Geeta Darshan #10

The man who has conquered the surges of kama and krodha in life—here he is a yogi, in the beyond he is liberated, and he alone becomes available to bliss.
Kama means the longing to take pleasure from the other. Wherever there is the desire to take joy from another, there is kama.
Kama is a vast phenomenon. Kama is not only sexual; sex is just a tiny part of kama’s immense web.
Wherever there is the wish to derive pleasure from another, paths of exploiting the other are simultaneously created. The moment I want to take pleasure from someone, exploitation begins. And if anyone becomes an obstacle to my kama, to my getting pleasure from another, then krodha is born. That is why Krishna has named kama and krodha together in this sutra. They are twin surges.
When someone blocks desire—when anyone obstructs the fulfillment of kama, stands like a wall, stands in the way—anger is born. Wherever the surge of kama finds an obstruction, it turns back and becomes krodha. If the surge of kama meets no hindrance and fulfills its wish, it culminates in frustration, despondency.
When kama is satiated—when it is completed—behind it there remains only a blackness of melancholy, a residue of darkness. And if kama does not get fulfilled, if someone inserts an obstacle, kama bursts into the flame of anger. Anger is simply kama in a blocked form; it is kama arrested. I wanted to do something, could not do it—so on the one who obstructed me, my energy of kama showers as the fire of anger.
I said, kama is a big event. If we ask psychologists, they say man is living for kama. If we ask Freud, he will say, kama is man’s all—his very soul. And as far as ordinary humanity is concerned, Freud is exactly right. We amass wealth so that kama can be purchased. We seek fame so that kama can be purchased. Our twenty-four-hour running, if probed deeply, is a run to get pleasure from someone.
I have heard that a man came to a psychiatrist named Frank Wu. He was tormented by excessive anger—anger was his disease. Anger had burned him within; anger had dried him up. All his springs of juice were poisoned. Threads of anger were in his eyes; lines of anger on his face. Sleep was lost. Violence and more violence circled his mind.
Frank Wu seated him and, for analysis, performed a small experiment. He raised his handkerchief high and said, Watch this. Then he let it drop. The handkerchief fell. He said, Close your eyes and tell me—when the handkerchief fell, what thought came to you? What is the first thought that arises in your mind as the handkerchief drops?
The man closed his eyes and said, I’m reminded of sex.
Frank Wu was a little surprised—for what connection could there be between a handkerchief falling and sex? He picked up a book lying nearby and said, I will open this; watch closely. He opened it, then said, Close your eyes and tell me—on seeing the book open, what thought arises?
He said, I am again reminded of sex.
Frank Wu grew more puzzled. He rang the bell on the table and said, Listen to the bell carefully! Close your eyes. What are you reminded of? He said, I’m reminded of sex—the same thought of sex.
Frank Wu said, Strange! How do three entirely different things remind you of the same thing? A handkerchief falling, a book opening, a bell ringing—so various! Yet the same thought arises—why?
The man said, Your things have nothing to do with it. Nothing other than sex ever comes to me. Whether you drop a handkerchief or a stone, ring a bell or a gong, open a book or close it—it makes no difference. I think of nothing but sex.
This man will seem mad. But in the world ninety-nine out of a hundred are like this—whether they know it or not. And those who know, at least they can be treated; those who do not know are in a dangerous state.
We may feel, This cannot be right—why would a falling handkerchief remind us? But if you undertake even a little introspection from morning till night, peep inside a little, you will be astonished that somewhere in the depths a layer of sexual craving goes on all the time.
Psychologists have caught this secret, that is why advertisers worldwide have been told: if you want to sell anything to man, link it to sex—it will sell. Otherwise it won’t. If you want to sell a car, stand a nude woman by it—there is no connection. To sell cigarettes, stand a woman—whatever you wish to sell, bring in a nude woman, even if there is no connection at all, still place her there. Why? Because the undercurrent of man’s mind has been known. Everything reminds him of that. So if a woman is placed there, the product will get deeply associated in his mind, it will sink deeper. Then he will not buy the thing; he will buy the thing and think that, by some known-or-unknown route, he has bought a woman.
If a mind full of kama is also filled with krodha for twenty-four hours, it is no surprise. This kama meets a thousand hindrances, a thousand blockages all day. It does not get fulfilled; it hurts. The life within boils. The energy wants to flow into kama, and meets a thousand obstacles. Therefore, wherever convenience is created, people will begin to break the obstacles—as happened in America.
