Jin Khoja Tin Paiyan #16

I said a few things to you about Om yesterday. There are a few more things worth knowing in that connection. First, Om is a symbol of the seventh state; it indicates it, it gives news of it. Om is a symbol of the seventh state. The seventh state cannot be stated by any word. No meaningful word can be used for it. Hence a meaningless word was found—one with no meaning. I told you this yesterday. This word, too, was discovered from the experience of the fourth body. It is not an ordinary discovery.

In truth, when consciousness becomes utterly empty—no thoughts, no words—still the sound of the void remains. Emptiness also speaks; emptiness has its own silence. If you have ever stood in a place utterly empty—where there is no sound, no noise—there too there is a sound of the void; there too there is a silence of the void. In that silence only the primal sounds remain. A, U, M are the primal sounds. Our entire expanse of sound has unfolded from new combinations and relations of these three. When all words are lost, sound remains.

The possibility of getting lost in the dream-world through the chanting of Om
So the word Om is a symbol of the seventh state, of the seventh body, but it is grasped in the fourth body. In the emptiness of the fourth body—the mental (manas) body—the sound that belongs to emptiness is where Om is caught. If a seeker uses Om, two results are possible. As you may remember, I said the fourth body has two possibilities—indeed all the bodies have two possibilities. If the seeker uses Om in such a way that a trance is created by it, that sleep is created by it—repetition of any word will create this; repeat any word again and again and its uniform impact, its rhythmic blow—like someone gently tapping on your head—produces the same result and induces trance.

The first natural state of the fourth, mental body is imagination, dream. If Om is used in such a way that it brings on trance, you will get lost in a dream. That dream will be like hypnotic trance, hypnotic sleep. In that dream you can see whatever you wish to see. You can have visions of God; you can travel through heavens and hells. But all of it will be dream; nothing in it will be true. You can feel bliss, you can feel peace—but it will all be imagination; nothing will be actual.

This is one way Om is used—and it is the more common. It is easy; it is not very difficult. To generate the sound of Om loudly and be absorbed in it is very simple; that absorption is very delightful—like a pleasant dream, like a dream of your own choosing. And the mental body has only two modes—of imagination and dream; and the other mode is of resolve and of divine sight, vision.

If Om is used merely by repetition upon the mind, its impact creates trance. What is called yogic trance arises from the impact of Om. But if Om is uttered, and simultaneously the witness is kept alive—doing two things at once: generating the sound of Om, and behind it remaining awake to listen to the sound—do not be absorbed in it, do not drown in it—let the sound go on at one level while you stand on another level as the listener, the witness, the seer; do not merge, rather awaken within the sound—then work begins on the second possibility of the fourth body. You will not go into dream, not into yogic trance, but into yogic wakefulness.

I continually try to tell you not to use words; I keep saying do not use any mantra, any word—because ninety-nine times out of a hundred you will slip into trance. There are reasons. Our fourth body is habituated to sleep; it only knows how to sleep. Its track is made of dreams—it sees dreams every day. It is like this: if we let water flow across this room, and then it dries, the dry channel remains. When we pour water again, it will follow the old channel.

The fundamental difference between Om and ‘Who am I?’
So with the use of word or mantra, the great likelihood is that the mind, which is habitually dreaming, will, by its mechanical process, instantly fall into dream. But if the witness can be awakened and you stand behind and also keep seeing that this sound of Om is happening—do not be absorbed, do not drown—then Om will do the same work that I ask you to do through the inquiry, “Who am I?” And if you begin to ask “Who am I?” in a sleepy way and do not remain the witness behind, then the same mistake that makes Om produce dream will happen through “Who am I?” as well.

But with “Who am I?” the likelihood is a little less than with Om. The reason is that Om holds no question, it is only a lullaby-thump; “Who am I?” has a question; it is not merely a lullaby-thump. And “Who am I?” carries a question mark behind it that will keep you awake.

It is a curious fact that if there is a question in the mind, it becomes difficult to sleep. If during the day a deep question is revolving in your mind, your sleep at night will be disturbed—the question will not let you sleep. That question mark is a great ally of insomnia. If a question stands in the mind—concern, inquiry, curiosity—sleep becomes difficult.

‘Who am I?’ has a sharp edge
So I suggest “Who am I?” in place of Om because it contains, in a fundamental way, a question. And since there is a question, there is a very deep search for an answer; and to receive the answer you must remain awake. Om contains no question; its impact is not sharp, it is perfectly round. Nowhere does it pierce; nowhere is there any question in it. And its continuous rhythm, its blows, will bring sleep.

Moreover, “Who am I?” has no music in it. Om is very musical; it is full of music. And the more musical something is, the more capable it is of leading you into dreams. “Who am I?” is angular, crooked—like a male body. Om is very shapely, like a female body; its lull will put you to sleep quickly.

Words, too, have shapes. Words also differ in the quality of their blow. They have their own music. “Who am I?” has no music. It is hard to fall asleep on it. If a sleeping person lies near and we sit by him saying, “Who am I? Who am I?” the sleeper may awaken. But if we sit by a sleeping person and keep repeating Om, Om, Om, his sleep will only deepen.

