Geeta Darshan #10
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Read in Original Hindi (मूल हिन्दी)
Questions in this Discourse
(During the third twenty minutes the music kept playing. People danced and sang. The celebration went on. Then Osho spoke a few closing words.)
Just stop. Stop, become quiet, become quiet. Become quiet and sit in your places. Become quiet and sit in your places. Sit silently, quietly, in your places. I have a few things to say; let me say them, then you may go. Sit quietly, make no noise, do not crowd here nearby—sit quietly. If there is no space there, step outside; sit along the edges.
Look, some of you have come in from outside into the middle—go back out, sit along the edges. Be quiet. Look, do not talk; sit in your own places. If there is no room, then go out; sit along the sides.
Come out from there. Do not waste time—step out. If there is no space in the middle there, then go outside. Just as you came in, now go out. Stop the talking. Move a little forward; then there will be room at the back to sit. Sit down; if there is no space in front, move a little forward. If you move a little forward, there will be space behind.
All right, that’s fine. Sit down; in any way, make a little space and sit. If you cannot sit, then stand; now stop talking.
Those friends who did the experiment have been rewarded. But there is no shortage of the uncomprehending. And among you there are many who are uncomprehending. There are some things that cannot be seen just by looking. And what happens inside a human being—until it happens within you—you cannot come to know. If you look from the outside, it may even seem that the other person is acting crazy. But in the final reckoning, you will be proved the mad one.
There are things that can be seen only within. And unless you descend into that very experience, you cannot know anything about it. Someone is in love.
Look, some of you have come in from outside into the middle—go back out, sit along the edges. Be quiet. Look, do not talk; sit in your own places. If there is no room, then go out; sit along the sides.
Come out from there. Do not waste time—step out. If there is no space in the middle there, then go outside. Just as you came in, now go out. Stop the talking. Move a little forward; then there will be room at the back to sit. Sit down; if there is no space in front, move a little forward. If you move a little forward, there will be space behind.
All right, that’s fine. Sit down; in any way, make a little space and sit. If you cannot sit, then stand; now stop talking.
Those friends who did the experiment have been rewarded. But there is no shortage of the uncomprehending. And among you there are many who are uncomprehending. There are some things that cannot be seen just by looking. And what happens inside a human being—until it happens within you—you cannot come to know. If you look from the outside, it may even seem that the other person is acting crazy. But in the final reckoning, you will be proved the mad one.
There are things that can be seen only within. And unless you descend into that very experience, you cannot know anything about it. Someone is in love.
(A man is making noise. Osho explains: please be silent. Let him stand if he wants to stand—but be quiet.)
If someone is in love, from the outside you cannot know what is happening to him. If someone is in bliss, you still cannot know from the outside what is happening. If someone is in sorrow, you cannot know what is happening within. Within, you can only know what is happening within you.
That is why devotees have so often appeared mad, and it has seemed their minds have gone wrong. But one should try letting the mind go wrong once—its taste is altogether different. And once the juice of experience arrives, you’ll be ready to abandon all the world’s cleverness for it.
But small things become obstacles. First among them is this: “If it is not happening to me, how can it be happening to another?”
You are neither the measure nor the touchstone. There is much that can happen to another which is not happening to you. And remember: what is happening to another can happen to you as well—it only needs a little courage. And the greatest courage in the world is this: even if people laugh, still dare to experiment with the new.
We are terribly afraid of what people will say. Right up to the moment of death we keep our accounts with others—what will someone say? In this, we squander life. What will the neighbors say? If someone sees you dancing, singing, rejoicing—what will they say? What will your wife say; what will your husband say; what will your children say? So you go on collecting others’ opinions, and the stream of life flows past you.
Buddha has passed by you—and you missed him. Krishna has passed by—and you missed him too. Christ passed near you, but not a fragrance of him touched you, because you were always preoccupied with what people would say. You are needlessly deprived.