When the world was poor, people feared society—because they would starve if they went against it. Job, livelihood would be lost; survival would become difficult. Today in America there is plenty of money; the fear of society is not so great. Hence, all rules and structures around sex are being broken.
The richer the world becomes, the more it will smash all boundaries around sex. But nothing great is thereby attained. On one side, in affluent societies like America, all sexual restraints have broken; on the other, failure and despondency thicken, and suicides increase.
Society has only two tools. Either it can grant open license for the fulfillment of your sexual craving—in which case you will go mad with despondency and frustration—as happened in America; complete freedom arose regarding sex, and the result was that even the juice of sex diminished, went tasteless; the depth of kama was lost, its value lost, and man stands in melancholy. Now he needs another sensation, another surge, another stimulation—which is not in sight.
Therefore distorted forms of kama began to spread across the West. Homosexuality grows as it has never grown before—because man with woman, woman with man, they have seen it; there isn’t much juice. What to do now? New inventions have to be made—deranged inventions arise: perversions are born.
If society leaves sex entirely open, it will pervert; if society does not leave it open at all, there will be suppression. And the more the suppression, the more anger will arise. Leave kama open, despondency spreads; life becomes juiceless. People become tired, meaningless. Emptiness grips. All is void, nothing is in life. And if kama is blocked, anger is generated; anger appears in a thousand forms.
Do you know that a hundred years ago there were no youth revolts anywhere in the world? It is not that some new kind of youth has appeared. Never were youths throwing stones to break college windows, burning schools, setting fires, burning buses and trams. Never did they throw their teachers, gurus, parents into such anxiety; never did they so disrupt the entire social order. What happened? Did some new hormones arise, some new chemistry? Some new thing was born?
Youth are exactly as ever. Only one change—child marriage departed from the world. At thirteen or fourteen, the youth is filled with sexual craving. But society creates impediments from all sides. Impediments create anger. Kama blocked—anger generated. Anger generated—destruction will follow.
Hence a wave of destruction runs around the world. Youth break the very things their parents created for them. Universities will burn; they cannot be saved.
Therefore a very intelligent American psychologist, Kinsey, after ten years of study said that if we want to end youth revolt, we must return to child marriage.
That an American psychologist would say, Return to child marriage! Why? If kama is blocked, anger will arise—and anger will become violence and tear life from all sides.
But child marriage brings other troubles. As soon as child marriages happen, as soon as children are married, creativity disappears from their lives; they cannot create—they create only children and nothing else. Therefore societies with child marriage cannot invent, cannot do scientific research, cannot climb the Himalayas, cannot reach the moon and stars.
Where there is child marriage, search, creativity, creation—all stop. Where there is search and creation, child marriage is halted—there anger and the fire of violence spread. Then what to do?
Krishna suggests something else. He says: neither is there any solution in leaving kama open, nor in stopping it. The resolution lies in going beyond both surges—rising above both; becoming aloof from both; becoming non-attached to both.
He who stands aloof from these two surges upon this earth—whom kama does not agitate, whom krodha does not throw into flames—such a one attains joy here and bliss hereafter.
But we attain only suffering upon suffering. From this it is clear our state is precisely the opposite of Krishna’s man—nothing but suffering, only aggregates of suffering.
When Freud was dying, someone asked: You have done psychotherapy for so many your whole life—do you think man can be led to happiness by psychotherapy? Can bliss be attained? What Freud said is astonishing. He said, No; as man is, such a man can never be led to happiness. At most, arrangements can be made to bring man to general unhappiness. Bliss—no. He said, we can only ensure that people do not fall into neurotic unhappiness; do not go mad with sorrow; remain ordinary—we can bring them to general unhappiness. That is all, at most. We can stop you at the level of the suffering that everyone has—general unhappiness; nothing beyond.
If such a sage of this age as Freud says that the final goal does not appear beyond this, we must reconsider the foundations of psychology. From neurotic unhappiness we can lower you to general unhappiness—no more! We will not let you be so miserable that you must go to an asylum, or commit suicide, or go insane. We will leave you just miserable enough to run your shop and raise your children—general unhappiness, as everyone is. Nothing beyond. Nothing more can be done.
If Freud says this, it is worth pondering—because all the inner scientists of India—Krishna, Patanjali, Kanada, Buddha, Mahavira, Shankara, Nagarjuna—they all say man can attain the supreme bliss. And they say so authentically because they themselves stood in that supreme bliss.
Surely there is a basic difference in foundations, a fundamental ontological difference.
The West believes man cannot be free of kama—then he cannot be free of suffering either. The sufficient goal is general unhappiness; remain normal. The East believes man can be free of sexual craving. How?
