Geeta Darshan #14

And the one who sees Me, Vasudeva, pervading as the Self of all beings, and sees all beings contained within Me, Vasudeva — for him I am not invisible, and he is not invisible to Me.
Our belief is: Paramatma is invisible. But this belief is deeply mistaken. Paramatma is not invisible — we are blind. If we search, we shall find it so. If a blind man declares that light is invisible, the meaning of that statement is exactly the meaning of our saying that Paramatma is invisible.
Man is very strange. To admit one’s own blindness is painful; it is pleasant to declare God invisible. Even for a blind man it is easier to assume that light is some such thing as cannot be seen, rather than to admit: I am blind. The ego is hurt by the acknowledgement: I am blind. And yet the hurt of physical blindness is small; the real hurt is when one sees that one’s very consciousness is blind.
Therefore I say to you: those who go on repeating, again and again, that Paramatma is invisible — they are merely covering their own blindness. If the eyes open, only Paramatma is visible. Or understand it this way: whatever is visible, that alone is Paramatma. Not seeing does not necessarily prove invisibility; it may just as well be proof of blindness.
This is what Krishna says in this sutra. He says: the one who has experienced the One in all beings, and all beings in the One — for such a one neither am I invisible, nor is he invisible to Me.
There is another, more wondrous statement in this. First understand: for him I am not invisible. Then Krishna says something even more wondrous: he is not invisible to Me. We can explain away the first by our own blindness — that Paramatma is invisible. But how will we explain that we are invisible to Paramatma?
To see the One in all beings...
Every thing has its own form. Every person has a different shape. Every object has its own quality. Everything is different. But the one who can see the non-difference within all differences — unity in diversity — the one who can see that which appears as so many, many, is, somewhere deep down, one! — the one who can see this. Not merely think this. Thinking is not very difficult.
Science too thinks that among all substances there is a single substratum. But thinking solves nothing. We can think that among all golden ornaments it is gold alone; and in all seas it is one and the same water. It is not a matter of thinking. Thinking does not open the eyes. A blind man too can go on thinking about light. That will not grant experience.
To be able to see!
Hence in every language of the world, wherever they were born, when we speak of one who has realized the Lord, we invariably use a word related to the eyes. In India we call him drashta — the seer. It means: one who sees. Not a thinker, not a brooder. For the experience of truth we say darshan — seeing, not chintan, not manan; the eye. In the West too, the one who sees is called a seer — the one who has seen, not thought — seen, experienced.
How will it be experienced? How will the formless be seen in all forms?
As long as you look at forms, you will not see. You will have to cultivate a little movement toward the formless. But whatever we look at is with form. Whatever we encounter is with form. Wherever we go, we meet the formed. We do not meet the formless. And the wonder is: the formless is present everywhere, and yet we meet only form. The nirguna is present everywhere, and we meet only the saguna. The infinite is present everywhere, and we meet only the finite. What is the matter?
It is almost as if someone has never gone outside his house, and whenever he has seen the sky, he has seen it from his window. The sky is infinite, but the sky seen through a window falls within a frame. The window’s frame gets stuck onto the sky. There is no frame to the sky, no structure. The sky has no casing. It is utterly free of frames. But standing behind the window, the window’s frame gets affixed on the sky.
And one who has never gone to see the open sky, who has always seen only through a window, cannot believe that the sky is infinite, formless. He can only assume that the sky has boundaries. Though what he calls the sky’s boundary is in fact the boundary of his window. But the window gets plastered on the sky. And the sky does not object in the least. For the infinite never obstructs anything; only the finite obstructs.
Remember, the finite always obstructs. Pull it beyond its boundary, it will resist. The infinite does not obstruct. The very meaning of the infinite is: whatever you do, no obstruction arises.
So a small window gets affixed upon the sky; the sky does not even say no. It does not protest, it does not call it unjust. The sky silently remains in its place. The sky is not even aware that someone’s window has sat upon it. But you who are standing inside and looking out, the boundary of your window becomes the boundary of the sky. One.
Then if your house has many windows, you will become a knower of many skies. Look from one window — one sky appears, the one from which the sun is rising. From another window — there the sun is not yet; clouds are floating. From a third — there are no clouds, no sun; birds are flying.
A man who has never gone out of the house — will he be able to think that these three skies are one and the same sky? He cannot. The straightforward arithmetic will be: there are three skies around my house. If there are five windows, there will be five skies; ten windows, ten skies. Will it ever even occur to one living within that house that there is only one sky? It seems impossible. And yet the sky is one.