Remember another thing: religion is an experiment. Until you try, you cannot say what may be. Decide only after doing, after seeing—by experimenting with the new.
There are two kinds of people here: those who have experimented, and those who stood here without experimenting. And the strange thing is, those who have experimented may not say anything to anyone. But those who have not experimented are ready—their minds are primed to go and tell people what happened there.
If you have not experimented, don’t tell anyone what happened there, because whatever you say will be a lie; it is not your experience. Only if you have experienced should you tell people what happened—because then there is some truth in it. But we have scarcely remained related to honesty, and our whole personality has become false.
Just now I saw—hundreds were moving, but also holding back; lest something real begin to tremble!
What are you holding? What do you have to save? The real irony is: even if there were something to save, still—it would be one thing. But there is nothing to save. What will you lose? What do you have that could be destroyed? Whatever you have is fit to perish—and that is exactly what you are protecting!
I have heard: during the French Revolution, at the Bastille—the fortress where lifelong convicts were kept—the revolutionaries broke down the walls and smashed the chains of the thousands held there, and freed them. Many had been imprisoned for twenty, forty, even fifty years. Chains had been locked onto their hands and feet for life; only in death would those chains come off.
The revolutionaries freed them, thinking they would be overjoyed. But do you know what happened? By evening, half the prisoners returned and said, “Outside we don’t feel good. Without our chains we can’t even sleep. For thirty or forty years we have slept with chains; now we won’t get sleep. The chains are no longer chains; they have become part of our bodies. Give us back our chains. And our dark cells are fine—the sunlight hurts our eyes. And what will we do in the outside world? All our connections are broken. No one knows us. We have no relations. This jail is our home now, and here we want to die.”
The revolutionaries had never imagined prisoners would return to prison! They had never imagined that someone would reject freedom and go back. But one can become attached even to prison, and fall in love with chains.
We are like that. Even our sorrow we cannot bring ourselves to drop. If you want to cry, you still hold back. If you want to laugh, you still restrain yourself. You cannot let anything go. Your chains have become very dear; they look like ornaments. And so long as you remain filled with chains, the sky of the Divine, the sky of freedom, will not be available to you. You will have to break the chains. You will have to smash the cages. You will have to throw away the burdens you carry on your head—for the journey to the Divine is only for those who are unburdened, light. That journey is not for the heavy.
This was a small experiment. If you could not muster courage here, you have lost nothing. Try to be courageous at home, alone. Here there may have been the fear of others. Go home. Close the door. I can work with you there too. As we did the experiment here, place a flower. Pour your feeling into it; drop the ego. And let this experiment happen at home in exactly three stages. I can come there too.
And once you get a glimpse, you will become a different person. You will be newly born. Until that new birth happens, your present life and birth are utterly futile.
In this land we have worshipped the one we call dvija—twice-born. “Dvija,” we call him. One birth is from mother and father—that is not the real birth. The real birth is the one that comes through the contact between you and the Divine. Only then do you attain to life.
The birth from parents leads to death and nowhere else. To call it life is in vain. There is another life that is never destroyed. Until its fragrance, its perfume, its touch is upon you, know that you are wandering in vain—and where diamonds could be gained, you are wasting time collecting pebbles.
Do this experiment at home. And it is not that doing it once completes the work. You can do it every morning. If for three months you do it regularly, you will become a different person—you will be dvija. You will experience that for the first time the journey has begun in the open sky, the open winds, the open sun. And for the first time you will feel that to be on the earth is a blessing; that this life is a benediction, not a curse; and that God has given it as a schooling.
Many friends who did the experiment have received a deep glimpse. If they continue it at home, their depth will grow greatly.
Remember one thing: make meditation like bathing—a daily act. Just as the body must be washed every day to be fresh and clean, so the mind must be washed every day to be fresh and clean. And those whose minds are not fresh and clean cannot become a dwelling for God.