As long as we have the wrong method, however hard we try, there will be no result. Often it happens that we labor for years on a wrong method and nothing happens. With the right key, the lock opens in a moment.
I have heard: A man was very troubled, went to a doctor. He said, My trouble is that when I sleep on the bed, I feel someone is under the bed. Then I go down to sleep below and find no one is there—but then I feel someone is above. Again I climb up and find no one above, but now I’m sure someone is below. All night I go up and down. My sleep is destroyed. I’m going mad—save me. I know well enough that when I go below there is no one; but by then I feel someone is above. Until I go up, how can I be sure? When I go up, I feel someone is below!
The psychologist said, A very difficult case. It will take two years—and even then I cannot guarantee you will be cured of this foolishness. I will try. The fee is a hundred rupees a week; two sessions weekly, and two years’ work. The man said, I don’t have that much means; I cannot manage so long a treatment. Still, I’ll try. Let me speak to my wife—if there is a way, I will get treated. I will inform you tomorrow.
But seven days passed and no news. The psychologist waited. On the seventh day he phoned, What happened? You didn’t come! The man said, I am completely fine. My wife cured me—out of bounds! The psychologist asked, What did she do? Are you really cured? The man said, Absolutely. What did your wife do? The psychologist was surprised, for the illness seemed long and serious. The man said, She only cut off the four legs of the bed; she cut the legs of the cot and nothing else. Now there is no possibility of anyone being below. I sleep happily!
And I say to you, that psychologist would not have cured him in two hundred years. Sometimes a tiny wrong orientation—and however long the journey, no destination is reached.
Western psychologists say, one cannot be free of kama. From here the rot set in; here the West fell ill. In fifty years they have hammered this so deeply into every mind that now, indeed, people cannot become free—it has become a self-fulfilling prophecy. They declared it impossible; man already wanted it to be impossible—then responsibility is lost, guilt is lost. If I do something wrong, I can say, It is human nature—what can I do!
But the East says, one can be free of kama. And today or tomorrow the West will have to relearn this sutra from the East, or else die crushed under its own foolishness.
The East says, it can be done. Krishna says, It can happen, Arjuna. How?
As long as I have no taste of the joy within, I will naturally depend on taking pleasure from the other. As long as nothing comes from within—when I close my eyes there is no glimpse of peace or joy—I will go to someone to give me happiness.
And the irony is that the one to whom I go has come to me for the same reason: that I should give him happiness! If two beggars sit facing each other holding out their bowls, will anything be solved? We are all beggars like this.
I think I will get happiness from someone, and I run behind him; he runs behind me thinking the same. We are both seeking to take; neither has anything to give. If I had joy to give, I would first give it to myself. If there were a well in my courtyard with which I could quench my thirst, I would call others to that well too. But there is no well in my home; I am dying of thirst and I am following another in the hope that he will quench it! He has come to my house for the same reason. There is no well in his home either! We both deceive each other.
I try to show him that I will give you joy—because without this assurance I have no way to get joy from him. He deceives me with the same assurance. We both deceive each other.
In this world we all deceive one another with the notion that joy can be taken and given. It is not possible. The one who has no joy within cannot give it to anyone. What we have is all we can give; and what we have would have come to us first.
Only the one whose within is full can give joy. Freedom from kama will happen only to the person to whom the inner springs of bliss become available; otherwise not.
So when Krishna says, He who is free of kama and krodha—that is what he means. Whenever kama arises in the mind—kama is energy, a great power; that is why nature uses sexual energy for procreation. Kama is a vast force. When desire arises in you—the wish to take pleasure from someone—then close your eyes, forget the other, and place your attention exactly at the point within where that energy is rising.
Ordinarily, the energy rises from the sex center and wants to spill outward. If, in the very moment the craving surrounds the mind, one closes the eyes and brings one’s whole attention to the sex center, in two moments one will find the lust has evaporated. Two moments—no more. And the energy that has arisen—what will happen to it?
Energy is always used; if it rises, it will be used in some way. With no outlet to go outward, the energy begins to move inward. The flow of that energy is called Kundalini. The inward flow of that power is Kundalini. From the sexual center the energy rises and begins to flow upward along the spine—like a serpent rising.
There is a reservoir of energy at the sexual center. Either it will go out from there, or it will go in. It is the doorway. If it goes out, it will become either despondency or anger. If it goes in, exactly the opposite happens. If it is obstructed outwardly, it becomes krodha; if it is obstructed inwardly, it becomes forgiveness. And as outward fulfillment breeds melancholy, inward fulfillment becomes bliss.
