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(OSHO – The man of spontaneity, rebellious and TRUTH. Only because of OSHO Spiritual Revolution has happened. He is the courageous one who tare all kind of mask behind the Sex, Religion, Politics, Culture, Morality etc., In this fast running material world without touch of the great Master OSHO it is very difficult to know ONESELF.)
1)Osho talks on Ramana Maharshi's deep samadhi experience:
OSHO: This is the way Ramana Maharshi experienced the sudden opening into the ultimate consciousness, in which his individual identity was almost entirely lost. A family relation had died, and young Ramana decided to explore directly the experience of death. His motive stemmed more from curiosity than any feeling of bereavement. Ramana removed all his clothes, lay on the floor of his room, and with tremendous intensity, imagined his body dead. He closed his eyes, simulating the state of deep sleep. Suddenly there flashed into view, timeless and complete, the primal awareness that lies at the source of our being, the ultimate consciousness that is the source of being itself. And when he opened his eyes, he was totally a different man.
What happened? Somebody had died, a relation. Ramana was only seventeen. He was not a very extraordinary student or anything -- nothing special about him, except one thing and that was his deep sleep. So deep was his sleep that it was almost impossible to wake him up. The family was tired. You could go on shouting, pulling him from the bed.... And sometimes the sleep used to come any time of the day -- he might fall asleep in the school, and the children had to carry him back to his home. That was his only speciality. Other children would be playing and he would fall asleep on the ground, and they would poke, and they would pummel and they would beat him, and he would not be there at all. And they would have to carry him home.
That was his only speciality, but of great significance, because deep sleep is very close to samadhi, just the threshold of samadhi. That has been my speciality too. It was almost a problem in my college in university -- because I would fall asleep. My teachers were very angry, because who wants somebody falling asleep? And I was a student of philosophy, and there were not many people because very few people go to study philosophy. In my MA class we were only three students, Sol would be sleeping just in front of the teacher. And he would come and shake me up.
Sometimes it would happen that I would be the only person, the other two had not come. And just looking at me he would say, "Finished! You go home. And I will go home, I can sleep myself. What is the point?"Deep sleep is the threshold. That's why this incident was possible. Somebody died; Ramana was only seventeen and he thought, "What is death? Let me experience it." He threw his clothes, simulated death, fell on the floor. He had seen the relative lying on the floor; so just the same way he fell on the floor, closed his eyes, and started thinking, "I am dying, I am dying, I am dying."
And he died! The ego disappeared. And here the ego disappeared and there God appeared -- the primal awareness. And when he opened his eyes he was no more the same person. He left the home, immediately, without saying anything to anybody. It was not a renunciation. He simply left the home because there was no point. It was not that he was against the world or anything. There was no point any more. He went out and NEVER came back. The mother searched for him for years; finally, after ten years, she found him in Arunachal in a mountain cave. But he was a totally different man. And the mother asked him, "Why didn't you inform me?"
And he said, "But the thought never came to me. In fact, thoughts have stopped coming to me. I sit and sit and days pass, and there are no thoughts coming. Good that you have come! Live with me.... "
This primal awareness is God, thoughtless awareness is God. This is the wine Sufis talk about, and once you have drunk of this wine, nothing else is needed for you to forget yourself -- because you are no more, there is no need to forget.
2)OSHO Explanations of J. Krishnamurti’s Poem:
I have no name;
I am as the fresh breeze of the mountains.
I have no shelter;
I am as the wandering waters.
I have no sanctuary, like the dark gods;
Nor am I in the shadow of deep temples.
I have no sacred books;
Nor am I well-seasoned in tradition.
I am not in the incense,
Mounting on the high altars,
Nor in the pomp of ceremonies.
I am neither in the graven image,
Nor in the rich chant of a melodious voice.
I am not bound by theories,
Nor corrupted by beliefs.
I am not held in the bondage of religions,
Nor in the pious agony of their priests.
I am not entrapped by philosophies,
Nor held in the power of their sects.
I am neither low nor high,
I am the worshipper and the worshipped.
I am free.
My song is the song of the river
Calling for the open seas,
Wandering, wandering,
I am Life.
I have no name,
I am as the fresh breeze of the mountains.
OSHO: Truth has no name and truth is not confined in any system of thought. Truth is not a theory, a theology, a philosophy. Truth is the experience of that which is. Truth is not the intellectual or emotional; truth is existential.
These are the three layers of human consciousness. The first is the intellectual: it theorizes, it spins and weaves beautiful words, but with no meaning at all. It is a very cunning part, very deceptive. It can make you believe in words as if they have some substance. It talks about God, truth, freedom, love, meditation, but it only talks; it is just words and words and words. Those words are empty shells; if you look deep down into them they are hollow.
This part goes on decorating; it uses big jargon to hide its inner emptiness. And our whole education -- social, religious, cultural -- consists only of words. It only cultivates the intellectual part of our being, which is the most superficial. Through the intellect you cannot reach to the divine, through the, intellect you will be lost in the jungle of words. That's how millions of people are lost. Between you and God the greatest barrier is your so-called intellect. Remember, your intellect is not intelligence. Intelligence is a totally different matter.
Intellect is a pseudo coin; it pretends to be intelligence but it is not. And because you don't know the real you are easily deceived by the unreal, by the pseudo. Beware of the intellectual layer of your being, which is the most developed; that is the danger. The most superficial is the most cultivated. The most superficial is the most nourished. From the school to the university, the superficial is being nourished, strengthened. And slowly, slowly you get caught up in it, you become entrapped. Then people think about love; they don't feel, they only think.
Krishnamurti relates an incident which happened when he was travelling in a car. The car accidentally knocked down a poor animal, but two persons inside the car did not notice what had happened because they were engrossed in a conversation on how to be aware!
This is the situation of the majority of humanity.
God is present everywhere. Wherever you turn, He is Open your eyes, He is, close your eyes and He is -- because nothing else exists. God means isness. Anything that participates in existence is divine. But you don't see; you go on talking about God, discussing. You have become so clever in hair-splitting, in logic-chopping. You have become so full of rubbish, which you call knowledge, because you can repeat the Vedas, the Koran, the Bible, like parrots. You have to be aware of this dangerous layer that surrounds you like a hard shell.
Krishnamurti is right when he says, "I have no name.... "
The word 'God' is not God, and the word 'love' is not love either. If you become too much engrossed in the word 'god' you will go on missing God forever. If you become too much intrigued by the word 'love' then you can go to the library, you can consult all the books -- and there are millions written about love by people who don't know anything about love -- you can collect great information about love, but to know about love is not to know love. Knowing love is a totally different dimension.
