Geeta Darshan #7

An exposition of existence — how this existence is born and how it subsides. Before we ponder Krishna’s words, a few primary things must be understood.
First, only those who come to know the element of time will be able to grasp what follows. Regarding time, remember a very fundamental point: whatever appears within time is dreamlike, it is like a dream.
Understand it thus: someone looks at his image in a mirror. What appears in the mirror is dreamlike. It isn’t there in fact; it only appears. Yet the appearance is complete. No deficiency in the appearance. Or, the moon rises at night and its reflection forms upon the still surface of a lake. Peer into the lake and the moon appears full — though it is not there.
Exactly so, within time only reflections are available. Time is a mirror, or a lake’s water. What we see in it is not real; it is dreamlike. This is the meaning of Maya — illusion. But unless we come to know the reality that is outside the mirror, we cannot even sense that what we see within time is Maya.
I have heard: it was the fasting days of Ramadan. Mulla Nasruddin was passing by a roadside well. Thirsty, he peered in and saw the moon lying in the well. He thought, The moon is trapped here! It is the month of fasting — if the moon is not brought out, people will keep fasting and die. How will the fast end?
He ran to a nearby village and fetched a rope. He lowered the rope into the well to catch the moon and pull it out. The moon “caught.” Mulla pulled with great force, struggled mightily; for the rope had snagged on a stone in the well. He tugged hard and thought, With a thing like the moon, of course it will be difficult. But the question is of thousands, millions of people — I must work hard and rescue it. He pulled with all his strength; the rope snapped. Mulla fell headlong into the well. In panic his eyes closed; his head was bloodied. When he opened his eyes, the moon was in the sky. He said, Well, no harm done — though I suffered a little trouble, the moon is free!
What appears to us in the lake of time — that is the world. What appears caught in time — that is the world. But outside time we cannot see at all. We are bent over the well’s edge, and what we see in the well is all we see. Whatever glimmers in the medium of time — only that we know. We know nothing else.
He who comes to know the element of time comes to know also that this world is only a Maya, only a reflection, only a dream. And one who is free of time, at once is free of the world. Or, one who is free of the world is free of time. More subtly, we may say: time itself is the world. To go outside time is to go beyond the world.
But this element of time is very wondrous. All of us dwell more or less within time according to the intensity of our craving. The stronger the vasana, the deeper our entry into time. The weaker the vasana, the closer we come to the circumference of time.
I have heard: a Christian fakir died and reached heaven. Saint Peter met him at the gate. The fakir said, I have heard great things about heaven. I have always been a beggar, lived by begging coin by coin. I have heard that even a single penny in heaven equals billions and trillions of earthly rupees. Saint Peter said, You heard right. The fakir said, Then please, could you lend me a tiny penny?
He thought, If one penny equals billions and trillions, such a good man as Saint Peter will not refuse a penny. Saint Peter said, Certainly I will give — but wait a moment.
The day drew near its end. The fakir sat at the gate. Evening came. He asked, How long is a moment here? Saint Peter said, Equal to billions and trillions of years on earth. For if a penny equals billions and trillions, a moment, too, equals billions and trillions. The ratio remains the same.
The ratio remains the same. A man has a single coin, another has a crore of rupees — do not think the man with a crore is more attached and the man with a coin less attached. No — do not fall into that error. The ratio of attachment remains the same. It is as much for a coin as for a crore.
Understand it thus: one man steals a coin from a house; another steals a hundred thousand rupees. Is the theft of a hundred thousand greater? Those who count rupees will say yes: a theft of a hundred thousand is a theft of a hundred thousand, a coin’s theft is a coin’s theft. But the theft is equal. In theft there is no difference. A stolen coin is as much theft as a stolen lakh. What was stolen is secondary; that it was stolen — that is crucial. The ratio remains the same.
Those who run much in vasana and those who run little — the proportion is equal. Yet the ones who run less in vasana are nearer the surface of the water. Those who run more are in the depths. The one who runs less can leap outside time in a single shock. The one who runs more finds it proportionately difficult; there is no time left to step out of time.
He who understands the element of time understands this too: If I am to be outside time, I must be outside vasana. And if I am to be outside vasana — or outside time — what is the method? Those who know the element of time — what formula do they use?
A small formula I will give you. They use just this. They begin to live in the moment. Not in time, but in the moment. Not in time — but in the moment. One moment is with me now; and no man ever has more than one moment. However great or small, poor or emperor, weak or strong, ignorant or wise — more than one moment never gathers in anyone’s hands. When one moment slips, the next comes. No one has more than a single moment.