We call him, but we are not ready. We want him to be our guest, but inside us there is nothing but dirt and rubbish. When an ordinary guest comes to the house, we make great preparations and decorations; and we invite the Divine without any preparation—no adornment within. Remember, that Guest is ready to come, but the host is not ready.
Prepare a little. As you wash the body, so wash the mind every day. Washed and washed, the mind becomes a mirror, and in that mirror the image of the Divine begins to descend.
God is not a theory. He has nothing to do with philosophy. God is an experience. Even if all the scriptures are with you, they are useless until there is your own private, firsthand glimpse of the Divine. And with even a small glimpse, the world becomes different. Then in this world there is no sorrow, no anxiety, no death.
Here we made a gesture toward amrit—the deathless. We did a small experiment. Those who dared, repeat it. Those who did not, try at home in solitude. If you labor rightly, one thing is certain: no step taken toward the Divine ever goes in vain. No step goes in vain. Even the smallest effort is rewarded.
Our sitting is complete.
That is why devotees have so often appeared mad, and it has seemed their minds have gone wrong. But one should try letting the mind go wrong once—its taste is altogether different. And once the juice of experience arrives, you’ll be ready to abandon all the world’s cleverness for it.
But small things become obstacles. First among them is this: “If it is not happening to me, how can it be happening to another?”
You are neither the measure nor the touchstone. There is much that can happen to another which is not happening to you. And remember: what is happening to another can happen to you as well—it only needs a little courage. And the greatest courage in the world is this: even if people laugh, still dare to experiment with the new.
We are terribly afraid of what people will say. Right up to the moment of death we keep our accounts with others—what will someone say? In this, we squander life. What will the neighbors say? If someone sees you dancing, singing, rejoicing—what will they say? What will your wife say; what will your husband say; what will your children say? So you go on collecting others’ opinions, and the stream of life flows past you.
Buddha has passed by you—and you missed him. Krishna has passed by—and you missed him too. Christ passed near you, but not a fragrance of him touched you, because you were always preoccupied with what people would say. You are needlessly deprived.
Remember another thing: religion is an experiment. Until you try, you cannot say what may be. Decide only after doing, after seeing—by experimenting with the new.
There are two kinds of people here: those who have experimented, and those who stood here without experimenting. And the strange thing is, those who have experimented may not say anything to anyone. But those who have not experimented are ready—their minds are primed to go and tell people what happened there.
If you have not experimented, don’t tell anyone what happened there, because whatever you say will be a lie; it is not your experience. Only if you have experienced should you tell people what happened—because then there is some truth in it. But we have scarcely remained related to honesty, and our whole personality has become false.
Just now I saw—hundreds were moving, but also holding back; lest something real begin to tremble!
What are you holding? What do you have to save? The real irony is: even if there were something to save, still—it would be one thing. But there is nothing to save. What will you lose? What do you have that could be destroyed? Whatever you have is fit to perish—and that is exactly what you are protecting!
I have heard: during the French Revolution, at the Bastille—the fortress where lifelong convicts were kept—the revolutionaries broke down the walls and smashed the chains of the thousands held there, and freed them. Many had been imprisoned for twenty, forty, even fifty years. Chains had been locked onto their hands and feet for life; only in death would those chains come off.
The revolutionaries freed them, thinking they would be overjoyed. But do you know what happened? By evening, half the prisoners returned and said, “Outside we don’t feel good. Without our chains we can’t even sleep. For thirty or forty years we have slept with chains; now we won’t get sleep. The chains are no longer chains; they have become part of our bodies. Give us back our chains. And our dark cells are fine—the sunlight hurts our eyes. And what will we do in the outside world? All our connections are broken. No one knows us. We have no relations. This jail is our home now, and here we want to die.”
The revolutionaries had never imagined prisoners would return to prison! They had never imagined that someone would reject freedom and go back. But one can become attached even to prison, and fall in love with chains.