The impacts differ. But this does not mean it cannot be done with Om. The possibility exists. If someone can stand awake behind Om, the same work will be accomplished.

Om: the boundary between word and wordlessness
Yet I do not want Om to be used as a technique of practice. There are further reasons. If you practice Om, there will be an inevitable association of Om with the fourth body. Om is a symbol of the seventh body, but it is experienced in the fourth body—as sound. If once you begin practice with Om, Om and the fourth body will form an association, an inevitable link; and it will prove to be an obstruction; it can hinder you from going further.

This is the difficulty with this word. Its intimation happens in the fourth body, yet it is employed for the seventh body. And for the seventh body we have no word. As far as our experience of words goes—beyond the fourth body the experience of words ceases—so we are using the last word of the fourth body for the ultimate state. There is no other way either. The fifth body is wordless; the sixth is utterly wordless; the seventh is absolutely void. The last frontier of word that belongs to the fourth body—the point at which we leave words—at that last moment, on the boundary, Om is heard.

So it is the last word of the world of language and the first of the world of non-language; it stands on the boundary of both. It belongs to the fourth body, yet we have no word closer to the seventh body than this. Any other word lies even farther away. Therefore it has been used for the seventh.

So I prefer not to bind it to the fourth. The experience will occur in the fourth, but it is proper to let it remain a symbol of the seventh. Therefore there is no need to use it as a technique. Use something that can be dropped right at the fourth. For example: “Who am I?”—it will be used in the fourth, and it will be dropped there too.

Om is the goal, not the means
And Om should retain only its symbolic meaning. Using it as a means is inappropriate for yet another reason. That which we make the symbol of the ultimate should not be made our instrument; that which we make the symbol of the Supreme, the Absolute, should not be our technique—it should remain the goal. Om is that which is to be attained! Hence I am not in favor of using Om as a means of any sort.

And where it has been used, much harm has resulted. The practitioner who uses it often mistakes the fourth body for the seventh; for Om was a symbol of the seventh and is experienced in the fourth. When it is experienced in the fourth, the seeker feels, “Right, now I have attained Om; the journey is over.” Thus there is great harm to the psychic body; it stops right there. Many seekers take visions, scenes, colors, sounds, nad—these—as attainment. Naturally so, because what has been called the final symbol begins to be noticed at this boundary line. Then it seems the boundary has been reached.

Hence I am not in favor of using it in the fourth body. And if you use it, it will have no effect on the first, second, or third bodies; its effect will be on the fourth. For the first, second, and third bodies other words have been found that can strike at them.

The unstruck sound of Om between the world and the Absolute
About these primal sounds—A, U, and M—one more point is worth keeping in mind. Take the Bible. The Bible does not say that God made the world by doing some act of making. It says: God said, “Let there be light!”—and there was light. No act of making, an act of speaking. The Bible says: “In the beginning was the Word.” First was the Word, then all else came to be. Many ancient scriptures report that first was the Word. In India it is said: “Word is Brahman.” Though this creates a great misunderstanding; many take it to mean that Brahman can be attained through word. Brahman is attained through wordlessness; but “Word is Brahman” only means this much: of all the sounds we know in our experience, the subtlest is the sound of word.

If we move the world backwards and backwards, to the ultimate point where we imagine the void from which the world began, there too the sound of Om will be resounding—in that void. Because when we reach near the void at the fourth body, the sound of Om is heard, and from there we begin to submerge into the realm in which the world must have been in its beginning. After the fourth we go into the self body; after the self body we go into the Brahman body; after the Brahman body we go into the nirvana body—and the last sound that lies between the two is that of Om.

On this side is our personality of four bodies—what we may call the world; and on the other side is our impersonality—what we may call Brahman. The sound that resounds on the boundary line between Brahman and the world is that of Om. From this experience the idea arose that when the world was created, as Being moved from the void of Brahman to the form of matter, the sound of Om must have resounded in between. Hence: “There was the Word,” “from the Word all came to be.” And if we break this Word into its elements, it remains A, U, M—just three primal sounds. Their compound is Om. So it can be said: Om was first, and Om will be at the end. Because the end is a return to the beginning; the end always returns to the beginning—the circle completes itself.

Even so, my constant view remains that Om is to be used only as a symbol, not as a practice. Other devices can be found for practice. Such a sacred word as Om should not be profaned by using it as a means. Therefore many misunderstand me. Many people come to me and say, “If we chant Om, why do you forbid it?” Perhaps it seems to them that I am an enemy of Om. But I know that they are the enemies; because such a supremely sacred word should not be used as a means.

In truth, it is not a word meant to be spoken by our tongue. In truth, it is not to be uttered by our body. It begins where the tongue loses meaning and the body becomes useless; there is its resonance. And we do not make that resonance—it happens; it is known; it is not done.

Therefore Om is to be known, not done.