If someone begins to live only in this one moment — makes no desire for the moment to come, no worry, no ambition; forgets the moment that has passed, drops it, puts it outside memory; stays in this very moment — then there is no way for him to enter vasana. For vasana cannot be in this very moment.
In this very moment only prayer is possible. In this very moment only meditation is possible. In this very moment thirst cannot be. Thirst needs more than a single moment. For extension, for expansion, the future is needed; and for the extension of the future, roots in the past, memory is needed. If there is neither past nor future, only this moment — then time falls, and vasana falls with it.
Therefore the knower begins to live in the moment — here and now. And the instant someone lives here and now, he is outside time. The moment is the door beyond time.
Understand it in another way.
The scientific inquiries of the last thirty years led man to the ultimate particle of matter — to the atom, to the ultimate atom. Then even the ultimate atom was split, and from that division the electron was taken in hand. But a most astonishing event occurred: as soon as the atom is split, matter disappears. As soon as the atom is split, matter disappears. And the greatest scientific discovery of the last twenty years is this: matter is no longer there in the way we thought.
Three hundred years ago science set out thinking: God is not in the world. No one could have imagined that if today Newton or Galileo were dug up from their graves, they would be unable to believe what science has achieved! They had thought God would be lost, soul would be lost. Even in the early part of this century scientists were filled with the notion that there is no place left for Atman or Paramatma. Matter alone is the reality — matter is the only reality.
But around 1950 a deeper realization dawned: matter is the most unreal thing. Matter, as such, is not. As soon as the atom is broken, matter is gone, and with the breaking of the atom there is entry outside matter — entry into the non-material.
Exactly so, the final fragment of time is called a moment — the atom of time. One who stands still in the moment goes outside time. Just as one who enters the atom goes beyond matter, so one who enters the time atom — the moment — goes beyond time.
Science, in searching matter, reached the atom and, at the atom’s boundary, found a doorway to the non-material — to the unmanifested. Exactly thus, the seekers of the East — the mystics — inquired into time, for their intent was different: they wished to know that which is eternal, shashvat, sanatan. They inquired into time and sought its final fragment, which they named kshana — the moment, the atom of time. And when they entered and stood within that atom of time, they found: time simply disappears. And what remains is the eternal, the sanatan, the nitya.
For the knower of the secret of time, Krishna says: one who recognizes this element of time — this door of the moment — and learns the art of going beyond time, also comes to know this truth: that the entire host of beings, the whole seen world of entities, arises from the Unmanifest at the onset of Brahma’s Day, and at the onset of Brahma’s Night dissolves into that same Unmanifest.
Recall two or three points I have just said. Krishna says: the one who knows time will also know where this world arises from and where it dissolves. For the arising of this world, Krishna says: all visible entities, all matter, all substance — at the first instant of Brahma’s Day, at the very first muhurta of morning, when Brahma’s Day begins...
We understood yesterday: just as our twenty-four hours — let us say twelve hours of day and twelve of night — when it is morning for Brahma, that is Brahmamuhurt. Even now, we call the early morning Brahmamuhurt — in mere remembrance that someday we may come to know the real Brahmamuhurt. What we call Brahmamuhurt is only a nominal Brahmamuhurt.
Brahmamuhurt means that instant of Brahma when the world begins, when life commences, matter manifests, and the leela — the play — starts. In the morning the play begins; by evening it reaches its peak. And whenever something reaches its peak, the descent begins. Then comes Brahma’s Night — all things scatter and descend. And in the final instant of the night, the world that had manifested dissolves again into the Unmanifest. Then morning again, then evening again — so the circular time of Brahma goes on.
These substances arise from the Unmanifest. Unmanifest means the Unmanifested — that which is not yet revealed. From that, all is revealed. From what is hidden, all manifests.
Today science has come near this too. Perhaps, in support of this statement, what Shankara could not say, what Ramanuja could not say, what Nimbarka could not say — even the great commentators of the Gita could not say — a physicist of our century can say. Einstein can say that this statement is not only religious; it is scientific as well. For after the splitting of the atom, science found that what had been the manifest atom suddenly dissolves into the unmanifest.
Until then science had no inkling — and it is illogical as well. The statement is most illogical; reason will not support it. Why? Because if the manifest arises from the unmanifest, it seems to mean the full is born from the void; that what is comes from what is not; that from nowhere arises the all which is found everywhere. It does not fit reason. It is like saying: out of nothing, everything is born.