Knowledge about love is very simple; you can become a walking encyclopaedia. You can know all the theories of love without ever testing any theory in your experience, without ever living a single moment of love, without any taste of what love is.
"I am as the fresh breeze of the mountains..."
God is neither old nor new, or, God is the most ancient, and as fresh as the dewdrops in the early morning sun -- because only God is. God is non-temporal; it does not belong to the dimension of time. Hence you cannot call it old or new -- it is fresh, virgin. You need not go into the scriptures. You certainly have to go into the breeze that is passing through the pine trees, you certainly have to go into the fragrance that is being released by the flowers.
Now...! You have to go into This moment with your total being, you have to relax herenow, and all the scriptures will be revealed to you. The Vedas and the Gitas and the Korans will be sung in your deepest core of being. Then you will know that all the scriptures are true; but first your own inner scripture has to be known, understood.
"I have no shelter,
I am as the wandering waters."
God is life -- hence God is movement, hence God is constant change; that is the paradox of existence. It is something that never changes and yet constantly changes. At the innermost core everything remains the same, but on the circumference nothing is ever the same. God is change and no-change. God is eternity and flux.
If you look at the world, you look at the manifest God, which is constant change -- it is like a river moving and moving -- but if you look at the unmanifest, then God is always the same. God is both. This world is not separate from God. You need not go in search of Him anywhere else; He is hidden here, He is playing hide-and-seek here.
"I have no sanctuary
Like the dark gods;
Nor am I in the shadow of deep temples.
I have no sacred books;
Nor am I well-seasoned in tradition."
Religion has nothing to do with tradition or sacred books, religion has something to do with existential experience. Your first layer is intellectual -- that has nothing to do with religion. You have to bypass it, you have to take a jump out of it.
Your second layer is emotional, the layer of feeling, where intuitions arise, visions are revealed, dreams of the unknown descend; where poetry is born, and the dance, and the song. It is closer to God. The intellectual layer is perfectly good for the mundane world, for the marketplace. It is calculation, mathematics; it can become science, technology. It has its uses -- use it, but don't be used by it. The second layer is closer to God; it is the layer of feeling.
The first layer is masculine, the second layer is feminine. The first layer is aggressive, the second layer is receptive. The first layer believes in action, the second layer is a tremendous passivity. It is like a womb. It is an open door, it is a deep welcome. The first goes in search for truth in a very aggressive way; it thinks in terms of conquering. Even a man like Bertrand Russell writes a book, Conquest of Nature. Bertrand Russell remained confined to the first layer.
He had the intrinsic capacity to go far deeper into reality, but he remained concerned with words, logic, mathematics. He thought in terms of conquering nature: how the part could conquer the whole, how the drop could conquer the ocean, how the leaf could conquer the tree. It is utter nonsense! The very idea of conquest is ugly, but that's how the male part of your being thinks. It is aggressive, it is violent, it is destructive, it is coercive, it is possessive, it is imperialistic.
The second layer is intuitive: that of feeling, that of dreaming. The second layer is poetic, aesthetic, of deep sensitivity. It is totally different, its approach is different -- it does not analyze. The first part believes in analysis, the second part synthesizes.
Sigmund Freud remained with the first part, Assagioli moved to the second. Hence Sigmund Freud could create psychoanalysis, Assagioli could introduce a totally new concept, of psychosynthesis. But Sigmund Freud will look more scientific, obviously, more logical, rational. Assagioli will look like a visionary, a poet, but Assagioli goes deeper.
Poetry always goes deeper than prose. Singing always goes deeper than syllogism.
Become aware of the second layer in you, help it to revive. The society has repressed it, the society does not want it to function. The society is afraid of the second layer because the second layer is irrational, uncontrollable, unpredictable, because the second layer cannot be reduced to mechanical manipulations. The first layer is easily available for the politician, for the priest to dominate.
It is easily available for the educators, the pedagogues to condition, to hypnotize. The second is not available. The second is so deep that the hands of the priest and the politicians and the pedagogues cannot reach to it. You will have to help your second layer to become more prominent. The emphasis has to shift from the first to the second. And the second is not the last, the second is only the door. The third is the last.
The third layer is that of being.
The first is intellectual, the second is emotional, the third is existential. With the first you think, with the second you feel, with the third YOU ARE. With the third, thinking disappears, feeling disappears. Only a kind of witnessing remains, a pure consciousness, an awareness. That's what meditation is all about.
All sacred scriptures are in the head, and all your rituals, religions, are in the head. Your rituals, your religions, your theologies, don't even reach to the second. If you want to reach to the second you will have to learn from the painters and the poets and the singers, musicians, dancers. You will have to go into the world of art. But if you want to go to the third -- and without going to the third you will never know what God is -- you will have to go into a deep communion with a Master.
Only a mystic can make you attuned with your own innermost being. Only one who is in at-onement with his own being can infect you. Religion is something like a contagious disease. It is not disease, it is health, ultimate health, but health can become as contagious as any illness can ever become.
Religion has to be learned only in the vicinity of a Master. It cannot be learned from traditions, from scriptures. You will need somebody alive so that you can be in love, somebody alive who can by his presence trigger a process in your being. It cannot be taught, it can only be caught.
"I am not in the incense
Mounting on high altars,
Nor in the pomp of ceremonies.
I am neither in the graven image,
Nor in the rich chant of a melodious voice.
I am not bound by theories,
Nor corrupted by beliefs.
I am not held in the bondage of religions,
Nor in the pious agony of their priests.
I am not entrapped by philosophies,
Nor held in the power of their sects.
I am neither low nor high,
I am the worshipper and the worshipped."
That statement is of tremendous value: I am the worshipper and the worshipped. You are the seeker and the sought, you are the devotee and the deity, you are the temple and the Master of the temple. You need not go anywhere. If you need go anywhere it is only inwards, into your own interiority.
"I am neither low nor high,
I am the worshipper and the worshipped.
I am free.
My song is the song of the river
Calling for the open seas,
Wandering, wandering,
I am Life."
3) OSHO talks on Gurdjieff:
Question:Beloved Osho…What happened to Gurdjieff When he had his Car Accident?
Osho: The system of the George Gurdjieff is a little bit strange, and it is certainly different from all other, old approaches. His whole work was concentrated on creating an absolute feeling of distinction between the body and consciousness. Not just as a philosophical idea but as an actual experience.
It happens to everybody in death, but most people die unconsciously. The consciousness separates completely from the body to go on its pilgrimage which is eternal. The journey of the body is very small, but it all happens in unconsciousness. It is a natural surgery.