How practicing Om hinders its realization
There is yet another danger: if you employ Om, the original intonation that arises from existence will never be known to you as it is; your own intonation will be superimposed upon it. Hence its purest experience will not be possible for you. Those who use Om in practice, in truth, never experience Om. Because by practicing their own utterance, when the original sound begins to arise, they hear their own sound. They do not hear Om; the direct resonance of the void does not occur upon them—they immediately catch their own word. Naturally so; what we are familiar with gets projected.

Therefore I say it is better not to become familiar with Om, better not to use it. One day it will appear—at the fourth body it will appear. And then it will carry many meanings. It will mean that the boundary of the fourth body has been reached; now you go beyond mind, beyond word. The last word has come; you have arrived where words first began; you stand where the whole world stood at the first moment of creation—on that boundary. And when its own original sound arises, its flavor is of another kind. There is no way to say it. Our finest music is not even its farthest echo. However much we try, we will never be able to hear that music of the void, that music of silence. Therefore it is good that we do not take it as something definite, do not give it any fixed form or color. Otherwise that very form and color will ultimately be caught in it, and it can become an obstacle to us.

The fundamental differences between female and male bodies

Here too many things have to be understood. As I said, up to the fourth body there is a difference between woman and man; beyond the fourth, there is no difference. The fifth body is beyond sex-distinction. But up to the fourth body there is a very basic difference, and that basic difference brings many kinds of consequences. So first let us understand the man’s body, then the woman’s body.

In a man: the first body is masculine, the second is feminine; the third again masculine, the fourth again feminine. In a woman it is the reverse: her first body is feminine, the second masculine, the third feminine, the fourth masculine. This causes fundamental differences—differences that have deeply influenced the whole history of humankind and of religions, and have given a certain structure to the entire culture.

The scientific secret of Ardhanarishvara
The male body has certain qualities; the female body has other qualities and special capacities. These two sets of qualities are complementary to each other. In fact, the female body is incomplete and the male body is incomplete; therefore, in the process of creation, the two must unite. That union is of two kinds. If the body of man “A” is united outwardly with the body of woman “B,” then nature’s creation proceeds. If the body of man “A” is united with the hidden inner female body “B” within himself, then birth towards Brahman begins—the journey towards the Divine begins, rather than the journey towards nature. In both situations a copulation happens.

If a man’s body relates to a woman outwardly, copulation happens; and if the man’s own body unites with the hidden female body within, copulation happens then too. In the first, energy radiates outward; in the second, energy begins to move inward. What has been called the upward movement of semen, its path is precisely this—relating to the inner woman, uniting with the inner woman.

Energy always flows from the male pole to the female pole—whether it flows outward or inward. If the energy of the man’s physical body flows towards the inner etheric female body, then it does not disperse outward—this is the very meaning of brahmacharya—then it constantly rises upward. Up to the fourth body this journey of energy can happen. At the fourth body brahmacharya is complete. Beyond the fourth body brahmacharya has no meaning; beyond the fourth there is no such thing as man and woman. Therefore, after crossing the fourth body the seeker is neither male nor female.

It was with the first and second bodies in mind that the symbol of Ardhanarishvara was once conceived and painted. But it remained merely a symbol; we never understood it. Shankar is incomplete, Parvati is incomplete—together they are one. And so we even painted them half-and-half—Ardhanarishvara—half the form masculine, half feminine. That “other half” is not manifest outside; it is hidden within each one. One of your aspects is masculine; the other is feminine.

Therefore a very amusing phenomenon occurs: however domineering a man may be, however powerful—highly effective in the outer world—be it Alexander, or Napoleon, or Hitler—he struts through office, shop, marketplace, on his post, in his masculine stiffness all day. But a simple woman sits at home; in front of her his swagger disappears! This is strange. Why?

In fact, after using the masculine dimension for ten or twelve hours, his first body becomes tired. By the time he returns home, the first body wants rest. The inner female body becomes primary; the male body recedes. A woman, remaining in femaleness all day, has her first body become tired; her second body becomes primary. And thus the woman begins to behave masculine, and the man begins to behave feminine—a reversion happens.

Keep in mind: this is the path of the inner flow of energy, the upward movement—union with the inner woman. Its ways are entirely different; about those ways we need not speak now.

Second point: energy always flows from the male body to the female body. The special characteristic of the male body is that it is not receptive; it is aggressive; it can give, it cannot take. From the side of woman, no current can flow towards man; all currents flow from man to woman. Woman is receptive, a receiver; not a giver; she can take, not give.

A woman’s difficulty in giving shaktipat, her ease in receiving
This has two consequences, both worth understanding. The first is that since woman is receptive, she can never be the giver of shaktipat; through her, shaktipat cannot happen. This is why women teachers have not appeared in great numbers in the spiritual world; there could not arise female gurus comparable to a Buddha, a Mahavira, a Krishna. The reason is that through her, no one can receive force. Yes, women gathered in great numbers around a Mahavira, a Buddha, a Krishna. But no woman of Krishna’s stature arose around whom hundreds of thousands of men gathered. The reasons lie here: woman can receive.

