “I am the witness,” and see how much things change. Once you can realize you are the witness, many things simply disappear, start disappearing. And one day comes which is the final day, the day of enlightenment, when all experience falls flat. Suddenly you are beyond experience: you are not in the body, you are not in the mind; you are beyond both. Suddenly you start floating like a cloud, above all, beyond all. That state of no-experience is the state of kaivalya.

Now one thing more about it. There are people who think that spirituality is also an experience. They don’t know. There are people who come to me, and they say, “We would like to have some spiritual experience.” They don’t know what they are saying. Experience as such is of the world. There is no spiritual experience – there cannot be. To call an experience “spiritual” is to falsify it. The spiritual is only a realization of pure awareness, purusha.

How does it happen? How do we get identified? In yoga terminology, the truth, the ultimate truth, has three attributes to it, sat chit anandsatchitanand. Sat means “being” – the quality of eternity, the quality of permanence, being. Chit: chit means “consciousness,” awareness – chit is energy, movement, process. And anand: anand is “blissfulness.” These three have been called the three attributes of the ultimate. This is the yoga trinity; of course, more scientific than the Christian trinity because it does not talk about persons – God, the Holy Ghost, the Son. It talks about realizations.

When one reaches to the ultimate peak of existence, one realizes three things: that one is and one is going to remain, that is sat; the second, one is and one is conscious – one is not like dead matter – one is and one knows that one is, that is chit; and, one knows that one is and one is tremendously blissful.

Now let me explain it to you. It is not right to call it “blissful,” because then it will become an experience. So a better way will be to say “one is bliss” – not “blissful.” One is sat, one is chit, one is anand; one is being, one is consciousness, one is bliss.

These are the ultimate realizations of the truth. Patanjali says these three, when they are present in the world, create three qualities in prakriti, in nature. They function as a catalytic agent; they don’t do anything. Just their presence creates a tremendous activity in prakriti. That activity is corresponded by three gunas, qualities: sattva, rajas, tamas.

Sattva corresponds to anand, the quality of bliss. Sattva means pure intelligence. The closer you come to sattva, the more you feel blissful. Sattva is the reflection of anand. If you can conceive of a triangle, then the base is anand and the other two lines are sat, chit. It is reflected into the world of matter, prakriti. Of course, in the reflection it becomes upside down: sattva, and rajas, tamas – the same triangle.

But the ultimate truth is not doing anything – that is the emphasis of Patanjali. Because once the ultimate truth is doing something, he becomes a doer, and he has already moved into the world. In Patanjali, God is not the creator; he is just a catalytic agent. This is tremendously scientific because if God is the creator, then you will have to find the motive, why he creates. Then you will have to find some desire in him to create. Then he will become just as ordinary as man. No, in Patanjali, God is absolute, pure presence. He does not do anything, but by his presence things happen – the prakriti, the nature, starts dancing.

There is an old story. A king had made a palace; the palace was called the Mirror Palace. The floor, the walls, the ceiling, all were covered in millions of mirrors, tiny, tiny mirrors. There was nothing else in the whole palace; it was a mirror palace. Once it happened, the king’s dog, by mistake, was left inside the palace in the night and the palace was locked from the outside. The dog looked, became frightened – there were millions of dogs everywhere. He was reflected; down, up, all the directions – millions of dogs. He was not an ordinary dog; he was the king’s dog – very brave – but even then, he was alone. He ran from one room to another, but there was no escape, there was no [where to] go. All over. He became more and more frightened. He tried to get out, but there was no way to get out – the door was locked.

Just to frighten the other dogs, he started barking, but the moment he barked, the other dogs also barked – because they were pure reflections. Then he became more frightened. To frighten the other dogs, he started knocking against the walls. The other dogs also jumped into him, bumped into him. In the morning the dog was found dead.

But the moment the dog died, all the dogs died. The palace was empty. There was only one dog and millions of reflections.

This is the standpoint of Patanjali: that there is only one reality, millions of reflections of it. You are separate from me as a reflection, I am separate from you as a reflection, but if we move toward the real, the separation will be gone – we will be one. One reflection is separate from another reflection; you can destroy one reflection and save another.

That’s how one person dies . . . There are many argumentative people in the world who ask, “Then if there is only one Brahman, one God, one being spread all over, then when one dies, why don’t others die also?” This is simple. If there are a thousand and one mirrors in the room, you can destroy one mirror: one reflection will disappear – not others. You destroy another: another reflection will disappear – not others. When one person dies, only one reflection dies. But the one who is being reflected remains undying; it is deathless. Then another child is born – that is, another mirror is born; again, another reflection.

This story goes on and on. That’s why Hindus have called this world a maya: maya means a magic show. Nothing is there really; everything only appears to be there. And this whole magic world depends on one error and that error is of identity.

“Experience is the result of the inability to differentiate between purusha, (absolute) pure consciousness, and sattva, pure intelligence . . .” Purusha is reflected into prakriti as sattva. Your intelligence is just a reflection of the real intelligence; it is not the real intelligence. You are clever, argumentative, groping in the dark, thinking, contemplating, creating philosophies, systems of thought – this is just a reflection. This intelligence is not the real intelligence because the real intelligence need not discover anything: for the real intelligence everything is already discovered.

Now look at the different paths of philosophy and religion. Philosophy moves in the reflected intelligence, into sattva – it goes on thinking and thinking and thinking and goes on creating bigger palaces of thought. Religion moves into purusha – it drops this so-called intelligence; hence the insistence of meditation to drop thinking. […]

Thinking is just dreaming logically; it is creating verbal palaces. And sometimes one can get caught so much in the verbal, then one completely forgets the real. The verbal is just a reflection.

Language is one of the reasons we got so caught up in the verbal. For example, in English, it is very difficult to drop the use of the “I.” It is very prominent in English. The “I” stands so vertical – almost a phallic symbol. It is phallic. That’s why perceptive people like E. E. Cummings started writing “I” in the lower case. And it is not only vertical, phallic, when you write. When you say, “I,” it is phallic, like an erection, egoistic. Just watch how many times “I” has to be used. And the more you use it, the more it is emphasized, the more ego becomes prominent – as if the whole English language hangs around “I.”

But in Japanese it is totally different. You can talk for hours without using “I.” It is possible to write a book without using “I”; the language has a totally different arrangement. The “I” can be dropped easily.

No wonder Japan became the most meditative country in the world and achieved to the higher peaks of Zen, satori, and samadhi. Why did it happen in Japan? Why has it happened in Burma, in Thailand, in Vietnam? All the countries which have been influenced by Buddhism, their language is different from other countries which have never been influenced by Buddhism because Buddha said there is no “I” – anatta, anatma, no-selfness, there is no “I.” That emphasis entered the languages.

Buddha says, “Nothing is permanent.” So when for the first time the Bible was being translated into Buddhist languages, it was very difficult to translate it. The problem was very basic – how to put “God is,” because in Buddhist countries “is” is a dirty word. Everything is becoming, nothing is. If you want to say, “The tree is,” in Burmese, it will come to mean, “The tree is becoming.” It will not mean, “The tree is.” If you want to say, “The river is,” you cannot say it in Burmese. It will come to mean, “The river is becoming.” And that’s true because the river is never is. It is always in a process – the river is “rivering.” It is not a noun; it is a verb. The river is rivering, becoming. Never in any stage can you catch it as “is.” You cannot take a snap of it; it is a movie – continuous process. You cannot have a photograph – the photograph will be false because it will be “is,” and the river never is.

Buddhist languages have a different structure to them; then, they create a different mind. The mind depends much on language; its whole game is linguistic. Beware of it. […]

If Buddha comes to you and says, “There is no God,” you immediately get anxious, worried. What has he said? He has simply said something which goes against your linguistic pattern, that’s all. If he says, “There is no self, no ‘I,”’ you become disturbed. What has he done? He has simply taken away a strategy of your ego, nothing else. He has simply shattered your linguistic pattern.

It is happening every day here. When I say something, and I destroy some linguistic pattern in you, you become annoyed, you become angry. If you are a Christian, of course, you have a Christian house of language. If you are a Hindu, you have a Hindu house of language. I am neither, and I am here to destroy all linguistic patterns. You bet you get angry. You become annoyed. You start thinking what to do. But what am I doing? What can I take from you? Can Buddha take God from you if you have known God – can he take it from you? Then there is no question. But he can take a linguistic theory; he can take a hypothesis from you.

Experience is the result of the inability to differentiate between purusha, pure consciousness, and sattva, pure intelligence . . ..

Language belongs to sattva, theories belong to sattva, philosophies belong to sattva. Sattva means your intelligence, your mind. Mind is not you.

Christianity, Hinduism, Jainism, Buddhism, belong to the mind. That’s why Buddhist monks say, “If you meet Buddha on the way, kill him immediately.” Buddhist monks saying that? They say, “Kill the Buddha if you see him, immediately.” They are saying, “Kill the mind, don’t carry a theory about the Buddha; otherwise you will never become a Buddha. If you want to become a Buddha, drop all ideas about Buddha – all ideas. Kill Buddha immediately!” They say, “If you utter the name of Buddha, immediately wash and rinse your mouth – the word is dirty.” Buddhist monks saying that? They are amazing people . . . but really wonderful. And they mean it.

If you can see their point, you will become able to see many more things. Bodhidharma says, “Burn all scriptures, all – including Buddha’s.” Not only the Vedas, Dhammapada included – burn all scriptures. There is a very famous painting of Bin-chi burning all the scriptures, creating a holi. And they were very, very deep into reality. What are they doing? They are simply taking away your mind from you. Where is your Veda? It is not in the book; it is in your mind. Where is your Koran? It is in your mind; it is not in the book. It is in your mental tape. Drop all that; get out of it.

Intelligence, the mind, is part of nature. It is just a reflection. It looks almost like the real, but remember, even “almost like the real,” then too it is not real. It is as if in the full moon night, you see the moon reflected in the cool, placid lake. No ripple is arising; the reflection is perfect, but still it is a reflection. And if the reflection is so beautiful, just think about the real. Don’t get caught in the reflection.

What Buddha says is a reflection, what Patanjali writes is a reflection, what I am saying is a reflection. Don’t be caught in it. If the reflection is so beautiful, try reality. Move away from the reflection toward the moon.

And the path is going to be just the opposite to the reflection. If you go on looking at the reflection and you become hypnotized by the reflection, you will never be able to see the moon in the sky because it is diametrically opposite. If you want to see the real moon, you will have to move away from the reflection – you will have to burn scriptures and you will have to kill buddhas. You will have to move in the very opposite, diametrically opposite, dimension. Then your head moves toward the moon; then you cannot see the reflection. The reflection disappears.

All scriptures, at the most, can train and discipline your intelligence. No scripture can lead you toward the real, pure purusha – the witness, the awareness.

. . . inability to differentiate between purusha, pure consciousness, and sattva, pure intelligence . . .

That is the very cause of getting into ignorance, into the dark night, into the world, into matter, losing contact with your own reality and becoming a victim of your own ideas and projections.

. . . although they are absolutely distinct. You can see that. Even the greatest idea is different from you – you can watch it arising as an object inside you. Even the greatest idea remains a thing within you and you remain far away from it, a watcher on the hill looking down at the idea. Never get identified with any object.

Performing samyama on the self-interest brings knowledge of the purusha separated from the knowledge of othersSvartha samyamat purusha gyanam.

Patanjali is saying, “Selfishness brings the absolute knowledge” – svartha. Become selfish, that is the very core of religion. Try to see what your real self-interest is, where your real self is. Try to distinguish yourself from others – “pararth,” from the others.

And don’t think that the people who are outside you are the others. They are others, but your body is also the other. It will return to the earth one day; it is part of the earth. Your breathing is also the other; it will return to the air. It is just given to you for the time being. You have borrowed it; it will have to be returned. You will not be here, but your breath will be here in the air. You will not be here, but your body will lie down in deep sleep in the earth – dust unto dust. That which you think of as your blood will be flowing into rivers. Everything will go back.

But one thing you have not borrowed from anybody: that’s your witnessing, that’s your sakshi bhav, the awareness.

Intellect will disappear, reasoning will disappear. All these things are like formations of clouds in the sky: they come together, they disappear, but the sky remains. You will remain as a vast space. That vast space is purusha – the inner sky is purusha.

How to come to know it? Samyama on the self-interest. Bring your concentration, dharana; your contemplation, dhyan; your ecstasy, samadhi; bring all the three to your self-interest – turn in. In the West people are turning “on” – then you turn out. Turn in. Just bring your consciousness to a focus, to who you are. Differentiate between the objects. Hunger arises – this is an object. Then you are satisfied, you have eaten well, a certain well-being arises – that too is an object. Morning comes – that too is an object. Evening comes – that too is an object. You remain the same – hunger or no hunger. Life or death, misery or happiness, you remain the same watcher.

But even in looking at a movie you get caught. You know well there is only a white screen and nothing else and shadows are moving on it, but have you watched people sitting in a movie house? A few start crying when something tragic is happening on the screen. Their tears start coming. Just see: there is nothing real on the screen, but the tears are very real. The unreal is bringing tears? People reading a story in a book become so excited. Or seeing a picture of a nude woman become sexually aroused. Just see, there is nothing. Just a few lines – nothing else. Just a little ink spread on the paper. But their sexual arousal is very real.

This is the tendency of the mind: to get caught with the objects, become identified with them.

Catch yourself red handed as many times as you can. Again and again, catch yourself red handed and drop the object. Suddenly you will feel a coolness, all excitement gone. The moment you realize there is only the screen and nothing else, for what am I getting so much excited, for what . . . The whole world is a screen, and all that you are seeing there are your own desires projected; and whatsoever you want, you start projecting and believing. This whole world is a fantasy. And remember, you all don’t live in the same world. Everybody has his own world because his fantasies are different from the others. The truth is one; fantasies are as many as there are minds. If you are in a fantasy, you cannot meet the other person, you cannot communicate with the other.

He is in his fantasy. That is what is happening: when people want to relate, they cannot relate. Somehow, they miss each other. Lovers, wives, friends, husbands, miss each other, they go on missing. And they are very much worried over why they cannot communicate. They wanted to say something, but the other understands something else. And they go on saying, “I never meant this,” but the other goes on hearing something else.

What is happening? The other lives in his fantasy; you live in your own fantasy. He is projecting some other film on the same screen; you are projecting some other film on the same screen. That’s why a relationship becomes such an anxiety, anguish. One feels [to be] alone is to be good and happy, and whenever you move with somebody, you start getting into a mire, into a hell. When Sartre says, he says through his experience: “The other is hell.” But the other is not creating the hell; just two fantasies clashing, just two worlds of dreams clashing.

Communication is possible only when you have dropped your fantasy world and the other has dropped his fantasy world. Then two beings face each other – and they are not two because the twoness drops with the world of fantasy. Then they are one.