We see the world through the senses, therefore form appears. The senses are windows. And each sense’s frame sits upon the vast.
We hear with the ears, we see with the eyes, we touch with the hands. Every sense imposes its frame upon the formless.
Whenever we touch, we touch the formless. But the hand gives shape to the touch. The hand has its limit. The hand cannot touch the infinite; whatever it touches it makes finite.
Whenever we see, we see the formless. But the eye has its limit. The eye cannot see the formless. So whenever we see, the eye sets its window upon the formless, and form is fabricated. Whenever we hear, then again...
All the senses give shape to the formless. And as I said, if the house has five windows — or think that the house is not stationary but on wheels, and it keeps moving day and night — then five windows will create millions of skies.
We are a moving house with legs below. Our eyes are roaming. Our senses — the five — do the work of five billion senses. Because as we move, the sky changes constantly, and our senses each time see something new. Hence we have experienced this world of endless, endless forms.
Before coming to this sutra Krishna repeats again and again: only he will know Me who is beyond the senses. Then, after so many sutras, he says: he who sees the One in all beings, and all beings in the One...
This happens together. Begin anywhere. If you see the One in all, then the other side — in the One, all — begins to appear. Or if in the One you see all, then in all, the One begins to shine. These are not two things. These are two ends of the same event, the same happening. One can begin anywhere. And for each person it will begin differently.
Bear this in mind, otherwise if you start from the wrong end, you may never arrive at the right state.
There are two manners. The feminine mind — I say feminine mind, not the woman’s body. Some women have a masculine mind, and some men have a feminine mind. When I use masculine or feminine, I mean the style of the mind.
The feminine mind can easily see the all in the one. Hence woman is monogamous; she wants to hold to one. The family, the vow of chastity, one husband — this is the woman’s grip. Woman can only begin with the one. Yes, if she goes on growing, a moment may come when she sees all in the one.
The man can begin with the many. And a moment may come when he sees the One in the many. The masculine and feminine mind — their distance creates the distance between these two approaches.
Therefore man runs after the many. One does not satisfy him. In every form, in every style of life, in every direction, man runs toward the many. A woman is satisfied with one. And if a woman too runs after the many, then within her the masculine mind is dominant, the feminine mind is lacking.
The Western woman has begun to run after the many, because gradually she is becoming like a man. Basic changes are happening in her psyche. And it will not be surprising if, in a while, the Western man begins to try to settle with one — because nature never loses balance.
Where there was polygyny, the mind of the whole society took one shape. Where there was polyandry — one woman could have many husbands — the arrangement of the collective mind changes. Where a woman can have many husbands, there man becomes weak and woman powerful. Man becomes feminine; woman takes up masculine consciousness.
There are such societies on earth where one woman can have many husbands. And it is very interesting: their whole social order changes. The whole psychology, the whole mind changes. Where one woman can have many husbands, there the woman starts earning and the man sits at home and eats. The man does not go to earn; he becomes secondary. The woman becomes primary.
Understand: in such a society men behave like women, and women behave like men. Men become non-aggressive; women become aggressive.
Understand the mind. When I say feminine and masculine, I do not mean the body of woman and man; I speak of the style of consciousness.
The feminine mind wants to rest on one. Hence a woman can love with a depth a man cannot. A man’s love scatters. A woman’s love flows toward one, in one stream. And hence, in the whole world, we have not yet been able to create reconciliation between woman and man. Their styles of mind are so different that peace seems difficult — unless we transform these styles.
Because woman wants the one, man wants the many. This is the basic cause of conflict. Therefore woman becomes jealous, always afraid that the man may begin to desire another woman. Through jealousy her whole nature becomes ugly. And the man becomes untruthful, begins to lie — for he fears that the loving glance he cast toward another woman may be caught by his wife. So he fabricates stories, speaks falsehoods.
This is the compulsion of the mind. Only if we understand this will we understand why Krishna speaks of two ends.
If a man goes toward spirituality, to see the One in the many will be easier for him. Even though, upon spiritual attainment, both man and woman dissolve. But until that happens, in every discipline and in every act our mind remains present.
That is why women become the foundation of a static society. They do not like change — or at most, very petty kinds of change: clothes, jewelry — changes which change nothing. Women do not like fundamental change. They are very resistant; they stand against change like a great opposing force. No change!
