My beloved Atman! Man’s mind is a burden — the burden of the past. But man’s mind is also a strain — the strain of the future. To remove the burden of the past, yesterday I spoke a few things. Becoming free of the tension of the future is equally necessary. The future sits upon the mind like a great stress, always there. The grip of the future holds our mind in many forms. One is this: we do not live today at all; we are forever living in tomorrow. And no one can live in tomorrow; living is always today, now. One morning, during the days of exile, Yudhishthira was seated at his hut. A beggar stretched his bowl before him. Yudhishthira said: Tomorrow! Come tomorrow; I will give tomorrow! Bhima was sitting nearby listening. He burst out laughing, picked up the bell lying beside him, began to ring it loudly, and ran toward the village. Yudhishthira asked: What has happened to you — have you gone mad? Bhima said: I haven’t gone mad. I am overjoyed that my brother has promised to do something tomorrow. Let me run to the village and announce that my brother has conquered time — for I have never heard till today of anyone ever managing to do anything tomorrow. You said you will give tomorrow! Let me go spread the news in the village, because no such event has occurred in history. It is a delightful point. Nothing can be done tomorrow. Whatever can be done — is here and now; today, this very moment. The “tomorrow” we speak about exists nowhere except in imagination. It will never arrive. Tomorrow never comes. What comes is today, now. But our mind lives in tomorrow. We postpone today’s living until tomorrow. What can happen now, we leave for tomorrow. And tomorrow will never be. Then this long stream of tomorrows, this long imagination of coming tomorrows, keeps settling on the mind, keeps pulling the mind. Its load is immense — but we do not know it. We only notice those burdens to which we are not habituated. And we become habituated to the burden of the future with the very moment of birth. So we never even notice it. When Yuri Gagarin — the first man to go into space — went up for the first time, he wrote: For the first time I realized how much burden there is upon the earth — the burden of gravitation! But ordinarily we do not sense it. We are born into it, we grow in it. When Yuri Gagarin returned to earth, people asked him: What was your freshest experience? He said: The freshest experience was becoming free of gravitation. The body became weightless. It was hard to grasp that this is my body. And it was also hard to grasp how much burden there had been upon this body on earth, how much pull there was upon it! The body became light like cotton, a feeling of bodilessness — as if there were no body at all. The body floated upward in the air; it went and stuck to the ceiling of the spacecraft. There was no weight. If you raised your hand, you could not even tell whether you had raised it or not. The whole body was weightless. But we do not come to know how much weight sits upon our body, because we are born upon the earth, grow upon the earth, and die upon the earth. We are born carrying that burden and die carrying it. Therefore we do not know how powerfully the earth is pulling. What we call the weight of the body is not the weight of the body; it is the attraction of the earth. If the body weighs two hundred pounds, the body has no weight of its own. The earth is pulling with such force that a two-hundred-pound load falls upon the body. But we live inside that pull. We are unaware of it because we are born in it, and in it we form our habit. Just so, the future — who knows how much greater a burden it is, how strong its pull! Greater than the earth’s; yet we do not notice it. From childhood we live in tomorrow — forward! forward! forward! It is very necessary to understand this psychological error of ours — this living in tomorrow. Perhaps then we may become free of the coming tomorrow. This does not mean that becoming free of tomorrow means you will make no plan if tomorrow you have to go somewhere. It does not mean that if you must catch the train tomorrow morning you will not make a reservation today. It does not mean that there will be no organizing of life, no planning for tomorrow. Chronological time is there, time is there; but we have also invented a psychological time, which exists nowhere. For example, a man is angry, violent. And he says: Tomorrow, the day after, a few years later, in the next birth, I shall become nonviolent, I shall become calm. He says: I am violent — no worry; but I will make effort, I will labor, I will pray, worship, meditate, practice yoga; I will practice ethics, take vows — I shall become nonviolent! He is violent, yet he imagines that someday in the future he will become nonviolent! This is something to be understood. A man who is violent — whatever plan he makes, whatever vow he takes, whatever resolve he holds, whatever meditation he does, whatever yoga he practices, whatever austerity he undertakes — whatever a violent man does, through that he can never become nonviolent. He will act violently, will he not! He will undertake vows violently. Even in the doing of the vow, his violence will be fully present. He will perform austerities violently; in that austerity too, his violence will be fully present. Until yesterday he tormented others’ bodies, now he will torment his own. Violence is entirely present. Until yesterday he relished squeezing another’s throat; now he will relish squeezing his own. Violence remains. It is the violent one who is acting. Whatever a violent person does, in it violence will grow stronger. He is not going to be nonviolent tomorrow. But to forget today’s violence he will find support in the fantasy of tomorrow’s nonviolence; he will think, Tomorrow I shall be nonviolent. Then the sting of violence, the pain of violence, the thorn of violence that is pricking, will be eased. He will say: No worry; I am violent today — tomorrow I shall be nonviolent. He will take tomorrow’s nonviolence as truth, and he will make today’s violence false; today’s violence will continue. He will never be nonviolent. But under the idea “I shall be nonviolent tomorrow,” the pain that should be caused by violence will be lessened. And the less the pain of violence becomes, the more impossible it is to be free of violence. Yet he will imagine tomorrow! He will say: After this birth, in the next birth I shall attain God. He will say: After death I shall go to moksha. In this way he will go on postponing into the future and will not see the fact of today. Know this well: those who do not want to see today’s fact hide themselves in plans and fantasies of the future — in darkness, in smoke. Today’s fact alone is true. It is not to be hidden. Nor to be forgotten. Nor to be overlooked. It is to be known completely. For only by knowing it, only by knowing it, will it change. There is no other method of change. If there is violence in the heart — and there is. For how many thousands of years has India talked of Ahimsa; how many thousands of years have we sung songs of Ahimsa, composed scriptures on Ahimsa; we have kept speaking of Ahimsa — and is there even one nonviolent person? Not one! For the last twenty, twenty-five, forty years we have been talking even more of Ahimsa. But when trouble descends upon us, we prove ourselves as violent as anyone else. China attacked the country — then our Ahimsa was lost. There is skirmish with Pakistan — our Ahimsa is lost. Then no one speaks of Ahimsa. Then we say: To protect Ahimsa, violence is needed! If even to protect Ahimsa violence is needed, then Ahimsa is very impotent. What meaning does such Ahimsa have, for which violence is needed as protection? And can Ahimsa be protected by violence? If Ahimsa can be protected by violence, then to safeguard nectar we will have to arrange for poison; to protect love, we will have to learn hatred; and to remain alive, we will have to die! Our centuries of talk of Ahimsa has produced only one thing: we have stopped seeing our violence. In talking of Ahimsa, the fact of violence has been forgotten; it is no longer visible to us. The mind is restless — we say: Tomorrow we shall be calm. We will apply some method, some mantra, and tomorrow we shall be calm. Restless today, calm tomorrow! Then tomorrow also will arrive. Tomorrow never comes; that too will be today. And you will again say: I am restless today; no matter — tomorrow I shall be calm. This postponement is self-deception. This deferral is self-betrayal. To leave things to tomorrow, to avoid seeing today — this is such a great tension that then no transformation will ever happen in life. Only tautness will remain — only tension will remain. Look back: how many times in life must you have thought, We will do it tomorrow, we will do it tomorrow — I speak of the psychological, the mental, the inner — and it has not happened till today. It will never happen. That device is to falsify facts, to forget them, to consign them to oblivion — a device of forgetfulness. And by forgetting a fact, it can never be changed. If violence is to change, then stop talking of Ahimsa. Look at violence. Look at what is, right now; recognize it, inquire into what it is. And the more you know it, the more you recognize it, the more capable you become of seeing it — that very fact of violence will begin to change — here and now, not tomorrow. If there is hatred within, then look at it and recognize it. And if there sits a thief within, then look at him and recognize him. Do not say: Tomorrow — tomorrow I will abandon theft. If theft is wrong, why speak of tomorrow? If a snake crosses your path right now, you do not say: Tomorrow I will get out of the way. You leap aside right now — at once, because the snake stands before you with hood raised. You do not say: All right; no matter — keep standing there, snake; tomorrow I will save myself, tomorrow I will jump. When the snake stands before you, you leap this very moment. Why? Because the snake is visible. The snake is fully visible. With the snake, death is visible. The poison of the snake is visible. In a single leap you are out of danger. Violence stands before you — and you say: Tomorrow I shall be nonviolent! Then you do not see the poison of violence, do not see the death in violence, do not see the madness of violence. Therefore you say: Tomorrow. What hurry is there now — tomorrow! If your house is in flames now, you do not say: Tomorrow I will go out. You say: This very moment I must go out. You don’t even say: This very moment I will go out; you have already begun to go — you are out. Life’s facts are more dangerous than a house on fire or a snake on the path. But by the trick of “tomorrow” you falsify them and cannot change them. Life’s transformation, life’s revolution, life’s transmutation will happen in this instant — now. Tomorrow will never be. But we have made up an idea, a belief: tomorrow — tomorrow we shall become nonviolent. And we imagine that tomorrow we have become nonviolent. And today’s violence — which is true — is forgotten; and tomorrow’s nonviolence — which is utterly false — begins to seem true to us. Then we even begin to strive to become nonviolent. Violence remains present, and we start striving to be nonviolent. Hatred remains present, and we start trying to love. A man went to a fakir. That fakir would sometimes come to the man’s door to beg. Many times the man had given him alms. One day he went to the fakir’s hut and said: Today I too have come to beg. There is much hatred inside me. There is much violence, much anger. There is much jealousy, much envy. How can I be free of all this? Show me some way. The fakir said: Tomorrow, when I come to beg at your door, then I will also show the way. The fakir came again next day to beg. He held out his begging bowl before the house. That man had prepared very delicious food that day. He wanted to give alms to the fakir in a different way today — there was something to receive from him as well. He had prepared many sweets. He had brought many fruits. He came with all the fruits and sweets to pour them into the bowl — and was astonished to see that in the bowl lay pebbles, stones, dung! He stopped his hand. He said: Sir, revered monk, how can I pour these sweets into this bowl? The fakir said: Pour them — what harm is there? He said: They will all be spoiled. This bowl is dirty. The monk said: Then what should I do? The householder said: First wash the bowl. The monk washed the bowl. Then the sweets were given. And as the beggar turned back, the man said: And you had told me that you would tell me something too. The monk said: I have said it. When there is filth in the bowl, you are not willing to put sweets into it. And when there is violence within, how can Ahimsa be put in? And when there is anger within, how can forgiveness be put in? You see that a few pebbles, stones, this dung, would spoil all the sweets; but you do not see that all this is within you and you are trying to put even God into it! People come and ask: How to attain God? They do not say: How to cleanse my bowl! They say: How to attain God? They say: How to pray? They do not say: This hatred and this anger...! We do not look at the facts of life that are here now. And we go on desiring those truths which may be someday. They will never be. And the mind becomes split. Anger will be within, and the effort to pray will be going on. What an impossible tension it is. How can a mind given to anger pray? It will be full of anger even in prayer. Look in the homes — people who pray: they are praying, yet their eyes are roaming all around to catch an opportunity for anger. They are worshiping, and they are waiting for anger: when to erupt. Those who worship and pray often become angry — and there is a reason; it is not without cause. Anger is within, and on the surface there is an effort to pray. What is within is the truth. What goes on above is not true. It is false. But the hope of the future is that someday the prayer will become complete, someday anger will end. Anger will never end. Anger, hatred, violence — whatever is wrong within us — can never be ended by any process, any procedure. What happens in life are revolutions — not gradual changes. If the violence within you is clearly seen, then in this very instant there will be a jump, a leap — as happens when a snake is seen. You will be out of violence. And this will never happen tomorrow. It is not sequential; it is not gradual. Understand this well: whatever happens in life is a revolution. It is not gradual growth. It is not that slowly, slowly we shall fix everything. Who will fix it slowly? And as long as you are fixing it, violence will remain. It will go on becoming stronger. A man sows a seed. The seed is growing every moment. The man says: Slowly, slowly, we will uproot this tree and throw it away. And until then he is watering and manuring it as well — because he says: Slowly, later, someday we will uproot it and throw it away! So in the meantime he will water, he will manure. The seed is growing, the sprout is growing, the tree is growing. The tree is becoming stronger. The man says: Later, tomorrow, the day after, we will uproot it. Meanwhile he pours water, adds manure, and the tree goes on becoming stronger. Its roots keep clutching the earth. And he says: Tomorrow, tomorrow, further ahead! And in this land where the doctrine of rebirths has been told at great length, here we say: What hurry is there even now! In the next birth — beyond that too! India has the largest plan for the future. Larger than any country in the world. We have no shortage of time. We say: Infinite, infinite births — infinite births lie ahead. We are not wrong — those who have said it, said it with knowing. But for those who merely heard it, it has become disastrous. It did not prove beneficial for them; it caused harm. Because they said: All right — then what is the hurry? Why the haste to do anything today? If even this birth is lost, what is the harm? More births lie ahead. India has the longest expanse of future. Therefore India’s present has become the most degraded and low. The future is so vast that because of it there remains no need to change the present. Remember: whatever is to happen — is to happen now, here, this very instant; because life is a leap. When something is seen, we change at once. And it is not that we change slowly. The talk of slow change reveals our attachment — that we do not want to change. Therefore we say: We shall change slowly. And why do we not want to change? Because we have not seen the fact of what is within! If you come to know there is cancer within, you will not say “slowly”; you will run now and say: Something must be done this very moment! But cancer is nothing. Violence is an even greater cancer; anger an even greater cancer; hatred an even greater cancer. Cancer eats only the body. Hatred, violence and anger devour the whole soul. But we do not see them! We have never looked at them. We avoid seeing them. Whenever the opportunity to see arises, we begin to look here and there — we do not look straight. And we have devised tricks to falsify ourselves, to forget, to deceive. If there is anger within, we say: This anger is for the good of the other — to correct him. If there is violence within, we say: If there is no violence, people will think we are cowardly, weak. If there is jealousy within, we say: Without jealousy how will there be competition? Without competition how will there be progress? We have made many arrangements, gathered many arguments to protect every poison, every disease inside us. We protect all the evils within us and then we say: We will change slowly! That “slowly change” is also a preparation not to change. Whoever says “I will change slowly” does not want to change. Perhaps he does not even know how sick, how diseased, how ugly, how filthy is that which is within. What is it that fills us within? In the scriptures we read that within dwells Paramatma, within is the Atman. But we have no inkling of that within where Atman is and where Paramatma is. If we go within, we will meet hatred — not Atman. If we go within, we will meet anger — not Atman. If we go within, we will meet jealousy, all sorts of poisons, smoke — not Atman. Atman is written about in books — that within is Atman. When all these are not within, then that which is Atman, that which is Paramatma, will be found. But for now these are — these are now, and we want to avoid seeing them. We say: What need is there to look? We will change slowly. The first step of self-realization is to witness that which is ugly within. The witnessing of what is ugly within is the first step of self-realization. And it is a great wonder that whoever sees what is within — in that very instant change begins. Not even a moment’s waiting is needed. Not even a moment is needed; seeing — and change begins. Such is the enormous capacity of observation, of seeing, of awareness — beyond measure. There is one formula for revolution: awaken to that which is within. But we are awake toward the future. We are not awake toward what is. We have missed the very point where we are. And we run toward where we are not. We keep running and running toward where we are not. And where we are, there we do not even cast an eye to see — where are we, what are we! And we have by hearted fine theories; we go on repeating them. For everything we have arranged justifications — to render all things righteous. We say: There is violence because in a past birth bad deeds were done; thus the violence remains — it will have to be suffered. There is anger because what we did before has produced anger. For all that is within us, we seek arguments for why it is there. By finding explanations we become carefree: All right, we have come to know “why.” And then we ask: How to erase it? There are those who prescribe methods. They say: If anger is to be erased, adopt the feeling of forgiveness. If sex is to be erased, take the vow of Brahmacharya. If violence is to be erased, practice Ahimsa. There can be no teaching more dangerous than this — nor is there. This is the most dangerous thing that has degraded man. Because they counsel the violent to adopt the feeling of Ahimsa. Now how can the violent adopt the feeling of Ahimsa? This is an impossibility. Have you ever thought how a violent one can adopt the feeling of Ahimsa? How a wrathful one can hold the notion of forgiveness? And how a lustful one can take the vow of Brahmacharya? Though the lustful take vows of Brahmacharya, the violent adopt vows of Ahimsa, the greedy talk of non-greed, the attached take up rules of non-attachment. We never ask what is happening! Only tension is produced by this. Tension between what one is and what one wants to be. That tension destroys all the powers of the brain, all the energy of life — and does nothing else. Everyone is taut because no one is willing to see what he is. And he is engaged in trying to become what he is not. Everyone is taut because he does not see what he is; and he is engaged in the effort to become what he is not. How much tension will that not produce! In this very tension all a man’s strength withers. Man is no longer a storehouse of energy; he has nothing left. And another ill effect occurs: when again and again a person resolves “I will become this, I will become this,” and again and again finds he cannot — then self-confidence keeps diminishing. I was in Calcutta. A very remarkable old man — now departed — was speaking with me. Standing in the meeting he said: In my life I have taken the vow of Brahmacharya four times. The listeners thought: Astonishing — what a great deed, he took the vow four times! But the old man began to laugh and said: Understand what it means to have to take it four times! And don’t think that because I didn’t take it the fifth time that the vow was fulfilled. I didn’t take it the fifth time because I understood the vow cannot be fulfilled. And the self-loathing that arose from failing four times is one thing, the inferiority that arose is another, and the loss of confidence in oneself — that I can do anything — is yet another. Those who hand out rules and vows have filled man’s soul with guilt and inferiority. Each person’s soul is full of guilt. He feels nothing can be done by him, because how many times he took vows and nothing happens. Each time he is defeated; the sense of defeat grows strong. Violence doesn’t drop, sex doesn’t drop. But that sex will not drop becomes clear to the one who keeps taking vows. Then he thinks: If Mahavira managed, he must have been a Tirthankara. If Krishna managed, he must have been an incarnation of God. We are ordinary men — this is not within our capacity. Then he thinks: Perhaps sins of past births — that is why it doesn’t drop. Then he thinks: In the future we will keep trying; over births and births it is a matter of dropping gradually — it will drop slowly. In this way man remains as he is; no revolution happens in his life. No — everything can drop — in this very instant. But it can never drop tomorrow. Then what is to be done? First: we need freedom from the notion of leaving things to tomorrow. Forget even the thought that anything can happen tomorrow — because you are here now; time is now; hatred is now. Why talk of tomorrow? And tomorrow you will still be you — the same hatred, the same time. What will you do tomorrow? Is anything new going to happen tomorrow? From today to tomorrow you will be weaker. And from today to tomorrow hatred will be stronger. Because one more day hatred will have traveled further; one more day it will have made you weaker. Tomorrow you will be weaker. Your anger will be stronger tomorrow, for by tomorrow it will have traveled further and spread its roots. By tomorrow, anger will have occurred many times. Then tomorrow you will say: Further ahead — I will do it tomorrow! And this journey will go on. At the moment of death you will die angry, lustful, violent. Then you will think: It will happen in the next birth! In the next birth you will be still weaker. The future will not make you strong. The future will keep making you weak, because the very things that make you weak will continue their journey. If anything is to break, it will break today — not tomorrow. If anything is to change, it is now — not tomorrow. But by the effort to change, nothing changes either — because the attempt to change is made by you. You, who are violent, who are angry — how will you become nonviolent? Then what can be done? Neither tomorrow can it be changed — and I say it cannot be changed. Then what can be done? Awakening can happen. To the present state — here and now — one can awaken totally. What is within me? Moment to moment, every pore is filled with ego. My getting up, my sitting