But the disintegration of the atom has given scientific authenticity to the Gita’s statement. After the atom is split, there is no other way. When someone said to Max Planck, the great physicist: What irrational things you are saying! That when we descend below the atom, matter becomes non-matter — how unscientific! Planck’s answer was astonishing.
He said: until I had gone into experiment, I too would have said the same. Now I will only say this: it is beyond our power. The atom behaves such that, upon its breaking, it disappears into the unmanifest. If that is beyond logic, then let us change our logic — there is no other way. Now let us change our whole logic! But we cannot change existence. If it does not fit our logic, existence will not oblige us by walking according to our logic. We shall have to change our logic. There is no other way.
Thus, in the last fifty years, a new logic has been born in the West; a new mathematics, a new geometry has arisen, such that old students of geometry, mathematics, logic cannot make head or tail of it!
Many of you studied Euclid’s geometry in school, but increasingly non-Euclidean geometry has become important. Euclid’s definitions are overturned, for they do not match existence.
Euclid says two parallel lines never meet. The geometry that stands opposite to Euclid says: even parallels meet. Euclid says, How can they meet? They are perfectly parallel; however far they go, they remain parallel. How will they meet? Non-Euclidean geometry says: we don’t accept definitions. Draw two parallels and extend them; if they do not meet, we will accept it. Now the difficulty is — the lines meet. So they say: Shall we accept Euclid, or accept these lines which meet? These lines know nothing of Euclid! Or, if you insist on Euclid, then it only means this: that two parallel lines cannot be drawn. For whatever can be drawn, meets. And what cannot be drawn — how will we know whether it meets?
Euclid says: a straight line is that which passes between two points by the shortest path. And a straight line is straight; it cannot be a segment of a circle. Non-Euclidean geometry says: draw any straight line; every straight line can be made a segment of a larger circle. For the ground upon which you draw is itself round; any line drawn upon it, if extended fully on both sides, will encircle the ground and become a circle.
Euclid is swept away; there is no place left for him.
Old mathematics says two plus two make four. New mathematics says: two plus two never make exactly four — sometimes a little this side, sometimes a little that side. Because two and two are never equal. Two and two are never exactly equal. You say, But two and two are equal! New mathematics answers: only in definition. Only in definition.
No two things are equal. No two stones are equal; no two leaves are equal. In existence, two things are never exactly alike or equal. There is no way to make two things exactly equal; a subtle difference always remains. And that difference will make a difference in the sum. But we insist: two and two are four. If two and two actual things are added, they are never exactly four — a little less, a little more.
Planck said: let us change our mathematics, change our logic; but existence is not ready to run according to our logic.
In the last twenty years the very foundations of science have been shaken. A new word has entered science that was never there before. Science was always considered the most certain thing. No one had imagined that “uncertainty” would become the central word of science. But it has. Uncertainty is now the central word, because nothing appears certain; all is unsettled. In that unsettling, the greatest event is the very event to which this saying points.
Krishna says: from the Unmanifest, the manifest is born at Brahmamuhurt — at the first instant of Brahma’s Day. And again, when the manifest becomes worn, old, aged, it dissolves into the Unmanifest.
Let us understand it within ourselves; it may then be easier.
In the morning you wake fresh. But have you noticed where this freshness comes from? Certainly, through the night you did nothing to become fresh — no exercise, no food. If you did anything, you stopped yourself from doing. You slept through the night. In sleep you fall back into the Unmanifest. You withdraw from the manifest and fall into the Unmanifest. From that Unmanifest you return with freshness in the morning. By evening you tire again; the day declines and night begins — again...
Thus the old scriptures say: sleep is a little death; sleep is partial death, and death is complete sleep. Each day man must die — therefore each morning he can be reborn. In the night you drown in darkness; in the morning you are revitalized — fresh, vibrant — and you return to work.
Exactly thus this whole creation of Brahma tires through the day; evening comes near. Then death; then rebirth. Just like the cycle of twenty-four hours, Brahma’s great circular day turns.
Therefore another delightful point: only in the lands of the East — especially in India — did a conception of time develop that is circular. We have always thought of time as a circle. In the West the conception of time is linear — a straight line. Now, only recently, the West has begun to conceive of the circle. Otherwise the West thinks history runs in a line; we think it moves in a circle.
Hence we know that all things return. If a line alone were truth, nothing could return. Therefore the West wrote history; the East never wrote history. For if everything returns again and again, why get entangled in the futility of writing history? Again and again the same will be. Again there will be a Ram, a Krishna, a Buddha; the circle returns. What is the use of writing repeatedly on which date, at what time, how they happened?