We are like that. Even our sorrow we cannot bring ourselves to drop. If you want to cry, you still hold back. If you want to laugh, you still restrain yourself. You cannot let anything go. Your chains have become very dear; they look like ornaments. And so long as you remain filled with chains, the sky of the Divine, the sky of freedom, will not be available to you. You will have to break the chains. You will have to smash the cages. You will have to throw away the burdens you carry on your head—for the journey to the Divine is only for those who are unburdened, light. That journey is not for the heavy.
This was a small experiment. If you could not muster courage here, you have lost nothing. Try to be courageous at home, alone. Here there may have been the fear of others. Go home. Close the door. I can work with you there too. As we did the experiment here, place a flower. Pour your feeling into it; drop the ego. And let this experiment happen at home in exactly three stages. I can come there too.
And once you get a glimpse, you will become a different person. You will be newly born. Until that new birth happens, your present life and birth are utterly futile.
In this land we have worshipped the one we call dvija—twice-born. “Dvija,” we call him. One birth is from mother and father—that is not the real birth. The real birth is the one that comes through the contact between you and the Divine. Only then do you attain to life.
The birth from parents leads to death and nowhere else. To call it life is in vain. There is another life that is never destroyed. Until its fragrance, its perfume, its touch is upon you, know that you are wandering in vain—and where diamonds could be gained, you are wasting time collecting pebbles.
Do this experiment at home. And it is not that doing it once completes the work. You can do it every morning. If for three months you do it regularly, you will become a different person—you will be dvija. You will experience that for the first time the journey has begun in the open sky, the open winds, the open sun. And for the first time you will feel that to be on the earth is a blessing; that this life is a benediction, not a curse; and that God has given it as a schooling.
Many friends who did the experiment have received a deep glimpse. If they continue it at home, their depth will grow greatly.
Remember one thing: make meditation like bathing—a daily act. Just as the body must be washed every day to be fresh and clean, so the mind must be washed every day to be fresh and clean. And those whose minds are not fresh and clean cannot become a dwelling for God.
We call him, but we are not ready. We want him to be our guest, but inside us there is nothing but dirt and rubbish. When an ordinary guest comes to the house, we make great preparations and decorations; and we invite the Divine without any preparation—no adornment within. Remember, that Guest is ready to come, but the host is not ready.
Prepare a little. As you wash the body, so wash the mind every day. Washed and washed, the mind becomes a mirror, and in that mirror the image of the Divine begins to descend.
God is not a theory. He has nothing to do with philosophy. God is an experience. Even if all the scriptures are with you, they are useless until there is your own private, firsthand glimpse of the Divine. And with even a small glimpse, the world becomes different. Then in this world there is no sorrow, no anxiety, no death.
Here we made a gesture toward amrit—the deathless. We did a small experiment. Those who dared, repeat it. Those who did not, try at home in solitude. If you labor rightly, one thing is certain: no step taken toward the Divine ever goes in vain. No step goes in vain. Even the smallest effort is rewarded.
Our sitting is complete.
Osho's Commentary
If you have settled on the idea that as you are is the final state, then there is no possibility of joy in your life. You will live in hell and end in hell.
Life is so much more. But to know that “more,” a more open heart is needed. Life is infinite. But to see the infinite, closed eyes will not do. Life is vast, and right here, right now, its depth is present. Yet you sit with your doors shut. And if someone knocks, you become afraid and bolt them even tighter.
I have called you today. I will not knock on your door—I will break it down. But I need your readiness. If you remain afraid, you will be deprived. If out of fear you keep your eyes closed, even if the sun rises, it will not rise for you. You will remain in darkness.
This is an experiment in courage—and only for those who are thoroughly bored with themselves, thoroughly harassed by themselves, and who have clearly understood that remaining as they are leads nowhere. Then change is possible; revolution can happen.
I have heard of a village nestled in distant hills. It lay in a ravine, down below. When the rains came and the rivers flooded, the village houses were washed away, the fields destroyed, the animals swept off, the children drowned. Tempests came, storms raged, rocks fell from the mountains; people were crushed and died.