Men propagate religion; women preserve religion
And there is a further interesting fact: where a man like Krishna appears, fewer men and more women will gather. The same around Mahavira. Among Mahavira’s renunciants there were ten thousand men and forty thousand women. This ratio is always roughly four to one. If one man gathers, four women will gather. And women will be influenced by Mahavira more than men, because both are male. What emanates from Mahavira, women absorb. But man is not an absorber; his capacity to receive is very limited. So men have given birth to religions, but men are not their preservers. Religions are preserved on earth by women; men spread them. This is an amusing truth: men carry religions, men beget them; women preserve and protect them.

Woman is a collector. Biologically, her body has the element of storing. She is to hold the child for nine months, to grow the child. She must be receptive. Nature has assigned no such function to man. In a moment he becomes father and is done; he gives and is outside it. Woman takes and remains within; she cannot be outside.

This element operates in shaktipat as well. Therefore, shaktipat cannot be received by a man from the side of a woman. I speak generally; there can be rare cases—I shall speak of them. Such events can happen, but for other reasons.

For a man, giving shaktipat is easy; receiving it is difficult
Generally, shaktipat cannot happen through a woman’s body; you may call this her weakness. But the complementary strength that completes it is that she receives shaktipat with great intensity. A man can do shaktipat, but he cannot receive well. Hence it becomes very difficult to effect shaktipat from one man to another man. Because he is not receptive; at the very doorway where it must start, his number one body—masculine—stands, which is not receptive. Measures have been devised to make him receptive. There have been paths in which even men will practice as women. That is an attempt to make the man receptive. Yet man does not easily become receptive; woman becomes receptive without difficulty—she is that already.

Thus a woman will always need a medium in shaktipat; for her to receive grace directly is very difficult—in two ways. She cannot receive it directly. Now understand this well.

Shaktipat happens through the first body. If I transmit shaktipat, I will do so upon your number one body. It will go from my number one and strike your number one. Therefore, if you are a woman this will occur quickly; if you are a man there will be struggle and friction. It will be difficult. You will have to enter a very deep state of surrender for it to succeed; otherwise it will not.

And man is not one who surrenders. He cannot surrender, however he tries. Even if he says, “I surrender,” his declaration too is a kind of aggression: it is the ego that declares, “All right, I have surrendered!” But the “I” is still standing behind; it does not let go.

A woman need not try to surrender; she is surrendered—surrender is her nature, it is the quality of her first body; she is receptive. Therefore shaktipat from a man happens quite easily upon a woman; from a man to a man it is very difficult; and from a woman to a man it is more difficult still. From a man to a man is difficult but possible; if someone is very powerful, he can bring the other almost into a feminine condition. Hard, but possible. But through a woman, it is extremely difficult. At the very moment she attempts to transmit, her first body will drink up the force, absorb it; her first body is like a sponge, it draws things in.

Receiving prasād from the fourth body is easy for a man
So much for shaktipat; a similar situation holds for prasād. Prasād—grace—descends at the level of the fourth body. And a man’s fourth body is feminine, so he can receive grace very easily. A woman’s fourth body is masculine; even in grace she runs into difficulty—grace does not descend directly for her.

A man’s fourth body is feminine. Therefore whether it is Mohammed, Moses, or Jesus—they can relate immediately and directly to God. At the fourth body they are receivers, and when grace pours, they imbibe it. The woman’s fourth body is masculine; that masculine body stands at that end, creating an obstacle; hence she cannot receive from there. Therefore, no woman has a direct message. That is, no woman has been able to claim in this way: “I have known Brahman!” No such claim is hers. On her fourth body the masculine stands and obstructs; from there prasād cannot come.

A man can receive grace; in shaktipat he has great difficulty in receiving; there he is obstructed. But for a woman, shaktipat is very simple; through any medium she can receive it. Even from a weak medium a woman can receive shaktipat—on a large scale. Thus, even from those of very ordinary stature she may receive. It depends less on the giver and more on her absorptive power. But she always needs a medium. Without a medium it is very difficult for her. Without a medium no happening can occur.

I have spoken of the general condition. There can be special conditions. Because of this general condition, there have been fewer women seekers. But it does not mean that women have not experienced the Divine. They have. But it has never been immediate; there was always some medium in between—however slight, but a medium; through a medium it happened for them.

In old age the opposite-sexed personality manifests
In extraordinary situations there can be differences. For example, a young woman has greater difficulty with grace; for an elderly woman it becomes a little easier. For our whole life our sex, too, remains flexible. We are not, for life, in the same proportion on the same side; the ratio keeps changing.

Often a woman, growing old, will sprout a few moustache hairs or a little beard; after forty-five or fifty her voice may become more like a man’s, the feminine tone receding. Her ratio is changing; the masculine element is surfacing, the feminine receding. In truth, her biological work is complete. Up to forty-five she had a biological binding; it is finished. Now she is coming out of that binding.

So for an older woman the possibility of grace can increase. As the masculine elements increase in her number one body, in her number two the feminine elements increase; the masculine elements in her number four diminish and in number three increase. Thus for an elderly woman grace may become possible.