A surgeon cannot remove a small piece of your body while you are conscious. He has to make you unconscious, then he can remove anything. He can kill you; you will never know about it. But if you are conscious, then the pain of a deep-rooted identity being broken is so terrible, so unbearable, that you won't allow him to do it. It has happened only once in India just at the beginning of this century.
The maharaja of Varanasi had to go through an operation to remove his appendix. The best surgeons from all over the world were attending him. But a great problem arose: he was not ready to take anything from which he loses his consciousness. His whole life's work was exactly like Gurdjieff's: he was trying to be conscious and to be separate from the body. And he said, "You can remove the appendix. I will not disturb you."
But surgeons cannot believe a patient. And such an operation... removing his appendix while he is conscious! He may jump off the table, he may do something; he may destroy not only the operation but even his life.
But on both sides there was a problem. If the operation was delayed there was a danger that the appendix would explode and then death was certain. And because he was no ordinary man, they could not force him. He was ready to die, but he was not ready to take any anesthesia which would make him unconscious.
Finally the surgeons decided, "There is no harm in taking a chance; let him remain awake. Anyway he is going to die. If we don't operate, he will die. But there is a possibility that perhaps he is right. He may have attained that quality of consolidation such that his consciousness is separate from the body and he may be saved. So it is worth taking a chance. And he is a stubborn man, he won't listen; he has never listened to anyone."
And the decision had to be made within minutes; otherwise it would be out of the question. So finally they decided to operate on him.
He remained conscious. The operation was done, the appendix removed, and he remained as if nothing was happening. It was an unprecedented phenomenon in the whole history of medicine. It was a miracle.
Gurdjieff's whole work consisted of separating the consciousness from the body and making the consciousness such a solid force that the body cannot drag it, that the body becomes only a servant and is not a master. And he was trying many kinds of experiments.
For example, he used to drink alcohol. One cannot imagine such a quantity of alcohol... but he would remain perfectly conscious. No quantity of alcohol was able to make him unconscious. His disciples and he, they all would start drinking together, and within a few minutes all were flat on the ground -- and he was still drinking.
He was trying in different ways to feel where he was still attached to the body. He would fast, he would not eat for many days -- and this was not anything religious, it was purely scientific experimentation. He would eat too much, so much that the whole body would be saying, "Stop!" and he would go on eating just to make the body completely understand that he was not under its control: he would do what he wanted, he was not going to listen to the body.
The car accident was the very culmination of his experiments. It is wrong to say it was an accident; it was not. He did it -- purposely, consideredly, consciously. It looked like an accident to everybody.
He always used to drive very fast. All those who were sitting inside the car were just trembling: any moment the car was going to crash with something or other. But that day he was alone in the car, and he knowingly put it on full speed and crashed it into a big tree. He had multiple fractures -- the car was completely finished. Doctors said it was unimaginable how he got out of it. He got out of it with all those fractures, blood all over his body, and he walked to the ashram -- which was almost one and a half miles from there -- and said, "Call some doctors to check what has happened in the body."
The doctors could not believe it when they saw the car. Nobody could remain alive after that; the accident was absolutely total. And with so many fractures, he was not unconscious; with so much blood gone, he was not unconscious. He managed to walk one and a half miles... which was absolutely miraculous. He was not supposed to be able to do it!
It was not an accident; he did it on purpose, and within three weeks he was perfectly okay. He wanted to know death before death. That was the purpose of the accident. He wanted to know that even if the body goes through such torture, it is not going to affect his consciousness. And he was immensely happy that he had succeeded, that he had attained what, in his terminology, is `crystallization'. Now death meant nothing and now he could die consciously, watching what was happening.
The way he had chosen was a long and hard way. But he was a strange type of man: for him, it was neither long nor hard, for him it was perfectly natural and normal. The car accident should be remembered as a voluntary entering into death. He had almost died, but just through his crystallized consciousness he managed not to die. He refused to die. It is a beautiful experiment, although outlandish.
What he tried to do with it can be done very easily by just becoming aware of your day-to-day activities: walking, sitting, eating, sleeping. They will not be so dramatic, but they will be more simple, more human, more sane.
And Gurdjieff is not a normal human being. He should be taken as an exception, not the rule. Nobody should try to follow him because he will be in trouble. That kind of person cannot be followed, that kind of person is born. You can understand much from their life, but you should never try to imitate them.
And it is not only so with Gurdjieff. There have been many other people in the East, who have died unknown... A few are known, but even the normal Eastern humanity has tried to forget them because their experiments looked outrageous.
In India there are eighty-four siddhas. In the whole history of India there have been eighty-four people who could have talked with Gurdjieff in the same language, who tried all kinds of experiments. Perhaps in a few experiments Gurdjieff may not have been able to compete with those people.
I have been to one of the monasteries of the siddhas. Their monasteries have gone underground. Because of their experiments, the masses were so against them that they have burned their literature, killed their masters, tried to erase... saying that they are not part of the heritage of the East.
In Ladakh, in the Himalayas, there is a small monastery hidden deep in the mountains. They don't tell anybody that it belongs to the siddhas. There are a few others in India. But unless they trust you, they will not tell you about other monasteries. They are all linked.
In this monastery I saw one experiment that will help to explain Gurdjieff's experiment to you. They start drinking poison in small quantities, and slowly slowly they increase the quantity every day. The poison is so dangerous that just a single dose is enough to finish a person. But they come to a point where they can take any quantity of poison and it does not affect their consciousness at all. They remain absolutely normal. And they have absorbed so much poison that if they bite you you will die; they are full of poison.
And in the monastery they keep big cobra snakes, which have the most dangerous poison. Out of one hundred snakes there are only three percent which have real poison; ninety-seven are just hypocrites, they don't have real poison. But they can make you freak out if you see them because they look like real snakes. They are snakes, only one thing is missing: they don't have the poison.
The cobra is the best as far as poison is concerned. And these siddhas, as they are called, have come to a point where drinking poison from the outside, ordinary poison, is just meaningless. They make the cobra bite on their tongue, and the cobra turns upside down and pours all its poison in their mouth. And you will be surprised that the cobra dies! -- because that man is so full of poison. The cobra has only very little poison in a small bag attached in his mouth. That's why the Chinese eat snakes just as a vegetable. Just cut the head off and it is all vegetable!
There is a famous story about a master who was sitting with his disciples and a guest master. And as the cobra is a very delicious dish, cobra was prepared. But the master was suddenly shocked, seeing on the guest master's plate, the head of the cobra. So he took away the plate and called the cook, who was also a monk and proved to be not only a monk but a master.
