The Purity of Yoga_

Philosophy<--------------------------------------------->Religion   

The Second Question:

The opening toward higher consciousness means you must have something indubitable within you; that's what trust means. You have at least one point which you trust, which you cannot doubt even if you want to. That's why I said Descartes came to a point through his logical investigation that, "We cannot doubt ourselves. I cannot doubt that I am, because even to say that 'I doubt,' I have to be there. The very assertion that 'I doubt' proves that I am."

You must have heard the famous dictum of Descartes, cogito, ergo sum - "I think, therefore I am." Doubting is thinking: I doubt, therefore, I am. But this is just an opening, and Descartes never, never went beyond this opening. He turned again back. You can come back from the very door. He was happy that he has found a center, indubitable center, and then he started to work out his philosophy. So all that he had denied before he pulled in from the back door: "Because I am there must be a creator who has created me." And then he went - then, heaven and hell, then God and sin and the whole Christian theology came in from the back door.

He used this as a philosophical inquiry. He was not a yogi; he was not really in search of his being, he was in search of a theory. But you can use that as an opening. An opening means you have to transcend it; you have to go beyond; you have to pass it over; you have to go through it. You are not to cling to it. If you cling, then any opening will become closed.

This is good to realize that at least "I cannot doubt myself." Then the right step will be this: "If I cannot doubt myself, if I feel I am, then I must know who I am." Then it becomes a right inquiry. Then you move into religion, because when you ask "Who am I?" you have asked a fundamental question. Not philosophical - existential. Nobody else can answer who you are; nobody else can give you a ready-made answer. You will have to search yourself; you will have to dig it within yourself.

Just this logical certainty that "I am", is of not much use if you don't go ahead and ask, "Who am I?" And this is not a question, this is going to be a quest. A question may lead you into philosophy, a quest leads you into religion. So if you feel that you don't know yourself, then don't go to anybody to ask "Who am I?" Nobody can answer you. You are there inside, hidden. You have to penetrate to that dimension where you are, encounter yourself.

This is a different type of journey, the inner. All our journeys are outer: we are making bridges to reach someone else. This quest means you have to break all the bridges to others. All that you have done without has to be dropped, and something new has to be started within. It will be difficult, just because you have become so fixed with the without. You always think of others; you never think of yourself.

This is strange, but no one thinks about himself - he thinks about others. If sometimes you think about yourself, it is also in relation to others. It is never pure. It is not simply just about you. Then when you think just about you, thinking will have to be dropped, because what you can think? About others you can think; thinking means "about". What you can think about yourself? You will have to drop thinking and you will have to look inside - not thinking, but looking, seeing, observing, witnessing. The whole process will change. One has to look for oneself.

Doubt is good. If you doubt, and if you continuously doubt, there is only one rock-like phenomenon which cannot be doubted, which is your existence. Then a new quest will arise, and that is not a question. You will have to ask, "Who am I?"

Ramana Maharshi, his whole life, was giving only one technique to his disciples. He will say, "Just sit down, close your eyes, and go on asking 'Who am I? Who am I?' Use it as a mantra." But it is not a mantra. You have not to use it as dead words. It must become an inner penetration.

Go on asking it. Your mind will answer many times that you are a soul, you are a self, you are divine- but don't listen to these things, these are all borrowed; you have heard these things. Put them aside unless you come to know who you are. And if you go on continuously putting the mind aside, one day there is an explosion. The mind explodes, and all the borrowed knowledge disappears from you. And for the first time you are face to face with yourself, looking within yourself. This is the opening. And this is the way and this is the quest.

Ask who you are and don't cling to cheap answers. All answers that are given by others are cheap. The real answer can only come out of you. It is just like a real flower can only come out of the tree itself; you cannot put it from the outside. You can, but that will be a dead flower. It may deceive others, but it cannot deceive the tree itself. The tree knows that "This is just a dead flower hanging on my branch. And this is just a weight. This is not a happiness, this is just a burden." The tree cannot celebrate it; the tree cannot welcome it.

The tree can welcome only something which comes from the very roots, from its inner being, innermost core. And when it comes from its innermost core, the flower becomes its soul. And through the flower the tree expresses its dance, its song. Its whole life becomes meaningful. Just like that, the answer will come out of you, out of your roots. Then you will dance it. Then your whole life will become meaningful.

If the answer is given from without, it will be just a sign, a dead sign. If it comes from within, it will not be a sign, it will be a significance. Remember these two words - "sign" and "significance". Sign can be given from without; significance can only flower from within. Philosophy works with signs, concepts, words. Religion works with significance. It is not concerned with words and signs and symbols.

But that is going to be an arduous journey for yourself because nobody can help really, and all the helpers are, in a way, hindrances. If somebody is too much patronizing and gives you the answer, he is your enemy. Patanjali is not going to give you the answer, he is only going to indicate you the path, the way from where your own answer will arise, from where you will encounter the answer.

The great Masters have given only methods, they have not given the answer. Philosophers have given answers, but Patanjali, Jesus or Buddha, they have not given answers. You ask for answers and they give you methods, they give you techniques. You have to work your answer out yourself, through your effort, through your suffering, through your penetration, through your tapascharya. Only the answer can come, and it can become a significance. Your fulfillment is through it.

The third question:

First you ask, "What was the message?" If Buddha could not convey it through words, I cannot also convey it through words. It is not possible.

I will tell you one anecdote.