A very old woman, in some conditions, can even become a medium for a younger woman. And an exceedingly old woman—who has crossed one hundred, whose mind has no thought of sex left, no sense that she is a woman—such a one can even become a medium for shaktipat upon a man. But there will be differences.

The same differences appear in men. As a man grows old, feminine elements increase in him. Old men often begin to behave like women. Many of the masculine traits of their personality weaken, and feminine traits begin to appear.

Feminization of personality through receiving grace at the fourth body
It is also necessary to understand that all those who receive grace at the fourth body find femininity arising in their personality. If we look at the bodies and personalities of Buddha or Mahavira, they will seem less masculine and more feminine. Feminine softness, pliancy, receptivity will increase in them. Aggression departs; hence nonviolence grows, compassion grows, love grows; violence and anger vanish.

Nietzsche has accused Buddha and Jesus outright of being feminine; he says they should not be counted among men, because none of the masculine traits remain in them, and they have made the whole world feminine. There is meaning in his complaint.

You may be surprised to know that we did not paint a beard or moustache for Buddha, Mahavira, Krishna, or Rama—none of them. It is not that they never had facial hair, but when we painted them, by then their entire personality had become filled with femininity. Beards and moustaches looked incongruous; we left them out. It did not seem proper to depict them, because the whole flavor of their personality had become feminine.

The transformation of Ramakrishna Paramhansa’s body
With Ramakrishna such a happening occurred—so strange that it is a subject for research in medical science. An astonishing event. Later it was covered up and quietly altered, because how to speak of it? His breasts enlarged and he began to menstruate! This was such a strange miracle! His personality had become so feminine. Even his gait became like a woman’s; he spoke like a woman.

In such special conditions, very great differences can arise. In Ramakrishna’s state he could not transmit shaktipat; he would have to receive. In that state he could not give shaktipat to anyone; outwardly his personality had become feminine.

Femininity in India’s personality
Because of the methods and processes used by Buddha and Mahavira, in those times millions reached the fourth body in this land. Upon reaching the fourth body, their personality became feminine. A feminine personality means that the gentle, feminine qualities increase; violence and anger end; aggression departs; tenderness, love, compassion, nonviolence increase. Deep within, femininity entered India’s collective personality. In my understanding, that is why subsequent invasions succeeded. Because all the men around India were able to overpower India’s feminine personality.

In one sense, a priceless event happened: at the fourth body we had wondrous experiences, but in the world of the first body we ran into trouble. As I have said, everything compensates. Those willing to forgo the wealth of the fourth body could attain the wealth, the kingdom, the empire of the first. Those unwilling to relinquish the nectar of the fourth body had to give up much here.

After Buddha and Mahavira, India lost its aggressive tendency and became receptive. Whoever came, we set about assimilating him; the question of keeping him separate did not arise for us. To go out and attack others and conquer them—that question disappeared. The personality became feminine. India became a womb—a great womb. Whoever came we assimilated. We never denied, never tried to push anyone out. And we could not fight, because what was needed for fighting had been lost; the most refined intelligence in the country had lost it. The ordinary folk follow the refined; they stood subdued. They heard talk of compassion and nonviolence and felt it right. The noblest men lived in those values; the common man stood behind them. He could have fought, but he lacked leaders to lead him.

In a spiritual land, a predominance of feminine personality
When the history of the world is written spiritually—and when we cease to take only material events as history, and take events in consciousness as true history—we shall understand that whenever a country becomes spiritual, it becomes feminine; and whenever it becomes feminine, civilizations far cruder than itself will defeat it. It is a striking fact that those who defeated India were far behind India—practically wild and barbaric. Be they Turks, Mughals, or Mongols—any of them; they had no civilization to speak of. But in one sense they were men—wild men—and we had become receptive. We could only assimilate them; there was no way to fight.

Thus, the female body assimilates, needs a medium; the male body can give and can also receive grace directly. For this reason, someone like Mahavira even had to say that for the ultimate attainment a woman must first take a male body—come into a male birth. Among many reasons, one was that she cannot receive grace directly. It is not necessary that she die and become a man. There are processes by which, in this very life, the personality can be transformed—the number two body can become the number one, and the number one can become number two. There are practices of deep resolve by which, even in this life, the body can be transformed.

Physical change through intense sadhana
Among the Jain Tirthankaras there is a curious incident. One Tirthankara is a woman—Mallibai. The Shvetambar call the Tirthankara Mallibai, but the Digambar call the same one Mallinath; they take that Tirthankara to be male. For the Digambar Jains the view is that a woman cannot attain liberation; therefore a woman cannot be a Tirthankara. Hence Mallinath is male to them. The Shvetambar regard the Tirthankara as female.

About a single person such a dispute exists nowhere else in human history. For other things there can be disputes—his height was five feet six or five feet five, or when he was born. But a dispute whether he was a woman or a man! A remarkable dispute. One group holds he was male; another that she was female.