Keep it in mind: if energy goes outward and reaches its target, the fruit is despondency; if it rises inward and reaches the sahasrar at the crown, the fruit is bliss. If an obstruction arises outward, anger is born; if an obstruction arises inward, forgiveness is born.
But we are acquainted only with the outer; we have no notion of the inner.
Why does Krishna not state this clearly? It is worth pondering. Krishna should have told Arjuna to center his attention on the sex center. Why does Krishna not say this? Why am I saying it to you? There is a reason.
This land had a system—the ashram of Brahmacharya. All children who lived with the guru during the period of brahmacharya were taught without exception to meditate on the sex center. It was the essential discipline of brahmacharya. It was common knowledge; therefore Krishna had no need to state it. He could simply say, Arjuna, he who becomes free of kama and krodha attains happiness here and bliss in the beyond.
I must say it in detail to you because that period of brahmacharya has been cut out and thrown from our lives. We begin as householders, which is very absurd. Even a child begins as a householder—a very wrong beginning. The firm foundations of life are not laid at all.
Arjuna knows well how the energy of kama is turned inward; therefore no explicit mention is made. Everyone knew it. To mention it was unnecessary. It was as common as my saying to you, Take the car—and you know, Fill petrol; there is no need to say it. Without petrol, the car will not go.
Exactly so, the method of how life-energy travels within was known to all; it was the first thing taught to every child as soon as he came to awareness—brahmacharya. The first lesson we gave him in life was brahmacharya—because it is the greatest lesson, the one that turns life-energy from kama toward Rama.
Kama is dependence on the other; Rama is self-reliance. Kama is outward movement; Rama is inward movement. Between kama and Rama moves the whole of our life. He who runs outward hears only kama, kama; he who runs inward hears only Rama, Rama.
Like the man I mentioned—drop a handkerchief and ask him what he is reminded of: I’m reminded of sex. If you do this to a devotee, a seeker—ask, What are you reminded of? He will say, Rama. Ring a bell—What are you reminded of? Rama. Open a book—What are you reminded of? Rama.
When Swami Ramtirtha returned to India, a very thoughtful man named Sardar Puran Singh was staying with him. One night he was astonished. No one was in the room. Ram was sleeping. Puran Singh had awakened. A sound of “Ram” was coming in the room. He went outside and circled the house—no one. The further he went from the room, the fainter the sound. When he returned near, the sound grew. Suddenly it occurred to him—the sound is coming from Ramtirtha himself! He came closer, bewildered.
Ramtirtha was sleeping. Puran Singh placed his ear on Ram’s hand: Ram, Ram. On his foot: Ram, Ram. He was frightened—What is happening? The body is sounding! Every pore is sounding!
It is possible—absolutely possible. The body is a very sensitive instrument. When you are full of sexual craving, every pore announces it—kama, kama. Touch the hand of a lustful man—the hand reports kama. Look into his eyes—the news is kama. Touch him anywhere—the news is kama.
So too can one be equally filled with Rama. And when the energy becomes an inward journey and, upon reaching the sahasrar, creates an inner resonance, an inner nada, then whichever word he has used for his pilgrimage—Krishna, or Rama, or Christ, or Allah—that word begins to blossom from every pore, to resound. Those who have ears to hear can hear—but very subtle ears are needed.
Now, you were told just now about Elizabeth, who took sannyas at eleven last night. Yesterday she was standing here during the music. Naturally, as an American mind usually is, she was skeptical. The morning before yesterday she told me, I cannot have faith; only doubts arise. My mind does not fit with the Indian mind. I need something rational, intelligible. These sannyasins dancing like this—it feels strange. Naturally! It does not feel right. I cannot dance. She was rigid that morning.
I said, Fine. Do not worry. Just stand and watch. Do not dance. Only watch. And do not pass judgment on others—because we cannot enter another; we do not know what is happening within him.
The night before last she simply stood and watched. Last night too she stood and watched. Then suddenly—when did her hands begin to clap?—she does not know. When did her body begin to sway?—she does not know. And when did the dance melt away for her and only light remain here...?
At eleven she came to me, and the guard said, It is too late; he is going to sleep. She said, I must take sannyas now—who knows about morning? What I have seen—I must jump now.
She said to me, Something has happened that is unbelievable; I still cannot believe. My skeptical mind is still present; it stands behind and says, This cannot happen. My mind says, It cannot be—and yet it has happened, I know. Both together. The event happened—I saw it. It cannot happen—my mind says so. If it had happened to someone else, I would have denied; now there is no way to deny.