The master was very angry, but before he could show his anger the cook said, "What is the matter?"
The master said, "Look what the matter is. You have cooked even the head of the cobra!"
The cook said, "Don't be worried." He took the head and gulped it down in front of everybody else. And he said, "Now you can eat. Don't be worried; I have taken care of the head."
There was utter silence and shock. But perhaps he was connected with a certain secret school of siddhas in China too, so there was no danger. He did not die. These experiments are certainly outrageous, but they have proved that a man is capable of becoming so conscious that there is nothing that can make him unconscious again. He has achieved the ultimate in consciousness. That's the meaning of Gurdjieff's experiment. Don't call it an accident.
4) OSHO talks on Adi Shankaracharya Discussion With Mandan Mishra:
Osho: I remembered about the original Shankaracharya, Adi Shankaracharya. He is a predecessor of nearly fourteen hundred years ago. He died as a young man, he died when he was thirty-three. He created a new tradition of sannyasins, he created four temples in all the four directions, and he appointed four shankaracharyas, one for each direction.
I remembered about him that he traveled all over the country defeating great, well-known philosophers -- that was in a totally different atmosphere. One great philosopher was Mandan Mishra; he had a great following. Still in his memory a town exists. I have been there many times. It is on a beautiful bank of the Narmada, one of the most beautiful rivers.
That is the place where the river descends from the mountains, so it has tremendous beauty. The city is called Mandala, in memory of Mandan Mishra. Shankara must have been at the age of thirty when he reached Mandala. Just on the outskirts of the town, by a well, a few women were drawing water. He asked them, "I want to know where the great philosopher Mandan Mishra lives."
Those women started giggling and they said, "Don't be worried, you just go inside. You will find it."
Shankara said, "How will I find it?"
They said, "You will find it, because even the parrots around his house -- he has a big garden and there are so many parrots in the garden -- they repeat poetries from the UPANISHADS, from the VEDAS. If you hear parrots repeating, singing beautiful poetries from the Upanishads, you can be certain that this is the house of Mandan Mishra."
He could not believe it, but when he went and he saw, he had to believe. He asked Mandan Mishra -- he was old, nearabout seventy -- "I have come a very long way from South India to have a discussion with you, with a condition: If I am defeated, I will become your disciple, and if you are defeated, you will have to become my disciple. Naturally, when I become your disciple all my disciples will become your disciples and the same will be true if you become my disciple -- all your disciples will become my disciples."
Old Mandan Mishra looked at the young man and he said, "You are too young and I feel a little hesitant whether to accept this challenge or not. But if you are insistent, then there is no way; I have to accept it. But it does not look right that a seventy year old man who has fought thousands of debates should be fighting with a young man of thirty.
But to balance, I would suggest one thing" -- and this was the atmosphere that has a tremendous value -- "to substitute, I will give you the chance to choose the judge who will decide. So you find a judge. You are too young, and I feel that if you are defeated at least you should have the satisfaction that the judge was your choice."
Now where to find a judge? The young man had heard much about Mandan Mishra's wife. Her name was Bharti. She was also old, sixty-five. He said, "I will choose your wife to be the judge."
This is the atmosphere, so human, so loving. First Mandan Mishra gave him the chance to choose, and then Shankara chose Maridan Mishra's own wife! And Bharti said, "But this is not right, I'm his wife, and if you are defeated you may think it is because I may have been prejudiced, favorable towards my husband."
Shankara said, "There is no question of any suspicion. I have heard much about your sincerity. If I'm defeated, I'm defeated. And I know perfectly well if your husband is defeated, you will be the last person to hide the fact."
Six months it took for the discussion. On each single point that man has thought about they quarreled, argued, quoted, interpreted, and after six months the wife said, "Shankara is declared victorious. Mandan Mishra is defeated."
Thousands of people were listening for these six months. It was a great experience to listen to these two so refined logicians, and this was a tremendous experience, that the wife declared Shankara to be the winner. There was great silence a for few moments, and then Bharti said, "But remember that you are only half a winner, because according to the scriptures the wife and husband makes one whole. I'm half of Mandan Mishra. You have defeated one half; now you will have to discuss with me."
Shankara was at a loss. For six months he had tried so hard; many times he had been thinking of giving up -- the old man was really very sharp even in his old age. Nobody has been able to stand against Shankara for six months, and now the wife says his victory is only half. Bharti said, "But I will also give you the chance to choose your judge."
He said, "Where am I going to find a better judge than Mandan Mishra? You are such simple and fair and sincere people. But Bharti was very clever, more clever than Shankara had imagined, because she started asking questions about the science of sex.
Shankara said, "Forgive me, I am a celibate and I don't know anything about sex."
Bharti said, "Then you will have to accept your defeat, or if you want some time to study and experience, I'm willing to give you some time."
He was caught in such a strange situation; he asked for six months and six months were given. "You can go and learn as much as you can because this will be the subject to begin with, then later on, other subjects. It is not easy," Bharti said, "to beat Mandan Mishra. But that half was easier! I am a much harder woman. If I can declare the defeat of my husband, you can understand that I am a hard woman. It is not going to be easy. If you feel afraid don't come back; otherwise we will wait for six months."
This atmosphere continued for thousands of years. There was no question of being angry, there was no question of being abusive, there was no question of trying to prove that you are right by your physical strength or by your arms or by your armies. These were thought to be barbarous methods; these were not for the cultured people.
5) OSHO talks on Ramakrishna’s Enlightenment:
Osho: There is an episode in Ramakrishna’s life. For his whole life he had been worshipping Mother Kali, But at the very end he began to feel,” It is duality; the experience of oneness has still not happened. It is lovely, delightful, but two still remains two.” Someone loves a woman, someone loves money, someone politics; he loved Ma Kali – but the love still was divided in two. Still the ultimate nonduality hadn’t happened and he was in anguish. He began looking out for a nondualist, a Vedantist – for Some person to come who could show him the path.
A Paramahansa named Totapuri was passing. Ramakrishna invited him to stop with him and asked, ”Help me to have darshan of the one.”
Totapuri said, ”What’s difficult in that? You believe there are two, so there are two. Drop the belief!” Ramakrishna replied, ”But dropping this belief is very difficult – I have lived with it my whole life. When I close my eyes the image of Kali is standing there. I drown in that nectar. I forget that I am to become one; as soon as I close my eyes there are two. When I try to meditate, it becomes dual. Help me out of this!”
So Totapuri said, ”Try this: when the image of Kali is before you, pick up a sword and cut her in two.” Ramakrishna said, ”Where will I find a sword?”