My understanding is that when Mallibai began sadhana, she was a woman. But there are processes by which the number one body can become male. Only after that transformation did the Tirthankara arise. The group that regards Malli as male is acknowledging the final state; the group that regards Malli as female is acknowledging the initial state. Both can be accepted; there is no difficulty. She was a woman, but she became a man. And Mahavira’s path is such that any woman who passes through it will become a man. Because the entire sadhana is not of devotion; it is of knowledge; wholly aggressive—an aggressive sadhana, not a receptive one.

If even a man were to sing bhajans like Meera and dance, and keep dancing for years, and at night sleep hugging a statue of Krishna to his chest, and take himself to be Krishna’s beloved—if this continues for years, he will remain a man in name only; a radical transformation will happen. The number one body in his consciousness will become number two; the number two will become number one. If the change is very deep, it will bring sexual differences even upon the physical body. If it is not so deep, the body may remain old, but the mind will not remain old; the chitta will become feminine.

In such special situations things can happen; there is no difficulty. But as a general rule it cannot be so.

Man and woman as complements of each other
From a man, shaktipat can happen; a man can receive grace. For a woman, receiving grace directly is difficult; for her the door to grace opens through shaktipat. And this is a matter of fact; there is no valuation in it—no higher or lower. It is a fact just as it is a fact that the man will give semen-energy, and the woman will store it. If someone asks whether a woman can give semen-energy to a man, we will say, “No, she cannot.” It is not a fact. The question of lower or higher does not arise.

Yet because of this, valuation arose, and woman began to appear lower to people, because she is the receiver; the giver became exalted. The worldwide notion of higher and lower between the sexes arose because a man feels, “I am the giver,” and a woman feels, “I am the receiver.” But who said that the receiver is necessarily inferior? And if a receiver is not there, what meaning does the giver have? Or if there is no giver, what meaning has the receiver? In reality they are complementary, not higher-lower. They are interdependent, not independent. They are not two units; they are two aspects of one unit. In that one, one is the receiver and one the giver.

But by nature, even if we use the word “giver,” the mind imagines the giver must be greater. There is no reason. The receiver must be smaller. There is no reason. Yet many things got attached to this, and the woman’s number two personality got accepted. The woman herself accepted that she is number two; the man also accepted that she is number two.

Both have a number one personality: hers number one as woman, his number one as man; there is no number two in either, and both are complementary.

Civilization arose because of woman
This has immense consequences—from the smallest matters to the greatest—throughout culture and civilization. The man went to hunt because he was aggressive; the woman sat at home waiting. Naturally he hunted, he went to the fields, he sowed grain, he harvested, he went to trade, he flew about the world, he went to the moon—he went to do all these things because he is aggressive. The woman waits at home. At home she too did much, but not aggressive—receptive. She made the home, stored, kept things in their place.

The stable element in all civilization has been created by woman. Without woman, man would remain a wanderer, a vagabond; he could not make a home. He would go from here to there. Even now, woman functions like a peg; he must circle and return to that peg. Otherwise he would simply go away. Cities would not arise. Cities have arisen because of woman. Urban civilization has arisen because of woman. Because woman wants to stop, to settle. She insists, “Let’s stop here, stay here; we’ll manage in a little hardship, but here; nowhere else.” She holds the earth, drives roots into the ground, stands steady. Man must then build the world around her.

Therefore towns were built, villages were settled, civilization was established, homes were made. She decorated and made the home; she preserved what man earned and brought from the outer world. Otherwise man is not keen on preserving; he brings something once and then it is useless to him. His interest lasts only while he is earning, fighting, winning. Then he desires to win elsewhere. He goes there. But what he has won, someone must preserve and safeguard. It has its own value, its own place; it complements the whole situation.

But naturally, because she does not go out, bring in, earn, build, she felt left behind. This seeped into the tiniest things; everywhere a sense of inferiority gripped her. There is no question of inferiority.

Now from that inferiority another unfortunate consequence has started: as long as woman was uneducated, she bore the sense of inferiority; now she cannot tolerate it, so in order to break it she has begun to do what man is doing. From this, even more harmful results are likely, because she may break her original personality. It can cause deep damage to the very depths of her psyche. She is trying to become equal. And she cannot become equal by becoming like a man. Then she will only be a number two man, not number one. Yes, she can be number one as a woman.

So here I offer no valuation; I am only stating the fact of these four bodies.

The difference in the mental states of woman and man

There will be a difference. Less in the method of practice, more in the state of consciousness. Even if the practice is the same, even if the method is one, a man will go at it aggressively, and a woman will go to it receptively; a man will attack it, a woman will surrender to it. The practice may be one, yet their ways, their attitude, will be different. When a man goes, he will seize the practice by the throat; when a woman goes, she will place her head at its feet—at the feet of the practice. There will be a difference in their manner, in their attitude. And that much difference is natural. Beyond that, there is no question of any further difference. Her essential mood will be surrender. And when the ultimate attainment comes to her, she will not feel, “God has come to me”; she will feel, “I have come to God.” And when the ultimate attainment comes to the man, he will not feel, “I have come to God”; he will feel, “God has come to me.” These are differences in their way of grasping. That difference will remain.

The subtlety of witnessing along with subtle experiences.

