The Zorba-Buddha Synthesis

The First Question:

Bhadra, it is very natural. If all your life you have been saying 'yes', it must have been false, it must have been pseudo. You must have forced yourself to say 'yes', you must have repressed your 'no' continuously. And I teach relaxation, and I teach expression. So the repressed 'no' is coming up, surfacing. Allow it. Please don't repress it anymore.

If you repress it here, then where are you going to express it? Once it is expressed, you will be free of it, and then the real 'yes' will come. The 'yes' that you have known up to now was not real. You have been cultivating this 'yes'. It was just on the surface. Deep down the 'no' has always existed in you.

But this is how we are brought up. This is how we are conditioned. This is how people have become utterly false, hypocritical, split. Their face says one thing, their being is saying just the opposite. This is how the whole of humanity has been turned into a kind of schizophrenia.

My approach is that 'yes' and 'no' are both absolutely necessary, part of the inner rhythm. The man who cannot say 'no' cannot say 'yes' either; and if he says 'yes', his 'yes' will be impotent. Only the man who can say 'no' vitally can say 'yes' vitally. They depend on each other, just as life and death depend on each other, just as darkness and light depend on each other, just as love and hate depend on each other. This is the intrinsic polarity of life.

In a better world, with more freedom, with more understanding, a child will not be taught to say 'yes' when he feels like saying 'no', he will be taught courage. Whenever he feels like saying 'no', he will have to say 'no'. And then his 'yes' will have meaning.

A child will not be taught religion, because religion is 'yes'-saying. He will not be forced to become a theist - Hindu, Christian, Mohammedan - he will be encouraged by the parents, by the school, by the university, to be honest, to be sincere, and to wait for the real 'yes' to come on its own.

The world has become so false. Can't you see from where this falsity is arising? Millions of people go to the churches, temples, mosques, gurudwaras, and not a single person is religious. What kind of neurosis is this? They go just as a formality, they go because they have been taught to go, they go because they have become addicted to the habit of going. It is just a habit. If they don't go, they feel guilty. If they don't go they feel as if they are betraying their parents, their society. If they go, there is no joy in it. They simply drag themselves into it. They simply wait there until the ritual ends, the prayer ends, so that they can escape out of the temple, out of the church. It is a bogus kind of religion.

And the reason is that they have never been allowed to say 'no'. 'No' has to come first, only then can 'yes' come. To really be a theist, first one has to go through the process of atheism. To really be a believer in God, first one has to go through the dark night of doubt, only then - the dawn. There is no other alternative.

It is good, Bhadra, that the 'no' is arising. You are being true for the first time in your life. Let it happen, and the 'yes' will follow just as day follows night.

But this mischief has been done to you - and in the name of great things: God, prayer, country, love, religion, church, Jesus, Buddha, Krishna. In the name of these great things much mischief has been done to you. You have been manipulated. And what is the outcome? You have become a plastic phenomenon; you don't have that sincerity which can make a person really religious.

My own observation is this: that a person who has not said 'no' to God will never be able to say 'yes', or if he says it, his 'yes' will be pointless.

The so-called religion is what Gregory Bateson calls the double-bind. One is ordered to do two things which are mutually exclusive: to be sincere and to believe. How can you be sincere if you are told to believe? To believe means to be insincere. To believe means to believe in something that you don't know, to which your whole heart says, 'No, I don't know. How can I believe?'

Belief is insincerity. And you have been told to be sincere and to believe. This creates a double-bind in you. Your religion, your so-called religion, is based on insincerity - how can it be religious? The very beginning is poisoned, the very source has gone sour. No child should be taught religion. Every child should be taught inquiry, doubt, logic, reason.

And why are you so afraid of logic, doubt and reason? Because if a child really goes deep into doubt, he will find the futility of it on his own. And out of that finding trust arises. And then that trust has beauty, grandeur.

If a child reasons to the very end, he will come to the point where he will be able to see that now reasoning has come to an end but existence goes on and on. Existence is something beyond reasoning. But let every child feel it in his own guts!

To be true a religion has to be a religion of the guts, not of belief. Let the child think as much as he can, to his full capacity; let him burn with doubt, logic, reasoning, to the maximum, and he will see the limitations of the intellect. It is bound to happen. And when the limitations of the intellect have been seen, experienced, by yourself, you start moving into the beyond; you start surpassing the mind.

Belief is of the mind. This so-called 'yes'-saying is of the mind. I teach you another kind of 'yes', which is not afraid of 'no', another kind of trust, which is not afraid of scepticism, which on the contrary uses scepticism as a jumping-board, which uses doubt as a process of cleansing.