But man longs for change. Not so much for superficial change. He can wear the same clothes all his life; it does not bother him. He cannot even understand why clothes must be changed so often. But for some deep fundamental change he longs — let the deeper form of things change. Because if the deep form changes, he can live many lives in one life.
A woman will not want deep change; she will prefer a single continuity. One note is the tone of her personality. This is the difference of psyche. According to this difference, even in spirituality, one must keep watch.
Yes, if a woman is aggressive — as some women are — it will be easier for her to see the One in the many. If a man is receptive — as some men are — not aggressive, then it will be easier for him to see the many in the one. How to see?
Whichever of the two you choose, both must do one thing: attempt to rise beyond the senses. Having seen much with the eyes, once try to look with the eyes closed. Keep one awareness: with the eyes I have seen much; nothing but forms were found. I have looked from the window long enough; now let me step away from the window.
But the danger is: our habits become so conditioned, so cultured, that when we close our eyes we still go on seeing with the eyes. Even with closed eyes we see with the eyes.
The eye has accumulated thousands of conditionings of looking through the window. The eye replays those very conditionings; it loads the film again. And the style of our brain is exactly like a tape recorder. In our brain everything is imprinted; we open that imprint and begin to look again.
With closed eyes we begin to see the very things we once saw with open eyes. Yes, sometimes we make new combinations — it changes nothing. It is all old. We go on chewing the cud of the old, like animals do.
But animals do it for food. We ruminate not for food but for thoughts. The animal eats and then regurgitates and chews, sitting quietly. Watch a buffalo: she keeps chewing what she already ate. We too repeat, again and again, the impressions we have taken in.
Sit with eyes closed, and daydreaming begins. The film is projected on the screen. What we have seen and known, it begins repeating itself.
No — this too must be transcended. Otherwise you have not left the window of the eyes. This world of thoughts that begins inside — understand that I am beyond this too, different from this too. Stand even farther away and look: thoughts are flowing; I am the watcher. And if for three months one can abide in this remembrance — that these thoughts are there, far away, and I am the seer...
And you certainly are the seer, not the thought. If you were the thought, you would never know that thoughts are moving, for only the one who stands apart can know it.
You went to a cinema at night. If you were the film, who would watch? You are not the film. You are seated on the chair, utterly separate. But the hall is dark; you are not visible, only the film is visible. And the film grips the mind so strongly that sometimes the viewer forgets that he is. He almost becomes a character in the play. People come out with wet handkerchiefs from the cinema, wiping tears!
If you look back, there was nothing on the screen worth your weeping. Only a play of light and shadow. Then a restlessness arises: how foolish I am! There was nothing there; only moving electric forms. There was not even life there — yet the illusion of life happened. You forget yourself; the film becomes everything; you are lost.
And in the cinema you sit only three hours — and so much happens: tears, pounding heart, heaviness, sorrow, joy. But the film of the mind you have been watching for uncounted births — if such deep identification has happened there, it is no wonder. It runs all the time. Sleeping and waking, the film continues on the screen of the mind. There has been no interval, no gap. Hence the identification is terrible — as if someone sits in a cinema his whole life and forgets that he is, becomes cinema itself! Such is our state.
This must be broken. To break it, it is essential to know: I am the spectator. Just this remembrance: I am the drashta.
Krishna’s whole method is the method of the drashta. I am the spectator, I am the seer. The remembrance: I am seeing. O thoughts, I am not one with you; I stand apart and see.
If this remembrance becomes deep, thoughts too will stop. The eyes are closed; the outer sky is no longer seen. Thoughts stop; the reflections of the outer sky also stop. And the day this happens, that very day from the inner you will again reach that vast sky upon which there is no window. And the day you know that vast sky — without frames — that day the One in the many, and the many in the One, will begin to be seen.
For those who want to see the many in the one, bhakti is the easy path. I said, that is the sign of the feminine mind. The path of bhakti is fundamentally feminine. You cannot make Mahavira a bhakta; Meera can be. Mahavira is the symbol of the pure masculine mind. If the masculine mind is pure, it will be like Mahavira. If the feminine mind is pure, it will be like Meera. I take these two as symbols.
If the feminine mind is pure, it will be like Meera. Meera went to Vrindavan, and the temple priest said he would not let her in, for he did not look upon the face of women. Meera sent word: I used to think there is no man except Krishna. I did not know you too are a man! I only desire one darshan of you. Let me see another man as well!