What Totapuri said is the same as what is said in Ashtavakra’s sutra*. Totapuri said, ”From where did you bring this Kali image? – bring a sword from the same place. She too is imaginary. She too is an embellishment of your imagination. Through nurturing it for your whole life, through continuously projecting it for your whole life, it has become crystalized. It is just imagination. Not everyone sees Kali when they close their eyes.”
After years of effort a Christian closes his eyes, and Christ comes to him. A devotee of Krishna closes his eyes and Krishna comes to him. A lover of Buddha closes his eyes and Buddha comes to him. A lover of Mahavira closes his eyes and Mahavira comes to him. Christ doesn’t come to a Jaina, Mahavira doesn’t come to a Christian: only the image you project will come. Ramakrishna’s effort was with Kali, and the image became almost solid. It became so real from constant repetition, from continuous remembering, that it seemed Kali was standing in from of him. No one was standing there.
Consciousness is alone. There is no second here, no other.
”Just close your eyes,” Totapuri said, ”raise the sword and strike.”
Ramakrishna closed his eyes, but as soon as he closed them his courage vanished. Raising his sword to strike Kali! – the devotee has to raise his sword and strike God – it was too hard. To renounce the world is very easy. What is worth holding onto in the world? But when you have established an image deep in the mind, when you have created poetry in the mind, when the mind’s dream has become manifest, then it is very difficult to renounce it. The world is like a nightmare. A dream of devotion, a dream of feeling is not a nightmare, it is a very sweet dream. How to drop it? how to break it?
Tears would start flowing from his eyes and he became ecstatic... his body would begin shaking. But he didn’t raise his sword – he would completely forget about it. Finally Totapuri said, ”I’ve wasted many days here. It’s no good. Either you do it or I’m going to leave. Don’t waste my time. Enough of this nonsense now!” That day Totapuri brought a piece of glass with him, and he said, ”When you begin to be absorbed in delight, I will cut your forehead with this piece of glass. When I cut your forehead, inside gather courage, raise your sword and cut Kali in two. This is the last chance – I am not staying any longer.”
Totapuri’s threat of leaving... and it is difficult to find such a master. Totapuri must have been a man like Ashtavakra. Ramakrishna closed his eyes and Kali’s image appeared to him. He was about to bliss out – tears were ready to flow from his eyes, overwhelmed, joy was coming – he was about to become ecstatic when Totapuri held his forehead and, where the third eye chakra is, made a cut from top to bottom with the piece of glass. Blood began to stream from the cut, and this time
Ramakrishna found courage. He raised the sword and cut Kali in two pieces. When Kali fell apart he became nondual: the wave dissolved in the ocean, the river fell into the ocean. It is said that he stayed immersed for six days in this ultimate silence. He was neither hungry nor thirsty – there was no consciousness of the outside, no awareness. All was forgotten. And when he opened his eyes six days later, the first thing he said was, ”The last barrier has fallen!”
6) OSHO talks on Guru Nanak Dev:
OSHO: Philosophy is the game for people who are not thirsty. Religion is journey of those who are thirsty. Therefore philosophy plays with words; not so religion. Religion takes cognizance of the hints the words give and follows them. When the quest is for the lake, what can the word lake do? When the search is for life, the word life alone sounds hollow.
Let us understand a little about a profound question facing the philosopher. A tourist comes to India and he is given a map of India. What is the relationship between India and the map? If the map is the same as India then it must be as vast. If it is exactly like India, it would be useless, because you couldn't carry it in your car, much less put it in your pocket. If it is not like India, how can it still be useful?
The map is a symbol. It is not like India and yet by means of its lines, it conveys useful information about India. You may roam the whole of India without ever seeing a map of India. Wherever you go you will find India; the map is nowhere to be seen. But if you have the map with you and understand it and use it, the journey will be made easier. By either keeping the map in your pocket, or by looking at the map and never leaving your room, you will not learn a great deal. Both together make for the fullest understanding of the experience.
Religious people the world over hold the maps to their chests as if the maps were the actuality, the totality. Scriptures, holy books, images, temples -- all contain hidden pointers that keep the maps from being just a burden. The Hindu is carrying his load of maps, the Mohammedan his, the Christian his. The maps have become so numerous that the journey is now almost impossible, so weighted down are you by maps. The maps should be short, abridged, and they are not to be worshipped in themselves, but to be utilized on the journey.
Nanak drew his essentials from both the Hindu and the Mohammedan religions. He cannot be called Hindu nor Mohammedan; he is both or neither. It was very difficult for people to understand Nanak. There was a saying: "Baba Nanak is the king of the fakirs. He is the guru of the Hindus and the saint of the Mohammedans."
He is both. Of his two special disciples, Mardana and Bala, one was Hindu and the other a Mohammedan. Yet Nanak has no place in the Hindu temple or in the Mohammedan mosque. Both doubt his position and do not know where to place him. Nanak is the confluence of the two rivers, of Hinduism and Islam. He harvested the essence from both. Therefore the Sikh is neither Hindu nor Mohammedan; they must be both or none since their religion arises out of their junction.
Now it is difficult to understand this confluence; when there is a river on the map it is clear-cut, but here two rivers have become one. Some words relate to Islam while others reflect Hinduism, and together they became hazy, but gradually the fog clears when you enter into the experience. If you keep Nanak's words on your chest as you do other scriptures, it becomes like any other holy book -- and we do find the Sikh worshipping his words as if they were the guru. Is it not astonishing how we repeat our mistakes?
Nanak went to Mecca. The priests there told him to be careful not to point his feet toward Kaaba while he slept. As the story goes, Nanak's reply was that they should turn his feet where God was not, and, it is said, the holy stone of Mecca turned wherever they turned his feet. The symbolism means only this: wherever you turn your feet, there God is. Where will you put your feet if He is omnipresent?
I was invited to the Golden Temple at Amritsar. When I went they stopped me at the entrance saying I must cover my head before entering the place of God. I reminded them of the incident with Nanak at Kaaba and asked them, "Does it mean that right here where I stand with my head uncovered, there is no God, no temple?" We keep on repeating our mistakes. I further asked, "Then please show me a place where I can be without a head-covering. And don't you remove your turbans while bathing, and while sleeping? Then isn't that also an affront to the Lord?"
Man's foolishness is the same everywhere. Whatever Buddha says, his followers paint with their own brush to suit them. And so also with Nanak. The same web is woven once a master has pronounced his words, because man's foolishness has not changed, nor has his deafness improved. He hears, but he draws his own individual conclusions which he then follows accordingly, never putting into practice what he actually hears.