When a buddha faces somebody who is also a buddha, they are not two. That’s why two buddhas have not been known to talk to each other – there are not two persons to talk. They remain quiet; they remain silent. There are stories that when Mahavir and Buddha were alive . . . They were contemporaries, and they moved, wandered, in the same small province of Bihar; it is called Bihar because of these two people: bihar means wandering. Because these two persons wandered all over the place, it became known as the province of their wandering – but they never met. Many times, they were in the same town; the place is not very big. Many times, they stayed in the same place, a small village. Once it happened that they stayed in the same serai, in the same dharmasala, but they never met.

Now a problem arises: Why? And if you ask Buddhists or Jains why they didn’t meet, they feel a little embarrassed. The question seems embarrassing because that simply shows maybe they were very egoistic? Who should go to whom? Buddha to Mahavir or Mahavir to Buddha? Nobody can do that. So Jains and Buddhists avoid the question – they have never answered. But I know: the reason is there were not two persons to meet. It is not a question of egoism. Simply, there were not two persons to meet! Two emptinesses staying in the same serai, so what to do? How to bring them together? And even if you bring them together, they will not be two. There will be only one emptiness. When two zeros meet, it becomes one zero.

Performing samyama on the self interest brings knowledge of the purusha separated from the knowledge of others.

Tatah pratibha sravana vedan adarsh asvada varta jayante.

From this follow intuitional hearing, touching, seeing, tasting, and smelling.

Again the word pratibha has to be understood. One who attains to pure attention, to pure awareness, to pure inner clarity, innocence, attains to pratibha. Pratibha is not intuition. Intellect is sun-oriented; intuition is moon-oriented; pratibha is beyond both. Man remains an intellectual, woman intuitional, but the Buddha – purusha, one who has attained, is neither man nor woman. […]

Woman has to flower in her moonhood as man has to flower in his sunhood, but pratibha is beyond both. Intellect is psychological, intuition parapsychological, pratibha para psychological.

From this follows intuitional hearing, touching, seeing, tasting, and smelling.

Remember this, that it can happen on two levels. If you are a moon person, a feminine person – maybe man or woman, that doesn’t make any difference – if you function from the moon center, you will be able to hear many things which others cannot hear and you will be able to see many things which others cannot see. You will become perceptive of the hidden. The hidden dimension will be not so hidden for you; the secret will become a little open for you.

That’s what is being studied by parapsychology. Now it is gaining momentum; a few universities of the world have opened parapsychological departments. Much research work is being done, even in Soviet Russia. Because man has failed in a way. The sun center has failed. We have lived through that sun center for thousands of years; it brings only violence, war, misery. Now the other center has to be tackled.

Even in Soviet Russia, which is dominated by the sun center, by the communists, who don’t believe in any possibility of the beyond, even they are trying. And they have done much work, and they have discovered much. Of course, they interpret it in terms of intellect – -they don’t call it “extrasensory,” they don’t call it “parapsychological.” They say, “This is also sensory, only refined.” Eyes can become more refined and they can see things which ordinarily cannot be seen. For example, eyes can see your inner body just as an X-ray can see it. If the X-ray can see it, then the eye can also see it; one just needs to train the eyes.

And in a way they are right. Intuition is not beyond the senses; it is a refinement of sense. Pratibha is beyond the senses – it is non-sensory, it is immediate, the senses are dropped. This is the yoga standpoint, that within you, you are all knowing – all knowingness is your very nature. In fact, you think that you see through the eyes; yoga says you are not seeing through the eyes – you are being blinded by the eyes. Let me explain it to you.

You are standing in a room and you are looking outside from a small hole. Of course, in a room you will feel that that small hole gives at least a certain knowledge to you about the world outside. You may become focused on it. You may think without this hole it will be impossible to see. Yoga says you are getting into a very, very erroneous attitude. This hole allows you to see, but this hole is not the cause of seeing – seeing is your quality. You are seeing through the hole; the hole is not seeing.

You are the seer. You are looking through the eyes into the world; you are looking at me. Your eyes are just the holes in the body, but you are the seer inside. If you can get out of the body, the same will happen as will happen if you can open the door and can come out into the open sky. Because of the hole being lost, you will not become blind. In fact, then you will understand that the hole was blinding you. It was giving you a very limited vision. Now open, under the sky, you can see the whole in a total, instantaneous vision, altogether. Now your vision is not linear, and your vision is not limited, because there is no window to it. You have come under the sky: you can see all around.

The same is the standpoint of yoga, and [it is] true. The body is giving only small holes to you: from the ears you can hear, from the eyes you can see, from the tongue you can taste, from the nose you can smell. Small holes, and you are hiding behind. Yoga says, come out, get out, go beyond. Get out of these holes, and you will become all-knowing, omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent. This is pratibha.

From this follows . . . the hearing that is of the beyond, the hearing that is not through the intellect nor through the intuition but through pratibha; and [so with] touching and seeing and tasting and smelling.

Remember it, that one who has achieved lives life in its totality for the first time. The Upanishads say, “ten tyakten bhunjitha” – “Those who have renounced, only they have indulged.” Very paradoxical. “Those who have renounced, only they have known and experienced and enjoyed, indulged.” Your limitation in the body is making you impoverished. Getting up beyond the body, you will become richer. One who has attained is not poorer – he becomes tremendously rich. He becomes a god.

So yoga is not against the world. In fact, you are against the world. And yoga is not against bliss – you are against bliss. And yoga wants you to drop the world so all limitations can be dropped and you can become unlimited in your being, in your experiencing.

These are powers when the mind is turned outward, but obstacles in the way of samadhi.

But Patanjali is always aware to tell you again and again – he goes on hammering the point to hit it home – that even these powers, of immediate hearing, listening, tasting, smelling, touching – remember, they are powers if you are going outward, but if you want to go in, they become hindrances. All powers become hindrances when one is going in.

The person who is going out is going through the moon and to the sun and to the world. And the person who is going in, his energy is moving from the sun to the moon and from the moon to the beyond. Their target and goals are totally different, diametrically opposite.

It happens then, sometimes you start feeling the first glimpse of pratibha, of the beyond, and you become so powerful – you are filled with power, you are power – and in that moment you can fall again. Power corrupts; you can fall. You can get into the head so much, you can get into the ego so much, that you would like to have a ride on it – the power. You would like to do miracles or other foolish things.

All miracle mongers are in a way foolish – whatsoever they say. They may say that they are doing these miracles to help people. They are not helping anybody; they are simply harming themselves – and harming others also. Because in doing such things they are falling below the beyond. And then their whole thing becomes just a trickery. There are tricks of the parapsychic, of the intuitional, of the moon world, which once you know them, you can play around. They are tricks still, and the ego can again use those tricks. […]

Patanjali says, “These are powers when the mind is turned outward, but obstacles in the way of samadhi.” If you want to attain to the ultimate, you have to lose all. You have to lose all! This is the way of the real seeker: whatsoever he gains, he goes and sacrifices it to God. He says, “You have given it to me, but what am I going to do with it? I put it again back at your feet.” He goes on sacrificing whatsoever he attains, and he remains always empty of attainment. That is spirituality: to remain always empty of attainment, and whatsoever comes by the way, one goes on sacrificing it. […]

Whatsoever comes on your way of inner growth . . . and much comes. Every moment is a new discovery on the inner path; every moment something suddenly falls in your hands – you had not even imagined; you have never asked for it. Millions are the gifts of the path, but only the one reaches to the end who goes on offering those gifts back to God. Otherwise, if you start clinging to the gift, then and there your progress stops. Then and there your growth stops. Then and there you make an abode and start living there.

Te samadhav upasarga vyuthane siddhayah.

If you want samadhi, the ultimate peace, the ultimate silence, the ultimate truth, then never get attached to any attainment whatsoever – worldly, other worldly, psychological, parapsychological, intellectual, intuitive, whatsoever. Never get attached to any attainment. Go on offering it to God, go on offering it to God . . . and more will be coming! Go on offering it to God.

When you have offered all, God comes. When you have offered all, given it back to him, he comes as the last gift. God is the last gift.

-Osho

From Secrets of Yoga; Yoga: The Science of the Soul, V.8, Discourse #7 (Previously titled Yoga: The Alpha and the Omega, V.8).

Copyright © OSHO International Foundation

This discourse is the Listening Meditation in the sixteenth 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 Meeting of Sun and Moon – Osho

By performing samyama on the light under the crown of the head comes the ability to contact all perfected beings.

Through pratibha, intuition, knowledge of everything.

Performing samyama on the heart brings awareness of the nature of mind.

-Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras

Man is evolution. Not only that man is evolving, he is the very vehicle of evolution itself: he is evolution. A tremendous responsibility, and something to be delighted about also, because that’s the glory of man. Matter is the beginning, God, the end; matter is the alpha point, God, the omega point. Man is the bridge – matter passes through man and is transformed into God. God is not a thing and God is not waiting somewhere. God is evolving through you; God is becoming through you. You are transforming matter into God. You are the greatest experiment that reality has made. Think of the glory of it and think of the responsibility also.

Much depends on man, but if you think that you are already there because you have the form of man, then you will be misguided by your mind. You only have the form; you are only a possibility. The real is going to happen, and you have to allow it to happen. You have to open toward it.

That’s what yoga is all about: how to help you to move upward toward the omega point where your whole energy is released, transformed – the whole of matter is transmuted into divinity. Yoga has mapped the whole journey, the whole pilgrimage of man – from sex to samadhi, from the lowest center, muladhar, to the highest center, the very peak, the pinnacle of evolution: the sahasrar.

These things have to be understood before we can enter into the sutras of today. Yoga divides man into seven layers, seven steps, seven centers. The first is muladhar, the sex center, the sun center; and the last, the seventh, is sahasrar, the God center, the omega point.

The sex center is intrinsically moving downward. It is your connection with matter, what yoga calls prakriti – nature. The sex center is your relation with nature, the world that you have left behind, the past. If you go on confining yourself to the sex center, you cannot evolve. You will remain where you are. You will remain in contact with your past, but you will not be connected with the future. You are stuck there; man is stuck at the sex center.

People think they understand everything about sex. Nothing much is yet known, at least not to those who think they know – the psychologists. They think they know, but the basic thing is yet lacking: the knowledge that sex can become an upward movement, that there is no necessity that it should only move downward. It moves downward because the mechanism to move downward exists in man – already exists in man. It exists in animals also; it exists in trees also. There is nothing much significant about it that it exists in man. The significance of man is that something more exists in man that doesn’t exist yet in the plants, in the birds, in the animals. They are bound to move downward; they don’t have a staircase within them.

That is what we mean by seven centers: the staircase of evolution. It exists in you. You can fall upward – if you choose to. If you don’t choose, you will go on falling downward.

So now, with man, the evolution is going to be conscious. Up to now you have been helped. Nature has brought you to this point; from now onward, you will have to take your own responsibility. You will have to become responsible. Man has matured, man has come of age; now nature can no longer take care of you. So if you don’t move consciously, if you don’t make a conscious effort to evolve, if you don’t accept the responsibility, you will remain stuck.

So many people feel the stuckness, but they don’t know from where it is coming. Thousands of people come to me and they tell me they are feeling stuck. They know something is possible, but they don’t know what it is. They know that they should move, but they don’t know how to move, where to move. They know that they have been in the place where they are long enough and they would like to explode into new dimensions, but they are stuck.

This stuckness is coming from muladhar, from the sex center, the sun center.

Up to now there has been no problem for you. Nature has been helping; nature has mothered you up to now. But you are no longer a child, no longer a babe, and nature cannot go on feeding you on her breast. Now the mother says, “Leave the breast; be on your own.” The mother has said [this] so very long ago. Those who have understood it, they have taken the responsibility and have become siddhas, buddhas, those who have achieved.

Now the path is going to be your decision. Now you have to move on your own. This possibility exists in the muladhar center: it can open upward. So the first thing to be understood today is: don’t think that you understand sex in its totality. You don’t understand it. […]

But I would like to tell you nobody knows all about sex yet. Unless God is realized, you cannot know all about sex because God is the final possibility of sex energy – the ultimate transformation of sex energy. Unless you know who you are, you will not be able to know what sex really is in its totality. You will not be able to comprehend it. Only a part of it is known, the sun part. Even the moon part is not known yet. The psychology for the feminine energy has yet to evolve. Freud and Jung and Adler and others, whatsoever they have been doing is more or less centered around man. Woman yet remains an uncharted territory. The moon center, even the moon center, is not yet a known fact.

A few people have had a few glimpses. For example, Jung had a few glimpses. Freud remained completely sun-oriented. Jung moved a little toward the moon; of course, very hesitatingly because the whole training of the mind is scientific, and to move toward the moon is to move in a world totally different from science. It is to move in the world of myth, it is to move in the world of poetry, imagination. It is to move in the world of “irreason,” illogic.

Let me tell you a few things. Freud is sun-oriented; Jung is leaning a little toward the moon. That’s why Freud was very angry with his disciple Jung. And Freudians are very much annoyed by Jung; it seems he betrayed his master.

The sun-oriented person always feels that the moon-oriented person is dangerous. The sun-oriented person moves on the clean-cut superhighways of reason, and the moon-oriented person starts moving in labyrinths. He starts moving in the wilderness, where nothing is clear-cut – everything is alive, but nothing is clear-cut.

And the greatest fear for man is woman. Somehow man suspects that death is going to come from woman – because life has also come from her. Everybody is born out of a woman. When life has come from woman, then somehow death is also going to happen through her. Because the end always comes to meet the beginning. Only then is the circle completed.

In India, in Indian mythology, we realized it. You must have seen pictures or statues of Mother Kali, who is the symbolization of the feminine mind, and she is dancing on the body of her husband, Shiva. She has danced so terribly that Shiva is dead, and she goes on dancing. The feminine mind has killed the male mind; that is the meaning of the myth.

And why is she painted black? That’s why she is called Kali; kali means “black.” And why so dangerous? In one of her hands, she is carrying a freshly cut head with blood dripping from it. Almost a personification of death. And she is dancing wildly – and on the chest of her husband, and the husband is dead and she goes on dancing in great ecstasy. Why is she black? Because death has always been thought of as black, as a dark black night.

And why has she killed her husband? The moon always kills the sun. Once the moon arises in your being, logic dies. Then logic cannot remain, then reason cannot remain. Now you have attained a totally different dimension.

You never expect logic from a poet. You never expect logic from a painter, from a dancer, from a musician. They move in a totally dark world; they move in darkness.