Life in that village was great suffering. It was hardly life at all—just a continual fight with death. Now the rains tormented them, now the storms. Living was a burden.
But the people of that hill village believed this was simply the way to live, for from childhood they had known no other. Their fathers had lived so, their grandfathers too. Their legends were full of the same miseries: floods and drownings, falling rocks and sudden death—born struggling, dying struggling. Those were their scriptures.
One day a wandering traveler reached that village and said, “You are foolish. This is no way to resolve your problems. Build your houses higher up. Leave this ravine. These beautiful mountains surround you—build on their slopes.”
The villagers asked, “Will that solve our problems? How will building higher solve anything? The rains will still come, storms will still rage, the rivers will still flow. They won’t stop!”
Their question was fair. The traveler laughed and said, “Don’t worry. Your problems will change—because you will have gone up. You are in the lowlands; that is why there are problems. If you remain down here and try to solve them, you never will.”
The villagers must have been brave. Great courage is needed to change old habits. They began building houses on higher ground. Then they held a celebration and said, “We wonder why this never occurred to us before! The rivers still flow, but they can do us no harm. The rocks still fall, but we are no longer in the ravine.”
Where you are living is a ravine where all troubles tumble down and you are harassed. This experiment is to bring you out of that ravine and lead you toward the heights. But it is difficult to drop old habits—even when they cause pain.
Whom does anger not hurt? Whom does jealousy not burn? Who has ever found joy in enmity? Yet we are addicted. And if someone says, “Come, give me your anger,” even then we hesitate and become miserly.
This experiment is precisely for this: I ask you for all your diseases. And I show you the way to give them to me. They can leave you, because you are not your diseases; they are only your habits. Habits can be changed. You created them; you can erase them.
But we have a hoard of illnesses. Through many lives we have piled up who knows what disturbances within. So many tears that wanted to flow but could not. So many cries that wanted to be expressed but were not. So much anger, so much fire burning inside. And because of that fire, hatred, and derangement, your life stands upon a volcano that can erupt at any moment.
Psychologists say every person stands at the edge of madness, and can go mad at any time. And they are right. Madness is almost the normal condition. But I show you a way by which whatever is suppressed within you can be released into the open sky.
You need not pour anger on anyone; anger can be released into the open sky. The madness within need not harm anyone. Madness can evaporate—vaporize—into the air.
And as soon as you begin to throw this turmoil out, you will find the weight on your head becoming lighter. The walls around you breaking. You opening to the sky. A path is being made for the divine.
This is an experiment in surrender. Only if you let go of yourself will anything happen. Your cleverness is not needed here. You have been living by your cleverness; the result is before you. What you are is the outcome of your cleverness—call it intelligence or unintelligence, it makes no difference. Whatever you are, it is the result of your cleverness.
This experiment is not of your cleverness. You have to put it aside. You have lived by it enough. For one hour give me the chance to enter you and transform you.
If you agree, and you open even a small window, I can enter you like a fresh breeze. Its touch will be delightful. I can enter you like an electric current; much rubbish will burn, and the gold will shine out. But you must take one courageous step: you will not use your cleverness. It is not needed at all.
The flower I asked you to bring, and to meditate that it is your ego—I asked for this for just this reason. If you have truly felt that “this flower is my ego,” then in a little while when I say, “Raise both hands and, with your whole being, feel that this flower is my ego—now drop it,” then as the flower falls, an unknown weight within will fall with it. You will become light.
Your ego is the obstacle. If it moves aside, I can flow here like a storm. And what I am saying is not symbolic language. I am not talking literature; I am not speaking in metaphor. In fact, like a storm I will whirl around you. And just as a storm seizes a tree, shakes it, all its dry leaves fall, all its dust is blown away—so I will seize you. You will begin to tremble like a tree; every hair of your body will vibrate. Your life-energy will awaken and a current of power will start flowing within you.
As soon as you let go, I will begin to work. Your letting go is the first condition. After that you have nothing to do. Things will begin to happen. You have only one task: do not do anything. Just let go and wait.