You also see, yet do not see. So many are gathered; what happened to one can happen to all—everyone has the potential. But eyes to see and ears to hear must be ready.
Today I say: Just watch. Silent, still—only watch. Do not be in haste. What hurry to run away! Five minutes later is fine. Silence. It may happen—what happened to her may happen to you. It may happen that the bodies of these dancing sannyasins begin to sound to you; with the glimpse of their dance, light becomes visible.
It is all happening. In a thousand ways the Divine is manifesting all around. But we—we remain lost within ourselves—deaf, blind. We hear nothing. Even “Ram” can be heard—if the energy within has awakened.
Have you ever noticed—the special foul odor that begins to issue from the bodies of man and woman after sexual intercourse? People say that when Mahavira walked, a fragrance issued from his body. Certainly it can.
When the body’s energy goes outward, it leaves the body in a state of stench. When the energy moves inward, it leaves the body in a state of fragrance.
Exactly opposite are the results of outward-moving energy and inward-moving energy. Outside is sorrow; inside is joy.
Krishna says, Even on this earth the yogi has bliss; in the beyond he is liberated.
Yo’ntah-sukho’ntara-ramas tatha’ntar-jyotir eva yah;
Sa yogi brahma-nirvanam brahma-bhuto’dhigacchati. (5:24)
He who, resolved, is happy in the Self, takes rest in the Self, and whose light is in the Self—such a Sankhya-yogi, united with Brahman, attains Brahma-nirvana.
He who lives in rest in the Atman alone, who experiences joy in the Atman alone, who attains wisdom in the Atman alone—whose everything is his Atman! This must be grasped from two or three angles.
All our everything is always outside the Self—joy outside, knowledge outside. If someone gives, we receive; if no one gives, we remain ignorant. If universities and colleges give knowledge, we become learned. Hence the world is filling with educated ignoramuses!
From the other will come—be it joy, knowledge, or peace—all will come from the other. Inside there is nothing. Then are we utterly empty within? No content inside—only a container, an empty tin can! A begging bowl—whatever others drop will fill it; that is our wealth! And whence will others bring it? They too are empty—empty tins like us. So we go on deceiving each other.
From the other, neither joy nor knowledge comes. From the other, only the appearance of joy can come—and, in the end, sorrow. From the other, only information can come—nothing but a veil upon ignorance. Universities do not provide knowledge; they provide information. Knowledge is a great inner event. Information comes from outside; knowledge arises from within. Appearances can be erected outside; real joy never happens outside—never has, never will.
From outside come tensions, not rest, not repose. Krishna says, He who has known rest in the Atman. From outside nothing but tension comes. If tensions become too many, at most we get sleep, nothing more. Day by day tensions increase, rest is lost. Tensions pile up; each man carries a Himalaya of tensions on his head.
When tensions grow too many—what to do? How to live among them? From outside you can get tricks to forget tensions—chemical drugs, alcohol, LSD, mescaline, marijuana. From outside you can get chemical stupors—drink them and drown in darkness.
From outside come tensions; in the name of rest comes sleep. When sleep breaks, tensions stand back with double force. Why double? Because after chemical stupor you return weaker. The tensions remain as they were, but you return weak; the tensions gain double strength; you become weaker. Then the only device is to drink more.
A drunkard used to say, I have never drunk more than one glass. Those who knew him said, Don’t lie—we have seen glass after glass. He said, I never drink more than one. I can swear on the Bible. They did not believe. He put his hand on the Bible and swore, I have never drunk more than one. They said, Outrageous—there must be some meaning! He said, Of course. I drink one glass; then the second glass drinks the third, then the third drinks the fourth, the fourth the fifth, ad infinitum. I drink only one; I cannot be responsible for the others. The one who swore is unconscious after the first; then the glasses go on drinking each other.
Today you lose yourself in stupor; tomorrow a stronger stupor is needed; the day after, stronger still—glass upon glass increases.
From outside come tensions; rest does not. At most a drowsiness—which is not rest, only stupor. Rest is an inward event—where all halts. Silent, as a lake without ripples. A sky without clouds—cloudless. All quiet, still. Full awareness and full peace together. Such moments of repose exist only within.
Krishna says, he who has known joy within, rest within, knowledge within—only such a one is a Sankhya jnana-yogi.
He emphasizes three things—for there are only three things we seek. Some seek pleasure. Some seek knowledge—more than pleasure.