This is the mind that seeks the many in the one — it says there is only one male, Krishna; all are absorbed in Him. There is no other male; all others are females.
The priest read the note and trembled: who has come now! Perhaps he had never imagined that a pure woman might come for whom there is only one man. He apologized and said, come inside — I erred to claim to be a man. A priest who claims manhood in Krishna’s temple is a wrong priest.
Bhakti is the path of the feminine mind — of surrender, of placing everything at someone’s feet, and in one pair of feet finding the feet of the whole universe. Images were developed by women; men did not make them. The image is close to the feminine mind.
Mahavira is pure masculine mind. He says, there is no God. Mahavira’s statement — there is no Paramatma, the Atman itself is Paramatma — is the supremely masculine declaration. A man cannot accept a Paramatma, because if he accepts, he will have to surrender. He cannot surrender. He can resolve, he can do sadhana, he can climb Gaurishankar. Mahavira says, there is no Paramatma; each one is Paramatma. Know yourself and you have known Paramatma. There is no other to be known.
Man lives in himself; woman always lives in the other. Sometimes in the son, sometimes in the husband — but always in the other. Without the other her being becomes almost non-being. All her juice and life reverberate from the other. If her son is happy, she is happy. A man does not live in the other; he lives in himself, self-centered. A woman lives other-centered.
Paramatma is other-centered. Therefore as the science created by men triumphed in the world, the forms of bhakti were shattered. Science is the search of man, not of woman. One Madam Curie may get a Nobel Prize — an exception. And Madam Curie had a masculine mind, not a feminine one.
Science is the search of man. As science triumphed, the fundamental stones of religion were broken — because their paths are different.
If you have the capacity to surrender, any feet can become the feet of Paramatma for you. Therefore women could say, the husband is God. And if a woman can see Paramatma in her husband, the husband will become so vast that gradually the all will be contained in the one. If she can see. That can become her sadhana. If she cannot see, she will seek someone to see.
Now look at Mahavira, who says there is no God — yet among his fifty thousand sannyasins only eight thousand were men, forty-two thousand were women. Mahavira says there is no Paramatma — but forty-two thousand women said: you are our Paramatma, our Bhagwan! They found God even at the feet of Mahavira. However much he denied, they found Paramatma there.
Buddha too denied God. And therefore for a long time he insisted he would not initiate women. It is very interesting. Buddha insisted long that he would not. In one sense his insistence was right, because Buddha’s path is purely masculine. And the wonder is: bring woman on the masculine path and the woman will not change — she will change the path. Hence Buddha kept refusing: forgive me. Under great compulsion, great pressure, and because of a very logical event, he agreed.
Buddha’s elder relative, Gautami — older in age, an aunt — came to Buddha. After he had refused hundreds of women, Gautami came. She did not say, initiate me. She asked: will women not be able to attain truth? Buddha said: definitely they will. Is the door of truth closed for women? Buddha said: no, the door is not closed. Are women so impure that they cannot come near truth? Buddha said: no, no — they are as pure as men. Then Gautami said: then why will you not initiate us? Shall we remain deprived of the living presence of a Buddha? When will we find another? Is there any promise, any assurance? And if we do not reach truth, you too will be responsible.
Buddha was in difficulty. He said: I will initiate. But at the same time I declare that the religion which would have remained helpful for five thousand years will now remain for no more than five hundred. And when asked why he said so, he replied: because I am initiating women. Even five hundred is too much for my method to remain pure — women will change it. Because the feminine mind!
And they did change it — utterly changed it!
Our mind is of two types. But to go beyond either, one must go beyond the senses. The methods will differ a little. The feminine mind will go by surrender — surrender everything to the Lord and all senses are surrendered, oneself is surrendered — the open sky, the vast sky becomes available.
The masculine mind will not surrender; it will go by resolve. Resolutely it will rise above each sense, one by one.
There is a difference. A man once came to Ramakrishna. He brought a thousand gold coins and banged them down at Ramakrishna’s feet — loudly, so the crowd on the ghat might hear the ring of gold and know that someone has donated! The donor donates only by proclamation — thus the donation becomes useless.
Ramakrishna said: why do you throw them down so loudly, brother? You could have donated silently! The man came to his senses and said: forgive me, I erred — unknowingly. Accept them and bless me. Ramakrishna said: I accept. If someone comes to abuse me, I accept that too; you have brought gold coins. I have accepted. Now, on my behalf, go and throw them into the Ganga.