Truth has to be trusted: to trust is an act of faith. But any statement of truth has to be tested too: to test it is an act of doubt. Faith and doubt both serve truth - this is what I teach you. Faith and doubt are two wings of the bird called trust. If you cut off one wing, the bird cannot fly. 'Yes' and 'no' are two wings; use them, and use them in their totality. Never be insincere, not even in the name of God.

Sincerity is far more valuable than any dogma, than any Christianity, Hinduism, Islam. Sincerity is the foundation. But to be sincere means you have to give expression to all that is within you. Sometimes it is 'yes', and sometimes it is 'no'. And you have to accept both.

So, Bhadra, it is something beautiful that is happening, don't be worried. I am not trying to force any 'yes' on you, I am simply helping you to go through the whole process of both 'yes' and 'no', so that one day you become aware that they are not enemies, not opposites, but complementaries.

Man is a question mark. And it is a blessing - celebrate it. It is a blessing because only man is a question mark. No dog is. No tree is. The rose bush is beautiful, but not as beautiful as man, and the moon is beautiful, but not as beautiful as man - because they are all unconscious. Only man is consciously on a quest. And how can you be on a quest if you don't have a question mark in your being?

God sends you with a question mark in your being. Celebrate it - it is a great responsibility, a great heritage. Ask questions. Inquire. Doubt. And don't be worried, because I know that if you doubt long enough you will arrive at trust. And that arrival is incredible, because then you have arrived on your own. It is your own experience; it is no longer belief, it is knowing.

Sri Aurobindo was asked by a philosopher, 'Do you believe in God?' and he said, 'No.' The philosopher was, for a moment, shocked. He had come a long way, believing that this man had come to know God, and this man says, 'I don't believe in God. For a moment he could not gather courage to ask anything else. Shocked, he was dumb. Then he said, 'But I thought that you had seen God.'

Sri Aurobindo laughed and said, 'Yes, I have seen, that's why I say I don't believe. Belief is out of ignorance. I know! I don't "believe".'

And remember it: you have to know, you are not here to believe. My help is available for you to know. Belief is a trick of the mind. Without knowing, it gives you the feeling that you have known.

Man is a question mark - and it is a blessing. Celebrate it, dance it, rejoice in it, because without that question mark there could be no faith, or doubt - nothing but dead certainty. That's where animals live: in dead certainty. And that's why your priests and your politicians want you to live in dead certainty.

Life hesitates. Life is uncertain. Life is insecure. That's why it is life: because it moves.

Socrates is reported to have said, 'I would not like to become a contented pig. Rather than being a contented pig, I would like to remain a discontented Socrates.'

Meditate over it. It is a statement of immense value. The pig is contented, absolutely certain. That's why people who are stubborn and think themselves absolutely certain are called piggish, pig-headed.

For example, poor Morarji Desai is called piggish.

People who are stubborn are bound to be stupid. A man who is alive moves into uncertainties, moves into the unknown. He cannot live in a dead certainty. Certainty simply means you have not doubted.

There is another kind of knowing which comes out of doubting, which comes out of growth. And when that kind of knowing comes, again you are not certain. But now the uncertainty has a totally different flavour. If you had asked Buddha about God he would have kept quiet. That's where he is far superior to Sri Aurobindo. He would have kept absolutely silent, he would not have said 'yes' or 'no'. Why? - because he says, 'The ultimate is so tremendously vast that to say 'yes' will be wrong, to say 'no' will be wrong, because our words are so small they cannot contain the ultimate. The ultimate can only be conveyed through silence.'

A Zen Master was asked, 'Can you say something about God?' He remained utterly silent, he listened to the question with open eyes and then he closed his eyes. A few moments went by. For the questioner those few moments seemed very long. He was waiting and becoming restless, and the Master had moved into some other space. There was great ecstasy on his face but no answer.

That ecstasy was the answer. There was utter silence in his being, and the silence was vibrant all around him - you could have almost touched it, it was so solid. But the restless questioner was not aware of it at all, he was too concerned with his question, and he was waiting for the answer.

He shook the Master, and said, 'What are you doing? I have asked a question, and you closed your eyes and you are sitting in silence. Answer it!'

And the Master says, 'But that's what I was doing. This is my answer.'

Certainly this is far superior to Sri Aurobindo's answer. But the man, the questioner, was not satisfied. He wanted something conveyed verbally. He insisted, and he would not leave the Master.

So the Master said, 'Okay.'

They were sitting on a river bank. The Master wrote in the sand with his finger: Meditation. Now, the question is about God, and the answer is about meditation. It is utterly irrelevant.

And the questioner was right to say, 'Are you joking or something? I am asking about God, and you write on the sand: Meditation.'