Nanak says, no matter how many songs are sung about the lord, nobody has covered it completely. Different people sing different songs because there are many paths to reach Him. However antithetical their songs may seem there is no contradiction anywhere because they all contain the same message. The Vedas say exactly what the Koran says, but the method by which Mohammed reached is different from Patanjali's approach. Buddha also says the same thing but his method is entirely different.
Infinite are the gates to His abode. Whichever way you go leads to His gate. Once arrived you can begin to define the gate through which you entered, and describe the path you have trodden. Another person will likewise describe his own door and his road. Besides, it is not only the path that differs, but your understanding, your perception, your emotional attitude all play a significant part.
When a poet enters a garden, he sings in ecstasy; an artist would paint a picture; if a flower-merchant comes along, he will think in terms of sale and profit; a scientist will analyze the flowers or soil to find out their chemical composition and why they grow; a drunk will be oblivious to the beauty around him, he will not even know that he went through a garden. Whatever you see passes through the windows of your own eyes which impose their own color on everything.
Says Nanak: Some sing the praise of His power -- He is all powerful, omnipotent. Some sing of His benefaction and munificence -- He is the supreme giver. Some sing of the glory of His attributes, His beauty -- He is the most beautiful. Some cll Him truth, some call Him Shiva, some call Him the beautiful."
Rabindranath has written: "I found Him in beauty." This says nothing of God; rather, it tells of Rabindranath. Gandhi says: "For me, He is truth -- truth is God." This speaks of Gandhi rather than of God. Rabindranath is a poet; for a poet God resides in beauty, supreme beauty. Gandhi was no poet, he is practical, and it is natural that such a mind sees God as truth. From the point of a lover -- He is the beloved.
How we see Him reflects our insight. He is everything simultaneously and also -- none of these. In this context Mahavira's reflection is wonderful. He says, "Unless and until your sense of vision drops, you cannot know Him." For whatever you will know, you will know through your own seeing; it will be your view of knowing. Mahavira calls his method no-view. Seeing only occurs when all vision drops.
But then you will lapse into silence, because how will you speak without a viewpoint? When you are freed of your vision, you will become like Him; because you will be so extensive, so comprehensive, you will be one with the open skies. How will you speak? You will no longer be separate unto yourself, but one with the absolute. A viewpoint means that you stand apart from what you see; to have a viewpoint means that you are separate from Him.
Therefore Nanak says that all the viewpoints are correct but none is complete; when the partial is proclaimed as complete and perfect, the illusions begin. Any sect or organization claims one particular incomplete vision as perfect. One sect stands against another, whereas all sects are different aspects of religion, and no one sect is a religion. If we were to amalgamate all possible sects that have been, that are and that will be, then religion would be born. No sect on its own can be called religion.
The word for sect in Hindi, sampradaya, also means the path, that which takes you to the goal; whereas religion, dharma, means the destination. The destination is one, the paths, many.
7) OSHO talks on J.Krishnamurti
Question: Beloved Osho… You have said that Krishnamurti can get angry. How is that possible, as in enlightenment there is no one there to be angry?
OSHO: In enlightenment there is nobody there to get angry, and there is nobody there not to get angry either. So whatsoever happens, happens. Krishnamurti does not get angry the way you get angry. Everything with an enlightened person happens on a totally different plane. His anger comes out of his compassion. Your anger comes out of hate, aggression, cruelty. He becomes angry -- sometimes he starts pulling his hair out, he hits his own forehead -- but out of compassion.
Just think, for fifty years or more he has been teaching a certain kind of truth to the world, and nobody understands him. The same people gather each year to listen to him -- the same people. Once he was talking in Bombay... somebody reported this to me, and the person who reported it to me is an old lady, older than Krishnamurti. She saw Krishnamurti when he was a child, she has seen him and listened to him for fifty years. And because she is a little deaf, very old, she sits in the front on a chair.
And for fifty years Krishnamurti has been saying that there are no methods for meditation, that meditation is not needed at all. Just be in the present and live your life, that's enough meditation, no other technique is needed.... For one and a half hours he poured his heart out, and at the end the lady stood up and asked, "How to meditate?" Now, what do you suppose he should do? He hit his head. This is not your anger. This is so unbelievable! He is tired of this lady, but this lady is not tired of him.
She comes to every talk to listen to him, and asks the same stupid questions. When I say Krishnamurti can get angry, I don't mean, Henk, that he can get angry like you get angry. His anger is out of compassion. This situation is unbelievable! He wants to help this lady and he feels so helpless. He tries this way and that. His message is very simple, singular, one-dimensional. For fifty years he has been saying only a single word. In essence his whole teaching can be printed on one side of a postcard.
He has been saying it in as many possible ways as one can invent, but it is the same citadel that he attacks from the north, from the south, from the west, from the east. And still people go on listening to him and go on asking the same old foolish questions. He certainly gets angry. And when a man like Krishnamurti gets angry, he is pure anger. Many in India have felt very disappointed with Krishnamurti because he gets angry. They have a certain concept that a buddha should not get angry. They go with a prejudice.
And when they see that Krishnamurti can get angry, they are disillusioned, "So this man is not a buddha, he has not become enlightened yet." I say to you that he is one of the most enlightened persons who has ever walked on this earth. Still he can get angry, but his anger comes out of compassion; it is condensed compassion. He cares about you, so much so that he becomes angry. This is a totally different quality of anger.
And when he becomes angry he is real anger. Your anger is partial, lukewarm. Your anger is like a dog who is not certain how to behave with a stranger. He may be a friend of the master, so he wags his tail; he may be an enemy, so he barks. He does both together. On one hand he goes on barking, on the other hand he goes on wagging his tail. He is playing the diplomat, so whatsoever the case turns out to be, he can always feel right. If the master comes and he sees that the master is friendly, the barking will stop and his whole energy will go into the tail.
If the master is angry with the intruder, then the tail will stop completely, and his whole energy will go into barking. Your anger is also like that. You are weighing up how far to go, how much will pay; don't go beyond the limit, don't provoke the other person too much. But when a man like Krishnamurti becomes angry he is pure anger. And pure anger has a beauty because it has totality. He is just anger. He is like a small child, redfaced, just anger all over, ready to destroy the whole world. That's what happened to Jesus.
When he went into the great temple and saw the moneychangers and their tables inside the temple, he was in a rage. He became angry -- the same anger that comes out of compassion and love. Singlehanded, he drove all the moneychangers out of the temple and overturned their boards. He must have been really very angry, because driving all the moneychangers out of the temple singlehanded is not an easy thing. And reports say -- I don't know how far they are right, but reports say that he was not a very strong man.