Christianity adopted a non-circular, linear view of time. Thus the birth of Jesus became the beginning of history — an event. Rightly then, the whole world measures time by the birth of Jesus. We have no such measure. And those we constructed, we constructed by imitating Jesus. Many times we started various calendars — but they did not match our consciousness and they fell away.
We wrote Puranas, not history. Purana means that which returns eternally — there is no need of dates; the essence of the story is enough. Hence Christianity says: Jesus is the first historic person. They are right — Jesus is the first historical man. They say: your men — Krishna, Rishabha, Ram, Parashurama — these are non-historic. The Indian mind feels hurt by this — but only the mind that knows nothing of India’s mysteries. One should be glad. The Purana is deeper than history.
History is the accounting of outer events; Purana is the accounting of the innermost. Dates have no value there. The happenings that get printed in newspapers have no value there. Only those events that occur in the heart of life, in the very breath of existence, are accounted there.
Thus a most amusing thing could happen — and only in India: Valmiki wrote the Ramayana before Ram was born. Nowhere else could this be. How? A historian writes only after history has happened. Can a newspaper print a news item before it has happened? It prints only what has happened. History is rotten garbage — what has been and gone. Ashes of the dead. The account of the dead.
Only one unique occurrence happened in this land: Valmiki wrote Ram’s story before Ram’s birth. Astonishing — absurd, illogical! Anyone would say: madness — how can the story be written first?
It can — if one has the Purana’s vision. If Valmiki knows a man like Ram is born in every cycle of existence, that in each Day of Brahma one such Ram arises, then the story can be written. A Ram-like one has arisen thousands of times before.
Understand it thus: we know that in the cycle of the year there is a season of rains. Once the wheel of the year turns, the rains come. Then there is no difficulty in knowing before they come — if one knows past years. But a child who has never seen the first rain — his father tells him: Soon the rains will come, the first day of Ashadha approaches. Dark clouds will gather, the season turns moist and dim, drops will fall, nectar to the thirsty earth; trees will grow green, bear flowers; life will turn green. The child waits — and when the first day comes and the clouds gather, he tells his father: How wondrous — it is happening exactly so.
This father only knows: in the circle of the year, rain comes once. Exactly so, Jaina seers know: in one Day of Brahma twenty-four Tirthankaras are born — one each hour, thus twenty-four. In each twenty-four hours, a Teacher is born each hour. So twenty-four Tirthankaras.
They are born in every cycle. Their names will differ; the lines of their histories will differ a little; for the cloud formations are never exactly the same on the first day of Ashadha each time. One will be Ram, another Krishna. The outer accounting will differ; the inner essence will be the same. Sometimes he will be Dasharatha’s son, sometimes not. But whenever Ram is born, the essential Ram-ness is the same.
Valmiki wrote of that essential Ram. And it is sweet that Ram then conducts his life according to that story — for Valmiki must be true. There is no way Valmiki could be untrue. Those who know the Purana are never untrue; those who know history — however much they know — are always untrue.
It is amusing: we cannot decide even the past. Did Pakistan attack India, or India attack Pakistan? It is never finally decided. Did China attack, or did we? Chinese historians will write that we attacked; our historians that China attacked. For centuries both will write — and it will never be determined who attacked. History cannot decide even what has happened.
Arnold Toynbee, the great Western historian, says: concerning history, at most we may agree that what we all consent to is the least untrue — that’s all. We cannot say it is true; only that it is the least untrue — and even about this there will be dispute.
That is one situation. Another is where the story is written first and Ram conducts himself accordingly. And if in Ram’s conduct there was a small difference, that difference was dropped — it had no value. Ram is not as decisive as Valmiki. Ram’s outer incidents are non-essential — whose son he was, how many breads he ate one day, whom he spoke with — meaningless. How his Ram-ness manifested — that is essential.
This is the meaning of Purana. If the birth from the Unmanifest into the manifest is circular, we can be knowers of the future — and our conclusions regarding the past can be not merely less untrue, but utterly true.
But if we have the circular vision of time, remember two things: whatever begins ends. The West has no sense of dissolution, of pralaya. In the West there is the idea of creation — God created the world. But they cannot think the same God will destroy it. Destruction seems inconsistent with the Creator. They can think of God as the Father of the world, but not as the Destroyer.