down is filled with ego. In the gestures of the eye there is hatred, there is violence; in the lifting of the hand there is violence, there is hatred. In walking there is violence, hatred. In the whole arrangement of life all that is sometimes revealed is hidden. We think: Sometimes I get angry! Do not fall into such delusion. Anger is always there; it only appears sometimes. That which is not — how could it appear? In an electric wire current is running. When the button is pressed, the bulb lights; if it is not pressed, the bulb remains unlit. But the current is running. Only if the button is pressed will the bulb light — provided the current is running. If it is not, the bulb will not light — no matter how much you press the switch. If someone comes and abuses me and the current of anger is not running within, from where will anger come out? Let him go on abusing, pressing the button — but if the current is running within, the bulb will light. Yet we think anger happens sometimes! Anger does not happen sometimes. Anger is present in every moment, all the time. Hatred does not happen sometimes — it is present. It is wholly present all the time. Violence is present every instant. We are violence, we are anger, we are hatred — and this must be known, recognized, searched within; the whole of it must be seen. And this seeing must happen now, because we are present, and that which is to be seen is present. Then what question of tomorrow? Open yourself within and look at yourself completely: This is what I am. And as soon as it becomes visible: This is what I am — you will be amazed — the change has begun. You did not have to make it happen. Change happens just as, seeing a snake on the path, you leap. Not even a moment is needed for the leap! You do not even need to think! Within yourself, you do not need to think either: I must save myself. The leap happens. The fact of the snake is seen — and the leap occurs. If the whole fact of hatred is seen, in that very instant you will be out of hatred — that very instant. Neither past births will obstruct you, nor past deeds. No one can obstruct. But the fact must be seen — the naked fact. That naked fact of our inner life — if that is seen, the leap happens. Therefore first I said: Drop the burden of the past, and drop the mental plan of the future that “I shall become this, I shall become that.” No. What we are we must know; what I am I must know. It is very painful — otherwise we would not make plans for the future. It is very painful to know what I am, because what I am is very ugly. It is very ugly, what I am. I have heard: there was a woman who never stood before a mirror. And if anyone brought a mirror before her, she would break it — because she would say: Mirrors are vile. Because of these mirrors I appear ugly. She was ugly! But until the mirror stood before her, she was not ugly; she was beautiful — for then it was a matter of imagination. The mirror would show her what she was. And when there was no mirror, she was beautiful, because she remained in her imagination. Then there was no question of seeing. So she never looked at a mirror; she would break mirrors; and she believed that because of mirrors she became ugly! Because when the mirror is not there, I am beautiful! That woman must have been mad. But we are all just as mad. We all avoid seeing what we are. And to avoid seeing it, we too have made an image in imagination. Each person has made an idol of himself: I am such-and-such. That idol is utterly false. That idol is not what we are. Rather, to hide what we are, we have made an idol: I am this. Everyone takes himself to be something other than what he is. If you reflect on this, it will become very clear that what I am — I am never that. I never accept that I am this! Rather I fight — if anyone forces me to accept, I will quarrel, fight, try to save my idol: No, this is what I am. But remember: these idols will prevent the transformation of my personality. They will not allow the passage into revolution; they will not allow change. Within, a new man will not be born. Because if I have made a false idol, I will go on living by that idol. And what I am is something else — I will not even come to know it. We have entirely forgotten; we have so suppressed ourselves within that we cannot even recognize what we are. Then with new garments, new masks, new shawls thrown over from above, we cover what we are. But that alone is there. To see it is difficult. In my vision, there is no austerity greater than seeing the state of one’s own self. To stand in the sun is very easy; to sit fasting is very easy. And if the habit of fasting is acquired, then eating becomes harder; staying hungry becomes easier. To stand naked is very easy. These are little things anyone can do. They have nothing to do with real tapascharya. Real tapascharya begins with knowing myself as I am — because real suffering begins there, with what I am. We all think we speak truth. And we all — if someone speaks a lie — heavily condemn it. And we are astonished: Such a good man — over such a small matter he told a lie! We never think that our whole personality is built of lies. Twenty-four hours we are lie. Not only speaking lies — we are living lies. And the condition has gone so far that we do not even notice that we are speaking lies! I had a teacher. I experienced many times that whatever book you named, he would surely say: I have read it. It never happened that there was a book he had not read. I began to doubt. One day I went and gave the name of a book that does not exist. He said: I have read it! But fifteen-twenty years ago. I do not remember it now, but I have read the book! There was no gain for him in lying. But perhaps he did not even know — perhaps he had no idea what he was doing! It had become a matter of habit. A matter of habit! He was speaking spontaneously — with great ease. He had no awareness of “What use is this I am saying?” If a man lies and gains something, that is understandable. But we are speaking such lies twenty-four hours a day from which we gain nothing. No — our very personality has become lie; it speaks lies and goes on speaking. This lie — if you recognize it, the mind will be pained. That idol we made of ourselves as speaker of truth will shatter into pieces. It should shatter. Whoever seeks the ultimate truth, whoever wants to know the deepest truth of life, whoever wants to recognize that which we call Paramatma, whoever wants to be free — he must first break his false idol. With his own hands he must demolish his own statue. How much violence there is! We have no idea how much violence there is! We think perhaps violence means thrusting a knife into someone’s chest — then violence has happened. Words can stab; the gesture of an eye can stab. When you look at your servant, have you noticed — the eye is not the same eye as when you look at your friend. When you look at your friend the eye is one; when you look at your servant the eye is another. In looking at the servant, there is violence in the eye. But it is very subtle — we do not even notice. We think: If we drink filtered water, we have become nonviolent! We think: If we do not eat at night, we have become nonviolent! We think: We do not eat meat — we have become nonviolent! We do not eat fish — we have become nonviolent! All right. If violence were only this much, it would do. But violence is very deep; violence has permeated every pore. From a man’s walk it can be known whether he is violent or not. His gait can have violence; his sitting and rising can have violence; the furrows on his brow can have violence — and he will not even know it! Living inside it for long, it has become so cooked into him that he will not even know what violences he is committing! He may laugh — and his laughter can carry violence. He may be sarcastic — and sarcasm can carry violence. He may joke — and the joke can carry violence. It is a matter of a violent mind. If a violent chitta is within, whatever we do will carry violence. It can even happen that a man leaves the whole world and runs away to the forest to sit alone — even then violence will continue. Violence is a matter of the inner juices of our personality — a matter of our inner chemistry. And this must be recognized: whether in getting up or sitting, speaking or conversing, walking or sleeping — are we violent? Mahavira slept only on one side. Mahavira did not turn in his sleep. Buddha slept on one side. Ananda, his bhikshu, slept with him for years. He was astonished that the whole night Buddha did not turn! One day Ananda asked Buddha: It is amazing — you do not turn in the night. Last night I stayed awake the whole night to see whether you turn or not — but the place where you put your hand remained the same; where you put your foot remained the same; you slept like that the whole night! Buddha said: In turning without cause there can be violence. Some insect may have come, resting behind, fallen asleep; in the darkness of night I might turn without cause — what need? Once in life I turned; then the thought arose that sleeping without turning is possible — so why turn! Ananda asked: Do you sleep through the night with awareness, keeping watch? Because we turn — we don’t exactly “turn.” Buddha said: No, not with awareness; as the mind has become more silent, the turning has decreased. You will be astonished: the more restless the mind, the more the turning in the night. That turning is part of the violent mind. An agitated person, seated, will keep shaking his leg. If someone asks: Why are your legs shaking? What has happened to your legs? You are sitting on a chair — why are the legs shaking? Within there is violence; that violence vibrates, it makes the legs shake. Even in the shaking of legs there can be violence. So it is not only known by thrusting a dagger into someone’s chest. We must recognize the undercurrent of our entire personality: Why are these legs shaking without cause? Why do they shake? As one becomes silent, the body also becomes silent; the tremors will decrease — because tremors come out of inner violence. One layer after another of the personality will have to be uncovered and seen. As the personality is, it must be recognized. You are walking on the road; two men are fighting; you stand and watch. You have never thought this is violence. Two men are fighting — why are you standing and watching? Are you enjoying watching? And if the quarrel ends just like that, without blows, will you not return a little disappointed — that we stood there in vain, nothing came of it? The mind will return a little sad. And if the dispute quickly intensifies, knives flash, blood flows — then you will return a little relieved. The mind will be a little satisfied — something happened; something was seen. Why are these films — detective films — and tales of murder and killing read? Because of the violent mind. The more violent minds increase in the world, the more violent pictures and violent stories give relish. Why? Because watching a violent story, you forget that you are not part of the story — you become part of it! If you are watching a detective film, you forget; you become identified with someone — with the hero. You become one with him. You will see that when the hero is galloping on a horse, you too sit stiff on the chair — you are not left slumped. Why do you sit stiff? What has happened to your spine? This is not accidental — this is inner violence. You too want to be seated on such a horse, riding at such speed. You want to thrust a spear into someone’s chest like that; you have not been able to thrust it in reality, so you take relish in seeing it in a story, you gain a kind of satisfaction. In Spain, men are made to fight bulls. Hundreds of thousands gather to watch. The sun blazes; fire rains — and for hours they sit as one man fights a bull. The bull’s horn pierces his chest, and hundreds of thousands, with eagerness and impatience, watch the falling blood! What has happened to these people? What has happened to them? Thousands gather to watch wrestling — for what? The inner violence gets its relish. This relish must be recognized — then we will come to know our idol: what kind of idol is it? What kind of man are we? What is happening inside us? The newspaper that prints the most reports of murders, suicides, women eloping — that paper sells the most. Who reads this? Whoever reads it gains