A scientist—he suffers every kind of hardship, invites illnesses upon himself to discover how to cure illness; he tastes poison to see whether man dies from it—the search for knowledge is more than pleasure.
Some are seekers of pleasure—we call them worldly. Those whom we place among thinkers, scientists, artists—philosophers, contemplatives—these are seekers of knowledge. Those we call sadhus, saints, mystics—these are seekers of rest. These are the three types of seekers in the world. Therefore Krishna counts three—lest they err by seeking them outside.
If the search turns inward—whether one goes in seeking joy, or knowledge, or rest—any way is fine.
Know which of the three is your search. Whatever it is—if you search for it outside, it is delusion. You will wander. You will never arrive anywhere. Much journeying, the boat will ply, the shore will not appear. Feet will run and tire, the destination will not come. The destination is attained only by those who do not take themselves to be empty tins. To take oneself as empty is the greatest insult and inferiority.
Religion proclaims the supreme dignity of man. Religion says, whatever you seek is within you. And it also says: if it were not within you, you could not even desire it. Understand this well.
If the capacity and possibility of rest were not within man, he could not demand rest. We ask only for what lies as potential within us and yearns to become actual—what is enclosed as a seed and wants to blossom as a tree. Our demands are the demands of our seeds to become trees; our demands are the demands of our possibilities to become real.
Plant a seed in the soil—it is eager; it will push aside the stone, break the earth, sprout, rise to the sky, bloom in the sun. It is restless within—and until the seed breaks and the sprout is born, its restlessness will not cease.
Like an egg with the chick imprisoned—the chick is restless; it will break the shell today or tomorrow and come into the open sky. A child in the mother’s womb—preparing to come out. Movement is there; the mother knows life is developing within.
So too each person’s Atman keeps each as an egg—restless within. It wants to manifest—wants to attain bliss, knowledge, peace, rest, freedom. This inner demand is the news that the chick within has wings; it can fly the open sky. It was not born to lie among stones. An egg lies beside stones—what difference is seen between a stone and an egg lying together? None. But there is a great difference—the egg contains someone within whose wings will sprout, who can soar into the distant sky.
Within us too there is one who can grow wings; who can fly; whose great possibilities are waiting. Of those great possibilities Krishna emphasized three—in them all the rest are included.
Seek joy—but know, if you seek it outside, you will never find it. It is hidden within. Seek knowledge outside—information will be gathered; you will become a pundit; scholarship will accumulate. You will know everything—and nothing. It will seem you know, and in your hands will be nothing but the ash of words. It will seem that you have come to know, and your condition will be like an animal crushed beneath scriptures—only burden.
Think rest will come from outside—in a great palace? The palace will be built, and the rest that existed before will be even less, for the tensions incurred in building it—where will they go? Not into the palace—into you. Think that with much wealth you will rest—then the tensions needed to amass wealth, where will they go? Wealth will pile up outside; tensions will pile up within. By the time wealth arrives, tensions will be so many that it becomes meaningless.
Curiously, those who have nothing to eat have a stomach that can digest; those who have food have no stomach to digest. Those who have deep sleep have no pillow; those who get fine pillows lose sleep. A miracle! But so it is, exactly so. Why?
Because the path we set out on is wrong—the direction, the dimension. What we sought was sought by wrong means. No one can arrive at rest by practicing tension—absurd, illogical. Practice becomes so strong—how will you stop?
A man says, I will rest, but first I will run a hundred miles. Under that tree I will rest. Most who run a hundred miles never reach the tree; they break and die on the way. And if someone reaches, he has so strengthened the habit of running that he circles the tree. He says, How to sit now? The habit has grown heavy. He runs—even under the very shade where he thought to rest. Many never reach; those who do are unfortunate—they circle the tree. Habits are hard to drop. Daily they grow harder. We become possessed by our acquired patterns.
At first we thought, We will gather wealth, then enjoy. But to gather wealth we must postpone enjoyment—otherwise wealth won’t accumulate. If we want to save for enjoyment, we must be miserly, tightfisted—pinch every penny. For forty or fifty years, clutch pennies; crores will accumulate. But by then the penny-clutching mind has grown strong. When crores arrive and your mind says, Now let’s enjoy—then the penny-clutcher says, What are you saying? My life will go out of me! I saved every penny.
These are life’s contradictions—inevitable.
I have heard of a great scholar in Germany. He collected scriptures from the whole world. There are many scriptures; he gathered all religious texts. His friends said, When will you read? He said, First I will collect everything; if I get busy reading, who will collect? I will collect, lock them safely, then read with ease.