We could think it. The truth is: no one more courageous has walked the earth than those here. It takes great courage to think: the One who created this world will also lead it into dissolution. For we see a fact: whatever is formed, disintegrates. The One who makes is also the One who unmakes. We did not see opposition between birth and death; we saw two halves of one process. Between morning and evening we saw no opposition: the very sun that rises at dawn sets at dusk.
Have you noticed? The very sun that births the morning brings the night’s darkness by its setting — one sun doing both at opposite ends.
Thus, at Brahma’s first instant there is creation; at Brahma’s final instant there is destruction, all is lost again. And then all is fresh and new once more. This process of birth goes on without end.
Recent astronomical discoveries say: the universe is not static; it is expanding. This may not immediately be grasped. Like a child blowing into a rubber balloon — the balloon grows larger and larger. So this existence grows daily — expanding. Not at a small speed — at great speed. In a second the expansion is millions of miles. Every star races away from every other. The stars you see at night — where you see them today you will not see them tomorrow. They recede.
Old tales say there was a time when the stars were close to the thatches of men’s houses. Perhaps myth — yet scientists say it may once have been true. Even if there were no men, no thatches — still the stars were once close. Perhaps the great balloon of space was utterly uninflated — all was contracted in a tiny space. Then it expanded and keeps expanding. Thus in the West a question arose: where will this expansion end?
The final end of expansion can only be explosion. If a child keeps blowing the balloon, a limit comes when the rubber can stretch no further — and it bursts. That is our pralaya. We have named existence Brahmanda — the expanding. Brahman means expansion. Vrihat — vast, extended — all are born of Brahman. Brahmanda means that which is constantly expanding.
But whatever expands endlessly, one day will meet explosion. The hour will come when all shatters. That is the day of pralaya.
How long will a child keep growing? Have you noticed what he finally does? He grows old — what else? The mother raising her child cannot imagine that she is making him old — but that is exactly what she is doing. Every mother is making her child old. All her care escorts him toward death. Where else shall she take him? Save him, protect him — and take him toward death!
But we avoid death. We do not think that birth is the beginning of death. We do not see that the beginning is the end; that expansion is the preparation to burst.
Mulla Nasruddin went on a pilgrimage — a religious journey. He took along a disciple to serve him. But Mulla was troubled by one habit: whenever the boy ate, again and again he shook his body. Then ate more. Then shook again. For two or three days Mulla tolerated it. Then he said, What are you doing? Why do you keep doing this? The young man said, This way, Mulla, I settle the food into place, make more space — then I can eat more. Mulla slapped him hard and said, Rascal! Why didn’t you tell me earlier? For five days, who knows how much food I have missed! I too have always suspected that what I eat is not the limit. I know the ultimate limit of eating is to burst! But I didn’t know this trick.
The ultimate limit of eating is bursting — the burst. The ultimate limit of expansion is bursting — the burst. The more one expands, the sooner one will burst. To grow too fast is to die sooner. The one who hastens to gain will lose as quickly — for the end of gaining is losing.
These two opposites do not appear to us together — but to Krishna they do. He says: that which is born of the Unmanifest and expands — that is Brahma’s Day. Then it contracts into the Unmanifest — that is Night. And when it dissolves into the Unmanifest, that is pralaya. At the onset of Brahma’s Night, all dissolves into the Unmanifest.
And, O Arjuna, this very host of beings, arising again and again under the sway of Prakriti, dissolves at the onset of Night and, at the onset of Day, arises again.
As I said of an individual: because of his own vasana, under the compulsion of desire, out of his hands — at the dying moment he longs: may I be born again. And he is born. Then he runs through morning and night — and again he dies.
Exactly so, Krishna says, O Arjuna, this entire universe — this whole host of beings, all that you see — if taken together, is also under the compulsion of desire, driven by longing, beyond its own control, gripped by aspiration — born again and again, dissolving again and again. Creation again; dissolution again. And this play goes on thus.
But beyond the Unmanifest there is yet another — wondrous, utterly beyond — the Eternal Unmanifest. That Perfect Brahman, that Paramatma, does not perish even when all beings perish.
Krishna is answering Arjuna’s questions. He says: this keeps perishing. Consider it deeply. You worry that the men standing before you will die? They have died many times, will be born again, will die again. Dying and being born is a part of nature. And leave aside these men — this entire nature has been created countless times and dissolved countless times. Without beginning is this process. It goes on; it is built and it is broken. Vasana creates; vasana destroys. Do not get entangled in this worry. And do not think this worry is dharma. Do not imagine that if you spare them, they will not die.