some relish of inner violence, some gratification. Reading it, they feel happy — they feel some enjoyment. That enjoyment is violence. And it must be recognized. These are facts. And you are not going to become nonviolent someday in the future. These facts must be seen today and here. In Gandhi’s ashram, one morning the Ramayana was being read. A very strange passage came: Ravana has stolen Sita; so Sita throws down the ornaments of her hands, feet, neck, so that when Rama comes searching he will know by the ornaments which path she has been taken. Then Rama came and found the ornaments. But Rama could not recognize the ornaments. He said to Lakshmana: Do these ornaments look familiar to you? Are these Sita’s? For I never really looked; I never paid attention. Lakshmana said: I can recognize only the ornaments of the feet, because I have never lifted my eyes above her feet. Gandhi said: It is astonishing that Lakshmana was with them so long. Only three were there — Rama, Sita, and Lakshmana. Only the three were together for years in the forest. And Lakshmana never lifted his eyes! Astonishing! What does it mean? Vinoba said: It means that Lakshmana was a Brahmachari; therefore he did not raise his eyes above the feet. He saw only the feet. And Gandhi was satisfied. He said: Vinoba’s interpretation is wonderful and absolutely right. I want to tell you: Vinoba’s interpretation is absolutely wrong. And if it is right, then Lakshmana was thoroughly a man of adulterous mind — if that interpretation is right. Because if Lakshmana even feared looking at Sita, that cannot be a proof of Brahmacharya. To be afraid even of seeing Sita cannot be proof of Brahmacharya! It can be proof of an adulterous mind. If Lakshmana were in the state of Brahmacharya, what difference would it make whether he saw Sita or did not see her? And if he must keep his eyes perpetually lowered to the feet for years, and is afraid to raise them — must restrain them — must keep a rule that the eyes must stay upon the feet — this is a symptom of a very frightened mind. Vinoba did not praise Lakshmana — there could be no greater condemnation. But Gandhi and Vinoba liked that thought. They liked it not because it is true, but because their notion of Brahmacharya is exactly that. This is not Brahmacharya — it is the symptom of an unchaste, sex-obsessed mind. This we must recognize; we must search within ourselves. We can also look at a woman’s face because kama, lust, is within. And we can also shrink our eyes from a woman’s face because kama is within. If there is no kama within, then neither is there any special effort to look, nor any special effort not to look. Any special effort to look or not to look is evidence of inner kama. Special effort is evidence of inner sex. Simply, you look at a tree — you look above, you look below. And if a tree is beautiful you say: Ah, how beautiful! But no one says this man is lustful. A flower is there, blooming; you look, you move on your way and say: Very beautiful. No one says this man is lustful. But if a woman’s face is very beautiful and you look, and then go on and say: Very beautiful — people will say: This man is lustful! It is a strange matter. If a man’s face is beautiful and a woman stops and looks and says: Beautiful — then we say: This woman is lustful! If there were simplicity in life, then just as the flower is beautiful, the moon is beautiful — so are human faces beautiful. The faces of women are beautiful. Eyes are beautiful. And the day the world is good and virtuous, that day we will be able to stop a stranger on the road and say: Your eyes are very beautiful — it has given me joy. Namaskar! But today if you stop someone and say that, there may be trouble — because the mind is sexual! It is sex-minded. It takes things only as sex symbols. If you stop a woman and say: Your eyes are very beautiful; I am very delighted — there will be a mess. Because the woman will ask: Who are you to me — my brother, my husband, my son — who are you? Prove it first. If you are none of these, then as a stranger how did you dare to speak of the beauty of my eyes? A Brahmachari must keep his eyes on the feet. How did you see the eyes? But we do not know that the whole civilization is sex-obsessed. And all our standards are of sexuality. And we do not recognize it. And when we make such interpretations, it becomes difficult to know sexuality. No — within we must uncover layer after layer: What is it that I am doing, thinking, living? What is it — straight and true in its nakedness? That straight and true what is — if it can be seen — there can be immediate freedom from it. Dharma is revolution; dharma is not development. But revolution happens by the vision of fact. Therefore in today’s meeting I have said to you: Do not think that tomorrow you will become like this or like that. See what you are today. Drop utterly the tension of the future. Drop entirely that idea of becoming: that “I will become this.” Know what you are. And a wondrous event happens: knowing what you are, the false dissolves and the noble reveals. Knowing what you are, then the entry within begins — for the base begins to fall, the useless to fall, the ugly to dissolve; the beautiful begins to bloom, the auspicious begins to appear, the nearness to truth begins to increase. And one day that which in truth we are within comes into the open. By “one day” I do not mean tomorrow; by “one day” I mean — now, here, this very instant. The more intense your knowing of the fact, the nearer you move to truth. But the habit of our mind will say: You are saying exactly right. We shall practice this — and thus the matter ends, and everything is wasted. Your mind must be saying: You are exactly right — we shall do it. You will not do it; it has to be done — now, today, here. All my emphasis is on this instant — because other than this instant there is nothing true. Whatever will happen can only happen in this instant. If it is not to be done, then one can think of the moment of tomorrow. If it is not to be done, then one should think: I will do it tomorrow. Whatever is not to be done should be postponed till tomorrow; whatever is to be done — do it now. If we become free of the burden of the past and the planning of the future, life changes. A life on which the burden of the past does not lie, the tension of the future does not lie — such a life I call a Bhagavat life — a divine life. Such a life becomes available to God. What I have said — do not think of it in this way: whether what I am saying is right or wrong; whether it is written in some book or not. Do not think in that way, because thinking in that way has no meaning, no purpose. Think this way: whether what I have said is right or wrong within you. Think in this way — in this direction — whether within me this is right or wrong. Do not think as you may be thinking now, as I mentioned Gandhi or Vinoba. I have nothing to do with Vinoba or Gandhi. Do not think in this way: Why did Gandhi say this — did he say it or not? Or as for the other thing Vinoba said — perhaps there was some other meaning. There is nothing to be taken from that — neither from Vinoba nor from Gandhi. The question is this: when you keep your eyes only upon a woman’s feet and are unable to raise them — then inquire: What is the matter? Search into it: What is this case? Why am I afraid? Why cannot these eyes rise simply and easily? It is connected with you. And when on the road you stop and watch someone fighting, then at that time see: Is the mind experiencing some pleasure? Does the mind want the quarrel to happen — properly? Examine in yourself, observe in yourself. Only then can what I am saying have any result. And that revolution can arise toward which all the effort is directed. Now we will sit for the morning meditation. Move a little apart from one another. Silently, without speaking. Come out of the sun. Do not be uncomfortable — sit somewhere in the shade. Yes — without speaking, sit down quickly. Leave the body completely still and relaxed. Close the eyes gently. For ten minutes, disappear completely; become one with nature. Become one with these trees, with the sunlight, with the winds. And then, whatever happens all around, go on knowing it silently — just like a witness, a watcher. Do not do anything; do nothing within. Whatever is happening — go on knowing it, go on seeing it. If a sound is heard — go on hearing. Whatever happens — sunlight falls upon the eyes — go on knowing it. We are a part of these trees, of this earth, this sky, this sunlight, this air — we are a part; we are not separate. And we have nothing to do; whatever is happening is being done by Paramatma. It is happening. We have only to know, only to see. What is happening — whatever is happening within and without — go on knowing it. If thoughts arise within, go on knowing them; if the breath moves, go on knowing it; if the heartbeat becomes audible, go on knowing it; if the call of a bird comes, know it; if a child begins to cry, know it. We shall remain a single point of ‘knowing.’ Now leave the body relaxed. Eyes are closed. For ten minutes, disappear. We are not — we have become a part of the whole. And go on knowing — the winds will move, go on knowing; sounds will come, go on knowing. And knowing, the mind will go on becoming silent... knowing, the mind goes on becoming silent... Watch... experience... know — and the mind will go on becoming silent... the mind will slowly, slowly become silent... as you awaken within, the mind will go on becoming silent... A sleeping mind is restless; an awakened mind is silent. Awaken — remain experiencing as a fully alert witness. Now for ten minutes, experience — whatever is, however it is. (A seeker sobbing loudly...) Just remain awake, watching — experiencing; let happen whatsoever happens. Let go of yourself; become one. Let whatever happens, happen. Remain awake, remain awake... let go completely — as if you are not, disappear; let whatever happens, happen. The mind will slowly, slowly become silent... The mind goes on becoming silent... the mind goes on becoming silent... the mind goes on becoming silent... go on knowing, go on knowing... just awake, knowing — doing nothing; let yourself go completely — let whatsoever happens, happen. If tears flow, let them flow; if crying comes, let it come; if the body falls, let it fall — let yourself go completely... only go on knowing whatever is happening... let go completely as if you are not. Whatever is happening is happening — we are only knowing. The mind will become silent... the mind will become silent... the mind will become utterly silent... The mind is becoming silent... the mind is becoming silent... remain seated, awake — filled with awareness. Awareness, wakefulness — remain within as a witness to whatever is happening. Knowing whatever is outside and within — and let yourself go completely... deeper, and deeper... the mind will become silent... the mind will go on becoming silent... The mind is becoming silent... the mind is becoming utterly silent... the mind is descending into deep silence... Let go... let go completely... let whatever happens, happen... the mind is becoming silent... the mind is becoming silent... let go completely; let the body go completely — if it falls, let it fall; hold no inner control; if tears are coming, let them come — you will become light; much that is bound will flow away — let it go, let it go completely. The mind has become silent... the mind is becoming silent... the mind will become utterly silent; a void will arise within. There is sunlight, there are winds, there are trees, there is the sound of birds — but we, we have disappeared. A silence, a void will arise within. The mind has become silent... Now slowly take two or four deep breaths... slowly take two or four deep breaths... with each breath it will seem as if more peace is coming. Take two or four deep breaths... then slowly open the eyes... As there is peace within, so there is peace without. Slowly open the eyes... At four o’clock we will meet for silence. So when you come here at four, begin to be quiet half an hour before — attempt to be silent. Stop talking. Reduce it. If you can, come after a bath. Change your clothes and come. Then sit here quietly. In that hour, whoever feels he must come to me, may come to me for two minutes; then quietly return to his place. Our morning sitting is complete.