The man was in trouble — a thousand gold coins! He went to the riverbank. He delayed long; he did not return. Ramakrishna said: please go see where that man is; he is taking too long. Throwing them was a one-second job. He would have thrown them and come back.
People went and returned: he is ringing each coin, testing the sound, and then throwing it, counting: eight hundred ten, eight hundred eleven, eight hundred twelve... He is throwing them one by one, counting. A big crowd has gathered.
When the man returned, sweating after hours of effort, Ramakrishna said: you are mad. What could be done in a single step you did in a thousand. They were to be thrown, not added. Counting has meaning when adding. When adding to a strongbox, one must count. But what is the need to count when discarding? You could have thrown the whole bag in one go.
He threw them one by one. Resolve discards one by one. Surrender throws all at once. Surrender means: You handle these senses; You handle everything. I have placed my head at Your feet — You know. It throws the whole lot in one move. Resolve will fight each sense separately, drop each one separately. The result is the same. The man’s path is a little long. The woman’s path is a shortcut. But for the man there is no shortcut; for him that would become very long. The woman’s way is the nearest — a leap.
One should inquire into one’s own mind. It is not necessary that because you are male you have a masculine mind. Do not fall into the illusion that male body means masculine mind; or female body, feminine mind.
Find out: what is the texture of your mind? Is it of surrender, or of resolve? Do you have the capacity to leave yourself in someone’s hands? If a river is to reach the ocean, will you swim to it or be carried to it? Inquire carefully.
If you can be carried, then the path is surrender. Leave yourself to the river: take me. The river is going to the ocean anyway — it will take you. But if you are a swimmer, you will swim toward the ocean. The river is working; you too will work. It is not necessary that by swimming you will arrive any sooner. You may arrive later, because you will waste energy needlessly. The river is flowing to the ocean; if you had only let yourself be carried, you would have reached too. But it depends on you.
The masculine mind finds no joy in being carried; he says: what is this? There is not even a chance to swim! Often the masculine mind begins to swim against the river — because against the current there is more opportunity for resolve, for crystallization. The man’s way is crystallization — within, something hard like diamond will grow. Therefore all the man’s paths declare the Atman.
The woman’s way is dissolution — something will become fluid like water and flow away. Therefore the woman’s paths declare Paramatma.
See the all in the one, or the One in the all. The methods will differ a little. But one must rise beyond the senses. Either you rise by becoming witness of each sense, one by one; or you place all the senses at once at the feet of the Lord.
You may think: it is very simple — just go once and place everything at the Lord’s feet and be rid of the bother. If this thought comes — to be rid of the bother — you will not be able to surrender. Because you are surrendering to escape the bother. But the bother is you.
If another thought arises — this is exactly right; I will leave it. Not: I will leave it tomorrow — that is the sign of the masculine mind: I will go, I will do, I will leave. Even in leaving he will do. Surrender too will become a resolve for him. He will say: I am preparing, resolving to surrender. If surrender comes, it will come through the gate of resolve. Even if he bows at the Lord’s feet, it will be the fruit of great exercise and effort. Heavy calisthenics! And has anyone ever bowed through calisthenics? If you want to stiffen, exercise is fine. If you want to bow — no. To stiffen, stiffen completely.
A strange thing: if you stiffen completely, one day you will suddenly find that everything has collapsed. This fist, if I keep clenching it more and more, as tightly as I can, a moment will come when the fist will open — the moment my strength to clench is exhausted. Strength will be exhausted — strength is limited.
Try it: keep clenching, give it your all. Suddenly you will find you cannot clench any more, and the fingers begin to open. Yes, if you clench half-heartedly, you can clench all your life.
If you want to stiffen, stiffen utterly: say, there is no Brahman — I alone am Brahman. But then make it your declaration and put your whole life upon it. A moment will come when the collapse will happen. Through tension comes relaxation for man. Through tension is relaxation.
For the man, deep relaxation comes through deep tension — like an arrow drawn on the bowstring. Draw and draw till it is fully drawn. Have you noticed the strange event? You pull the string backward, yet the arrow goes forward. A moment comes when you cannot pull any more, the string slips, and the arrow sets out on its forward journey.