Krishna says: you are only an instrument; death will happen. Do not consider yourself the doer. Do not think you are the killer; and if you run away, do not think you will be the savior. You are not the doer. Their death is written in the hour of their birth. The day they were born, they were born carrying death. Death is growing within them. You might become the instrument for its manifestation; if you do not, another will. Even if no one does, death will occur. There is no escape from death — for they were born. Whoever is born will die. And leave aside even this — the whole universe you see is born and scattered. Not only men — stars are born and scattered. And not only stars — the entire existence expands and contracts, is formed and un-formed, manifests and unmanifests. Do not fret.
But Krishna says: I will tell you even of that which is beyond the Unmanifest from which this universe arises — from the invisible, the unseen — that, too, is not wholly Unmanifest.
This is a very subtle point — delicate.
Krishna says: what I just called the Unmanifest a moment ago is not absolutely unmanifest — because it does become manifest.
The seed — in it the tree is unmanifest, granted. But plant the seed in the earth and the tree emerges. The seed was unmanifest, yes — yet it was eager to manifest. Hidden, unseen — but there was a built-in urge to reveal. Every single leaf of the tree was hidden within the seed, yearning to come forth: Let water fall, let some manure be added, let me be pressed into soil; let me break, sprout, grow. And the one seed may become a million. Those million seeds are also hidden within.
Thus the seed is unmanifest — but it becomes manifest. Therefore it cannot be called utterly unmanifest. That which will manifest cannot be very unmanifest.
A Sufi fakir, Bayazid. A wealthy man was after him, massaging his feet daily, begging: Tell me the secret of your life. Bayazid said, If a secret is told, how will it remain a secret? Secret means: I will not tell it. I have never told it to anyone — that is why it is secret. If I tell, how will it remain secret?
But the man would not relent. A year passed. Daily he asked: Tell me the secret. One day Bayazid said, Very well — today I will tell, but on one condition. Will you keep my secret a secret? Will you maintain the secret as secret? Swear that you will not tell anyone. The man swore by God he would keep it. Bayazid said, Bravo. If you can keep your oath, then I will keep mine — and will not tell the secret. For if I break my oath, how can I trust you will not break yours!
So that which becomes manifest was unmanifest only in name. The seed is unmanifest in name only — it shows such readiness to manifest. It is so eager. Unmanifest in name only.
Thus, Krishna says to Arjuna: the Unmanifest I spoke of just now — we grant it the name unmanifest, but only in name — since it manifests; we grant it the name invisible, but it becomes visible.
Therefore, that in which the visible lies hidden cannot be utterly invisible. If it is not seen by us, that is another matter — our eyes are weak. But it cannot be called completely unmanifest. Beyond both — beyond even this Unmanifest — is Brahman. Beyond the beyond — beyond even the Unmanifest. Transcending even transcendence — that Brahman which is eternally unmanifest. This is only a temporary unmanifest — sometimes manifest, sometimes unmanifest.
But there is such an Unmanifest — such an unmanifest existence, such an unmanifest being — that has never become manifest, nor will, nor can. It is beyond the Unmanifest. That is Ishvara, that Brahman, that Paramatma, that moksha — whatever name we give — that Perfect Brahman does not perish even when all beings perish. Why? Because it has never been created — how can it be destroyed? It has neither morning nor evening. Its creation never was — so its pralaya cannot be.
If you truly wish to know the immortal — if you want to know how to be free of others’ death, and of your own — Krishna says to Arjuna: know That which is beyond the Unmanifest.
Within us there are three layers. The manifest — our body. The unmanifest — our mind. And beyond even the unmanifest — our Atman. Whatever is in the mind, if not today then tomorrow, becomes manifest. The body is manifest already. The mind’s unmanifest produces the body’s manifest. Hence when we die, the body is dropped, but the mind is not dropped — it goes with us. It is the seed, the capsule, sealed — it travels with us, and fashions a new body.
You will be amazed to know: if one had the capacity to read the mind of a dying person, one could determine the manner of his next birth — what his personality will be, its tendencies; whether he will be beautiful or ugly, heavily ridden by desire or lightly so — all this can be known. At the moment of death the mind contracts into a seed. In that seed is built-in the whole process of taking up a new body.
Therefore in this world neither are the ugly born ugly without cause, nor the beautiful beautiful without cause. Whatever we are born with, we bring as the seed of our mind. According to that seed we are formed; according to that seed the blueprint is hidden — it constructs our body.
This body that stands today — those who know the depths of yoga have always known: at the moment of death the seed can be seen — where it will travel, how it will travel, what its fruit will be.