Reports say that he was not even a very tall man; you will be surprised, he was only four feet six inches. And not only that -- on top of it he was a hunchback. I don't know how far those reports are true, because I don't want to go to court! But it is there in the books, ancient books, very ancient books. So how did this hunchback, four feet six inches high, drive out all the moneychangers singlehanded? He must have been pure rage! Indians are angry about that. They cannot trust that Jesus is enlightened -- just because of this incident.
People have their prejudices, their ideas. Rather than seeing into reality, rather than looking into an enlightened man, they come ready with so many concepts, and unless he fits them he is not enlightened. And let me tell you, no enlightened person is going to fit with your unenlightened prejudices; it is impossible. It happened, a lady came to me. She had been a follower of Krishnamurti for many years, then a small thing disturbed the whole thing and the whole applecart was upturned. The thing was so small that I was surprised.
There was a camp in Holland where Krishnamurti holds a camp every year, and the woman had gone there from India. Nearabout two thousand people had gathered from all over the world to listen to him. The next morning the lectures were going to start, and the woman had gone shopping. And she was surprised, Krishnamurti was also shopping. An enlightened person shopping? Can you believe it? Buddha in a supermarket? And not only that -- he was purchasing a necktie.
Enlightened people need neckties? And not only that -- the whole counter was full of neckties and he was throwing them this way and that, and he was not satisfied with any. The woman watched, looked at the whole scene, and fell from the sky. She thought, "I have come from India for this ordinary man who is purchasing neckties. And even then, of thousands of neckties of all colors and all kinds of material, nothing is satisfying to him. Is this detachment? Is this awareness?"
She turned away. She didn't attend the camp, she came back immediately. And the first thing she did was to come running to me, and she said, "You are right."
I said, "What do you mean?"
She said, "You are right that it was useless wasting my time with Krishnamurti. Now I want to become a sannyasin of yours."
I said, "Please excuse me, I cannot accept you. If you cannot accept Krishnamurti, how can I accept you? Get lost! ... Because here you will see far more disappointing things. What are you going to do with my Mercedes Benz? So before it happens, why bother? What are you going to do with my air-conditioned room? Before it happens, it is better that you go and find some Muktananda, etcetera. You have not been able to understand Krishnamurti, you will not be able to understand me."
People like Krishnamurti live on a totally different plane. Their anger is not your anger. And who knows that he was not just playing with those ties for this stupid old woman? Masters are known to devise things like that. He got rid of this stupid old woman very easily.
8) OSHO talks on ‘What is meditation?’
OSHO: The first thing: meditation is not concentration. In concentration there is a self concentrating and there is an object being concentrated upon. There is duality. In meditation there is nobody inside and nothing outside. It is not the concentration. There is no division between the in and the out. The in goes on flowing into the out, the out goes on flowing into the in. The demarcation, the boundary, the border, no longer exists. The in is out, the out is in; it is a nondual consciousness.
Concentration is a dual consciousness: that's why concentration creates tiredness; that's why when you concentrate you feel exhausted. And you cannot concentrate for twenty-four hours, you will have to take holidays to rest. Concentration can never become your nature. Meditation does not tire, meditation does not exhaust you. Meditation can become a twenty-four hour thing -- day in, day out, year in, year out. It can become eternity. It is relaxation itself. Concentration is an act, a willed act. Meditation is a state of no will, a state of inaction. It is relaxation. One has simply dropped into one's own being, and that being is the same as the being of all. In concentration there is a plan, a projection, an idea. In concentration the mind functions out of a conclusion: you are doing something. Concentration comes out of the past.
In meditation there is no conclusion behind it. You are not doing anything in particular, you are simply being. It has no past to it, it is uncontaminated by the past. It has no future to it, it is pure of all future. It is what Lao Tzu has called wei-wu-wei, action through inaction. This is what Zen masters have been saying: Sitting silently doing nothing, the spring comes and the grass grows by itself. Remember, 'by itself' -- nothing is being done. You are not pulling the grass upwards; the spring comes and the grass grows by itself. That state -- when you allow life to go on its own way, when you don't want to direct it, when you don't want to give any control to it, when you are not manipulating, when you are not enforcing any discipline on it -- that state of pure undisciplined spontaneity, is what meditation is.
Meditation is in the present, pure present. Meditation is immediacy. You cannot meditate, but you can be in meditation; you cannot be in concentration, but you can concentrate. Concentration is human, meditation is divine.
Concentration has a center in you; from that center it comes. Concentration has a self in you. In fact the man who concentrates very much starts gathering a very strong self. He starts becoming more and more powerful, he starts becoming more and more an integrated will. He will look more collected, more one piece.
The man of meditation does not become powerful: he becomes silent, he becomes peaceful. Power is created out of conflict; all power is out of friction. Out of friction comes electricity. You can create electricity out of water: when the river falls from a mountainside there is friction between the river and the rocks, and the friction creates energy. That's why people who are seeking power are always fighting. Fight creates energy. It is always through friction that energy is created, power is created. The world goes into war again and again because the world is too dominated by the idea of power. You cannot be powerful without fighting.
Meditation brings peace. Peace has its own power, but that is an altogether different phenomenon. The power that is created out of friction is violent, aggressive, male. The power -- I am using the word because there is no other word -- the power that comes out of peace, is feminine. It has a grace to it. It is passive power, it is receptivity, it is openness. It is not out of friction; that's why it is not violent.
Buddha is powerful, powerful in his peace, in his silence. He is as powerful as a roseflower, he's not powerful like an atom bomb. He's as powerful as the smile of a child... very fragile, very vulnerable; but he's not as powerful as a sword. He is powerful, as a small earthen lamp, the small flame burning bright in the dark night. It is a totally different dimension of power. This power is what we call divine power. It is out of non-friction.
Concentration is a friction: you fight with your own mind. You try to focus the mind in a certain way, towards a certain idea, towards a certain object. You force it, you bring it back again and again. It tries to escape, it runs away, it goes astray, it starts thinking of a thousand and one things, and you bring it again and you force it. You go into a self-fight. Certainly power is created; that power is as harmful as any other power, that power is as dangerous as any other power. That power will again be used to harm somebody, because the power that comes out of friction is violence. Something out of violence is going to be violent, it is going to be destructive.
The power that comes out of peace, non-friction, non-fight, non-manipulation, is the power of a rose flower, the power of a small lamp, the power of a child smiling, the power of a woman weeping, the power that is in tears and in the dewdrops. It is immense but not heavy; it is infinite but not violent.
Concentration will make you a man of will. Meditation will make you an emptiness.