Reason has always been afraid, and man has always been afraid because man is reason oriented. Have you not observed it, that always man feels it is difficult to understand a woman and the mind of a woman? And the same is the feeling of women – they cannot understand men. A gap exists, as if they are not part of one humanity, as if they are different. […]

Man is always trying to prove something. Watch. A woman takes it for granted that everything is proved, and man goes on trying to prove something – always defensive. Somewhere deep in their sexuality is the root cause of it. When a man and a woman make love, the woman need not prove anything. She can just be passive, but the man has to prove his manhood. From that very effort to prove his manhood, man is continuously defensive and always trying to prove something or other.

The whole of philosophy is nothing but finding proofs for God. Science is nothing but finding proofs for theories. Women have never been interested in philosophy. They take life for granted; they accept it. They are not defensive in any way, as if they have proved already. Their being seems to be more circular, the circle seems to be complete. That may be the cause of their body being so round. It has a shape of roundness. Man has corners and [is] always ready to fight and argue. […]

The male mind always goes on dissecting.

Jung reports in his memoirs that he was sitting with Freud, and that day he suddenly felt a great strain in his stomach, and he felt as if something was going to happen, and suddenly there was a sort of explosion in the cupboard. Both became alert. What has happened? Jung said, “It has something to do with my energy.” Freud laughed and scoffed and said, “Nonsense, how can it have anything to do with your energy?” Jung said, “Wait, within a minute it will come again” – because he again felt his stomach getting strained. And within a minute – exactly within a minute – there was another explosion.

Now this is the feminine mind. And Jung writes in his memoirs, “Since that day, Freud never trusted me.” This is dangerous because it is illogical. And Jung started to think about a new theory he calls “synchronicity.”

The theory that is the base of all scientific effort is “causality” – everything is joined with cause and effect. Whatsoever happens has a cause, and if you can produce the cause, the effect will follow. If you heat water, it will evaporate. Heating is the cause: bring it to a hundred degrees and it will evaporate. Evaporation is an effect. This is the scientific base.

Jung says there is another principle that is “synchronicity.” It is difficult to explain it because all explanations are from the scientific mind, but you can try to feel what he means. Make two clocks so similar that they are synchronized with each other: when in one clock the hand comes to twelve, the other clock chimes the twelve bells. One clock simply moves, shows the time; the other clock chimes – eleven, twelve, one, two. Anybody listening to it will be surprised because the first clock is not the cause of the second chiming. They are in no way related. It is only that the maker, the watchmaker, has synchronized them in such a way that something happens in one and simultaneously something else happens in the other. They are not connected by any cause and effect.

Jung says just by the side of causality there is another principle. The maker of the world, if there is any, he has made the world in such a way that many things happen which are not cause and effect. You see a woman and suddenly love flowers. Now is this to be explained by cause and effect or by synchronicity? Jung seems to be more accurate and closer to the truth. The woman has not caused the love in you, you have not caused the love in the woman, but man and woman, or the energy of sun and moon, has been made in such a way that when they come close love flowers. It is synchronicity.

But Freud became afraid. They were never close again. Freud had chosen Jung to be his successor, but that day he changed his will. Then they fell apart, farther and farther away.

Man cannot understand woman; woman cannot understand man. It is almost like sun and moon: when the sun is there, moon disappears. When the sun goes down, the moon appears. They never meet. They never come face to face. Your intellect, your reason, disappears when your intuition starts functioning. Women are more intuitive. They don’t have a reason for something, but they can have a hunch, and their hunches are almost always true.

Many men have come to me and told me, “This is strange. If we are having some affair and we have not told the wife, somehow or other she comes to know. But we are never able to know whether the wife is having an affair or not.” […]

It is impossible. They have another way of knowing, a separate way of knowing: the moon way of knowing.

The feminine psychology has yet to be developed, and unless the moon psychology is developed, psychology will not have the status of a science. It will remain a prejudice; it will remain male prejudice. It will not say something about human beings as such.

Freudian psychology is sun psychology; Jungian psychology is leaning a little toward the moon. And there is a man, Roberto Assagioli, his psychology is a synthesis between sun and moon, just the beginning of it. He calls his psychology “psychosynthesis.” Freud calls his psychology “psychoanalysis.” Analysis comes from the sun; synthesis comes from the moon. Observe, whenever there is light, things are separate. Then one tree is here, another tree is there, but everything is separate. And then comes the darkness of the night and everything disappears – the separation. Everything becomes one. The dark night, and all divisions disappear.

Moon psychology is going to be synthetical; sun psychology analytical, dissecting, arguing, proving. But there is a possibility of higher psychologies. I would like to give you a few hints, what I call “the psychology of the Buddhas.” Freud is sun, Jung moon, Assagioli sun plus moon. A buddha is sun plus moon plus beyond, and later on I will explain to you what I mean by “beyond.” And then that beyond can also be looked at, through many ways.

Sun plus beyond: you have Patanjali, you have Mahavir, yoga. The language is of the sun; the experience is of the beyond. Then, sun plus moon plus beyond: you have tantra, Shiva. The experience is of the beyond, but the expression is both sun plus moon. And then, you have moon plus beyond: Narad, Chaitanya, Meera, Jesus. The experience is of the beyond, but the expression is of the moon. And then there is just beyond: Bodhidharma, Lao Tzu, Chuang Tzu, Zen. They don’t believe in expression so they don’t need sun or moon expression; they say it cannot be said. Lao Tzu says, “The Tao that can be said is no longer Tao. The truth that can be uttered is already a lie; it cannot be expressed.”

These are all the possibilities, but they have not yet been actualized. Here and there a man has attained, but that attainment and realization has to be codified in such a way, classified in such a way, that it becomes a part of the collective human consciousness.

Now the sutra:

By performing samyama on the light under the crown of the head comes the ability to contact all perfected beings.

Sahasrar is just below the crown of the head. Sahasrar is a subtle opening in your head. Just as the genital organs are a subtle opening in muladhar, from that subtle opening you move downward into nature, into life, into the visible, the material, into the form; exactly like that, you have a nonfunctioning organ in the crown of the head, there is also a subtle opening. When energy rushes there, that opening bursts open, and from there you come in contact with super nature, call it God or perfected beings, siddhas – those who have already attained.

Through sex you reproduce more bodies like you. Sex is creative; it gives birth to more children just like you – you reproduce yourself. When your energy moves through sahasrar, the seventh chakra, you reproduce yourself: that is what resurrection is. That is what is meant by Jesus when he says, “Be reborn.” Then you become father and mother to yourself. Your sun center becomes your father, your moon center becomes your mother, and the meeting of your sun and moon inside releases your energy toward the head. It is an inner orgasm – the meeting of the sun and the moon, or call it the meeting of the anima and the animus, the male and the female inside you.

Your whole body is divided into male and female. This has to be understood. Do you see how much left-handed people are suppressed? If a child writes with the left hand, immediately the whole society is against him – the parents, the peers, the teachers. The whole society forces him to write with the right hand. Right is right and left is wrong. What is the matter? Why is it that right is right and left is wrong? What is wrong with left? And ten percent of the people in the world are left-handed. Ten percent is not a small minority. Out of ten there is always one person who is left-handed. He may not have conscious awareness of it, he may have forgotten about it, because from the very beginning left-handed people are being forced to become right-handed. Why?

Right hand is connected with the sun center, with the male inside you. Left hand is connected with the female inside you, with the moon center. And the whole society is male oriented.

Your left nostril is connected with the moon center; your right nostril is connected with the sun center. You can try it. Whenever you are feeling very hot, close your right nostril and breathe from the left, and within ten minutes you will feel a subtle coolness coming to you. You can experiment; it is so easy. Or, if you are shivering and feeling chilly, close your left nostril and breathe from the right; within ten minutes you will be perspiring.

Yoga has come to understand it, and yogis say – and yogis do it: in the morning they will never get up breathing from the right nostril, because if you get up breathing from the right nostril, there is more possibility that in the day you will get angry, you will fight, you will become aggressive – you will not be cool and collected. So in yoga, it is part of the discipline that everybody getting up first looks at which nostril is functioning. If the left is functioning perfectly okay, that is the right moment to get out of bed. If it is not functioning, then turn over, close your right nostril and breathe from the left. By and by the left takes over; then get up. Always get up with the left nostril functioning and you will see a total difference in your whole day’s activity. You will be less angry, less irritated, more cool, more collected, calm. Your meditation will go deeper. If you want to fight, then the right nostril is very good. If you want to love, then the left nostril is very good.

And this breathing continuously changes. You may not have observed but observe it. Modern medicine has to come to understand it because it can be used in treatment very, very significantly. There are diseases which can be helped by the moon, and there are diseases which can be helped by the sun. If you know exactly, then the breathing can be used to treat a person. But modern medicine has not yet stumbled upon the fact. Continuously your breathing changes. Forty minutes one nostril functions, then forty minutes another nostril functions. Continuously within you the sun and moon change – you swing from sun to moon, from moon to sun.

That’s why you change your moods so often. Sometimes you suddenly feel irritated – for no reason at all. Nothing has happened, everything is the same, you are just sitting in the same room – nothing has happened – suddenly you feel irritated. Watch. Bring your hand close to your nose and feel: your breathing must have changed from left to right. Just a moment before you were feeling so good; just a moment after you are feeling so bad, just ready to fight or do something.

Remember, the whole body is divided. Your brain is also divided into two brains. You don’t have one brain; you have two brains – two hemispheres. The left-side brain is the sun brain; the right-side brain is the moon brain. You may be puzzled, because everything left is moon, why the right-side brain is moon? The right-side brain is connected with your left side body. Your left hand is connected with the right-side brain, your right hand is connected with the left side brain, that’s why. Crosswise.

The right-side brain is the seat of imagination, poetry, love, intuition. The left side brain is the seat of reason, logic, argumentation, philosophy, science.

And unless you attain to a balance between the sun and moon energy, you will not be able to transcend. Unless your left-side brain meets with the right-side brain and is bridged, you will not reach to sahasrar. You have to become one to reach sahasrar because sahasrar is the omega point in your being. You cannot reach there as man, you cannot reach there as woman. You have to reach there just as pure consciousness – one, total, whole.

Man’s sexuality is sun oriented, woman’s sexuality moon oriented. […]

Man is sun oriented, light oriented. Eyes are part of the sun; that’s why eyes can see. They correspond with the sun energy. So man is more eyes oriented. That’s why man is a voyeur and woman is an exhibitionist. Men cannot understand why women go on decorating themselves so much. […]

Women are exhibitionists – they would like to be seen. But that’s perfectly okay because that’s how men and women fit: man wants to see; woman wants to show. They fit, perfectly. It is absolutely okay. If women don’t want to exhibit, then they will create trouble, and if man is not a voyeur, for whom will women prepare so much – for whom? Nobody will look at them.

Everything fits in nature in a perfect way. It synchronizes.

But to reach to sahasrar you have to drop this duality of functioning. You cannot reach God as man or woman. You have to reach God as a simple, pure being.

By performing samyama on the light under the crown of the head comes the ability to contact all perfected beings. The energy has to move upward, and samyama is the methodology to do it. First, if you are a man, you have to be fully conscious of your sun, your solar energy center, your sex center. You have to be there at the muladhar, showering your consciousness on the muladhar. When the muladhar is showered by consciousness, you will watch and you will see that an energy is arising and moving into the hara center, into the moon.

And you will feel so blissful when the energy moves in the moon center. All your sexual orgasms are nothing compared to it – absolutely nothing. There is ten-thousand-times more intensity when your sun energy moves into your own moon energy. Then the real man meets the real woman. When you meet a woman outside, howsoever close you come, you remain separate. It is a very superficial meeting – just two surfaces meet, that’s all. Just two surfaces rub each other, that’s all. But when your sun energy moves into the moon energy, then two centers of energy meet. And the man whose sun and moon are meeting remains cheerful, blissful – continuously – because there is no need to lose this orgasm. This is permanent orgasm.

If you are a woman, bring your consciousness to the hara center and you will see your energy moving toward the sun center.

One center is nonfunctioning, one is functioning. The functioning has to be joined to the nonfunctioning: immediately, the nonfunctioning starts to function. And when the energy is meeting – sun and moon are becoming one – you will see that now the energy goes on rising upward. You start falling upward. […]

This sutra says: “Murdha jyotishi siddha darshanam. The moment your consciousness meets with sahasrar, you suddenly become available to the world beyond – to the world of the siddhas.

In yoga symbology the muladhar, the sex center, is thought to be like a red lotus of four petals. The four petals represent four directions; redness represents the heat because it is sun center. And sahasrar is represented as a thousand-petaled lotus of all colors. A thousand-petaled – sahasrar padma – a thousand-petaled lotus of all colors because it includes the whole. The sex center is only red. Sahasrar is a rainbow – all colors included; the totality included.

Ordinarily, the sahasrar, the one-thousand-petaled lotus, hangs downward in your head. Once the energy moves through it, the energy makes it upward. It is as if a lotus is hanging without energy, downward – just the very weight of it makes it hang downward – then energy rushes into it, makes it alive. It moves upward, opens to the beyond.

When this lotus moves upward and blooms, it is said in yoga scriptures, “It is as resplendent as ten million suns and ten million moons.” One moon and one sun meet in your being. That becomes the possibility of the meeting of ten million suns and ten million moons. You have found the key of the ultimate orgasm, where ten million moons meet ten million suns – ten million females meet ten million males. You can think of the ecstasy.

Shiva must have been in that ecstasy when he was found making love to his consort Devi. He must have been at the sahasrar. His lovemaking cannot be sexual – it cannot be from the muladhar. It must have been from the omega point of his being. That’s why he was completely oblivious of who was watching, who was standing. He was not in time; he was not in space. He was beyond time, beyond space. This is the goal of yoga, of tantra, of all spiritual effort.

Meeting of the male and female energy creates the possibility of the ultimate meeting of Shiva and Shakti, life and death. In this way Hindu gods are tremendously beautiful, and tremendously humane. Hmm? . . . think of a Christian God – with no consort, with no woman. Looks a little rigid, looks a little alone, looks a little empty, looks a little too male oriented, too sun-oriented, hard. No surprise if the Jewish and Christian concept of God is of a very terrible God.

Jews say, “Be afraid of God. Remember, he is not your uncle.” But Hindus say, “Don’t be worried – he is your mother.” Jews have created a very ferocious God, who is always ready to throw fire and thunder and destroy and kill. And just a small sin, maybe just an innocent sin, and he becomes terribly upset. Seems to be almost neurotic.

And the whole Christian conception of the trinity – God, the Holy Ghost, and the Son – the whole trinity seems to be like a boys’ club. Homosexual. No woman at all. And Christians are so afraid of the moon energy, the woman, so afraid, that they have no conception. Somehow, later on, they improved upon it a little by adding Virgin Mary. Somehow, because it is totally against their ideology. And then too they insist that she is a virgin.