One disciple came to Mulla Nasrudin. And he asked the Mulla, "I have heard that you have the secret, the ultimate secret, the key which can open all the doors of mystery." Nasrudin said, "Yes, I have got it. But what about it? Why you are asking about it?" The man fell down in his feet and he said, "I was in search of you, Master. If you have the key and the secret, tell it to me."

Nasrudin said, "If it is such a secret, you must understand it cannot be told so easily. You will have to wait." The disciple asked, "How much?" Nasrudin said, "That too is not certain. It depends on your patience - three years or thirty years." The disciple waited. After three years he asked again. Nasrudin said, "If you ask again, then it will take thirty years. Just wait. It is not an ordinary thing. It is the ultimate secret."

Thirty years passed and the disciple said, "Master, now my whole life is wasted. I have not got anything. Now, give me the secret." Nasrudin said, "There is a condition: you will have to promise me that you will keep it a secret, you will not say to anybody." The man said, "I promise you that it will remain a secret until I die. I will not mention it to anyone."

Nasrudin said, "Thank you. This is what my Master... This is my promise to my Master. And if you can keep it a secret until death, what do you think? Cannot I keep it a secret?"

If Buddha was silent, I also can be silent about it. There is something which cannot be said. It is not a message because messages can always be said. And if they cannot be said, they cannot be messages. A message is something said, something to be said, can be said. Message is always verbal.

Buddha has not a message; that's why he couldn't say it. There were ten thousand disciples. Only Mahakashyap got it because he could understand Buddha's silence. That is the secret of the secret. he could understand the silence.

Buddha remained silent under his tree one morning. And he was really going to give a sermon and everybody was waiting. He remained silent, remained silent The disciples became uneasy. It has never happened before. He will come and he will speak, and he will go. But half an hour has passed. The sun has risen, everybody is feeling hot. There is silence superficially, but everybody is inside uncomfortable, chattering, inside asking "Why Buddha is silent today?"

And he sits there under his tree with a flower in his hand and goes on looking at the flower as if he is not even aware of those ten thousand disciples who have gathered to listen. They have come from very, very far away villages. From all over the country they have gathered.

Then somebody says, somebody gathers courage and says, "Why you are not speaking? We are waiting." Buddha is reported to have said that, "I am saying. This half an hour I have been speaking."

It was too paradoxical. It was patently absurd - he has remained silent, he has not said anything. But to say to Buddha that, "You are talking absurdities," was not possible. The disciples again remained silent - more troubled now.

And suddenly one disciple, Mahakashyap, started laughing. Buddha called him near, gave him the flower, and said, "Whatsoever can be said, I have said to others, and that which cannot be said I have given to you." He only gave the flower, but this flower is just a symbol. With flower he has given some significance also. This flower is just a sign, but something else he has conveyed which cannot be conveyed by words.

You also know certain feelings which cannot be conveyed. When you are deep in love, what you do? You will feel meaningless simply to go on saying, "I love you. I love you." And if you say it too much, the other will get bored. And if you go on repeating, the other will think you are just a parrot. And if you continue, the other will think that you don't know what love is.

When you feel love, it is meaningless to say that you love. You have to do something - something significant. It may be a kiss, it may be a hug, it may be just taking the other's hand into your hand, not doing anything - but it is a significance. You are conveying something which cannot be conveyed by words.

Buddha conveyed something which cannot be conveyed by words. He gave the flower. It was a gift. That gift is visible; something invisible is passing with that gift.

When you take the hand of your friend in your hand, it is visible. Just taking the hand of your friend in your hand doesn't make much sense, but something else is passing. It is an exchange. Some energy, some feeling something so deep that words cannot express it, is passing. This is a sign; hand is just a sign. Significance is invisible; it is passing. It is not a message, it is a gift. It is grace.

Buddha has given himself; he has not given any message. He has poured himself into Mahakashyap. And for two reasons Mahakashyap became capable of receiving this. One was - he remained totally silent while Buddha was silent. Others were also silent apparently, but they were not. They were continuously thinking, "Why Buddha is silent?" They were looking at each other, making gestures - 'What has happened to Buddha? Has he gone mad? He has never been so silent."

Nobody was silent. Only Mahakashyap, in that great assembly of ten thousand monks, was silent. He was not troubled; he was not thinking. Buddha was looking at the flower and Mahakashyap was looking at Buddha. And you cannot find a greater flower than Buddha. That was the highest flowering of human consciousness. So Buddha went on looking at the flower and Mahakashyap went on looking at Buddha. Only two persons were not thinking. Buddha was not thinking, he was looking. And Mahakashyap was not thinking, he was also looking. This was the one thing that made him capable of receiving.

And the second thing was that he laughed. If silence cannot become celebration, if silence cannot become a laughter, if silence cannot become a dance, if silence cannot become an ecstasy, then it is pathological. Then it will become sadness. Then it will turn into a disease. Then silence will not be alive, it will be dead.

You can become silent just by becoming dead, but then you will not receive Buddha's grace. Then the divine cannot descend in you. The divine needs two things: silence and a dancing silence, silence alive. And he was both in that moment. He was silent, and when everybody was serious he laughed. Buddha poured himself; that is not a message.

Attain these two things; then I can pour myself into you. Be silent, and don't make that silence a sad thing. Allow it to be laughing and dancing. The silence must be childlike, full of energy, vibrant, ecstatic. It should not be dead. Then, then only, what Buddha did to Mahahashyap can be done to you.

My whole effort is that someday, somebody will become Mahakashyap. But it is not a message.

 

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