Today scientists say — they do not know about dying — but they say: when the first cell forms in the mother’s womb, we can tell many things by studying it — the color of the eyes, the height, the hair, the span of life, the measure of intelligence, the quality of health. Much can be said from studying the first moment of conception. This is grasping the issue from the other end. But the first cell forming in the womb is not merely the mingling of mother’s and father’s bodily particles; a third element has entered — the unmanifest mind. The mother’s cell is manifest; the father’s cell is manifest — from them the body is formed. But between them a third has entered.
That is why the same mother and father beget many children, and each child is different. There is no other reason. Their manifest contribution is the same, but the unmanifest mind that enters is different — each comes with his own journey. They all differ.
The diversity of this world is the diversity of our unmanifest minds. Later, day by day, it will manifest. As the child grows, the mind spreads in the body and manifests. Then flowers appear — or thorns. Whatever appears comes from the mind and spreads. But beyond these two — beyond the manifest body and the unmanifest mind — beyond the Unmanifest, there is the Atman.
Understand the atom of the individual — so it is with the vast existence, the great atom. The individual is the atom; existence is the great atom. This is the smallest; that the vastest — yet their arrangement is the same. Thus the old scriptures say: what is in the pinda is in the Brahmanda — expanded into vast form.
Krishna says: if you wish truly to go beyond the possibilities of destruction, then seek that Brahman which neither is born nor dies; which neither manifests nor unmanifests; which neither forms nor breaks; which neither gathers nor scatters; which simply is — just Is. Which only is; with no morning, no evening; no coming, no going. Seek That.
Where can its search begin? One way is: we read the Gita and get to know. If only it were so simple — so many have read the Gita that the world would be full of the wise and empty of the ignorant. If it were this simple: we read the doctrine, we intellectually understand it — even then, nothing happens. Sometimes understanding — mere understanding — is great misunderstanding. We understand all the words and the doctrines, yet nothing comes into our hands. That will only come when understanding is turned into experience.
And to descend into the Vast is very difficult. There are those who descend into the Vast — and when one does, his stature becomes like Krishna, Buddha, Mahavira. But entering the Vast is supremely difficult. First, descend into your own atom — that is enough. Seek within what is beyond even the unmanifest. But that is very far — we do not even know our body fully, which is manifest. Far indeed — even of the manifest body we have no full knowledge.
If I say you do not know your own body, you will say: How strange! But you truly do not know. Many secrets lie hidden in the body — unknown to us. Yoga, Tantra, and all religion have been the search for these very secrets. In this body, a power like Kundalini lies hidden — we have never known even a glimpse of it. It lies in this very body — a part of the manifest, not the unmanifest — yet we have not reached it.
As if treasure is buried in our own house and we know nothing, and we beg at others’ doors; and we die begging while our own house holds treasure. But a buried treasure is not treasure until it is brought out; until it is manifest, it has no use.
There are wondrous powers hidden in our body — we do not know them. One who sets out upon the Vast must first become acquainted with the powers hidden in the body — for by those powers he becomes able to search the hidden powers of the mind. And in the mind much is hidden of which we know nothing. We live on the surface of mind; its depths are infinite — unknown to us.
Your mind carries the memory of all your births — everything you have ever done in beginningless time is engraved within, stored in the recesses of mind. Even today it can be opened. You need not ask another whether rebirth is or is not; you can descend the inner stairs where memory of former births begins to arise; you can turn back along the time track, the river of time, and see the scenes of the past again. All are present. None is lost. No memory is ever lost in the mind — but we do not know where it is.
The mind has unique powers — yet we go mad over petty miracles. Someone raises a hand and produces ash in your palm — and we are crazed: a miracle! This is as if a man whose house holds heaps of diamonds goes to another’s door, and the man pulls a new penny from his pocket, and he cries: miracle! All such miracles are like that. You have no idea of the mind’s power.
What Patanjali calls siddhis are the mind’s hidden powers — eight powers of the mind. The mind — unmanifest like a seed — can manifest them. We become blind in the smoke of these powers. A little power manifests in someone and we become utterly blind and mad. They have no real value — for whatever powers arise from mind are part of the world.
Therefore Patanjali, in describing siddhis in the Yoga Sutras, says plainly: I tell of them only so you know what lies hidden in you. But they are neither worth attaining nor worth desiring — and one who sets his heart upon them obstructs the supreme journey.
The supreme journey is beyond even the unmanifest — beyond the mind. Yet if the mind’s hidden powers are awakened, and if a man is intelligent and does not become infatuated with these powers — which is very difficult — then by these very powers he can set out in search of the ultimate Unmanifest.