If they arise automatically, they are more precious; if they arise of their own accord, they are more precious. If they arise through the use of Om, they may be imagined. They should arise by themselves. Those alone are precious; those alone are true.

Yes, you should remain a witness. Be a witness; do not become absorbed. For the state of absorption is only at the seventh body; before that, there is to be no merging. If you merge before that, you will stop right there; the continuity will break.

Yes, they are becoming subtler; that means they are fading. So we, too, will have to be witnesses at that very level of subtlety. The subtler they become, the subtler our witnessing must become. We have to watch them to the very end, until they disappear altogether.
The preparation of the first three bodies is an aid to shaktipat.

First, I have already said: shaktipat happens on the first body, and grace—prasad—happens on the fourth body.

If shaktipat happens on the first body and kundalini has not yet awakened, then kundalini will awaken—very intensely—and it will need great care. Because with shaktipat, what would normally take months happens in moments.

Therefore, before shaktipat is attempted, there should be at least a little preparation in the seeker's first three bodies. If shaktipat is done on a totally unprepared person, some random man walking on the street, it will cause more harm than benefit. Some preparation is necessary. Not too much—just enough that his first three bodies come into a single focus, first of all; that a threadlike coherence arises between the three, so that when shaktipat happens it does not get stuck on one body. If it gets stuck on one, there will be harm. If it spreads through all three, there is no harm. But if it stops on one, there can be much harm.

That harm is like this: you are standing and an electric shock hits you. If there is ground below and the ground drinks in the shock completely, harm will occur. But if you are standing on a wooden frame and you receive a shock, no harm happens, because the shock circulates through your whole body, making a loop, a circle. When the circle is complete, there is no damage; harm comes when the circuit breaks somewhere. This is the law of all energy: it moves in a circle. If the circuit breaks anywhere, only then does the jolt and the shock occur. So if you are standing on a wooden table, you will not get a shock.

Measures for conserving body-electricity
You may be surprised to know that sitting on a wooden plank for meditation originally had no other purpose. And you may be surprised to know that sitting on deer skin or tiger skin—these are all nonconductors, all of them. Deer skin is highly nonconductive. If energy is produced in the body at that time, it won’t drain down into the earth. Otherwise a shock can happen; a man can even die. Or wood. That is why the seeker wore wooden clogs, slept on a wooden plank. He might not have known why he was doing so. It was written in the scriptures, so he slept on a wooden plank. Perhaps he thought, “It is to give the body hardship, to deny comfort.” That is not the reason; the dangers are of another kind. A happening can befall a seeker at any moment, from any unknown source. He should be ready.

So if the preparation of his three bodies is complete—first, second, and third—then the power he receives will reach the fourth and complete the circuit, form a circle. If this preparation is not there and the energy gets fixed only on the first body, is held up and blocked there, many harms can result. Therefore, just this much preparation is needed: that he has become able to turn energy into a circle. This is not a great preparation; it happens easily, simply. There is no great difficulty in it.

Nothing comes for free
Kundalini will awaken through shaktipat; it will awaken with intensity. But it will reach only as far as the fourth center; the journey beyond that is personal. Yet even a glimpse up to that point is quite wondrous. Even if, in the darkness of a new-moon night, lightning flashes and shows me two miles of road—this is no small thing. If even once a little of the path is seen, everything is changed. I will not remain the same person I was yesterday.

So shaktipat can be used for a short-distance vision; but the preliminary preparation should be done. Directly on a common person, it is harmful.

And the irony is that it is the common person who is most eager to get shaktipat and such—he wants to get something for free. But nothing is ever free. And many times a free thing turns out to be very costly—one realizes it later. One should avoid free things. In truth, we should always be ready to pay the price. The more we show our readiness to pay, the more we become worthy. And the great price we pay is our own sadhana.

It is difficult, isn’t it! A woman came two days ago. She said, “I am near death now, I am old; when will it happen for me? Do it quickly! Do it quickly, otherwise I will die, I will be gone, finished. So make it happen quickly!” I told her, “Come for meditation; do meditation for two or four days. Then we will see how you move in meditation, and then we will think about what comes next.” She said, “No, don’t entangle me in meditation; I want it done quickly.”

This is a search for something without paying any price at all. Such a search proves dangerous. You don’t get anything from it; something can break instead. A seeker should not have such an aspiration. We should trust that we always receive exactly as much as our preparation warrants. It does come. In fact, a person never receives less than he is worthy of; that is the justice of existence, its law. As far as we prepare ourselves, that far we receive. And if we are not receiving, we should always know that no injustice is being done; our preparation is lacking. But our mind keeps saying that injustice is happening: “I am worthy of so much, and I am not getting it.”

This never happens: we always receive exactly according to our worthiness. Worthiness and receiving are two names for one thing. But our mind aspires a great deal, and labors very little; there is a big gap between our aspiration and our effort. That gap is very self-destructive. It can cause harm. Because of it we wander like madmen, “Maybe something will be found somewhere, somewhere it will be given.” And when many people roam about seeking the “free,” then surely some will exploit them by posing as givers of the free. They may not have much, but if they have picked up a few little formulas by which they can do a little something—not very deep—still they will do at least that much harm. They can cause that harm.