The meeting of sun and moon is not allowed at all. Even if they allow Mary to be respected . . . Of course, it is a secondary status because in the original trinity there is no place for her. Somehow feeling the incompleteness of it all, they have managed to bring in Virgin Mary from the back door. But then too they insist she is virgin. Why this insistence? What is wrong in a meeting of male and female energy?

And if you are so afraid of the meeting of male and female energy in the outer world, how will you be ready for the same meeting in the inner world?

Hindu gods are more human, more humane – more down-to-earth – and of course, more compassion, more love flows through them.

Pratibhad va sarvam.

Through pratibha, intuition, knowledge of everything.

The word pratibha is a difficult word; it cannot be translated into English. “Intuition” is a very, very poor substitute for it, and I will have to explain it to you. It cannot be translated; I can only describe it. The sun is intellect; the moon is intuition. When you transcend both then comes pratibha – and there is no word for it. The sun is intellect, analysis, logic. The moon is intuition, the hunch, just a flash – suddenly you jump on the conclusion. Intellect moves through method, process, syllogism. Intuition suddenly comes to the conclusion – with no process, no methodology, no syllogism. You cannot ask intuition why. There is no “therefore” in intuition. A sudden revelation – as if lightning has happened and you have come to see something, and then the lightning disappears and you don’t know how it happened and why it happened, but it has happened and you have seen something. All primitive societies are intuitive; all women are intuitive; all children are intuitive; all poets are intuitive.

Pratibha is totally different. It has been translated as “intuition” in all the English translations of Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras, hut I would not like to translate it that way. Pratibha means when the energy has moved beyond the duality of intellect and intuition. It is beyond both. Intuition is beyond intellect; pratibha is beyond both. Now there is no logic in it, no sudden lightning in it – everything is eternally revealed. In pratibha one becomes omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent. Everything is revealed simultaneously – the past, the present, the future – all. That is the meaning – Pratibhad va sarvam – “Through pratibha, all.”

When your energy moves through sahasrar and ten million moons and ten million suns meet within you and you become an oceanic experience of orgasm – which goes on and on and on, eternally, then there is no end to it – there is pratibha. Then you see – you see all, through and through, you know all, through and through. Then space and time both disappear, with all their limitations.

So, one psychology is sun oriented, another is moon oriented, but the real psychology – the real psychology of being will be pratibha oriented. It will not be divided into man and woman. It will be the highest and the greatest synthesis, and transcendence.

Intellect is like a blind man: it gropes in the dark. That’s why so much argumentation is needed. Intuition is not blind but is like a crippled man: it cannot move. Pratibha is like a healthy man, all limbs healthy.

There is an Indian story that once a forest caught fire. There was one blind man and one crippled man in the forest. The blind man could not see, he could run; but it was dangerous to run without knowing where you are running – where the fire is all over, all around. The crippled man could not walk, but he could see. They came to a tacit understanding: the blind man allowed the crippled man to ride on his back and to see for him, and the crippled man agreed to see for him if he was to run for him. In their synthesis they could get out of the forest and the fire.

Intellect is half, intuition is also half. Intuition cannot run – it is just in flashes. It cannot be a continued source of revelation. And intellect goes on groping in the dark, continuously groping in the dark.

Pratibha is a synthesis and a transcendence.

If you are too intellectual, you will miss a few things in life which are very beautiful. You will not be able to enjoy poetry, you will not be able to delight in singing, you will not be able to celebrate in dancing. They will look a little foolish, a little below you. You will be uptight, you will hold yourself back, you will remain a little repressed. Your moon will suffer.

If you are just intuitive, you may be able to enjoy much, but you will not be able to help others much because the communication will be lacking. You may be able to live a beautiful life yourself, but you will not be able to create a beautiful world around you because that is possible only through intellect.

When science and poetry meet, then a perfect world is possible. Otherwise, intellect goes on condemning intuition; intuition goes on condemning intellect. […]

The intuition thinks the intellect is odd; the intellect thinks the intuition is odd. Separately they are odd. Together they create a great orchestra, a great harmony. […]

The intellect always goes on thinking in its own idiom. The intuition remains incomprehensible to it. And the intuition cannot believe in intellect; it seems too superficial, with no depth.

You have to come to a synthesis within you. That’s what Patanjali means when he says, “Pratibhad va sarvam.” You have to come to such a deep synthesis that pratibha arises in you – which is one where logic and prayer meet, where work and worship meet, where science is not antagonistic to poetry and poetry is not antagonistic to science.

That’s why I say man is yet in the making, he is evolving. Man is yet a form without content. The content has to be achieved; that great alchemy has to be achieved. You have to make yourself a great experimental lab of evolution and you have to bring your energy from the muladhar, from the sex center, upward to the sahasrar.

Hridaye chitta samvit.

Performing samyama on the heart brings awareness of the nature of mind.

That too is not an adequate translation, but it is difficult. Translators are in a difficulty.

Hridaye chitta samvit.

First, when Patanjali uses the word hridaye, he does not mean the physical heart. In yoga terminology, just behind the physical heart is the real heart, hidden. It is not part of the physical body. The physical heart simply corresponds with the real heart, the spiritual heart. There is a synchronicity between them, but no causal relationship. And that heart can be known only when you have reached to the peak. When your energy has come to the omega point of sahasrar, only then can you realize the real heart, the very abode of God.

Hridaye chitta samvit – Performing samyama on the heart brings awareness of the nature of mind.” That too is not true. Chitta samvit means the very nature of consciousness, not of mind. Mind is gone, left behind, because mind is either sun mind or moon mind. Once you have transcended sun and moon, mind is gone, left behind. In fact, chitta samvit is a state of no mind. If you ask Zen people, they will say no-mind. The mind is gone because it exists with the division; when the division is gone, mind is gone. They are together, two aspects of one phenomenon. The mind divides and the mind exists through division – they depend on each other, they interdepend. When division is gone, mind is gone; when mind is gone, division is gone.

There are two ways to reach this state of no-mind. One is the tantra way: you drop the mind, division disappears. The other is the yoga way: you drop the division, the mind disappears. You can do either. The ultimate result is the same – you become one, a unison arises.

Hridaye chitta samvit.

Then you come to know what is the real nature of consciousness. Again, this word “consciousness” in English denotes as if it is an antonym to “unconsciousness.” Chitta samvit is not an antonym to unconsciousness. Consciousness includes all: unconsciousness is also a sleeping state of consciousness, so there is no antagonism. Consciousness, unconsciousness, all – the very nature of consciousness – is revealed when one brings one’s awareness, samyama, to the heart.

In yoga, the heart center is called anahat chakra, anahat center. You must have heard the famous Zen koan . . . When a disciple reaches to the Master, the Master gives something absolutely absurd to meditate upon. One of the famous absurdities is, the Master says to the disciple, “Go, and listen to the sound of one hand clapping.” Now this is absurd. The one hand cannot clap, and there cannot be a sound of one hand clapping. For the sound two hands are needed to clap and create it. Ahat means by conflict; anahat means without any conflict. Anahat means: the sound of one hand clapping.

When all sounds disappear in you, you hear the sound which is constantly there, which is intrinsic to nature, which is the very nature of existence – the sound of silence, or the sound of soundlessness. The heart is called anahat chakra, the place where constantly a sound is being created – without any conflict – an eternal sound. Hindus have called that sound aumkar – aum. It has to be heard. So people who go on repeating, “Aum, aum, aum . . .” are doing a foolish thing. By your repetition you cannot come to the real aumkar, to the real sound, because if you’re making it, you are creating it by clapping.

Become completely silent, drop all thinking, become unmoving, and suddenly it is there – it has always been there, but you were not available to listen to it. It is a very, very subtle sound. When you have dropped the whole world from your mind and you are alert only for it, then by and by, you become receptive to it – by and by, you start hearing it.

Once you can hear the sound of one hand clapping, you have heard God, you have heard all.

Patanjali is taking you step by step toward the omega point. These three sutras are very significant. Ponder over them again and again, meditate on them. And try to feel them within your being. They can become keys which can open the doors of the divine.

-Osho

From Secrets of Yoga; Yoga: The Science of the Soul, V.8, Discourse #5 (Previously titled Yoga: The Alpha and the Omega, V.8).

Copyright © OSHO International Foundation

This discourse is the Listening Meditation in the fifteenth 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 Inside of the Inside – Osho

Samyama is to be employed in stages.

These three — dharana, dhyan, and samadhi — are internal compared to the five that preceded them.

But the three are external compared to seedless samadhi.

Nirodh parinam is the transformation of the mind in which the mind becomes permeated by the condition of nirodh, which intervenes momentarily between an impression that is disappearing and the impression that is taking its place.

This flow becomes peaceful with repeated impressions.

-Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras

I have been told that traditionally there are two schools of thought in Germany. The industrial, practical northern part of the country has this philosophy: The situation is serious but not hopeless. In the southern part of Germany, more romantic and perhaps less practical, the philosophy seems to be: The situation is hopeless but not serious. If you ask me, then the situation is neither — neither is it hopeless nor serious. And I am talking about the human situation.

The human situation looks serious because we have been taught and conditioned to be serious for centuries. The human situation looks hopeless because we have been doing something with ourselves which is wrong. We have not yet found that to be natural is the goal, and all the goals that we have been taught make us more and more unnatural.

To be natural, to be just in tune with the cosmic law, is what Patanjali means by samyama. To be natural and to be in tune with the cosmic law is samyama. Samyama is not anything forced upon you. Samyama is not anything that comes from the outside. Samyama is a flowering of your innermost nature. Samyama is to become that which you already are. Samyama is to come back to nature. How to come back to nature? And what is human nature? Unless you dig deep within your own being, you will never come to know what human nature is.

One has to move inward; and the whole process of yoga is a pilgrimage, an inward journey. Step by step, in eight steps, Patanjali is bringing you home. The first five steps — yam, niyam, asan, pranayam, pratyahar — they help you to go deep in you beyond the body. The body is your first periphery, the first concentric circle of your existence. The second step is to go beyond the mind. The three internal steps of dharana, dhyan, samadhi, lead you beyond the mind. Beyond the body and beyond the mind is your nature, is your center of being. That center of being Patanjali calls seedless samadhi — kaivalya. That he calls to come face to face to your own grounding, to your own being, to come to know who you are.

So the whole process can be divided in three parts: first, how to transcend the body; second, how to transcend the mind; and third, how to fall into your own being.

We have been taught, almost all over the world, in every culture, in every country, in every climate, to seek goals somewhere outside ourselves. The goal may be money, the goal may be power, the goal may be prestige, or the goal may be God, heaven, it makes no difference: all the goals are outside you. And the real goal is to come to the source from where you come. Then the circle is complete.

Drop all the outer goals and move inward. That’s the message of yoga. Outer goals are just forced. You have just been taught somewhere to go. They never become natural; they cannot become natural.

I have heard an anecdote about G.K. Chesterton:

He was on a train, reading earnestly, when the conductor asked for his ticket. Frantically, Chesterton fumbled for it.

“Never mind, sir,” the conductor said reassuringly. “I will come later on to punch it. I am certain you have it.”

“I know I have it,” Chesterton stammered, “but what I want to know is, where in the world am I going?”

Where are you going? What’s your destiny? You have been taught certain things to achieve. You have been made into an achiever. The mind has been manipulated, pushed and pulled. The mind has been controlled by the outside — by the parents, by the family, by the school, by the society, by the government. Everybody is trying to pull you outside your being, and they are trying to fix a goal for you; and you have fallen in the trap. And the goal is already there inside you.

There is nowhere to go. One has to realize oneself — who one is already. And once you realize that, wherever you go you will find your goal because you carry your goal with yourself. Then wherever you go, you will have a deep contentment, a peace surrounding you, a coolness, a collectedness, a calm as a milieu that you carry around you as an aura. That’s what Patanjali calls samyama — a cool, collected, calm atmosphere that moves with you.

Wherever you go you bring your own atmosphere with you, and everybody can feel it. Almost it can be touched by others also, whether they become aware or not. Suddenly, if a man of samyama comes close to you, suddenly, you become aware of a certain calm breeze blowing near you, a fragrance coming from the unknown. It touches you; it pacifies you. It is like a beautiful lullaby. You were in turmoil; if a man of samyama comes near you, suddenly your turmoil subsides. You were angry; if a man of samyama comes near you, your anger disappears because a man of samyama is a magnetic force. On his wave you start riding; on him, with him, you start moving higher than you can move alone.

So, in the East we developed a beautiful tradition of going to people who have attained to samyama and just sitting by their side. That’s what we call darshan, that’s what we call satsang: just going to a man of samyama and just being near him. To the Western mind sometimes it looks almost absurd because sometimes the man may not even speak; he may be in silence. And people go on coming, they touch his feet, they sit by his side, they close their eyes . . . There is no conversation, there is no verbal communication, and they sit for hours; and then, fulfilled in some unknown way, they touch the feet in deep gratitude, and they go back. And you can watch from their faces that something has been communicated; they have attained to something. And there has been no verbal communication — nothing visible has been given or taken. This is satsang, just being with a man of truth, with an authentic being, a man of samyama.

Just by being close to him, something starts happening in you, something starts responding in you.

But the concept of the man of samyama has also become very muddled because people started to do it from the outside. People started to still themselves from the outside, to practice a certain calmness, a certain silence, to force themselves into a particular pattern and discipline. They will look almost like a man of samyama. They will look almost, but they will not be: and when you go near them, their appearance may be of silence, but if you sit near them silently, you will not feel any silence. Deep down the turmoil is hidden. They are like volcanoes. On the surface everything is quiet: deep down the volcano is getting ready to explode, any moment.

Remember this: never try to force anything upon yourself. That is the way to get divided, that’s the way to become hopeless, and that’s the way to miss the point. Your innermost being has to flow through you. You are only to remove the hindrances on the path. Nothing new is to be added to you. In fact, something minus, and you will be perfect. Something plus — no. You are already perfect. Something more is there than the spring — some rocks on the path. Minus those rocks, and you are perfect, and the flow is attained. These eight steps, ashtang, of Patanjali are nothing but a methodological way of removing the rocks.

But why does man become so obsessed with an outer discipline? There must be a cause to it, a reason for it. The reason is there. The reason is because to force anything from the outside seems easier, cheap, at no cost. It is as if you are not beautiful, but you can purchase a beautiful mask from the market and you can put it on your face. Cheap, not costly, and you can deceive others a little bit. Not long because a mask is a dead thing and a dead thing can have an appearance of beauty, but it cannot be really beautiful. In fact, you have become more ugly than you were before. Whatsoever your original face was, was at least alive, radiating life, intelligence. Now you have a dead mask and you are hiding behind it.

People become interested in cultivating samyama from the outside. You are a man of anger: to attain to a state of no anger much effort will be needed, and long is the journey, and you will have to pay for it. But just to force yourself, repress anger, is easier. In fact, you can use your energy of anger in repressing anger immediately. There is no problem because anybody who is a man of anger can easily conquer anger. The only one thing is, he has to turn the anger upon himself. First, he was angry with others: now he has to be angry with himself and suppress the anger. But if you look into his eyes, anger will be there lurking like a shadow.