He kept collecting; his library grew vast. They say he had so many books that if laid one after another, they would encircle his whole estate. By the time this happened, he was ninety.
All the scriptures of all paths were collected. On the day his collectors said, Now there is no religious book left anywhere—he was counting his last breaths. He opened his eyes and said, Now it is too late. When will I read? Do this—carry me on a stretcher and take me once around my library—at least let me see!
He had spent his life traveling India, Tibet, China—wherever a religious text might be; Shinto, Tibetan, Chinese; if there was a tribal scripture in some African jungle, unprinted—he went and had a copy made. Ninety years passed. He died with only books—unread. Often it is so. Exactly so.
Krishna says, Seek within—you will find now. There is no need for tomorrow. Concerning three things—joy...
Do you ever think sorrow comes from outside and peace from within? When you are peaceful even for a moment—can you tell where it came from? You cannot. But when you are disturbed you can certainly point to the cause—someone abused you, someone pushed you, the shop suffered a loss, the lottery you were sure to win did not. You can give reasons.
Where did disturbance come from? You can say—from there. But when you are peaceful—even if only once—then you cannot say where peace comes from. It comes from nowhere. Sorrow always comes from somewhere; bliss comes from nowhere. When you are in bliss, it does not come from anywhere; it rises within and spreads. When you are in sorrow, it comes from outside and surrounds you like clouds.
Watch this difference. As it becomes visible, you will feel, If bliss is to be sought, go within—go deep where there is no direction, where there is no North or West, where there is no other—where you are utterly alone. Where only the Self remains. And finally a moment comes when even the self does not remain—only remaining remains; only existence, only a throbbing chest, a flowing breath—only being. Go there. And whoever gains a glimpse will say, Everything is within; nothing is outside.
But until a glimpse happens, trust does not come. I may say, Swimming is great bliss—enter the water. But one who has never entered water and never learned to swim will only hear me. Even if I jump before him and swim, he will not know the joy of it; he will only know fear—If I jump, I will drown and die! He will know only his fear, not my joy.
And he may say to me, I accept your words; I agree—I will enter water. But teach me swimming first! His logic is correct—Teach me to swim first, then I will agree to enter. I have my compulsion too—I will say, First enter, then I can teach you. How can I teach on cushions? People try to learn swimming on cushions; they go lame. Swimming is born only in the danger where life feels it will drown, vanish; from the thought of its vanishing, energy rises and organizes.
So if you say, Let some joy come first, then I will go within—it will never happen. Go within—then joy will come. You ask, How to go now?
Whenever there is a chance—even for a moment—close your eyes. For a moment, take note of being within. Whenever there is a chance, close your eyes; enter for a little while. Forget the outside; in forgetting, you will forget. Day after day, even if for a single moment ten or twenty times you close your eyes—driving in a car, sitting in a bus, traveling on a train, at a desk—close your eyes for a moment. Forget the outside—that it is not. I am alone. Begin to watch your breath, the beating of your heart. Go within.
Slowly you will know—there is supreme rest within. The fatigue of months can dissolve in a moment inside. Mountains of sorrow melt before a single ray of inner joy. However vast your ignorance, when a tiny lamp is lit within, ignorance vanishes like darkness. But there is no way without going; there is no substitute for going. Go within.
Krishna tells Arjuna the same—on this earth the path to your joy will open; you will become a yogi. Yoga means to be joined to oneself; communion; to become one with oneself. And in the beyond, your liberation is assured. This is what he calls Sankhya-yoga; this is the mark of the Sankhya-yogi.
Concerning Sankhya, take one point—then we will enter kirtan. Krishna says, This is Sankhya-yoga. Sankhya is the supreme key to knowledge on this earth—the most secret key. What is its insistence, its arrangement, its declaration?
Sankhya means knowledge. Sankhya says, There is nothing to do. Nothing is to be done. Not doing, but being. Whatever comes by doing comes from outside; whatever comes by non-doing comes from within. This we can understand. If anything is to be gained outside—wealth, anything—something must be done; without doing, nothing will be obtained outside. But if something is to be gained within? Then one must learn non-doing—the reverse journey.
If at night sleep does not come and you are in trouble—you ask, What should I do so that sleep comes? Wrong question. Do not ask anyone; if someone answers, close your ears. When you ask, What should I do?—it is the wrong question. If you do anything, sleep will not come at all. Doing is the enemy of sleep. Has sleep ever come by doing? Doing breaks even the sleep that was coming. Do not do.