And the Master said, 'That's all that I can say or that I am allowed to say. You ask about the goal, I talk about the way, because the goal is so incomprehensible, so mysterious, that nothing can be said about it. I can simply sit in silence. If you have eyes to see, see! If you have ears to hear, hear! Hear my silence, and the song that my silence is, and the music that arises in it. If you cannot hear it, that simply shows you need meditation. So meditate.'

The man said, 'Just this much - one word, "meditation"? Won't you elaborate on it a little?' He wrote again in bigger letters: MEDITATION. That was his elaboration.

The man was puzzled and he said, 'But you are simply repeating. Just writing it in bigger letters won't help.'

So he wrote again in even bigger letters: MEDITATION. He said, 'Nothing more can be said about it. You will have to do it. You will have to be it.'

There is a kind of uncertainty when you don't know, because how can you be certain when you don't know? And there is a kind of uncertainty when you know, because how can you be certain about the ultimate? It is so vast; to be certain about it will make it small, to be certain about it will show that it is in your grasp, that it is in your fist. And God cannot be possessed; on the contrary, you have to be possessed by God.

Accept your 'no', accept your 'yes'. And don't think that they are opposites; they are not. Just as there can be no courage without danger, so there can be no faith without uncertainty, without doubt. Risk is part of the game that we are born to play. We must learn to lean on possibilities - not on certainties but on possibilities.

I can only say to you God is possible. I can only say to you 'yes' is possible. Lean on the possibilities, don't ask for certainties. Because you ask for certainties, you create authorities. Out of your need to be certain you become victims of people who are stubborn, ignorant, but certain. Only parrots can be certain because they have ready-made answers. Pundits can be certain because pundits are nothing but parrots.

A real man of knowledge will help you to be silent: will help you to go through 'yes' and through 'no', through faith and through doubt, through warmer moments and through cooler moments; will help you to go through days and nights, peaks and valleys. And he will not teach any dogma, but will only teach you courage, adventure, quest.

Listening to your question, I remembered two stories.

There was a boy five or six years old who had acquired the habit of using swear words in his ordinary conversation. His parents tried their best to break him of this habit, and in final desperation hit upon a plan which they thought would work. They called their son into a family consultation and laid out the facts before him, saying, 'Now, son, we just can't have a little boy in our home who continues to use this kind of language. So we have decided that if you cannot break yourself of the habit, something drastic must be done. We are giving you fair warning that the very next time we hear a swear word in your conversation, you are simply going to have to pack your bag and move out of this house. We can't put up with that language any longer. Do you understand?'

He did not say anything, although he did nod his head. But the habit, it seemed, was too great for him to break all at once, and they soon heard him interspersing his favourite swear words in conversation.

His mother said, 'Son, we have given you fair warning and now you are going to move out. Go pack your bag.' The boy went to his bedroom reluctantly, packed his suitcase, said goodbye to his mother and left.

He did not know what in the world he was going to do, so he sat on the front steps trying to collect his thoughts. As he waited there a neighbour came by, looked at him and asked, 'Is your mother home, dear?'

He looked at her with a sour face, and said, 'How the hell should I know? I don't live here anymore.'

You cannot force, you cannot repress, you cannot order these things. These things need understanding. And parents are doing it all the time, just saying, 'Don't do this, do that'; just giving commandments, never giving understanding insight. Children need insight, not commandments.

They need your love, they need your help to understand things. They don't want to imitate you. In fact, they should not be forced to imitate you, because if you force them to imitate you, you will be destroying their very soul. Give your love and give them freedom, and help them to become aware. Help them to be more meditative.

But that is not being done. We simply force. Forcing a thing seems to be a very short-cut procedure.

Who bothers? Because you don't love enough, that's why you don't bother. Who bothers to give an insight to a child? It is very simple: 'Just go and do this because I say so, because I am your father and I know more because I am older than you.' The child may be forced to do a certain thing because he is helpless, but deep down he will carry the wound. And, Bhadra, you must have been carrying many wounds deep down.

My love to you, my help to you is bringing your wounds to the surface. It is good, because once the wounds come to the surface, in the sunlight they can be healed. There is no other way to heal them. You are coming to health. Don't be afraid. Let all those 'no's come up. They will be released, and you will be free of them.

A little girl had disobeyed her parents and they decided she should be punished. They took her upstairs to the bedroom, put her in the clothes-closet, closed the door and said, 'Now dear, you just take time to think it over, and see if you can't make up your mind to be more loving toward your parents and not disobey them.'

After a few minutes the parents consciences began to bother them, and they went up, knocked on the door, and said, 'Dear, how are you?'

'Oh, I am fine.'

'What are you doing?' asked her mother.

'Well,' she replied, 'I spit on your dress, I spit on your coat, I spit on your shoes, and I am just sitting here waiting for more spit.'

 

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