And remember, to be angry sometimes is not bad, but to suppress anger and to remain angry constantly is very dangerous. That is the difference between hatred and hate. When you flare up in anger there is hate, but it is momentary. It comes and it goes. Nothing much to be worried about. When you suppress anger, then hate disappears and hatred arises, which becomes a permanent style of your life. The repressed anger continuously affects you — your behavior, your relationship. Now it is not that you sometimes become angry, now you are angry all the time. Your anger is not addressed to anybody now: it has become unaddressed, just a quality of your being. Now it clings to you. You cannot exactly say with whom you are angry because in the past you have been accumulating anger. Now it has become a reservoir. You are simply angry.

This is bad; this is chronic. First the anger was just a flare-up, something happened. It was situational. It was like as small children become angry: they flare up like a flame and then they subside, and immediately the storm is gone and the silence is there and they are again loving and beautiful. But by and by the more you suppress anger, anger enters into your bones, into your blood. It circulates within you. It moves in your breathing. Then, whatsoever you do you do in anger. Even if you love a person, you love in an angry way. Aggression is there: destructiveness is there. You may not bring it up, but it is always there. And it becomes a great rock.

To force anything from the outside seems in the beginning very cheap, but in the end, it proves very fatal.

And people find it cheap because there are experts who go on telling them how to do it. A child is born and parents become the experts. They are not. They have not solved their own problems yet. If they really love the child, they will not force the same pattern on him.

But who loves? Nobody knows what love is.

They start forcing their pattern, the same old pattern in which they are caught. They are not even aware what they are doing. They themselves are caught in the same pattern and their whole life has been a life of misery, and now they are giving the same pattern to their children. Innocent children, not knowing what is right and what is wrong, will become victims.

And these experts who are not experts, because they don’t know anything — they have not solved any problem themselves — simply take it for granted that because, just because they have given birth to a child they have become, in a certain way, authoritative: and they start molding the soft child into a fixed pattern. And the child has to follow them; the child is helpless. By the time he becomes aware, he is already caught, trapped. Then there are schools, universities, and a thousand and one ways of conditioning all around, and all sorts of experts, and everybody pretending that he knows. Nobody seems to know.

Beware of the experts. Take your life in your own hands if you want to reach someday to your innermost core. Don’t listen to the experts; you have listened long enough. […]

The expert always thinks in terms of knowledge. Go to a wise man. He does not think in terms of knowledge. He looks at you through his knowing eyes. The world is ruled by experts too much, and the world has almost forgotten to go to the wise men. And the difference is the expert is as ordinary as you are. The only difference between you and the expert is that he has accumulated some dead information. He knows more than you know, but his information is not his own realization. He has just accumulated it from the outside, and he goes on giving advice to you.

Seek, search for a wise man. That is the search for the guru. In the East people travel for thousands of miles to seek and search for somebody who has really come to know and to be with him, to be with the man of samyama — one who has attained — who has not cultivated, who has grown, who has flowered in his inner being. The flower is not borrowed from the outside. It is an inner flowering.

Remember, Patanjali’s samyama is not the concept of ordinary cultivation. It is the concept of flowering, of helping and allowing that which is hidden in you to be manifested. You are already carrying the seed. The seed only needs the right soil. A little care, a loving care, and it will sprout, and it will come one day to flower. And the fragrance that was carried by the seed will be spread to the winds, and the winds will carry it to all the directions.

A man of samyama cannot hide himself. He tries. He cannot hide himself because the winds will continuously carry his fragrance. He can go to a cave in the mountains and sit there, and people will start coming to him there. Somehow, in some unknown way, those who are growing, those who are intelligent, they will find him. He need not seek them; they will seek him.

Can you watch something similar in your own being because then it will be easy to understand the sutras? You love somebody really; and, you show love to somebody. Have you watched the difference? Somebody comes, a guest. You really welcome. It is a flowering; from your very being you welcome him. It is not only a welcome to your home; it is a welcome to your heart. And then some other guest comes and you welcome him because you have to welcome. Have you watched the difference between the two?

When you really welcome, you are one flow — the welcome is total. When you don’t really welcome, and you are simply following etiquette, manners, you are not one flow; and if the guest is perceptive, he will immediately turn back. He will not enter your house. If he is really perceptive, he can immediately see the contradiction in you. Your extended hand for a handshake is not really extended. The energy in it is not moving towards the guest; the energy is being withheld. Only a dead hand has been spread out.

You are a contradiction whenever you are following anything outer, just following a discipline. It is not true; you are not in it.

Remember, whatsoever you do — if you are doing it at all — do it totally. If you don’t want to do it at all, then don’t do it — then don’t do it totally. The totalness has to be remembered because that totalness is the most significant thing. If you continuously go on doing things in which you are contradictory, inconsistent, in which a part of you moves and another part doesn’t move, you are destroying your inner flowering. By and by, you will become a plastic flower — with no fragrance, with no life. […]

Don’t live a life of mere manners, don’t live a life of mere etiquette. Live an authentic life.

I know the life of etiquette, manners, is comfortable, convenient, but it is poisonous. It kills you slowly, slowly. The life of authenticity is not so convenient and comfortable. It is risky, it is dangerous — but it is real, and the danger is worth it. And you will never repent for it. Once you start enjoying the real life, the real feeling, the real flow of your energy, and you are not divided and split, then you will understand that if everything is to be staked for it, it is worth it. For a single moment of real life, your whole unreal life can be staked, and it is worth it — because in that single moment you would have known what life is and its destiny. And your whole long life of a hundred years, you will simply live on the surface, always afraid of the depth, and you will miss the whole opportunity.

This is the hopelessness that we have created all around us: living and not living at all; doing things we never intended to do; being in relationships we never wanted to be in; following a profession which has never been a call to you — being false in a thousand and one ways. And how do you expect that out of this falsity — layer upon layer — you can know what life is? It is because of your falsity you are missing it. It is because of your falsity you cannot make contact with the living stream of life.

And sometimes when you become aware of it, a second problem arises. Whenever people become aware of the falsity of life, they immediately move to the opposite extreme. That is another trap of the mind, because if you move from one falsity to the exact opposite, you will move to another falsity again. Somewhere in between, somewhere between the two opposites, is the real. Samyama means balance. It means absolute balance not moving to the extremes, remaining just in the middle. When you are neither a rightist nor a leftist, when you are neither a socialist nor an individualist, when you are neither this nor that, suddenly in between, the flowering, the flowering of samyama. […]

You can move from one extreme to another, from one falsity to another falsity, from one fear to another fear. You can move from the marketplace to the monastery. Those are the polarities. The people who live in the marketplace are unbalanced, and the people who live in the monasteries are also unbalanced on the other extreme, but both are lopsided.

Samyama means balance. That’s what I mean by sannyas: to be balanced, to be in the marketplace and yet not be of it, to be in the bazaar but to not allow the bazaar to be in you. If your mind can remain free from the marketplace, you can be in the marketplace and there is no problem, you can move to the monastery and live alone. But if the bazaar follows inside you . . . which is bound to follow because the bazaar is not really outside — it is in the buzzing thoughts, in the inner traffic noise of the thoughts — it is going to follow you. How can you leave yourself here and escape somewhere else? You will go with yourself, and wherever you go, you will be the same.

So don’t try to escape from situations. Rather, try to become more and more aware. Change the inner climate and don’t be worried about the outer situations. Insist continuously on it because the cheaper is always alluring. It says, “Because you are worried in the market, escape to the monastery and all worries will disappear: because worries are because of the business, because of the market, because of the relationship.” No, worries are not because of the market, worries are not because of the family, worries are not because of the relationship: Worries are because of you. These are just excuses. If you go to the monastery, these worries will find some new objects to hang on to, but the worries will continue.

Just look at your mind, in what a mess it is. And this mess is not created by the situations. This mess is in you. Situations, at the most, work as excuses.

Sometime, do one experiment. You think people make you angry, then go for a twenty-one-day silence. Remain silent and you will suddenly become aware that many times in the day, for no reason at all — because now there is nobody to make you angry — you become angry. You think because you come across a beautiful woman or a man that’s why you become sexual? You are wrong. Go for a twenty-one-day silence. Remain alone and you will find many times, suddenly for no reason at all, sexuality arises. It is within you.

Two women were talking. I have simply overheard them; excuse my trespass.

Mistress Brown, very annoyed: “Look here, Mistress Green. Mistress Gray told me that you told her the secret I told you not to tell her.”

Mistress Green: “Oh! The mean creature. And I told her not to tell you that I told her.”

Mistress Brown: “Well. Look here, don’t tell her that I told you she told me.”

This is the traffic noise that goes on continuously in the mind. This has to be stilled not by any force but by understanding.

The first sutra:

Samyama is to be employed in stages.

Patanjali is not for sudden enlightenment, and sudden enlightenment is not for everybody. It is rare, it is exceptional. And Patanjali has a very scientific outlook. He does not bother with the exceptional. He discovers the rule, and the exceptional simply proves the rule, nothing else. And the exceptional can take care of itself. There is no need to think about it. The ordinary, the ordinary human being, grows only in stages, step by step, because for a sudden enlightenment, tremendous courage is needed, which is not available.

And for a sudden enlightenment, there is such a risk in it — one can go mad or one can become enlightened. Both the possibilities remain open because it is so sudden that the mechanism of your body and mind is not ready for it. It can shatter you completely.

Patanjali does not talk about it. In fact, he insists that the samyama should be attained in stages so that by and by you move, in small doses you grow, and before you take another step you have become ready and prepared for it. Enlightenment, for Patanjali, does not take you unawares. Because it is such a tremendous event, you may be so shocked — shocked to death or shocked to madness — he simply debars any talk about it. He does not pay any attention to it.

That is the difference between Patanjali and Zen. Zen is for the exceptional, Patanjali is for the rule. If Zen disappears from the world, nothing will be lost because the exceptional can always take care of itself. But if Patanjali disappears from the world, much will be lost because he is the rule. He is simply for the common, ordinary human being — for all. A Tilopa may take the jump, or a Bodhidharma may take a jump, and disappear. These are adventurers, people who enjoy risk, but that is not the way of everybody. You need a staircase to go up and to go down: You simply don’t jump out of the balconies. And there is no need to take that risk while one can move gracefully.

Zen is a little eccentric because the whole point is of the unique experience. The whole point is of the exceptional, the rare, in a way, the non-ordinary. Patanjali, in that way, moves on plain ground. For the common humanity he is a great help.

He says, “Samyama is to be employed in stages.” Don’t be in a hurry, move slowly, grow slowly, so everything becomes solid before you take another step. After each growth, let there be an interval. In that interval, whatsoever you have attained is absorbed, digested, becomes part of your being . . . then go ahead. There is no need to run because in running you can come to a point for which you are not ready, and if you are not ready, it is dangerous.

The greedy mind would like to attain everything now. People come to me and they say, “Why don’t you give us something which can make us suddenly enlightened?” But these are exactly the people who are not ready. If they were ready, they would have patience. If they were ready, they would say, “Whenever it comes. We are not in a hurry, we can wait.” They are not the real people: they are greedy people. In fact, they don’t know what they are asking. They are inviting the sky. You will burst; you won’t be able to contain it.

Patanjali says, “Samyama is to be employed in stages,” and these eight stages he has described.

These three . . .

The three that we discussed the other day . . .

 —  dharana, dhyan, and samadhi — are internal compared to the five that precede them.

We have discussed those five stages.

These three are internal compared to the five that have preceded them . . .

But the three are external compared to seedless samadhi.

If you compare them with yam, niyam, asan, pranayam, pratyahar, then they are internal, but if you compare with the experience, the ultimate experience of a Buddha or Patanjali, they are yet external. They are just in between. First you transcend the body, those are the external steps. Then you transcend the mind, these are internal steps. But when you reach to your being, even that which was internal, now will look external. Even that was not internal enough. Your mind is not internal enough. It is more internal than the body. It is external if you become a witnessthen you can watch your own thoughts. When you can watch your own thoughts, your thoughts become external. They become objects: You are the watcher.

The seedless samadhi means when there is going to be no birth anymore, when there is going to be no coming back to the world anymore, when there is going to be no entry again in time. The seedless means the seed of desire is burned completely.

When you move, even toward yoga, when you start the journey inward, that too is still a desire — desire to achieve oneself, desire to achieve peace, bliss, desire to achieve truth. It is still desire. When you attain the first samadhi . . . after dharana, concentration; [after] dhyan, contemplation; when you come to samadhi where subject and object become one, even there, a slight shadow of desire is present — the desire to know the truth, the desire to become one, the desire to know God — or whatsoever you name it. Still that desire, very subtle, almost invisible, almost as if it is not — but still it is there. It has to be there because you have been using it all throughout the way. Now, that desire also has to be dropped.

Samadhi has also to be dropped. Meditation becomes complete when meditation has to be dropped . . . when meditation can be dropped. When you forget all about meditation and you drop it, when there is no need to meditate, when there is no need to go anywhere — neither outside nor inside — when all journeying stops, then desire disappears.

Desire is the seed. First it moves you outward; then, if you are intelligent enough to understand that you are moving in a wrong direction, it starts moving you inward; but the desire is still there. The same desire, feeling frustrated outside, starts searching inside. That desire has to be dropped.

After samadhi, even samadhi has to be dropped. Then the seedless samadhi arises. That is the ultimate. It arises not because you desired it, because if you desire then it will not be seedless. That has to be understood. It arises only because understanding the futility of desire itself — even the desire to go in — the very understanding of the futility of desire, desire disappears. You cannot desire the seedless samadhi. When desire disappears, suddenly, the seedless samadhi is there. It has nothing to do with your effort. This is the happening.

Up to now, up to samadhi, there is effort because effort needs desire, motivation. When desire disappears, effort also disappears. When desire disappears, there is no motivation to do anything — neither is there any motivation to do nor is there any motivation to be anything. Total emptiness, nothingness, what Buddha calls shunya arises — on its own accord. And that’s the beauty of it, untouched by your desire, uncorrupted by your motivation, it is purity itself, it is innocence itself. This is seedless samadhi.

Now there will no longer be any birth. Buddha used to tell his disciples, “When you come to samadhi become alert. Cling to samadhi so that you can be a help to people.” Because if you don’t cling to samadhi, and the seedless samadhi appears, you are gone, gone forever, gate, gate, para gate — Gone, gone, gone forever. Then you cannot help. You must have heard the word bodhisattva. I have given the word to many sannyasins. Bodhisattva means one who has come to samadhi and is denying seedless samadhi, is clinging to samadhi because while he clings to samadhi he can help people, he can still be there, at least one chain with the world is still there.