Osho's Commentary
Man’s mind is a burden — the burden of the past. But man’s mind is also a strain — the strain of the future. To remove the burden of the past, yesterday I spoke a few things. Becoming free of the tension of the future is equally necessary. The future sits upon the mind like a great stress, always there. The grip of the future holds our mind in many forms.
One is this: we do not live today at all; we are forever living in tomorrow. And no one can live in tomorrow; living is always today, now.
One morning, during the days of exile, Yudhishthira was seated at his hut. A beggar stretched his bowl before him. Yudhishthira said: Tomorrow! Come tomorrow; I will give tomorrow!
Bhima was sitting nearby listening. He burst out laughing, picked up the bell lying beside him, began to ring it loudly, and ran toward the village.
Yudhishthira asked: What has happened to you — have you gone mad?
Bhima said: I haven’t gone mad. I am overjoyed that my brother has promised to do something tomorrow. Let me run to the village and announce that my brother has conquered time — for I have never heard till today of anyone ever managing to do anything tomorrow. You said you will give tomorrow! Let me go spread the news in the village, because no such event has occurred in history.
It is a delightful point. Nothing can be done tomorrow. Whatever can be done — is here and now; today, this very moment.
The “tomorrow” we speak about exists nowhere except in imagination. It will never arrive. Tomorrow never comes. What comes is today, now.
But our mind lives in tomorrow. We postpone today’s living until tomorrow. What can happen now, we leave for tomorrow. And tomorrow will never be. Then this long stream of tomorrows, this long imagination of coming tomorrows, keeps settling on the mind, keeps pulling the mind. Its load is immense — but we do not know it. We only notice those burdens to which we are not habituated. And we become habituated to the burden of the future with the very moment of birth. So we never even notice it.
When Yuri Gagarin — the first man to go into space — went up for the first time, he wrote: For the first time I realized how much burden there is upon the earth — the burden of gravitation! But ordinarily we do not sense it. We are born into it, we grow in it.
When Yuri Gagarin returned to earth, people asked him: What was your freshest experience?
He said: The freshest experience was becoming free of gravitation. The body became weightless. It was hard to grasp that this is my body. And it was also hard to grasp how much burden there had been upon this body on earth, how much pull there was upon it! The body became light like cotton, a feeling of bodilessness — as if there were no body at all. The body floated upward in the air; it went and stuck to the ceiling of the spacecraft. There was no weight. If you raised your hand, you could not even tell whether you had raised it or not. The whole body was weightless.
But we do not come to know how much weight sits upon our body, because we are born upon the earth, grow upon the earth, and die upon the earth. We are born carrying that burden and die carrying it. Therefore we do not know how powerfully the earth is pulling. What we call the weight of the body is not the weight of the body; it is the attraction of the earth. If the body weighs two hundred pounds, the body has no weight of its own. The earth is pulling with such force that a two-hundred-pound load falls upon the body. But we live inside that pull. We are unaware of it because we are born in it, and in it we form our habit.
Just so, the future — who knows how much greater a burden it is, how strong its pull! Greater than the earth’s; yet we do not notice it. From childhood we live in tomorrow — forward! forward! forward!
It is very necessary to understand this psychological error of ours — this living in tomorrow. Perhaps then we may become free of the coming tomorrow. This does not mean that becoming free of tomorrow means you will make no plan if tomorrow you have to go somewhere. It does not mean that if you must catch the train tomorrow morning you will not make a reservation today. It does not mean that there will be no organizing of life, no planning for tomorrow. Chronological time is there, time is there; but we have also invented a psychological time, which exists nowhere.
For example, a man is angry, violent. And he says: Tomorrow, the day after, a few years later, in the next birth, I shall become nonviolent, I shall become calm. He says: I am violent — no worry; but I will make effort, I will labor, I will pray, worship, meditate, practice yoga; I will practice ethics, take vows — I shall become nonviolent! He is violent, yet he imagines that someday in the future he will become nonviolent!
This is something to be understood. A man who is violent — whatever plan he makes, whatever vow he takes, whatever resolve he holds, whatever meditation he does, whatever yoga he practices, whatever austerity he undertakes — whatever a violent man does, through that he can never become nonviolent. He will act violently, will he not! He will undertake vows violently. Even in the doing of the vow, his violence will be fully present. He will perform austerities violently; in that austerity too, his violence will be fully present.
Until yesterday he tormented others’ bodies, now he will torment his own. Violence is entirely present. Until yesterday he relished squeezing another’s throat; now he will relish squeezing his own. Violence remains. It is the violent one who is acting. Whatever a violent person does, in it violence will grow stronger. He is not going to be nonviolent tomorrow. But to forget today’s violence he will find support in the fantasy of tomorrow’s nonviolence; he will think, Tomorrow I shall be nonviolent. Then the sting of violence, the pain of violence, the thorn of violence that is pricking, will be eased. He will say: No worry; I am violent today — tomorrow I shall be nonviolent. He will take tomorrow’s nonviolence as truth, and he will make today’s violence false; today’s violence will continue. He will never be nonviolent. But under the idea “I shall be nonviolent tomorrow,” the pain that should be caused by violence will be lessened. And the less the pain of violence becomes, the more impossible it is to be free of violence.
Yet he will imagine tomorrow! He will say: After this birth, in the next birth I shall attain God. He will say: After death I shall go to moksha. In this way he will go on postponing into the future and will not see the fact of today. Know this well: those who do not want to see today’s fact hide themselves in plans and fantasies of the future — in darkness, in smoke.
Today’s fact alone is true. It is not to be hidden. Nor to be forgotten. Nor to be overlooked. It is to be known completely. For only by knowing it, only by knowing it, will it change. There is no other method of change.
If there is violence in the heart — and there is. For how many thousands of years has India talked of Ahimsa; how many thousands of years have we sung songs of Ahimsa, composed scriptures on Ahimsa; we have kept speaking of Ahimsa — and is there even one nonviolent person? Not one!
For the last twenty, twenty-five, forty years we have been talking even more of Ahimsa. But when trouble descends upon us, we prove ourselves as violent as anyone else. China attacked the country — then our Ahimsa was lost. There is skirmish with Pakistan — our Ahimsa is lost. Then no one speaks of Ahimsa. Then we say: To protect Ahimsa, violence is needed!
If even to protect Ahimsa violence is needed, then Ahimsa is very impotent. What meaning does such Ahimsa have, for which violence is needed as protection? And can Ahimsa be protected by violence? If Ahimsa can be protected by violence, then to safeguard nectar we will have to arrange for poison; to protect love, we will have to learn hatred; and to remain alive, we will have to die!
Our centuries of talk of Ahimsa has produced only one thing: we have stopped seeing our violence. In talking of Ahimsa, the fact of violence has been forgotten; it is no longer visible to us.
The mind is restless — we say: Tomorrow we shall be calm. We will apply some method, some mantra, and tomorrow we shall be calm. Restless today, calm tomorrow! Then tomorrow also will arrive. Tomorrow never comes; that too will be today. And you will again say: I am restless today; no matter — tomorrow I shall be calm.
This postponement is self-deception. This deferral is self-betrayal. To leave things to tomorrow, to avoid seeing today — this is such a great tension that then no transformation will ever happen in life. Only tautness will remain — only tension will remain. Look back: how many times in life must you have thought, We will do it tomorrow, we will do it tomorrow — I speak of the psychological, the mental, the inner — and it has not happened till today. It will never happen. That device is to falsify facts, to forget them, to consign them to oblivion — a device of forgetfulness. And by forgetting a fact, it can never be changed.
If violence is to change, then stop talking of Ahimsa. Look at violence. Look at what is, right now; recognize it, inquire into what it is. And the more you know it, the more you recognize it, the more capable you become of seeing it — that very fact of violence will begin to change — here and now, not tomorrow.
If there is hatred within, then look at it and recognize it. And if there sits a thief within, then look at him and recognize him. Do not say: Tomorrow — tomorrow I will abandon theft. If theft is wrong, why speak of tomorrow?
If a snake crosses your path right now, you do not say: Tomorrow I will get out of the way. You leap aside right now — at once, because the snake stands before you with hood raised. You do not say: All right; no matter — keep standing there, snake; tomorrow I will save myself, tomorrow I will jump. When the snake stands before you, you leap this very moment. Why? Because the snake is visible. The snake is fully visible. With the snake, death is visible. The poison of the snake is visible. In a single leap you are out of danger.
Violence stands before you — and you say: Tomorrow I shall be nonviolent! Then you do not see the poison of violence, do not see the death in violence, do not see the madness of violence. Therefore you say: Tomorrow. What hurry is there now — tomorrow!
If your house is in flames now, you do not say: Tomorrow I will go out. You say: This very moment I must go out. You don’t even say: This very moment I will go out; you have already begun to go — you are out.
Life’s facts are more dangerous than a house on fire or a snake on the path. But by the trick of “tomorrow” you falsify them and cannot change them.