You were pulling backward; the journey goes forward. You were pulling: I, I, I. Pull it fully, and one day you will suddenly find: disintegration has happened; the arrow has flown, the string has snapped; the journey toward no-I has begun; Paramatma is attained. But for the man the attainment will be by pulling the I. The woman can simply surrender the I. Hence man and woman never quite understand each other.
A woman came and said to me: I want to take sannyas, but my husband says, what will happen by taking sannyas? How shall I explain it to him? I feel everything will happen. But he says, tell me what will happen, how will it happen? For me, just the idea of sannyas has already begun to do something inside; when I take it, it will happen even more. And he asks: what will happen, how will it happen? Prove it to me too.
She will not be able to prove it. If she begins to prove, she will be in trouble; what is happening will stop. To prove is the sign of the masculine mind. To accept is the sign of the feminine mind. And even after proving, what is attained is acceptance! Only the journey is longer. The woman can accept without proof; and by accepting, it is proven. The difference is only of before and after. The man will first prove, then accept. The woman will first accept, then prove.
Those men are right to ask. Their asking is perfectly right — but only for themselves; not for the woman. Let her go by her path. Yes, when the question is their own, let them prove fully and then take sannyas. But let the woman go. If a woman can feel sannyas without proof, there is no need of proof — because the need of proof is only so that the feeling may arise.
But the man will think, ponder, calculate, measure, examine everything: will it happen or not? How much will happen? If I leave this much, if I suffer this much pain, will the joy be more or less? He will think all this.
And if a woman is too influenced by a man, she will be at a loss; and if a man is too influenced by a woman, he will be at a loss. Unfortunately men are influenced by women, and women by men. It happens. And their orientations to life are very different.
It is almost as if we draw a circle on the ground. At one point of the circle stands the man, facing left; at that very point the woman, facing right. Their backs meet. Men and women try very hard to meet face to face in an embrace; it does not happen. It proves a deception. Their orientations are opposite; only their backs can meet.
But if both set out on their own journeys, there will come a point on the circle where their faces will meet.
Let both go on their own journey — the man to the left, the woman to the right. And let not the man say: nothing will happen by going right, for I am going left; nor the woman say: what will happen by going left, for I find so much happening by going right. Do not fight. Just go right and left. Surely a point will come through your very journey where you will meet face to face. But that point is the final point; it is not the starting point; it is the destination. With this understanding, woman and man become helpers to each other. Without this, they become opponents and hinder each other all life long.
Krishna says: for the one who has gone beyond the senses, Paramatma becomes visible. Certainly visible. Because then the formless is no longer fragmented into forms; the formless appears in its totality.
Remember, to see form, ego is necessary within you. To see the formless, ego is the obstacle. Ego is a small thing, yet it creates vast forms. Like dropping a small pebble into a silent lake — the pebble is tiny, it quickly settles to the bottom; but the waves it creates grow vast and keep spreading.
Ego is very small, but it produces great forms, never the formless. The largest form it can produce — but never the formless. The formless appears only when there is no pebble, no wave — the still state of the formless.
Let the ego be lost! Or else let the ego become so strong that by its own strength it breaks — as happens in a man’s life, as in Mahavira’s life. The ego becomes hard and harder, smaller and smaller — atomic — and finally so condensed that there is no further movement possible. It bursts and scatters — an explosion happens.
A woman’s ego becomes bigger and bigger — so big that it becomes one with Paramatma. If you have heard Meera talking to Krishna, you will understand. On one side she places her head at His feet; on the other she scolds Him, even gets upset with Him, sulks. It becomes bigger and bigger — so big that the power to sulk with God also arises. And when it becomes so big as to be equal to God, it disappears.
There are two ways to lose it: either the I becomes as vast as God; or the I becomes as tiny as possible. In both states it is dropped.
Krishna says: for one who has attained such a state, I, though formless, become visible as if with form. And then he says something even more wondrous: such a person becomes visible to Me.
What is the secret of this second statement?
We should be visible to Paramatma however we may be — good or bad, ignorant or sinful — we should still be visible to His eyes. But we are not! Krishna’s statement is astonishing. Perhaps no scripture in the world says such a thing.
All scriptures say: He is seeing us — from all sides, everywhere. There is no place where He is not seeing us; His eyes are upon us.
Krishna’s statement is very different, diametrically opposite. Its implication is: until we are in this state, Paramatma does not see us. For Him we are as if not. Invisible. We will become visible to Him the very day He becomes visible to us. What can this mean?