There is a story that Buddha comes to the ultimate heaven, doors open, and he is invited in, but he stands outside. The devas tell him, “Come in. We have been waiting so long for you.” But he says, “How can I come in right now? There are many who need me. I will stand at the door and help to show people the door. I will be the last to enter. When everybody has entered the door, when there is nobody else left outside, then I will enter. If I enter right now, with my entry the door will be lost again, and there are millions who are struggling. They are just coming closer and closer. I will stand outside. I am not going to enter because you will have to keep the door open while I stand here. You will have to wait for me, and while you are waiting, the door will be there, open, and I can show people this is the door.”

This is the state of bodhisattva. Bodhisattva means one who has already come to the door of being a buddha. In essence he is ready to disappear into the whole, but he resists for compassion. He clings to it. The last desire, to help people — that too is a desire — keeps him in existence. It is very difficult, it is almost impossible, when all the chains are broken from the world, just to depend on a very fragile relationship of compassion — almost impossible. But those are the few moments — when somebody comes to the state of bodhisattva and stays there — those are the few moments when the door is open for the whole of humanity, to look at the door, to realize the door, to recognize, and to enter it.

These three — dharana, dhyan, samadhi — are internal compared to the five that preceded them.

But the three are external compared to seedless samadhi.

Nirodh parinam is the transformation of the mind in which the mind becomes permeated by the condition of nirodh, which intervenes momentarily between an impression that is disappearing and the impression that is taking its place.

This sutra is very, very significant for you because you can immediately use it. Patanjali calls it nirodh. Nirodh means a momentary suspension of the mind, a momentary state of no-mind. It is happening to you all, but it is very subtle and the moment is very small. Unless you are a little more aware, you will not be able to see it. First let me describe what it is.

Whenever a thought appears in the mind, the mind is covered with it, like a cloud appears in the sky. But no thought can be permanent. The very nature of thought is to be nonpermanent; one thought comes, it goes; another thought comes and replaces it. Between these two thoughts there is a very subtle interval. One thought goes, another has not come yet that is the moment of nirodh — a subtle interval when you are thoughtless. One cloud has passed, another has not come yet, and the sky is open. You can look at it.

Just sitting silently watch. Thoughts go on coming like traffic on the road. One car has passed, another is coming — but between the two there is a gap and the road is vacant. Soon the other will come and the road will again be full and will not be empty. If you can look between the gap that exists between two thoughts, you are for a moment in the same state as when somebody comes to realize samadhi — a momentary samadhi, just a glimpse. Immediately it will be filled by another thought which is already on the way.

Watch. Watch carefully. One thought going, another coming, and the gap between: In that gap you are exactly in the same state as one who has attained to samadhi. But your state is just a momentary phenomenon. Patanjali calls it nirodh. It is momentary, dynamic, it is changing all the time. It is a flux-like thing one wave going, another coming between the two . . . no wave. Just try to watch it.

This is one of the most significant meditations. There is no need to do anything else. You can just sit silently and you can go on watching. Just look in the gap. In the beginning it will be difficult. By and by you will become more alert and you will not miss the gaps. Don’t pay attention to the thoughts. Focus yourself for the gap, not for the thoughts. Focus yourself when the road is vacant and nobody is passing. Change your gestalt. Ordinarily we focus on thoughts and we don’t focus in between.

It happened once. A great yoga Master was teaching about nirodh to his disciples. He had a blackboard. On the blackboard, with white chalk, he made a very small point, just visible, and then he asked his disciples, “What do you see?” They all said, “A small white point.” The Master laughed. He said, “Nobody can see this blackboard? All are seeing only the small white point?”

Nobody has seen the blackboard. The blackboard was there, the white dot was there, but they all looked at the white dot.

Change the gestalt.

Have you looked in children’s books? There are pictures, pictures which are very, very meaningful to be understood. In a certain picture there is a young woman, you can see it, but in the same lines, in the same picture, there is hiding an old woman. If you go on looking, go on looking, suddenly the young woman disappears and you see the old woman’s face. Then you go on looking at the old woman’s face — suddenly it disappears and again the young woman’s face appears. You cannot see both together: That is impossible. You can see one face one time, another face another time. Once you have seen both the faces, you know very well that the other face is also there, but still you cannot see it together. And the mind is constantly changing, so one time you see the young face, another time you see the old face.

The gestalt changes from the old to the young, from the young to the old, from the old to the young, but you cannot focus on both. So, when you focus on thoughts, you cannot focus on the gaps. The gaps are always there. Focus on the gaps, and suddenly you will become aware that gaps are there and thoughts are disappearing — and in those gaps, the first glimpses of samadhi will be attained.

And that taste is needed in order to go on because whatsoever I say, whatsoever Patanjali says, can only become meaningful to you when you have already tasted something of it. If once you know the gap is blissful, a tremendous bliss descends — just for a moment, then it disappears — then you know if this gap can become permanent, if this gap can become my nature, then this bliss will be available as a continuum. Then you start working hard.

This is nirodh parinam:

Nirodh parinam is the transformation of the mind in which the mind becomes permeated by the condition of nirodh, which intervenes momentarily between an impression that is disappearing and the impression that is taking its place.

Just ten years ago, an inventory was made of the Imperial Japanese Jewels. The royal treasure has been kept in a guarded building called the Soshuen. For nine hundred years the jewels had rested in that palace. When a string of amber beads was examined, one bead in the center of the string appeared to be different from the others. The accumulated dust of centuries was washed off the beads and the center stone was examined with deep curiosity. The examiners found a treasure within a treasure. The special bead was not made of common amber as were the other beads. It was a high-quality pearl of pink-green color. For hundreds of years, the unique pearl had been mistaken for a piece of amber but no longer.

No matter how long we have lived in a mistaken identity, self-examination can reveal our true and tranquil nature.

Once you have a glimpse of the reality that you are, then all false identities which have existed for centuries suddenly disappear. Now, no longer can you be deceived by those identities. This nirodh parinam gives you the first glimpse of your real nature. It gives you a glimpse, behind the layers of dust, of the real pearl. The layers of dust are nothing but layers of thought, impressions, imaginations, dreams, desires — all thoughts.

Once you can have one glimpse, you are already converted. This I call conversion. Not when a Hindu becomes a Christian, not when a Christian becomes a Hindu, that is not a conversion. That is moving from one prison to another prison, The conversion is when you move from thought to no-thought, when you move from mind to no-mind. The conversion is when you look in nirodh parinam, when you look between two thoughts and suddenly your reality is revealed — almost like lightning. Then again there is darkness, but you are not the same. You have seen something you cannot forget now. Now you will be searching again and again.

This is what the following sutra says:

This flow becomes peaceful with repeated impressions.

If again and again you fall in the gap, if again and again you taste the experience, if again and again you look through the nirodh — cessation of the mind — without thought you look into your own being, this flow becomes peaceful, this flow becomes natural, this flow becomes spontaneous. You attain, you begin to attain, your own treasure, first as glimpses, small gaps, then bigger gaps, then still bigger. Then one day it happens the last thought is gone and no other thought comes. You are in deep silence, eternal silence. That’s the goal.

It is hard, arduous, but available.

Tradition has it that when Jesus was crucified, just before he died, a soldier pierced his side with a spear, just to see whether he is dead or still alive. He was still alive. He opened his eyes. Looked at the soldier, and said, “Friend, there is a shorter road to my heart than that.” He has pierced his heart with a spear, and Jesus says, “Friend, there is a shorter road to my heart than that.”

For centuries, people have wondered what he really meant. A thousand and one explanations are possible because the sentence is very cryptic, but the way I look into it and the meaning that I think into it is that if you go into your own heart, that is the shortest, the most shortcut way to reach to Jesus’s heart. If you go into your own heart, if you go withinward, you will come closer to Jesus.

And whether Jesus is alive or not, you have to look withinward, you have to seek the source of your own life, and then you will know that Jesus can never be dead. He is eternal life. He may disappear from this body on the cross; he will appear somewhere else. He may not appear anywhere else, but then too he will remain for eternity in the heart of the whole.

When Jesus said, “Friend, there is a shorter road to my heart than that.” he meant “Go withinward. Look into your own nature, and you will find me there. The kingdom of God is within you.” And it is eternal. It is unending life; it is deathless life.

If you look into nirodh, you will look into deathless life, life that has no beginning and no end.

And once you have tasted of that ambrosia, that elixir, then nothing else can become the object of your desire — nothing else. Then that becomes the object of desire. That desire can lead you up to samadhi, and then that desire has also to be left, that desire has also to be dropped. It has done its work. It gave you a momentum, it brought you to your very door of being; now that has to be dropped also.

Once you drop it, you are there no more . . . only God is. This is seedless samadhi.

-Osho

From Yoga: The Science of Living; Yoga: The Science of the Soul, V.7, Discourse #3 (Previously titled Yoga: The Alpha and the Omega).

Copyright © OSHO International Foundation

This discourse is the Listening Meditation in the thirteenth 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 Light of Higher Consciousness – Osho

Dharana, concentration, is confining the mind to the object being mediated upon.

Dhyan, contemplation, is the uninterrupted flow of the mind to the object.

Samadhi is when the mind becomes one with the object.

The three taken together — dharana, dhyan, and samadhi – constitute samyama. By mastering it, the light of higher consciousness.

-Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras

Once a Master of Zen invited questions from his students. A student asked. “What future rewards can be expected by those who strive diligently with their lessons?”

Answered the Master, “Ask a question close to home.”

A second student wanted to know, “How can I prevent my past follies from rising up to accuse me?”

The Master repeated, “Ask a question close to home.”

A third student raised his hand to state, “Sir, we do not understand what is meant by asking a question close to home.” “To see far, first see near. Be mindful of the present moment, for it contains answers about future and past. What thought just crossed your mind? Are you now sitting before me with a relaxed or with a tense physical body? Do I now have your full or partial attention? Come close to home by asking questions such as these. Close questions lead to distant answers.”

This is the yoga attitude towards life. Yoga is not meta-physical. It does not bother about the distant questions — faraway questions, about past lives, future lives, heaven and hell, God, and things of that sort. Yoga is concerned with questions close at home. The closer the question, the more is the possibility to solve it. If you can ask the question closest to you, there is every possibility that just by asking, it will be solved. And once you solve the closest question, you have taken the first step. Then the pilgrimage begins. Then by and by you start solving those which are distant — but the whole yoga inquiry is to bring you close at home.

So, if you ask Patanjali about God, he won’t answer. In fact, he will think you a little foolish. Yoga thinks all metaphysicians foolish; they are wasting their time about problems which cannot be solved because they are so far away. Better start from the point where you are. You can only start from where you are. Each real journey can begin only from where you are. Don’t ask intellectual, metaphysical questions of the beyond; ask the questions of the within.

This is the first thing to be understood about yoga, it is a science. It is very pragmatic, empirical. It fulfills all the criteria of science. In fact, what you call science is a little far away because science concentrates on objects. And yoga says, unless you understand the subject, which is your nature, closest to you, how can you understand the object? If you don’t know yourself, all else that you know is bound to be erroneous because the base is missing. You are on faulty ground. If you are not enlightened within, then whatsoever light you carry without is not going to help you. And if you carry the light within then there is no fear: let there be darkness outside; your light will be enough for you. It will enlighten your path.

Metaphysics does not help; it confuses. […]

Metaphysics, philosophy, all distant thinking simply confuse you. It leads you nowhere. It muddles your mind. It gives you more and more to think, and it doesn’t help you to become more aware. Thinking is not going to help: only meditation can help. And the difference is: while you think, you are more concerned with thoughts; while you meditate, you are more concerned with the capacity of awareness.

Philosophy is concerned with the mind; yoga is concerned with consciousness. Mind is that of which you can become aware: you can look at your thinking, you can see your thoughts passing, you can see your feelings moving, you can see your dreams floating like clouds. Riverlike, they go on and on; it is a continuum. The one that can see this is consciousness.

The whole effort of yoga is to attain to That which cannot be reduced to an object, which remains irreducible, to be just your subjectivity. You cannot see it because it is the seer. You cannot catch hold of it because all that you can catch hold of is not you. Just because you can catch hold of it, it has become separate from you. This consciousness, which is always elusive and always stands back and whatsoever effort you make all efforts fail . . . to come to this consciousness — how to come to this consciousness — is what yoga is all about.

To be a yogi is to become what you can become. Yoga is the science of stilling what has to be stilled and alerting what can be alerted. Yoga is a science to divide that which is not you and that which is you, to come to a clear-cut division so that you can see yourself in pristine clarity. Once you have a glimpse of your nature, who you are, the whole world changes. Then you can live in the world, and the world will not distract you. Then nothing can distract you; you are centered. Then you can move anywhere you like and you remain unmoving because you have reached and touched the eternal which never moves, which is unchanging.

Today we start the third step of Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras, Vibhuti Pada. It is very significant because the last, the fourth, Kaivalya Pada, will be just attaining to the fruit. This third, Vibhuti Pada, is the ultimate as far as means are concerned, techniques are concerned, methods are concerned. The fourth will be just the outcome of the whole effort. Kaivalya means aloneness, absolute freedom of being alone, no dependence on anybody, on anything — so contented that you are more than enough. This is the goal of yoga. In the fourth part we will be talking only about the fruits, but if you miss the third, you will not be able to understand the fourth. The third is the base.

If the fourth chapter of Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras is destroyed nothing is destroyed because whosoever will be able to attain to the third will attain to the fourth automatically. The fourth can be dropped. It is in fact, in a way, unnecessary because it talks about the end, the goal. Anyone who follows the path will reach to the goal, there is no need to talk about it. Patanjali talks about it to help you, because your mind would like to know, “Where are you going? What is the goal?” Your mind would like to be convinced, and Patanjali does not believe in trust, in faith, in belief. He is a pure scientist. He simply gives a glimpse of the goal, but the whole basis, the whole fundamental basis is in the third.

Up to now we were getting ready for this Vibhuti Pada, the ultimate in means. Up to now in two chapters we have been discussing means which help, but those means were outer. Patanjali calls them bahirang — on the periphery. Now these three — dharana, dhyan, samadhi — concentration, meditation, samadhi — these three he calls antarang, internal. The first five prepare you, your body, your character — you on the periphery — so that you can move inwards. And Patanjali moves step by step: it is a gradual science. It is not a sudden enlightenment; it is a gradual path. Step by step he leads you.

The first sutra:

Dharana, concentration, is confining the mind to the object being mediated upon.

The object, the subject, and the beyond — these three have to be remembered. You look at me I am the object; the one who is looking at me is the subject. And if you become a little more perceptive, you can see yourself looking at me — that is the beyond. You can see yourself looking at me. Just try. I am the object; you are looking at me. You are the subject who is looking at me. You can stand by the side within yourself. You can see that you are looking at me. That is the beyond.