Life’s transformation, life’s revolution, life’s transmutation will happen in this instant — now. Tomorrow will never be.
But we have made up an idea, a belief: tomorrow — tomorrow we shall become nonviolent. And we imagine that tomorrow we have become nonviolent. And today’s violence — which is true — is forgotten; and tomorrow’s nonviolence — which is utterly false — begins to seem true to us. Then we even begin to strive to become nonviolent. Violence remains present, and we start striving to be nonviolent. Hatred remains present, and we start trying to love.
A man went to a fakir. That fakir would sometimes come to the man’s door to beg. Many times the man had given him alms. One day he went to the fakir’s hut and said: Today I too have come to beg. There is much hatred inside me. There is much violence, much anger. There is much jealousy, much envy. How can I be free of all this? Show me some way.
The fakir said: Tomorrow, when I come to beg at your door, then I will also show the way.
The fakir came again next day to beg. He held out his begging bowl before the house. That man had prepared very delicious food that day. He wanted to give alms to the fakir in a different way today — there was something to receive from him as well. He had prepared many sweets. He had brought many fruits. He came with all the fruits and sweets to pour them into the bowl — and was astonished to see that in the bowl lay pebbles, stones, dung! He stopped his hand. He said: Sir, revered monk, how can I pour these sweets into this bowl?
The fakir said: Pour them — what harm is there?
He said: They will all be spoiled. This bowl is dirty.
The monk said: Then what should I do?
The householder said: First wash the bowl.
The monk washed the bowl. Then the sweets were given. And as the beggar turned back, the man said: And you had told me that you would tell me something too.
The monk said: I have said it. When there is filth in the bowl, you are not willing to put sweets into it. And when there is violence within, how can Ahimsa be put in? And when there is anger within, how can forgiveness be put in? You see that a few pebbles, stones, this dung, would spoil all the sweets; but you do not see that all this is within you and you are trying to put even God into it!
People come and ask: How to attain God? They do not say: How to cleanse my bowl! They say: How to attain God? They say: How to pray? They do not say: This hatred and this anger...!
We do not look at the facts of life that are here now. And we go on desiring those truths which may be someday. They will never be. And the mind becomes split. Anger will be within, and the effort to pray will be going on. What an impossible tension it is. How can a mind given to anger pray? It will be full of anger even in prayer.
Look in the homes — people who pray: they are praying, yet their eyes are roaming all around to catch an opportunity for anger. They are worshiping, and they are waiting for anger: when to erupt. Those who worship and pray often become angry — and there is a reason; it is not without cause. Anger is within, and on the surface there is an effort to pray. What is within is the truth.
What goes on above is not true. It is false. But the hope of the future is that someday the prayer will become complete, someday anger will end. Anger will never end. Anger, hatred, violence — whatever is wrong within us — can never be ended by any process, any procedure.
What happens in life are revolutions — not gradual changes.
If the violence within you is clearly seen, then in this very instant there will be a jump, a leap — as happens when a snake is seen. You will be out of violence.
And this will never happen tomorrow. It is not sequential; it is not gradual. Understand this well: whatever happens in life is a revolution. It is not gradual growth. It is not that slowly, slowly we shall fix everything. Who will fix it slowly? And as long as you are fixing it, violence will remain. It will go on becoming stronger.
A man sows a seed. The seed is growing every moment. The man says: Slowly, slowly, we will uproot this tree and throw it away. And until then he is watering and manuring it as well — because he says: Slowly, later, someday we will uproot it and throw it away! So in the meantime he will water, he will manure. The seed is growing, the sprout is growing, the tree is growing. The tree is becoming stronger. The man says: Later, tomorrow, the day after, we will uproot it. Meanwhile he pours water, adds manure, and the tree goes on becoming stronger. Its roots keep clutching the earth. And he says: Tomorrow, tomorrow, further ahead!
And in this land where the doctrine of rebirths has been told at great length, here we say: What hurry is there even now! In the next birth — beyond that too!
India has the largest plan for the future. Larger than any country in the world. We have no shortage of time. We say: Infinite, infinite births — infinite births lie ahead. We are not wrong — those who have said it, said it with knowing. But for those who merely heard it, it has become disastrous. It did not prove beneficial for them; it caused harm. Because they said: All right — then what is the hurry? Why the haste to do anything today? If even this birth is lost, what is the harm? More births lie ahead.
India has the longest expanse of future. Therefore India’s present has become the most degraded and low. The future is so vast that because of it there remains no need to change the present.
Remember: whatever is to happen — is to happen now, here, this very instant; because life is a leap.
When something is seen, we change at once. And it is not that we change slowly.
The talk of slow change reveals our attachment — that we do not want to change. Therefore we say: We shall change slowly. And why do we not want to change? Because we have not seen the fact of what is within! If you come to know there is cancer within, you will not say “slowly”; you will run now and say: Something must be done this very moment!
But cancer is nothing. Violence is an even greater cancer; anger an even greater cancer; hatred an even greater cancer. Cancer eats only the body. Hatred, violence and anger devour the whole soul. But we do not see them! We have never looked at them. We avoid seeing them. Whenever the opportunity to see arises, we begin to look here and there — we do not look straight.
And we have devised tricks to falsify ourselves, to forget, to deceive. If there is anger within, we say: This anger is for the good of the other — to correct him. If there is violence within, we say: If there is no violence, people will think we are cowardly, weak. If there is jealousy within, we say: Without jealousy how will there be competition? Without competition how will there be progress? We have made many arrangements, gathered many arguments to protect every poison, every disease inside us. We protect all the evils within us and then we say: We will change slowly! That “slowly change” is also a preparation not to change.
Whoever says “I will change slowly” does not want to change.
Perhaps he does not even know how sick, how diseased, how ugly, how filthy is that which is within. What is it that fills us within? In the scriptures we read that within dwells Paramatma, within is the Atman. But we have no inkling of that within where Atman is and where Paramatma is.
If we go within, we will meet hatred — not Atman. If we go within, we will meet anger — not Atman. If we go within, we will meet jealousy, all sorts of poisons, smoke — not Atman. Atman is written about in books — that within is Atman. When all these are not within, then that which is Atman, that which is Paramatma, will be found. But for now these are — these are now, and we want to avoid seeing them. We say: What need is there to look? We will change slowly.
The first step of self-realization is to witness that which is ugly within. The witnessing of what is ugly within is the first step of self-realization. And it is a great wonder that whoever sees what is within — in that very instant change begins. Not even a moment’s waiting is needed. Not even a moment is needed; seeing — and change begins. Such is the enormous capacity of observation, of seeing, of awareness — beyond measure.
There is one formula for revolution: awaken to that which is within.
But we are awake toward the future. We are not awake toward what is. We have missed the very point where we are. And we run toward where we are not. We keep running and running toward where we are not. And where we are, there we do not even cast an eye to see — where are we, what are we!
And we have by hearted fine theories; we go on repeating them. For everything we have arranged justifications — to render all things righteous. We say: There is violence because in a past birth bad deeds were done; thus the violence remains — it will have to be suffered. There is anger because what we did before has produced anger. For all that is within us, we seek arguments for why it is there. By finding explanations we become carefree: All right, we have come to know “why.” And then we ask: How to erase it? There are those who prescribe methods. They say: If anger is to be erased, adopt the feeling of forgiveness. If sex is to be erased, take the vow of Brahmacharya. If violence is to be erased, practice Ahimsa. There can be no teaching more dangerous than this — nor is there. This is the most dangerous thing that has degraded man. Because they counsel the violent to adopt the feeling of Ahimsa.
Now how can the violent adopt the feeling of Ahimsa? This is an impossibility. Have you ever thought how a violent one can adopt the feeling of Ahimsa? How a wrathful one can hold the notion of forgiveness? And how a lustful one can take the vow of Brahmacharya? Though the lustful take vows of Brahmacharya, the violent adopt vows of Ahimsa, the greedy talk of non-greed, the attached take up rules of non-attachment. We never ask what is happening!
Only tension is produced by this. Tension between what one is and what one wants to be. That tension destroys all the powers of the brain, all the energy of life — and does nothing else.
Everyone is taut because no one is willing to see what he is. And he is engaged in trying to become what he is not. Everyone is taut because he does not see what he is; and he is engaged in the effort to become what he is not. How much tension will that not produce! In this very tension all a man’s strength withers. Man is no longer a storehouse of energy; he has nothing left.
And another ill effect occurs: when again and again a person resolves “I will become this, I will become this,” and again and again finds he cannot — then self-confidence keeps diminishing.
I was in Calcutta. A very remarkable old man — now departed — was speaking with me. Standing in the meeting he said: In my life I have taken the vow of Brahmacharya four times. The listeners thought: Astonishing — what a great deed, he took the vow four times!
But the old man began to laugh and said: Understand what it means to have to take it four times! And don’t think that because I didn’t take it the fifth time that the vow was fulfilled. I didn’t take it the fifth time because I understood the vow cannot be fulfilled. And the self-loathing that arose from failing four times is one thing, the inferiority that arose is another, and the loss of confidence in oneself — that I can do anything — is yet another.
Those who hand out rules and vows have filled man’s soul with guilt and inferiority. Each person’s soul is full of guilt. He feels nothing can be done by him, because how many times he took vows and nothing happens. Each time he is defeated; the sense of defeat grows strong. Violence doesn’t drop, sex doesn’t drop. But that sex will not drop becomes clear to the one who keeps taking vows.
Then he thinks: If Mahavira managed, he must have been a Tirthankara. If Krishna managed, he must have been an incarnation of God. We are ordinary men — this is not within our capacity. Then he thinks: Perhaps sins of past births — that is why it doesn’t drop. Then he thinks: In the future we will keep trying; over births and births it is a matter of dropping gradually — it will drop slowly. In this way man remains as he is; no revolution happens in his life.
