Re: In A Cold Universe

And Patanjali says if you bring your samyama -- that is your dharana - concentration; your contemplation - dhyan; and your samadhi if you bring all these three -- one-pointed -- on any sound uttered by any living being -- animal, bird -- you will understand the meaning of it.

In the West there are stories about St. Francis that he would talk to animals. He would even talk to donkeys and say. "Brother Donkey." He would move into the forest and talk to the birds, and birds would come to him. Once, he called from the bank of the river, "Sisters." as he used to call the fish, and thousands of fish took their heads up all over the river to listen to him. These are records which have been witnessed by many people.

It is said about Lukman, who created the unani system of medicine, that he would go to the trees and ask their properties -- "For what disease can you be used, sir?" -- and the tree would answer. In fact he has reported so many medicines that modern scientists are simply bewildered because methods were not there: experiment was not possible. Only just now are we becoming capable of entering into the hidden properties of things, but Lukman has talked about them.

Patanjali says this too is not a miracle. If you concentrate -- you become one and you listen to the sound without any thought -- the very sound will reveal to you the truth behind it. It is not a question of understanding the language; it is a question of understanding the silence. If you are in silence you can understand silence. Ordinarily, if you know English you can understand English, if you know French you can understand French. The same is true if you are silent you can understand silence. That is the language of the whole.

In one-pointedness one becomes absolutely silent. In that absolute silence everything is revealed -- but not a miracle. Patanjali does not like the word "miracle." He is a man of science. There is nothing magic-like in it; it is simple.

I was at Mulla Nasrudin's house one day. Mulla Nasrudin and his wife were in the kitchen washing the dishes. I and Nasrudin's little son Fajalu were in the living room watching television. Suddenly there was a crash of falling dishes. I and Fajalu listened but heard nothing more.

"It was Mother who dropped them," little Fajalu announced, finally.

I was amazed. "How do you know?" I asked him.

"Because she is not saying anything."

There is a way of understanding when nothing is said -- because that says something. Silence is not just empty. Silence has its own messages. Because you are much too filled with thoughts, you cannot understand, you cannot hear, that small, still voice within.

Just listen to a cuckoo, the cuckoo's song. Patanjali says listen so meditatively that your thoughts disappear -- nirodh comes. Not in gaps showers on you like samadhi. No thoughts interfere, no distraction one-pointedness arises. Suddenly you are one with the cuckoo, you understand why she is calling, because we are part of one whole. Behind that sound there is a hidden meaning in the cuckoo's heart: if you are silent you will be able to understand it.

Patanjali says "The sound and the purpose and idea behind it are together in the mind in a confused state. By performing samyama on the sound, separation happens and there arises comprehension of the meaning of sounds made by any living being."

Mulla Nasrudin stood in an auction room all afternoon waiting for lot 455 which was a South American parrot in a chromium cage. Finally his chance came and the parrot was put up for sale. The Mulla bought it, but it cost him far more money then he had expected to spend on it. Still, his wife badly wanted one just like it.

As the assistant came down to him to get his name and address he said, "You have got yourself a nice bird there, sir."

The Mulla said, "I know. He is a beauty. Just one thing, I forgot to ask if that parrot can talk."

The assistant's eyebrows went up. "Talk?" he said, "Hell, he was bidding against you for the last five minutes!"

But we are so occupied in our own thoughts, who listens? Who listens to a parrot? People don't listen to their lovers. Who listens to the wife? Who listens to the husband? Who listens to the father, or who listens to the child? People are so occupied, preoccupied in their heads -- hung up -- there is no possibility for listening. Listening needs silence. Listening needs attentiveness. Listening needs a deep passivity, a receptivity. It is not absent-mindedness -- it is full of attention, full of awareness, full of light: but passive.