First, one has to concentrate on the object. Concentration means narrowing of the mind.

Ordinarily, mind is in a constant traffic — a thousand and one thoughts go on moving, like a crowd, a mob. With so many objects, you are confused, split. With so many objects you are moving in all directions simultaneously. With so many objects you are always, almost, in a state of insanity, as if you are being pulled from every direction and everything is incomplete. You go to the left, and something pulls you to the right; you go to the south, and something pulls you to the north. You are never going anywhere, just a muddled energy, a whirlpool, constant turmoil, anxiety.

This is the state of ordinary mind — so many objects that the subjectivity is almost covered by them. You cannot have a feel [of] who you are because you are so much concerned with so many things you don’t have a gap to look into yourself. You don’t have that stillness, that aloneness. You are always in the crowd. You cannot find a space, a corner, where you can slip into yourself. And the objects continuously asking for attention, every thought asking for attention, forcing exactly that the attention should be given to it. This is the ordinary state. This is almost insanity.

In fact, to divide mad people from non-mad people is not good. The distinction is only of degrees. It is not of quality: it is only of quantity. Maybe you are ninety-nine percent mad and he has gone beyond — a hundred and one percent. Just watch yourself. Many times, you also cross the boundary; in anger you become mad — you do things you cannot conceive of yourself doing. You do things for which you repent later on. You do things for which you say later on, “I did it in spite of me.” You say, “. . . as if somebody forced me to do it, as if I was possessed. Some evil spirit, some devil forced me to do it. I never wanted to do it.” Many times, you also cross the boundary, but you come back again and again to your normal state of madness.

Go and watch any madman. People are always afraid of watching a madman because, suddenly, watching a madman you realize your own madness also. Immediately it happens because you can see at the most the difference is of degrees. He has gone a little ahead of you, but you are also following, you are also standing in the same queue. […]

Just watch yourself and go and watch a madman, the madman goes on talking alone. You are also talking. You talk invisibly, not so loud, but if somebody watches you rightly, he can see the movement of your lips. Even if the lips are not moving, you are talking inside. A madman talks a little louder; you talk a little less loudly. The difference is of quantity. Who knows? Any day you can talk loudly. Just stand by the side of the road and watch people coming from the office or going to the office. Many of them, you will feel, are talking inside, making gestures.

Even people who are trying to help you — psychoanalysts, therapists — they are also in the same boat. In fact, more psychoanalysts become mad than do people of any other profession. No other profession can compete with psychoanalysts in going mad. It may be because living in close quarters with mad people, by and by, they also become unafraid of being mad; by and by the gap is bridged. […]

In the East, we never created the profession of psychoanalysts, for a certain reason. We created a totally different type of man, the yogi, not the therapist. The yogi is one who is qualitatively different from you. The psychoanalyst is one who is not qualitatively different from you. He is in the same boat; he is just like you. He is not different in any way. The only difference is that he knows about your madness and his madness more than you know. He is more informed about madness, about insanity, neurosis, psychosis. Intellectually, he knows much more about the normal state of human mind and humankind, but he is not different. And the yogi is totally a different man, qualitatively. He is out of the madness you are in: he has dropped that.

And the way in the West, you are looking for causes, for ways and means how to help humanity, seems to have from the very beginning gone wrong. You are still looking for causes outside — and the causes are within. The causes are not outside, not in relationship, not in the world; they are deep in your unconsciousness. They are not in your thinking: they are not in your dreams. The analysis of dreams and the analysis of thoughts is not going to help much. At the most it can make you normally abnormal, not more than that. The basic cause is that you are not aware of the traffic and the traffic noise of the mind, that you are not separate, distant, aloof — that you cannot stand as a witness, as a watcher on the hill. And once you look for a cause in a wrong direction, you can go on piling up case histories upon case histories, as it is happening in the West.

Psychoanalysis goes on piling up case histories upon case histories . . . and nothing seems to come out of it. You dig up the mountain and not even a mouse is found. You dig up the whole mountain — nothing comes out of it. But you become experts in digging, and your life becomes an investment in it, so you go on finding rationalizations for it. Always remember, once you miss to look in the right direction, you can go on infinitely — you will never come back home. […]

Coincidences are not causes: and the Western psychology is looking into coincidences. Somebody is sad: you start immediately looking into coincidences why he is sad. There must have been something wrong in his childhood. There must have been something wrong in the way he was brought up. There must have been something wrong in the relationship between the child and the mother or the father. There must have been wrongs, something wrong in the environment. You are looking for coincidences.

Causes are within, coincidences without. That is the basic emphasis of yoga, that you are looking wrongly now and you will not ever find real help. You are sad because you are not aware. You are unhappy because you are not aware. You are in misery because you don’t know who you are. All else is just coincidences.

Look deep down. You are in a misery because you have been missing yourself, you have not yet met yourself. And the first thing to be done is dharana. Too many objects are there in the mind; the mind is much too overcrowded. Drop those objects by and by; narrow down your mind; bring it to a point where only one object remains.

Have you ever concentrated on anything? Concentration means your whole mind is focused on one thing, on a rose flower. You have looked at a rose so many times, but you have never concentrated on a rose. If you concentrate on a rose, the rose becomes the whole world. Your mind becomes narrowed down, focused like a torchlight, and the rose becomes bigger and bigger and bigger. The rose was one in a million objects, then it was a very small thing. Now it is the all, the whole.

If you can concentrate on a rose, the rose will reveal qualities that you have never seen before. It will reveal colors that you have been missing always. It will reveal to you fragrances that were always there, but you were not sensitive enough to recognize. If you concentrate totally then your nose is only filled with the fragrance of the rose — all else is excluded, only the rose is included in your consciousness, is allowed in. Everything excluded, the whole world drops out, only the rose becomes your world.

There is a beautiful story in Buddhist literature. Once Buddha said to his disciple, Sariputra, “Concentrate on laughter.” He asked, “For what am I to look into it?” Buddha said, “You are not to look for anything specially. You simply concentrate on laughter, and whatsoever laughter reveals, you report.”

Sariputra reported. Never before and never after has anybody looked so deeply in laughter. Sariputra defined and categorized laughter in six categories “They are arranged in hierarchical fashion from the most sublime to the most sensuous and unrefined.” The laughter revealed its inner being to Sariputra.

First, he called sita: “a faint, almost imperceptible smile manifest in the subtleties of the facial expression and countenance alone.” If you are very, very alert, only then can you see the laughter he called sita. If you watch Buddha’s face you will find it there. It is very subtle, very refined. If you are very, very concentrated, only then will you see it, otherwise you will miss it because it is just in the expression. Not even the lips are moving. In fact, there is no visible thing, it is invisible laughter. That may be the reason Christians think Jesus never laughed: it may have been sita. It is said that Sariputra found sita on Buddha’s face. It was rare. It was very rare because it is one of the most refined things. When your soul reaches to the highest point, only then sita. Then it is not something that you do it is simply there for anybody who is sensitive enough, concentrated enough, to see it.

Second, Sariputra said, hasita: “a smile involving a slight movement of the lips and barely revealing the tips of the teeth.” Third he called vihasita: “a broad smile accompanied by a modicum of laughter.” Fourth he called upahasita: “accentuated laughter, louder in volume, associated with movements of the head, shoulders and arms.” Fifth he called apahasita: “loud laughter that brings tears.” And sixth he called atihasita: “the most boisterous, uproarious laughter, attended by movements of the whole body, doubling over in raucous guffawing, convulsions, hysterics.”

When you concentrate even on a small thing like laughter, it becomes a tremendous, a very big thing — the whole world.

Concentration reveals to you things which are not ordinarily revealed. Ordinarily, you live in a very indifferent mood. You simply go on living as if half asleep — looking, and not looking at all; seeing, and not seeing at all; hearing, and not hearing at all. Concentration brings energy to your eyes. If you look at a thing with a concentrated mind, everything excluded, suddenly that small thing reveals much that was always there waiting.

The whole of science is concentration. Watch a scientist working; he is in concentration.

There is an anecdote about Pasteur. He was working, looking through his microscope, so silent, so unmoving that a visitor had come and waited for a long time, and he was afraid to disturb him. Something sacred surrounded the scientist. When Pasteur came out of his concentration, he asked the visitor. “How long have you been waiting? Why didn’t you tell me before?”

He said, “I was going to tell you many times. In fact, I am in a hurry. I have to reach somewhere, and some message has to be delivered to you, but you were in such deep concentration — almost as if praying — that I could not disturb. It was sacred.”

Pasteur said. “You are right. It is my prayer. Whenever I feel disturbed and whenever I feel too many worries and whenever I feel too many thoughts, I simply take my microscope. I look through it — immediately, the whole world drops, I am concentrated.”

A scientist’s whole work is of concentration, remember this. Science can become the first step towards yoga because concentration is the first inner step of yoga. Each scientist, if he goes on growing and does not get stuck, will become a yogi. He is on the way because he is fulfilling the first condition, concentration.

Dharana, concentration, is confining the mind to the object being meditated upon.

Dhyan, contemplation, is the uninterrupted flow of the mind to the object.

First, concentration dropping the crowd of objects and choosing one object. Once you have chosen one object, and you can retain one object in your consciousness, concentration is achieved. Now the second step, uninterrupted flow of consciousness toward the object, as if light is falling from a torch, uninterrupted. Or, have you seen? You pour water from one pot to another pot, the flow will be interrupted; it will not be uninterrupted. You pour oil from one pot to another pot: the flow will be uninterrupted, continuous; the thread will not be broken.

Dhyan, contemplation, means your consciousness falling on the object in continuity, with no break — because each break means you are distracted, you have gone somewhere else. If you can attain the first, the second is not difficult. If you cannot attain the first, the second is impossible. Once you drop objects, you choose one object, then you drop all loopholes in your consciousness, all distractions in your consciousness, you simply pour yourself on one object.

When you look at one object the object reveals its qualities. A small object can reveal all the qualities of God.

There is a poem of Tennyson. He was going for a morning walk and he came across an old wall, and in the wall, there was grass growing, and a small flower had bloomed. He looked at that flower. The morning, he must have been feeling relaxed, happy, energy must have been flowing, the sun was rising . . . Suddenly the thought occurred to his mind — looking at this small flower he said, “If I can understand you root and all, I will understand the whole universe.” Because each small particle is a miniature universe.

Each small particle carries the whole universe as each drop carries the whole ocean. If you can understand one drop of ocean you have understood all oceans; now there is no need to understand each drop. One drop will do. Concentration reveals the qualities of the drop, and the drop becomes the ocean.

Meditation reveals the qualities of consciousness, and the individual consciousness becomes cosmic consciousness. First reveals the object: second reveals the subject. An uninterrupted flow of consciousness towards any object . . . In that uninterrupted flow, in that unfrozen flow, just in that flow . . . you are simply flowing like a river, with no interruption, with no distraction . . . suddenly you become for the first time aware about the subjectivity that you have been carrying all along — who you are.

In an uninterrupted flow of consciousness ego disappears. You become the self, egoless self, selfless self. You have also become an ocean.

The second, contemplation, is the way of the artist. The first, concentration, is the way of the scientist. The scientist is concerned with the outside world, not with himself. The artist is concerned with himself, not with the outside world. When a scientist brings something, he brings it from the objective world. When an artist brings something, he brings it out of himself. A poem, he digs deep in himself. A painting, he digs deep in himself. Don’t ask the artist about being objective. He is a subjectivist.

Have you seen Van Gogh’s trees? They almost reach to the heavens; they touch the stars. They overreach. Trees like that exist nowhere — except in Van Gogh’s paintings. Stars are small and trees are big. Somebody asked Van Gogh, “From where do you create these trees? We have never seen such trees.” He said, “Out of me. Because, to me, trees always seem desires of the earth to meet the sky.” “Desires of the earth to meet the sky” — then the tree is totally transformed, a metamorphosis has happened. Then the tree is not an object; it has become a subjectivity. As if the artist realizes the tree by becoming a tree himself.

There are many beautiful stories about Zen Masters because Zen Masters were great painters and great artists. That is one of the most beautiful things about Zen. No other religion has been so creative, and unless a religion is creative, it is not a total religion — something is missing.

One Zen Master used to tell his disciples, “If you want to paint a bamboo, become a bamboo.” There is no other way. How can you paint a bamboo if you have not felt it from within? . . . if you have not felt yourself as a bamboo standing against the sky, standing against the wind, standing against the rains, standing high with pride in the sun? If you have not heard the noise of the wind passing through the bamboo as the bamboo hears it, if you have not felt the rain falling on the bamboo as the bamboo feels it, how can you paint a bamboo? If you have not heard the sound of the cuckoo as the bamboo hears it, how can you paint a bamboo? Then you paint a bamboo as a photographer. You may be a camera, but you are not an artist.

The camera belongs to the world of science. The camera is scientific. It simply shows the objectivity of the bamboo. But when a Master looks at the bamboo, he is not looking from the outside. He drops himself by and by. His uninterrupted flow of consciousness falls on the bamboo, there happens a meeting, a marriage, a communion, where it is very difficult to say who is bamboo and who is consciousness — everything meets and merges and boundaries disappear.

The second, dhyan, contemplation, is the way of the artist. That’s why artists sometimes have glimpses as of the mystics. That’s why poetry sometimes says something which prose can never say, and paintings sometimes show something for which there is no other way to show. The artist is reaching even closer to the religious person, to the mystic.

If a poet just remains a poet, he is stuck. He has to flow, he has to move: from concentration to meditation and from meditation to samadhi. One has to go on moving.

Dhyan is uninterrupted flow of the mind to the object. Try it. And it will be good if you choose some object which you love. You can choose your beloved, you can choose your child, you can choose a flower — anything that you love — because in love it becomes easier to fall uninterruptedly on the object of love. Look in the eyes of your beloved. First forget the whole world; let your beloved be the world. Then look into the eyes and become a continuous flow, uninterrupted, falling into her — oil being poured from one pot into another. No distraction. Suddenly, you will be able to see who you are; you will be able to see your subjectivity for the first time.

But remember, this is not the end. Object and subject, both are two parts of one whole. Day and night, both are two parts of one whole. Life and death, both are two parts of one whole existence. Object is out, subject is in — you are neither out nor in. This is very difficult to understand because ordinarily it is said, “Go within.” That is just a temporary phase. One has to go even beyond that. Without and within — both are out. You are that who can go without and who can come within. You are that who can move between these two polarities. You are beyond the polarities. That third state is samadhi.

Samadhi is when the mind becomes one with the object.

When the subject disappears in the object, the object disappears in the subject, when there is nothing to look at and there is no looker-on, when simply the duality is not there, a tremendously potential silence prevails. You cannot say what exists because there is nobody to say. You cannot make any statement about samadhi because all statements will fall short. Because whatsoever you can say either will be scientific or will be poetic. Religion remains inexpressible, elusive.