No — everything can drop — in this very instant. But it can never drop tomorrow. Then what is to be done?
First: we need freedom from the notion of leaving things to tomorrow. Forget even the thought that anything can happen tomorrow — because you are here now; time is now; hatred is now. Why talk of tomorrow? And tomorrow you will still be you — the same hatred, the same time. What will you do tomorrow? Is anything new going to happen tomorrow?
From today to tomorrow you will be weaker. And from today to tomorrow hatred will be stronger. Because one more day hatred will have traveled further; one more day it will have made you weaker. Tomorrow you will be weaker. Your anger will be stronger tomorrow, for by tomorrow it will have traveled further and spread its roots. By tomorrow, anger will have occurred many times. Then tomorrow you will say: Further ahead — I will do it tomorrow!
And this journey will go on. At the moment of death you will die angry, lustful, violent. Then you will think: It will happen in the next birth! In the next birth you will be still weaker. The future will not make you strong. The future will keep making you weak, because the very things that make you weak will continue their journey.
If anything is to break, it will break today — not tomorrow. If anything is to change, it is now — not tomorrow.
But by the effort to change, nothing changes either — because the attempt to change is made by you. You, who are violent, who are angry — how will you become nonviolent? Then what can be done? Neither tomorrow can it be changed — and I say it cannot be changed. Then what can be done?
Awakening can happen. To the present state — here and now — one can awaken totally.
What is within me? Moment to moment, every pore is filled with ego. My getting up, my sitting down is filled with ego. In the gestures of the eye there is hatred, there is violence; in the lifting of the hand there is violence, there is hatred. In walking there is violence, hatred. In the whole arrangement of life all that is sometimes revealed is hidden. We think: Sometimes I get angry! Do not fall into such delusion. Anger is always there; it only appears sometimes. That which is not — how could it appear?
In an electric wire current is running. When the button is pressed, the bulb lights; if it is not pressed, the bulb remains unlit. But the current is running. Only if the button is pressed will the bulb light — provided the current is running. If it is not, the bulb will not light — no matter how much you press the switch.
If someone comes and abuses me and the current of anger is not running within, from where will anger come out? Let him go on abusing, pressing the button — but if the current is running within, the bulb will light. Yet we think anger happens sometimes! Anger does not happen sometimes. Anger is present in every moment, all the time. Hatred does not happen sometimes — it is present. It is wholly present all the time. Violence is present every instant.
We are violence, we are anger, we are hatred — and this must be known, recognized, searched within; the whole of it must be seen. And this seeing must happen now, because we are present, and that which is to be seen is present. Then what question of tomorrow? Open yourself within and look at yourself completely: This is what I am.
And as soon as it becomes visible: This is what I am — you will be amazed — the change has begun. You did not have to make it happen. Change happens just as, seeing a snake on the path, you leap. Not even a moment is needed for the leap! You do not even need to think! Within yourself, you do not need to think either: I must save myself. The leap happens.
The fact of the snake is seen — and the leap occurs. If the whole fact of hatred is seen, in that very instant you will be out of hatred — that very instant. Neither past births will obstruct you, nor past deeds. No one can obstruct. But the fact must be seen — the naked fact. That naked fact of our inner life — if that is seen, the leap happens.
Therefore first I said: Drop the burden of the past, and drop the mental plan of the future that “I shall become this, I shall become that.” No. What we are we must know; what I am I must know. It is very painful — otherwise we would not make plans for the future. It is very painful to know what I am, because what I am is very ugly. It is very ugly, what I am.
I have heard: there was a woman who never stood before a mirror. And if anyone brought a mirror before her, she would break it — because she would say: Mirrors are vile. Because of these mirrors I appear ugly. She was ugly! But until the mirror stood before her, she was not ugly; she was beautiful — for then it was a matter of imagination. The mirror would show her what she was. And when there was no mirror, she was beautiful, because she remained in her imagination. Then there was no question of seeing. So she never looked at a mirror; she would break mirrors; and she believed that because of mirrors she became ugly! Because when the mirror is not there, I am beautiful! That woman must have been mad.
But we are all just as mad. We all avoid seeing what we are. And to avoid seeing it, we too have made an image in imagination. Each person has made an idol of himself: I am such-and-such. That idol is utterly false. That idol is not what we are. Rather, to hide what we are, we have made an idol: I am this.
Everyone takes himself to be something other than what he is. If you reflect on this, it will become very clear that what I am — I am never that. I never accept that I am this! Rather I fight — if anyone forces me to accept, I will quarrel, fight, try to save my idol: No, this is what I am.
But remember: these idols will prevent the transformation of my personality. They will not allow the passage into revolution; they will not allow change. Within, a new man will not be born. Because if I have made a false idol, I will go on living by that idol. And what I am is something else — I will not even come to know it. We have entirely forgotten; we have so suppressed ourselves within that we cannot even recognize what we are. Then with new garments, new masks, new shawls thrown over from above, we cover what we are. But that alone is there. To see it is difficult.
In my vision, there is no austerity greater than seeing the state of one’s own self. To stand in the sun is very easy; to sit fasting is very easy. And if the habit of fasting is acquired, then eating becomes harder; staying hungry becomes easier. To stand naked is very easy. These are little things anyone can do. They have nothing to do with real tapascharya. Real tapascharya begins with knowing myself as I am — because real suffering begins there, with what I am.
We all think we speak truth. And we all — if someone speaks a lie — heavily condemn it. And we are astonished: Such a good man — over such a small matter he told a lie! We never think that our whole personality is built of lies. Twenty-four hours we are lie. Not only speaking lies — we are living lies. And the condition has gone so far that we do not even notice that we are speaking lies!
I had a teacher. I experienced many times that whatever book you named, he would surely say: I have read it. It never happened that there was a book he had not read. I began to doubt. One day I went and gave the name of a book that does not exist. He said: I have read it! But fifteen-twenty years ago. I do not remember it now, but I have read the book! There was no gain for him in lying. But perhaps he did not even know — perhaps he had no idea what he was doing! It had become a matter of habit. A matter of habit! He was speaking spontaneously — with great ease. He had no awareness of “What use is this I am saying?”
If a man lies and gains something, that is understandable. But we are speaking such lies twenty-four hours a day from which we gain nothing. No — our very personality has become lie; it speaks lies and goes on speaking. This lie — if you recognize it, the mind will be pained. That idol we made of ourselves as speaker of truth will shatter into pieces. It should shatter.
Whoever seeks the ultimate truth, whoever wants to know the deepest truth of life, whoever wants to recognize that which we call Paramatma, whoever wants to be free — he must first break his false idol. With his own hands he must demolish his own statue.
How much violence there is! We have no idea how much violence there is! We think perhaps violence means thrusting a knife into someone’s chest — then violence has happened. Words can stab; the gesture of an eye can stab.
When you look at your servant, have you noticed — the eye is not the same eye as when you look at your friend. When you look at your friend the eye is one; when you look at your servant the eye is another. In looking at the servant, there is violence in the eye. But it is very subtle — we do not even notice.
We think: If we drink filtered water, we have become nonviolent! We think: If we do not eat at night, we have become nonviolent! We think: We do not eat meat — we have become nonviolent! We do not eat fish — we have become nonviolent! All right. If violence were only this much, it would do. But violence is very deep; violence has permeated every pore. From a man’s walk it can be known whether he is violent or not. His gait can have violence; his sitting and rising can have violence; the furrows on his brow can have violence — and he will not even know it! Living inside it for long, it has become so cooked into him that he will not even know what violences he is committing! He may laugh — and his laughter can carry violence. He may be sarcastic — and sarcasm can carry violence. He may joke — and the joke can carry violence.
It is a matter of a violent mind. If a violent chitta is within, whatever we do will carry violence.
It can even happen that a man leaves the whole world and runs away to the forest to sit alone — even then violence will continue. Violence is a matter of the inner juices of our personality — a matter of our inner chemistry. And this must be recognized: whether in getting up or sitting, speaking or conversing, walking or sleeping — are we violent?
Mahavira slept only on one side. Mahavira did not turn in his sleep. Buddha slept on one side. Ananda, his bhikshu, slept with him for years. He was astonished that the whole night Buddha did not turn! One day Ananda asked Buddha: It is amazing — you do not turn in the night. Last night I stayed awake the whole night to see whether you turn or not — but the place where you put your hand remained the same; where you put your foot remained the same; you slept like that the whole night!
Buddha said: In turning without cause there can be violence. Some insect may have come, resting behind, fallen asleep; in the darkness of night I might turn without cause — what need? Once in life I turned; then the thought arose that sleeping without turning is possible — so why turn!
Ananda asked: Do you sleep through the night with awareness, keeping watch? Because we turn — we don’t exactly “turn.”
Buddha said: No, not with awareness; as the mind has become more silent, the turning has decreased.
You will be astonished: the more restless the mind, the more the turning in the night. That turning is part of the violent mind. An agitated person, seated, will keep shaking his leg. If someone asks: Why are your legs shaking? What has happened to your legs? You are sitting on a chair — why are the legs shaking? Within there is violence; that violence vibrates, it makes the legs shake.
Even in the shaking of legs there can be violence. So it is not only known by thrusting a dagger into someone’s chest. We must recognize the undercurrent of our entire personality: Why are these legs shaking without cause? Why do they shake?
As one becomes silent, the body also becomes silent; the tremors will decrease — because tremors come out of inner violence.
One layer after another of the personality will have to be uncovered and seen. As the personality is, it must be recognized.