That's what Buddha is saying to Sariputra. Prajnaparamita means exactly 'meditation, the wisdom of the beyond'. You cannot bring it but you can be open to it. You need not do anything to bring it into the world -- you cannot bring it; it is beyond you. You have to disappear for it to come. The mind has to cease for meditation to be. Concentration is mind effort; meditation is a state of no-mind. Meditation is pure awareness, meditation has no motive in it.
Meditation is the tree that grows without a seed: that is the miracle of meditation, the magic, the mystery. Concentration has a seed in it: you concentrate for a certain purpose, there is motive, it is motivated. Meditation has no motive. Then why should one meditate if there is no motive?
Meditation comes into existence only when you have looked into all motives and found them lacking, when you have gone through the whole round of motives and you have seen the falsity of it. You have seen that the motives lead nowhere, that you go on moving in circles; you remain the same. The motives go on and on leading you, driving you, almost driving you mad, creating new desires, but nothing is ever achieved. The hands remain as empty as ever. When this has been seen, when you have looked into your life and seen all your motives failing....
No motive has ever succeeded, no motive has ever brought any blessing to anybody. The motives only promise; the goods are never delivered. One motive fails and another motive comes in and promises you again... and you are deceived again. Being deceived again and again by motives, one day suddenly you become aware -- suddenly you see into it, and that very seeing is the beginning of meditation. It has no seed in it, it has no motive in it. If you are meditating for something, then you are concentrating, not meditating. Then you are still in the world -- your mind is still interested in cheap things, in trivia. Then you are worldly. Even if you are meditating to attain to God, you are worldly. Even if you are meditating to attain to nirvana, you are worldly -- because meditation has no goal.
Meditation is an insight that all goals are false. Meditation is an understanding that desires don't lead anywhere. Seeing that.... And this is not a belief that you can get from me or from Buddha or from Jesus. This is not knowledge; you will have to see it. You can see it right now! You have lived, you have seen many motives, you have been in turmoil, you have thought about what to do, what not to do, and you have done many things. Where has it all led you? Just see into it! I'm not saying agree with me, I'm not saying believe in me. I'm simply making you aware of a fact that you have been neglecting. This is not a theory, this is a simple statement of a very simple fact. Maybe because it is so simple, that's why you go on without looking at it. Mind is always interested in complexities, because something can be done with a complex thing. You cannot do anything with a simple phenomenon.
The simple is overlooked, the simple is neglected, the simple is ignored. The simple is so obvious you never look into it. You go on searching for complexities -- the complexity has a challenge in it. The complexity of a phenomenon, of a problem, of a situation, gives you a challenge. In that challenge comes energy, friction, conflict: you have to solve this problem, you have to prove that you can solve this problem. When a problem is there you are thrilled by the excitement that there is a possibility to prove something. But what I am stating is a simple fact, it is not a problem. It gives you no challenge, it is simply there. You can look at it or you can avoid it. And it doesn't shout; it is so simple. You cannot even call it a still, small voice within you; it does not even whisper. It is simply there -- you can look, you may not look.
See it! And when I say, "See it," I mean see it right now, immediately. There is no need to wait. And be quick when I say, "See it"! Do see it, but quickly, because if you start thinking, if you don't see it quickly, immediately, in that split second then the mind comes in and the mind starts brooding, and the mind starts bringing thoughts, and the mind starts bringing prejudices. And you are in a philosophical state -- many thoughts. Then you have to choose what is right and what is wrong, and speculation has started. You missed the existential moment.
The existential moment is right now. Just have a look, and that is meditation -- that look is a meditation. Just seeing the facticity of a certain thing, of a certain state, is meditation. Meditation has no motive, hence there is no center to it. And because there is no motive and no center, there is no self in it. You don't function from a center in meditation, you act out of nothingness. The response out of nothingness is what meditation is all about.
Mind concentrates: it acts out of the past. Meditation acts in the present, out of the present. It is a pure response to the present, it is not reaction. It acts not out of conclusions, it acts seeing the existential.
Watch in your life: there is a great difference when you act out of conclusions. You see a man, you feel attracted -- a beautiful man, looks very good, looks innocent. His eyes are beautiful, the vibe is beautiful. But then the man introduces himself and he says, "I am a Jew" -- and you are a Christian. Something immediately clicks and there is distance: now the man is no more innocent, the man is no more beautiful. You have certain ideas about Jews. Or, he is a Christian and you are a Jew; you have certain ideas about Christians -- what Christianity has done to Jews in the past, what other Christians have done to Jews, how they have tortured Jews down the ages... and suddenly he is a Christian -- and something immediately changes.
This is acting out of conclusions, prejudices, not looking at this man -- because this man may not be the man that you think a Jew has to be... because each Jew is a different kind of man, each Hindu is a different kind of man, so is each Mohammedan. You cannot act out of prejudices. You cannot act by categorizing people. You cannot pigeonhole people; nobody can be pigeonholed. You may have been deceived by a hundred communists, and when you meet the hundred and first communist don't go on believing in the category that you have made in your mind: that communists are deceptive -- or anything. This may be a different type of man, because no two persons are alike.
Whenever you act out of conclusions, it is mind. When you look into the present and you don't allow any idea to obstruct the reality, to obstruct the fact, you just look into the fact and act out of that look, that is meditation. Meditation is not something you do in the morning and you are finished with it, meditation is something that you have to go on living every moment of your life. Walking, sleeping, sitting, talking, listening -- it has to become a kind of climate. A relaxed person remains in it. A person who goes on dropping the past remains meditative. Never act out of conclusions; those conclusions are your conditionings, your prejudices, your desires, your fears, and all the rest of it.
In short, you are there! You means your past. You means all your experiences of the past. Don't allow the dead to overrule the living, don't allow the past to influence the present, don't allow death to overpower your life -- that's what meditation is. In short, in meditation you are not there. The dead is not controlling the living.
Meditation is a kind of experience which gives you a totally different quality to live your life. Then you don't live like a Hindu, or a Mohammedan, Indian or German; you simply live as consciousness. When you live in the moment and there is nothing interfering, attention is total because there is no distraction -- distractions come from the past and the future. When attention is total the act is total. It leaves no residue. It goes on freeing you, it never creates cages for you, it never imprisons you. And that is the ultimate goal of Buddha; that's what he calls nirvana.
'Nirvana' means freedom -- utterly, absolute, unobstructed. You become an open sky. There is no border to it, it is infinite. It is simply there... and then there is nothingness all around you, within and without. Nothingness is the function of a meditative state of consciousness. And in that nothingness is benediction. That nothingness itself is the benediction.