As soon as my energy meets your energy, your breathing will begin to change. That will be the first sign that you have met me, that you are on the right path, that you have handed yourself over to me. As soon as you let go, your breath will start changing—becoming fast and deep. When the breath becomes fast and deep, know this is the first sign. Do not stop it. Let it go deeper. Support it, so it shakes you completely and begins to move within you like a blacksmith’s bellows.
That breath will bring much into you and carry much out of you. It will bring me into you and throw out all your junk and rubbish. That breath will become the touch of the vast within you and begin to throw out your smallness. With the incoming breath I will come in; with the outgoing breath I will take something away from you. So the faster the breath, the greater the benefit—because that much faster you will be emptied. So when your breathing begins to quicken, cooperate with it; do not interfere.
The second experience: as soon as the breath becomes fast, you will immediately feel a new electricity, a life-energy, running through the body. Every hair will want to tremble, to dance. Many processes will begin in the body. Mudras will start forming. Someone will suddenly want to stand. Someone’s head will begin to spin. Someone’s hands will rise overhead. Anything can happen. Whatever happens, do not stop it; let it happen. You are as if flowing in a river; you need not swim. Wherever the current takes you.
You may not know what is happening—do not stop it. But I know what is happening; therefore I tell you, do not stop it. If you are very angry by nature, that anger is embedded in the fingers and fists of your hands. When I take hold of you, that anger will begin to flow out of your fists; your hands will start to shake. If you are a person filled with worry, your brain is heavily burdened; your head will start to shake, and worries will begin to fall from it. If you are very sexual, then at the sex center a powerful flow of energy will begin. Do not be afraid. That flow will rise upward, because I am drawing it upward. That same energy becomes kundalini.
Your entire spine will begin to tremble; along with it, your whole body will tremble. It will feel as if someone is pulling you toward the sky. Indeed, I will pull you toward the sky. And if you do not obstruct, you will find in this whole experiment that you have become weightless—no weight remains. The earth’s gravitation, its pull, will lessen. But you will have to let go.
The breath will intensify; then your life-energy will intensify. And third, when the contact becomes still deeper...
(sounds of crying and shouting)
Stop now; first understand completely. And when the contact becomes fully deep...
(shouts)
Steady them a little. Stop for now. Then from within you, sounds will begin to arise—cries, roars, or the utterance of some mantra; or weeping, shouting, laughing; or a scream—just screaming, shrieking. Do not stop it; let it happen. Along with it, countless inner diseases will leave. You will become light—soft like a child: light, tender, innocent.
This is the first stage. For twenty minutes this experiment will continue. Music will go on here. You are to gaze at me, unblinking, so that I can enter through your eyes. Let go of yourself and look toward me. Then I will do the rest.
After twenty minutes the music will stop. And then, whatever state you are in, freeze exactly so. If someone has stood up, remain standing. If someone’s hand is raised toward the sky, leave the hand where it is. If someone’s neck has bent, remain exactly so. Whatever your posture after the twenty-minute process—stop, dead, as if you have suddenly turned to stone. As soon as I call, “Stop,” stop just so. Close your eyes.
In the second stage, for twenty minutes with eyes closed, become like a stone statue. However much the mind says, “Move the foot a little, open the eyes a little, change the hand a little, turn over a little,” stop this mind. This mind is a cheat. It tries to distract you from the awakened energy within. For a full twenty minutes, remain like stone. And you will be able to. If in the first twenty minutes you allowed the body to flow in totality, in the second twenty minutes no obstacle will arise—you will become statue-like.
In these second twenty minutes I will work through your silence, and meet you in silence. Through words I have said many things to you. But whatever is essential cannot be said in words. Whatever is deep has never been said in words. For that, dialogue can only happen in silence. If you enter the experiment rightly, in silence I will be able to say something to you—and to do something as well.