The delusion of shaktipat
For example, a man who knows nothing about shaktipat can, if he chooses, do a little “shaktipat” merely through body magnetism—even if he has no knowledge of the inner bodies, the six bodies. The body has its own magnetic force, its own magnetic element. With a little arrangement and management of that, he can give you shocks—just from that.

That is why an experienced seeker will sleep after considering directions—he won’t place his head in a certain direction and his feet in another—because the earth is a magnet, and he wants to remain aligned with that magnet. He remains magnetized by it. If you sleep across its line, the magnetism of your body keeps decreasing. If you sleep aligned with that magnetic current—the earth’s magnet by which the whole earth maintains its axis—that magnet magnetizes your magnet; it charges your body. As when you place iron near a magnet, the iron also becomes a little magnetized and can pull a small needle, for a little while at least.

Various uses of magnetic power
So the body has its own magnetic power; if it is placed in harmony with the earth’s magnetic field... then there are the magnetic powers of the stars. Particular stars, at particular moments, are specially magnetic. If one knows this—and there is no great difficulty in knowing; the entire arrangement exists—then by standing at a particular hour, in a particular posture, under particular stars, your body becomes highly magnetic. And then you can deliver magnetic shocks to anyone, which will be taken as shaktipat, though it is not shaktipat.

The body has its own electricity. If that electricity is produced properly, you can light a small five- or ten-candle bulb by holding it in your hand. Such experiments have been done, and successfully. Some people have lit a bulb directly in their hand—holding it, they lit it. The power is much more than that; far more.

A woman in Belgium, about twenty years ago, became electrified accidentally. No one could touch her, because whoever touched her would receive a shock. Her husband divorced her. The reason for the divorce was that touching her gave him a shock. Because of the divorce the whole world came to know, and when her body was studied it was found that her body was generating a great deal of electricity.

The body has large batteries. If they function in an orderly way, we don’t notice; if they become disorderly, a great deal of power is produced. All the time you are feeding calories inside, replenishing all those batteries. That is why you sometimes feel you have lost your charge, that you need recharging. A man who is tired, depressed, worn out in the evening, feels as if his battery has slowed down, lost charge, and he wants to be recharged. After sleeping at night, he is recharged. He doesn’t know what happens in sleep that makes him wake up in the morning recharged. His battery has been charged again. Certain influences are at work in sleep. We now know what influences these are. If one wishes, he can make use of those influences in his body while awake. Then he can give your body shocks—not magnetic, but electric—body-electric shocks. But you may mistake them for shaktipat.

Besides this, there are other ways as well—all false—which have no relation to the real thing. Even if a man knows nothing about his body’s magnet or its electricity, but he knows some way to break the electrical circuit of your body, you will still get a shock. This can be done in various ways; arrangements can be made so that the circular flow of electricity within your body is broken, and you receive a shock. Nothing is coming from the other man into you; you yourself are being shocked. That can be done. There are arrangements and methods for breaking it.

The dangers of mere curiosity in sadhana
I cannot tell you all these things fully, because it is never proper to state them in full. And even in what I am saying, nothing is complete. About these false methods, none of what I am saying is complete—because to state it fully is always dangerous. Our curiosity is such that we feel like trying it. A very extraordinary fakir has said that curiosity itself is the only sin; there is no other sin. Because out of curiosity a man commits countless sins without even knowing. Curiosity drives him into who knows how many sins.

In the biblical story, God tells Adam not to taste the fruit of a certain tree. That very curiosity got him into trouble. The original sin was the sin of curiosity. He got into a fix: “This is strange! In such a vast forest, among such beautiful fruits, this one ordinary tree—its fruit is forbidden! What is the matter?” All the trees became worthless; only that tree became meaningful. His mind hovered around it. He could not refrain from tasting the fruit; he had to taste it. Curiosity led him to that tree—what Christianity calls the original sin.

Now, what sin can there be in tasting a fruit? No—the original sin was his curiosity. And our minds are full of curiosity. Rarely do we have true inquiry. Inquiry is present only where curiosity is absent. And remember, there is a fundamental difference between curiosity and inquiry. A curious person is not an inquiring person. The man driven by curiosity—“let me see this too, let me see that too”—never sees anything fully; before he can see one thing, twenty-five other things start calling him, “Know this too, see that too,” and therefore he never investigates anything to completion.

So what I am saying about false methods is not complete. Certain crucial points are left out. Leaving them out is necessary, because our mind wants to try them out. But all this can be done; there is not the slightest difficulty in it. And because of this, the false aspirants who roam about seeking power, God, hoping someone will “give” it to them, do find someone ready to give. And then the blind lead the blind. And when the blind fall, a whole line of blind people falls behind them. The damage is not ordinary; sometimes it lasts for lifetimes—because breaking something is very easy, making it again is very difficult.

Therefore never investigate in this matter out of curiosity. In this matter, first prepare yourself; then whatever is needed will come to you by itself—it does come.