There are two or three meanings to be considered — deep, subtle. The statement is precious.
First: not only with Paramatma — anywhere — we see only what we are. Paramatma too sees only what He is. Until we become like Paramatma, we cannot appear to Him.
We cannot appear to Him because He is so utterly pure, and we so impure, that in that purity our impurity cannot be reflected. Our impurity must be cut away, only then can we be reflected there.
The fault is not of Paramatma; the obstacle is our impurity. He is so vast, so formless, so infinite; we are so full of form that in the eye of the formless our form cannot be caught.
Remember, just as the eye of form cannot catch the formless, so the eye of the formless cannot catch form. Form is too petty an event; how will it be caught in the eye of the formless? In truth, no relationship can be established between the formless and form. Impossible. How will the formless meet the form?
Understand it like this: if the formless could meet form, the formless would become formed. Because if the formless meets form, that means that form is outside the formless — something outside. And if there is anything outside, that very outside will set a boundary to the formless.
All boundaries are made by the other. The boundary of your house is not made by your house, but by your neighbor’s. If your house were the only house on earth, it would have no boundary.
All limits are made by the other. Therefore for the infinite there cannot be another, otherwise it would become finite.
We can be present for Him only the day we too become infinite. The infinite can meet only the infinite; the infinite cannot meet the finite. The finite can meet the finite. The infinite can meet the infinite. The finite cannot meet the infinite; the infinite cannot meet the finite. It is impossible.
Hence Krishna is right. He says: we will not come within His vision until we become such that we see the one in the many, or the many in the one.
In that very moment we will be in saksatkar with Paramatma — saksatkar is not quite the right word, a fault of language; we will be in oneness with Paramatma, one with Him. In that moment we too will be formless — or say, in that moment we will be Paramatma.
Only Paramatma can meet Paramatma; below that there is no meeting. Meeting is always between equals. The unequal never meet. To meet the emperor, one must become an emperor; as a peon it is very difficult. To meet Paramatma, one must become Paramatma. That is the only qualification; there is no other.
With this same face, with this same state, we will not be able to go before Him. To meet fire, one must learn to burn — and you will meet. If you burn, you become one with fire. But to want to meet fire without burning — there will be no meeting. Meeting happens only when one is ready to burn.
When one is ready to be lost with Paramatma, ready to be erased, ready to become one... And one is ready to become one only when one has become aware of one’s own formlessness. Otherwise you go on protecting your form, afraid it may be destroyed. Because if I am form, if the form is destroyed, I am destroyed. The day you know you are formless, that day you can put this body aside like clothes. That day you can put aside the senses like spectacles. That day you are formless. Then between formless and formless there is no obstruction. There is no boundary. They become one.
If a drop says: let me remain a drop and meet the ocean — it cannot. Even if the ocean wishes — thinking the drop is weak, helpless — if the ocean wishes to meet while keeping the drop a drop, it cannot. If the drop is to meet the ocean, it must lose itself in the ocean. And if the ocean is to meet the drop in the drop, there is no way but to lose the drop as a drop.
We become visible to Paramatma only when Paramatma becomes visible to us. As long as Paramatma is invisible to us, we too are invisible to Him. As long as Paramatma is for us as if He is not, we too are for Him as if we are not.
I was reading the life of a Catholic nun. The Catholic belief is that God sees everywhere, all the time. She was in an ashram. She used to bathe in the bathroom with her clothes on! When her friends and companions came to know, they said: are you mad? You can lock the door and bathe after taking off your clothes. Why bathe clothed? No one is watching there. The nun said — her arithmetic was clear — I have read in the book that God sees everywhere.
But her foolishness is deep too — for the one who can see by entering the bathroom, will He not also see inside the clothes? Better would it be if she stood naked on the street — for He is seeing everywhere! His eye will pass through clothes if it passes through brick and stone, and through bone as well!
He sees everywhere, and yet we do not come within His grasp. His eye is very great; we are very small. He is utterly formless; we are utterly formed. He is utterly nirguna; we are utterly saguna. He is utterly like zero; we are ego. Therefore we will not be caught. We will pass right through Him — living in Him, waking in Him, sleeping in Him, being born in Him, dying in Him — and yet He will not be able to see us.
We are not yet worthy to be seen by Him. The declaration of our worthiness is made the very moment we see Him.
Krishna’s sutra is precious — it is to be understood.