So, there are two types of religious expression. Patanjali tries the scientific terminology. Because religion in itself has no terminology — the whole cannot be expressed. To express, it has to be divided. To express, either it has to be put as an object or as a subject. It has to be divided — to say anything about it is to divide it. Patanjali chooses the scientific terminology: Buddha also chooses the scientific terminology. Lao Tzu, Jesus, they choose the poetic terminology. But both are terminologies. It depends on the mind. Patanjali is a scientific mind, very rooted in logic, analysis. Jesus is a poetic mind; Lao Tzu is a perfect poet, he chooses the way of poetry. But remember always that both ways fall short. One has to go beyond.

Samadhi is when the mind becomes one with the object.

When the mind becomes one with the object, there is no one who is a knower and there is none who is known.

And unless you come to know this — this knowing which is beyond the known and the knower — you have missed your life. You may have been chasing butterflies, dreams, maybe attaining a little pleasure here and there, but you have missed the ultimate benediction.

A jar of honey having been upset in a housekeeper’s room, a number of flies were attracted by its sweetness. Placing their feet in it they ate greedily. Their feet, however, became so smeared with honey that they could not use their wings nor release themselves and were suffocated. Just as they were expiring, one of them exclaimed, “Ah, foolish creatures that we are, for the sake of a little pleasure we have destroyed ourselves.”

Remember, this is the possibility for you also. You may get smeared with the earth so much that you cannot use your wings. You may get loaded with your small pleasures so much that you forget all about the ultimate bliss, which was always yours just for the asking. In collecting pebbles and shells on the seashore, you may miss the utterly blissful treasure of your being. Remember this. This is happening. Only rarely somebody becomes aware enough not to be caught in this ordinary imprisonment of life.

I am not saying don’t enjoy. The sunshine is beautiful and the flowers also and butterflies also, but don’t get lost in them. Enjoy them, nothing is wrong in them, but always remember, the tremendously beautiful is waiting. Relax sometimes in the sunshine, but don’t make it a life-style. Sometimes relax and play with pebbles on the seashore. Nothing is wrong in it. As a holiday, as a picnic, it can be allowed, but don’t make it your very life then you will miss it. And remember, wherever you pay your attention, that becomes your reality of life. If you pay your attention to pebbles, they become diamonds — because wherever is your attention, there is your treasure. […]

Remember, wherever you pay your attention, that becomes your reality. And once it becomes a reality, it becomes powerful to attract you and your attention. Then you pay more attention to it: it becomes even more of a reality and, by and by, the unreal that is created by your mind becomes your only reality, and the real is completely forgotten.

The real has to be sought. And the only way to reach it is, first, drop too many objects, let there be one object: second, drop all distractions. Let your consciousness fall on that object in an uninterrupted flow. And the third happens by itself. If these two conditions are fulfilled, samadhi happens on its own accord. Suddenly one day the subject and object both have disappeared: the guest and the host both have disappeared: silence reigns, stillness reigns. In that stillness, you attain to the goal of life.

Patanjali says:

The three taken together — dharana, dhyan, and samadhi – constitute samyama.

Such a beautiful definition of samyama. Ordinarily, samyama is thought to be a discipline, a controlled state of character. It is not. Samyama is the balance which is attained when subject and object disappear. Samyama is the tranquility when the duality is no more within you and you are not divided and you have become one.

Sometimes it happens naturally also, because if it were not so, Patanjali would not have been able to discover it. Sometimes it happens naturally also — it has happened to you also. You cannot find a man to whom there have not been moments of reality. Accidentally, sometimes you fall in tune, not knowing the mechanism of how it happens, but sometimes you fall in tune, and suddenly it is there.

One man wrote me a letter and he said, “Today I attained five minutes of reality.” I like the expression “five minutes of reality.” “And how did it happen?” I inquired. He said that he had been ill for a few days. And this is unbelievable, but this is true, that to many people, in illness sometimes, the tranquility comes — because in illness your ordinary life is stopped. For a few days he was ill and he was not allowed to move out of the bed, so he was relaxing — nothing to do. Relaxed, after four, five days, suddenly one day it happened. He was just lying down, looking at the ceiling and it happened — those five minutes of reality. Everything stopped. Time stopped; space disappeared. There was nothing to look at, and there was nobody to look. Suddenly there was oneness, as if everything fell in line, became one piece.

To a few people it happens while they are making love. A total orgasm, and after the orgasm everything silences, everything falls into line . . . one relaxes. The frozenness is gone, one is no longer tense, the storm is gone, and the silence that comes after it . . . and suddenly there is reality.

Sometimes walking in the sun against the wind, enjoying. Sometimes swimming in the river, flowing with the river. Sometimes doing nothing, just relaxing on the sand, looking at the stars, it happens.

But those are just accidents. And because they are accidents, and because they don’t fit in your total style of life, you forget them. You don’t pay much attention to them. You just shrug your shoulders, and you forget all about them. Otherwise, in everybody’s life, sometimes, reality penetrates.

Yoga is a systematic way to reach to that which sometimes happens only accidentally. Yoga makes a science out of all those accidents and coincidences.

The three taken together constitute samyama. The three — concentration, meditation, and samadhi — are as if they are the three legs of a three-legged stool, the trinity.

By mastering it, the light of higher consciousness.

Those who attain to this trinity of concentration, meditation and samadhi, to them happens the light of higher consciousness.

“Climb high, climb far, your goal the sky, your aim the star.” But the journey starts where you are. Step by step, climb high, climb far, your goal the sky, your aim the star. Unless you become as vast as the sky, don’t rest; the journey is not yet complete. Unless you reach and become an eternal light, the star, don’t become complacent, don’t feel contented. Let the divine discontent burn like a fire, so that one day, out of all your efforts the star is born and you become an eternal light.

By mastering it, the light of higher consciousness. Once you master these three inner steps, the light becomes available to you. And when the inner light is available, you always live in that light: “At dusk the cock announces dawn. At midnight, the bright sun.” Then even in the midnight there is bright sun available; then even at dusk the cock announces dawn. When you have the inner light there is no darkness. Wherever you go your inner light moves with you — you move in it, you are it.

Remember that your mind always tries to make you satisfied wherever you are; the mind says there is nothing more to life. The mind goes on trying to convince you that you have arrived. The mind does not allow you to become divinely discontent. And it always can find rationalizations. Don’t listen to those rationalizations. They are not real reasons; they are tricks of the mind because the mind does not want to go, to move. Mind is basically lazy. Mind is a sort of entropy: the mind wants to settle, to make your home anywhere but make your home; just settle, don’t be a wanderer.

To be a sannyasin means to become a wanderer in consciousness. To be a sannyasin means to become a vagabond — in consciousness — go on searching and wandering. “Climb high, climb far, your goal the sky, your aim the star.” […]

Unless you become a god! Take rest sometimes by the way, but always remember: it is only a night’s rest; by the morning we go.

There are a few people who are satisfied with their worldly achievements. There are a few more who are not satisfied with their worldly achievements but who are satisfied by the promises of the priests. Those, the second category, you call religious. They are also not religious — because religion is not a promise. It has to be attained. Nobody else can promise you; you have to attain it. All promises are consolations, and all consolations are dangerous because they are like opium. They drug you. […]

Yoga is self-effort. Yoga has no priests. It has only Masters who have attained by their own effort — and in their light you have to learn how to attain yourself. Avoid the promises of the priests. They are the most dangerous people on earth, because they don’t allow you to become really discontent. They go on consoling you; and if you are consoled before you have attained, you are cheated, you are deceived. Yoga believes in effort, in tremendous effort. One has to become worthy. One has to earn God; you have to pay the cost. […]

The yoga is not just an idea, it is a practice, it is abhyas, it is a discipline, it is a science of inner transformation. And remember, nobody can start it for you. You have to start it for yourself. Yoga teaches you to trust yourself; yoga teaches you to become confident of yourself. Yoga teaches you that the journey is alone. A Master can indicate the way, but you have to follow it.

-Osho

From Yoga: The Science of Living; Yoga: The Science of the Soul, V.7, Discourse #1 (Previously titled Yoga: The Alpha and the Omega).

Copyright © OSHO International Foundation

This discourse is the Listening Meditation in the twelfth 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.

Samyama: A Synthesis of Consciousness – Osho

What is samyama? That has to be understood. Samyama is the greatest synthesis of human consciousness, the synthesis of three: dharana, dhyan, samadhi.

Ordinarily, your mind is continuously jumping from one object to another. Not for a single moment are you in tune with one object. You go on jumping. Your mind goes on constantly moving; it is like a flux. This moment something is in the focus of the mind, next moment something else, next moment still something else. This is the ordinary state of mind.

The first step out of it is dharana. Dharana means concentration – fixing your whole consciousness on one object, not allowing the object to disappear, bringing again and again your consciousness on the object so that the unconscious habit of the mind of continuous flux can be dropped; because once the habit of continuous change can be dropped, you attain to an integrity, to a crystallization. When there are so many objects moving continuously, you remain so many. Understand it. You remain divided because your objects are divided.

For example, you love one woman today, another woman tomorrow, another woman the third day. That will create a division in you. You cannot be one; you will become many. You will become a crowd. Hence the Eastern insistence to create a love in which you can remain for a longer period, as long as possible. There have been experiments in the East in which a couple has remained a couple for many lives together. Again and again the same woman, the same man: that gives an integrity. Too much change erodes your being, splits you. So if in the West the schizophrenia is becoming almost a normal thing, it is not something to be wondered at. It is not strange; it is natural. Everything is changing.

I have heard that one film actress in Hollywood got married to her eleventh husband. She came home, introduced the new dad to the children. The children brought a register, and they said to the dad, “Please sign it, because today you are here, tomorrow you may be gone; and we are accumulating the signatures, autographs, of all our dads.”

You go on changing houses; you go on changing everything. In America the average limit of a person’s job is three years. The job is also continuously changing. The house – the average limit of a person staying in one town is also three years. And the average limit of marriage is also three years. Somehow three years seems to be very important. It seems if you remain the fourth year with the same woman there is fear that you may get settled. If you remain in the same job more than three years there is fear that you may get settled. So people go on; they have become almost vagabonds. That creates divisions inside you.

In the East we tried to give a job to a person as part of his life. A man was born in a Brahmin house: he remained a Brahmin. That was a great experiment to give stability. A man was born in a shoemaker’s house: he remained a shoemaker. The marriage, the family, the job, the town–people were born in the same town and they would die in the same town. Lao Tzu remembers, “I have heard that in the ancient days people had not gone beyond the river.” They had heard dogs barking on the other side, the other shore. They had inferred that there must be a town because in the evening they had seen smoke rising – people must be cooking. They had heard dogs barking, but they had not bothered to go and see. People were so harmoniously settled. 

This constant change simply says that your mind is feverish. You cannot stay longer at anything; then your whole life becomes a life of continuous change – as if a tree is being uprooted again and again and again and never gets the right time to send its roots deep down into the earth. The tree will be alive only for the name’s sake. It will not be able to bloom, not possible, because before flowers come, the roots have to settle.

So, concentration means bringing your consciousness to one object and becoming capable of retaining it there – any object. If you are looking at a rose flower, you continuously look at it. Again and again the mind wanders, goes here and there; you bring it back. You tame the mind – you tame the bull. You bring it back to the rose. The mind goes again; you bring it back. By and by, the mind starts being with the rose for longer periods. Once your mind remains with the rose for a long period, you will be able for the first time to know what a rose is. It is not just a rose: God has flowered in it. The fragrance is not only of the rose; the fragrance is divine. But you never were en rapport with it for long.

Sit with a tree and be with it. Sit with your boyfriend or girlfriend and be with him or her, and bring yourself again and again. Otherwise, what is happening? Even if you are making love to a woman, you are thinking of something else – maybe moving in a totally different world. Even in love you are not focused. You miss much. A door opens, but you are not there to see it. You come back when the door is closed again.

Each moment there are millions of opportunities to see God, but you are not there. He comes and knocks at your doors, but you are not there. You are never found there. You go on roaming around the world. This roaming has to be stopped; that’s what is the meaning of dharana. Dharana is the first step of the great synthesis of samyama.

The second step is dhyan. In dharana, in concentration, you bring your mind to a focus: the object is important. You have to bring again and again the object in your consciousness; you are not to lose track of it. The object is important in dharana. The second step is dhyan, meditation. In meditation the object is not important anymore; it becomes secondary. Now, the flow of consciousness becomes important – the very consciousness which is being poured on the object. Any object will do, but your consciousness should be poured in a continuity; there should not be gaps.

Have you watched? If you pour water from one pot to another, there are gaps. If you pour oil from one pot to another, there are not gaps. Oil has a continuity; water falls discontinuously. Dhyan means, meditation means, your consciousness should be falling on any object of concentration in a continuity. Otherwise it is flickering. It is constantly flickering; it is not a continuous torch. Sometimes it is there, then disappears; then again is there, then disappears; then again is there. In dhyan you have to make it a continuity, an absolute continuity.

When consciousness becomes continuous, you become tremendously strong. For the first time you feel what life is. For the first time, holes in your life disappear. For the first time you are together. Your togetherness means the togetherness of consciousness. If your consciousness is like drops of water and not a continuity, you cannot be really there. Those gaps will be a disturbance. Your life will be very dim and faint; it will not have strength, force, energy. When consciousness flows in a continuous, river like phenomenon, you have become a waterfall of energy.

This is the second step of samyama, the second ingredient; and then is the third ingredient, the ultimate, that is samadhi. In dharana, concentration, the object is important because you have to choose one object amidst millions. In dhyan, meditation, consciousness is important; you have to make consciousness a continuous flow. In samadhi the subject is important: the subject has to be dropped.

You dropped many objects. When there were many objects, you were many subjects, a crowd, a poly-psychic existence – not one mind, many minds. People come to me and they say, “I would like to take sannyas, but….” That “but” brings the second mind. They think they are the same, but the “but” brings another mind. They are not one. They would like to do something and, at the same time, they would not like to do it – two minds. If you watch you will find many minds in you – almost a marketplace.

When there are too many objects, there are too many minds corresponding to them. When there is one object, one mind arises – focused, centered, rooted, grounded. Now this one mind has to be dropped; otherwise you will remain in the ego. The many has been dropped; now drop the one also. In samadhi this one mind has to be dropped. When one mind drops, the one object also disappears because it cannot be there. They always are together.

In samadhi only consciousness remains, as pure space.

These three together are called samyama. Samyama is the greatest synthesis of human Consciousness.

-Osho

Excerpt from Secrets of Yoga, Discourse #1 (Originally published as Yoga: The Alpha and the Omega, V.8).

 

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright© OSHO International Foundation

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.