In this deep quiet of the second stage you will have unprecedented experiences. The heart will fill with bliss—such bliss as you have never known. Such stillness, such emptiness and peace will descend within as to feel utterly unfamiliar. Within yourself you will find a height with which you were never related. You will have moved up from the ravine toward the mountain peaks. And there you will experience a new light, and feel the infinite presence of the divine.
In the third twenty minutes you will have the opportunity to express your bliss. Then, whatever arises in your delight and gratitude—if you want to dance, to sing, to laugh, or to remain silent—whatever wants to happen, for twenty minutes you will be immersed in the grace of the divine.
The first twenty minutes are to free you from your diseases. The second twenty minutes are to give birth to your bliss in silence. The third twenty minutes are to develop your sense of wonder and gratitude. These are the three stages. All you need do is not interfere; remain cooperative.
A few simple reminders. Much will begin to happen; do not pay attention to others. Otherwise you will miss. Do not behave like children; you are not little children. If someone beside you begins to scream, you have no need to look; let them scream. If someone nearby begins to dance, you need not turn to watch. Otherwise you will miss. Even that small distraction, and my connection with you will break. Keep your gaze on me—whatever happens around you.
This whole space will become like a storm, a state of frenzy. Remember only one thing: your connection is with me, and no one else is here. However much the mind wants to look here and there, stop this foolishness. All your life you have looked here and there, and nothing has come of it. Nothing will come of your looking now. You will miss; the time will be wasted. Such an opportunity can be lost by one childish act. So do not look here and there.
And for the first twenty minutes you are to gaze unblinking. If tears start flowing from your eyes, do not worry. Your eyes will not be harmed; they will only become fresh. A little dust will wash away; they will be clear. Keep looking. Keep only this small resolve: to keep looking toward me—because through the eyes I can enter most easily.
Keep these three stages in mind.
Now we will begin. The flower you have brought with you, take it between your two hands. The flower that you have brought here, put it between your two palms and close the palms. Take the flower between your palms and close them. And once more, with your whole heart, feel: my ego is concentrated in this flower. Now once more, project your ego into this flower and feel this flower is your ego.
Now raise both your hands upward. Raise both hands with the flower. Lift the flower up. Raise both hands. Make this final feeling: this flower is my ego, and I drop this ego. And let the flower fall toward the ground with both hands. Now drop the flower, and with the dropping of the flower, your ego drops.
Now look toward me. Now stare at me for twenty minutes. Don’t create any barrier. Surrender towards me and allow me to work.
(Crying, shouting, weeping, etc., intensify. The experiment continued for twenty minutes.)
Stop! Now stop completely! Stop as you are. Close your eyes. Close your eyes and stop completely—no movement, no noise. Not even a trace of sound. Stop the body absolutely. The energy has awakened; now let it work within in silence. Close your eyes; let no eyes remain open. Close your eyes and allow the energy to work within. Absolutely silent, not the slightest sound, so that I can work in your silence.
For twenty minutes become as if this is a cremation ground—only corpses remain. For twenty minutes now be totally silent, as if you have gone dead. No one moves here or there; no one walks about. Wherever you are, become like a corpse. Those who have come only to watch, kindly also close your eyes and, for at least twenty minutes, be silent. Do not move.
Give me a chance to enter your stillness and make a flower of joy blossom in your heart. Now allow me to work in your silence.
(For the second twenty minutes there was profound silence everywhere.)
A deep quiet has descended. An experience of deep bliss. You have entered a new dimension of silence. The second step is complete. The second step is over; now you can enter the third. Now enter the third.
You can express the bliss that has arisen. Express it in whatever way the feeling comes. Now you can express your bliss, your silence, the way you choose. You can sing, you can dance, you can laugh—whatsoever you feel like doing. And don’t be shy; celebrate it. Do not hesitate; allow bliss to be expressed. The more you express it, the more it will grow. The more you express it, the more it will grow. Do not be afraid; if you want bliss, let bliss be expressed. Express it—the more you express, the more it grows.