If someone says, Count sheep—count from one to a hundred, from a hundred to one—you are lost. It will not happen. If it seems to, it was not because of counting. You will tire of doing, see it does not come, drop it. Then it comes—by non-doing. Do nothing; just lie there. Sleep descends.
Do nothing; lie there—be filled with awareness. Meditation descends; knowledge descends. Do nothing. For an hour each day sit in a corner and do nothing—not outside, not inside. Not doing outside is easy—sit still and nothing will happen outside. But the mind will do within—its habit; we never leave it without work. It will do something. Say to it as well, Why be troubled? Don’t do. It will not listen in one day or two; but don’t you yield—continue.
Today or tomorrow the mind will see there is no interest on your side; it will loosen. Occasionally there will be gaps—empty spaces. The mind will do nothing. From those empty spaces, suddenly rest will descend—a profound peace surrounds you within and without, like the vast sky stilled. Then rest will deepen. In this rest knowledge will descend; in this rest bliss will descend.
Sankhya says, What is to be attained cannot be attained by doing. It is present within—always present. It is not lost—only forgotten. Go within—remembering happens; smarana returns.
But we are tangled outside, and tangling increases. One entanglement creates ten more. And we think, Today or tomorrow, when all entanglements are resolved, we will go within. Whoever fell into this delusion is lost forever.
Outer entanglements never lessen—never. One creates ten; ten create a hundred; a hundred create a thousand.
Do not think, One day I will resolve them. In resolving, your every act creates new ones. The day it occurs to you to begin the inward search for knowledge, let entanglements remain where they are; in their midst, begin at times to drown within.
But as I said—habits are bad. Even if it is a holiday—holy-day, given with the idea that for one day you will do nothing; Christians think even God worked six days and rested on the seventh—Sunday became a holy-day because he did no work.
Curiously, more work is done on holidays than on other days. In America a joke runs that for one day’s holiday one needs seven days of rest afterward. People are so frantic on the holiday that they need seven days’ rest. Most accidents occur on holidays—all rush to the beach, to the mountains, the hill stations. Heavy work! Car upon car, jammed bumper to bumper.
What is the point? If the whole market gathers at the beach, what will you gain? Everyone is there; the same world stands there; then they rush back; the same work-world begins.
A holy moment or holy day means—do nothing that day. Rest wholly; go within.
But no—cinema, theater. Tickets bought. All the disturbance prepared beforehand. The holy day is fully arranged to be unholy. Then when will the inner time come? Perhaps never. Begin today, now—start little by little the inward journey.
Sankhya says, Knowledge is with you; it is your nature. Nothing is to be acquired; it is what you are. Only know it—awaken—Who am I? Rest requires no journey; wherever you stand, it is available. Turn back once and see—Where am I?
Do not beg knowledge from anyone’s hands. Knowledge is hidden—like water under every ground. Remove the layers of soil and fountains burst forth.
Yes, somewhere it is at a hundred feet, somewhere fifty, somewhere ten, somewhere two—this is the difference of soil-layers. Because each has built different layers over many lives. But one thing is certain—there is no patch of earth under which water is not hidden, however deep. A rock may be in between—no matter; water is below. Remove the layer; the spring is found.
So knowledge is hidden within. But when will you set out on the inward journey? Whoever postpones will never do it. Whoever says, Tomorrow—I would prefer he say, Never; at least he will be truthful. Not tomorrow. If the house is on fire, no one says, We will douse it tomorrow.
Life is on fire, and you say, Tomorrow! Life burns—sorrow, pain, anxiety, anguish—smoke and flames everywhere—and you say, Tomorrow! It means you don’t know what you are doing. And it is you who daily pour petrol into your own burning—fanning desires. Daily you pour petrol, and when the blaze rises you say, I am in such trouble!
You live in expectation, then say, I am in pain! Who asked you to expect? Expectation—sorrow. Daily you are full of craving and say, Such melancholy comes; such depletion. Who asked it of you?
Lao Tzu has said, No one could ever defeat me, for I have always been defeated—I never desired to win. No one could throw me out of any house, for wherever I went I sat outside at the door—before there was a chance to be thrown out, I sat outside. No one could make me unhappy, for I never asked anyone for happiness. I had no enemies on this earth, for I never tried to make anyone my friend.
Such a man—what rest, what peace, what joy he will attain—that is the state of Sankhya.
We will speak the rest tomorrow. Let no one rise. Sit. Not a single person gets up. Watch this dance in silence. See in it the image of the Divine dancing all around. Perhaps something may happen.