Power can be used in two ways: either we stand on the low plane and exploit it for trivial ends — and thus fall — or we take no worldly work from it at all, but use it as thrust to go beyond the plane on which it arises.
If I get ten rupees, I can satisfy some small desire — and the rupees are gone, and my desire will stand again after two days. So whether I got them or not, it is the same. Or I can use the ten rupees to be free for ten hours from bodily concern — for ten hours I need not worry about hunger and thirst; now that I have this small support, I can forget the body and go into meditation for ten hours. What I gain from meditation is infinitely greater than ten rupees — beyond accounting — and it never is lost.
Thus the ten rupees can be used both ways. If used for petty desire, desire is repetitive — tomorrow it will stand again after eating the ten rupees.
Yesterday I told a true story. In Switzerland a poor tailor won a lottery of a million. It was before the Second World War — an astonishing event. In the evening he was closing his shop when the lottery officials came. They checked, found him to be the one. They said: You have won a million — thank God. He said: I’ll thank later! First he locked the shop and threw the key into the well opposite. Now finished — no more tailoring. Within a year the man was unrecognizable — nearly mad, diseased, everything that money in foolish hands does. He drank, he ran after prostitutes; perhaps he hardly slept. All was ruined — and the million was gone in a year. After a year he had not a penny. He returned, broke his own lock, and sat again at his shop. In a year he had aged by ten years.
But the great wonder was this: a year later he won the lottery again — another million. Rarely does a man win twice. The official came; the tailor looked up — he was wearing glasses now — recognized the same man. He said: Again the same nuisance? The official said: We too are astonished! Nuisance? You’ve won a million again! Thank God. He said: Later I’ll thank — first, where are the lottery papers? He took them and threw them into the well. He said: Not again that hell. In one year what the million did — never again! Not in this life. Next life I may forget — then another matter. And the poor man resumed cutting cloth while the official stood aghast.
What happened? Such understanding is rare. Perhaps winning a lottery twice is less rare than such understanding.
Power comes — and we use it to become more powerless. Strange! Power comes, and we use it to weaken ourselves. The intelligent, even if weak, use weakness as a search for power.
In the mind, hidden powers lie. As soon as one begins to descend into meditation, these unmanifest powers begin to manifest — and then the dangers begin.
A woman was working with me. In a meditation camp a small incident happened — her meditation went a little deep. As she walked back, she put her hand on another woman’s shoulder; that woman had back pain — it vanished at the touch. Only so much — and she went mad. Mad in the sense that now she is busy curing this one’s illness, that one’s illness. Meditation ended! She stopped coming to me. She thought: the matter is finished, I have attained a siddhi. Eight days ago she sent a friend to ask: I am very troubled — am I losing my power by healing? And what of my meditation now?
This happens to us all. Even a little attainment and we go crazy. From the mind’s unmanifest source a power is kindled — at that time utmost alertness is needed. Either you will use it for bodily desires and fall back, or you will use it as fuel — as petrol — for the journey to the Supreme Unmanifest. Ride upon that power and set out.
That Unmanifest, the Supreme Unmanifest — the ultimate unmanifested — is within you this very moment as much as ever.
So long as you are on the plane of body, the other is separate from you; all bodies are separate. On the plane of mind, sometimes there is attunement with another, a sense of unity. When one falls in love, it only means the two minds have found a thread of oneness somewhere.
On the plane of body there is never unity. On the plane of mind, sometimes a unity happens. But those who pass beyond mind — there multiplicity vanishes; unity is established.
Understand it thus: draw a circle and place a dot at the center. Draw one line from the circumference toward the center, then another, then a third. On the circumference these three lines are far apart; as they approach the center, they come closer. At the center they are one. What was utterly different at the circumference is one at the center.
Those bound to body will see this world as separate atoms, as islands. Those who become a little capable in mind — poets, painters, musicians — begin to hear a note of unity. But those who reach the bindu, the center, the supreme center — for them multiplicity disappears as darkness vanishes when light is lit, as night melts with sunrise.
In that Supreme Unmanifest all is one — advaita. In the half-unmanifest, sometimes a glimpse of unity appears. In the fully manifest, there is no way to unity — all is many.
Enough for today.
But do not stand for five minutes. I say this every day, yet some rise and move to the sides. Remain seated where you are. Sit and clap, sing in the kirtan, repeat the words, remember the Lord for five minutes — then we part. This is the prasad.