You are walking on the road; two men are fighting; you stand and watch. You have never thought this is violence. Two men are fighting — why are you standing and watching? Are you enjoying watching? And if the quarrel ends just like that, without blows, will you not return a little disappointed — that we stood there in vain, nothing came of it? The mind will return a little sad. And if the dispute quickly intensifies, knives flash, blood flows — then you will return a little relieved. The mind will be a little satisfied — something happened; something was seen.
Why are these films — detective films — and tales of murder and killing read? Because of the violent mind. The more violent minds increase in the world, the more violent pictures and violent stories give relish. Why? Because watching a violent story, you forget that you are not part of the story — you become part of it! If you are watching a detective film, you forget; you become identified with someone — with the hero. You become one with him. You will see that when the hero is galloping on a horse, you too sit stiff on the chair — you are not left slumped. Why do you sit stiff? What has happened to your spine? This is not accidental — this is inner violence. You too want to be seated on such a horse, riding at such speed. You want to thrust a spear into someone’s chest like that; you have not been able to thrust it in reality, so you take relish in seeing it in a story, you gain a kind of satisfaction.
In Spain, men are made to fight bulls. Hundreds of thousands gather to watch. The sun blazes; fire rains — and for hours they sit as one man fights a bull. The bull’s horn pierces his chest, and hundreds of thousands, with eagerness and impatience, watch the falling blood! What has happened to these people? What has happened to them? Thousands gather to watch wrestling — for what? The inner violence gets its relish.
This relish must be recognized — then we will come to know our idol: what kind of idol is it? What kind of man are we? What is happening inside us?
The newspaper that prints the most reports of murders, suicides, women eloping — that paper sells the most. Who reads this? Whoever reads it gains some relish of inner violence, some gratification. Reading it, they feel happy — they feel some enjoyment. That enjoyment is violence. And it must be recognized. These are facts. And you are not going to become nonviolent someday in the future. These facts must be seen today and here.
In Gandhi’s ashram, one morning the Ramayana was being read. A very strange passage came: Ravana has stolen Sita; so Sita throws down the ornaments of her hands, feet, neck, so that when Rama comes searching he will know by the ornaments which path she has been taken. Then Rama came and found the ornaments.
But Rama could not recognize the ornaments. He said to Lakshmana: Do these ornaments look familiar to you? Are these Sita’s? For I never really looked; I never paid attention.
Lakshmana said: I can recognize only the ornaments of the feet, because I have never lifted my eyes above her feet.
Gandhi said: It is astonishing that Lakshmana was with them so long. Only three were there — Rama, Sita, and Lakshmana. Only the three were together for years in the forest. And Lakshmana never lifted his eyes! Astonishing! What does it mean?
Vinoba said: It means that Lakshmana was a Brahmachari; therefore he did not raise his eyes above the feet. He saw only the feet.
And Gandhi was satisfied. He said: Vinoba’s interpretation is wonderful and absolutely right.
I want to tell you: Vinoba’s interpretation is absolutely wrong. And if it is right, then Lakshmana was thoroughly a man of adulterous mind — if that interpretation is right. Because if Lakshmana even feared looking at Sita, that cannot be a proof of Brahmacharya. To be afraid even of seeing Sita cannot be proof of Brahmacharya! It can be proof of an adulterous mind. If Lakshmana were in the state of Brahmacharya, what difference would it make whether he saw Sita or did not see her? And if he must keep his eyes perpetually lowered to the feet for years, and is afraid to raise them — must restrain them — must keep a rule that the eyes must stay upon the feet — this is a symptom of a very frightened mind. Vinoba did not praise Lakshmana — there could be no greater condemnation.
But Gandhi and Vinoba liked that thought. They liked it not because it is true, but because their notion of Brahmacharya is exactly that.
This is not Brahmacharya — it is the symptom of an unchaste, sex-obsessed mind. This we must recognize; we must search within ourselves. We can also look at a woman’s face because kama, lust, is within. And we can also shrink our eyes from a woman’s face because kama is within. If there is no kama within, then neither is there any special effort to look, nor any special effort not to look. Any special effort to look or not to look is evidence of inner kama. Special effort is evidence of inner sex.
Simply, you look at a tree — you look above, you look below. And if a tree is beautiful you say: Ah, how beautiful! But no one says this man is lustful. A flower is there, blooming; you look, you move on your way and say: Very beautiful. No one says this man is lustful. But if a woman’s face is very beautiful and you look, and then go on and say: Very beautiful — people will say: This man is lustful!
It is a strange matter. If a man’s face is beautiful and a woman stops and looks and says: Beautiful — then we say: This woman is lustful! If there were simplicity in life, then just as the flower is beautiful, the moon is beautiful — so are human faces beautiful. The faces of women are beautiful. Eyes are beautiful. And the day the world is good and virtuous, that day we will be able to stop a stranger on the road and say: Your eyes are very beautiful — it has given me joy. Namaskar!
But today if you stop someone and say that, there may be trouble — because the mind is sexual! It is sex-minded. It takes things only as sex symbols. If you stop a woman and say: Your eyes are very beautiful; I am very delighted — there will be a mess. Because the woman will ask: Who are you to me — my brother, my husband, my son — who are you? Prove it first. If you are none of these, then as a stranger how did you dare to speak of the beauty of my eyes? A Brahmachari must keep his eyes on the feet. How did you see the eyes?
But we do not know that the whole civilization is sex-obsessed. And all our standards are of sexuality. And we do not recognize it. And when we make such interpretations, it becomes difficult to know sexuality.
No — within we must uncover layer after layer: What is it that I am doing, thinking, living? What is it — straight and true in its nakedness? That straight and true what is — if it can be seen — there can be immediate freedom from it.
Dharma is revolution; dharma is not development. But revolution happens by the vision of fact.
Therefore in today’s meeting I have said to you: Do not think that tomorrow you will become like this or like that. See what you are today. Drop utterly the tension of the future. Drop entirely that idea of becoming: that “I will become this.” Know what you are.
And a wondrous event happens: knowing what you are, the false dissolves and the noble reveals. Knowing what you are, then the entry within begins — for the base begins to fall, the useless to fall, the ugly to dissolve; the beautiful begins to bloom, the auspicious begins to appear, the nearness to truth begins to increase. And one day that which in truth we are within comes into the open. By “one day” I do not mean tomorrow; by “one day” I mean — now, here, this very instant. The more intense your knowing of the fact, the nearer you move to truth.
But the habit of our mind will say: You are saying exactly right. We shall practice this — and thus the matter ends, and everything is wasted. Your mind must be saying: You are exactly right — we shall do it. You will not do it; it has to be done — now, today, here. All my emphasis is on this instant — because other than this instant there is nothing true. Whatever will happen can only happen in this instant. If it is not to be done, then one can think of the moment of tomorrow. If it is not to be done, then one should think: I will do it tomorrow. Whatever is not to be done should be postponed till tomorrow; whatever is to be done — do it now.
If we become free of the burden of the past and the planning of the future, life changes. A life on which the burden of the past does not lie, the tension of the future does not lie — such a life I call a Bhagavat life — a divine life. Such a life becomes available to God.
What I have said — do not think of it in this way: whether what I am saying is right or wrong; whether it is written in some book or not. Do not think in that way, because thinking in that way has no meaning, no purpose. Think this way: whether what I have said is right or wrong within you.
Think in this way — in this direction — whether within me this is right or wrong. Do not think as you may be thinking now, as I mentioned Gandhi or Vinoba. I have nothing to do with Vinoba or Gandhi. Do not think in this way: Why did Gandhi say this — did he say it or not? Or as for the other thing Vinoba said — perhaps there was some other meaning. There is nothing to be taken from that — neither from Vinoba nor from Gandhi. The question is this: when you keep your eyes only upon a woman’s feet and are unable to raise them — then inquire: What is the matter? Search into it: What is this case? Why am I afraid? Why cannot these eyes rise simply and easily? It is connected with you.
And when on the road you stop and watch someone fighting, then at that time see: Is the mind experiencing some pleasure? Does the mind want the quarrel to happen — properly? Examine in yourself, observe in yourself. Only then can what I am saying have any result. And that revolution can arise toward which all the effort is directed.
Now we will sit for the morning meditation.
Move a little apart from one another. Silently, without speaking. Come out of the sun. Do not be uncomfortable — sit somewhere in the shade. Yes — without speaking, sit down quickly.
Leave the body completely still and relaxed. Close the eyes gently. For ten minutes, disappear completely; become one with nature. Become one with these trees, with the sunlight, with the winds. And then, whatever happens all around, go on knowing it silently — just like a witness, a watcher. Do not do anything; do nothing within. Whatever is happening — go on knowing it, go on seeing it. If a sound is heard — go on hearing. Whatever happens — sunlight falls upon the eyes — go on knowing it. We are a part of these trees, of this earth, this sky, this sunlight, this air — we are a part; we are not separate. And we have nothing to do; whatever is happening is being done by Paramatma. It is happening. We have only to know, only to see. What is happening — whatever is happening within and without — go on knowing it. If thoughts arise within, go on knowing them; if the breath moves, go on knowing it; if the heartbeat becomes audible, go on knowing it; if the call of a bird comes, know it; if a child begins to cry, know it. We shall remain a single point of ‘knowing.’
Now leave the body relaxed. Eyes are closed. For ten minutes, disappear.
We are not — we have become a part of the whole. And go on knowing — the winds will move, go on knowing; sounds will come, go on knowing. And knowing, the mind will go on becoming silent... knowing, the mind goes on becoming silent...
Watch... experience... know — and the mind will go on becoming silent... the mind will slowly, slowly become silent... as you awaken within, the mind will go on becoming silent...
A sleeping mind is restless; an awakened mind is silent. Awaken — remain experiencing as a fully alert witness.
Now for ten minutes, experience — whatever is, however it is.
(A seeker sobbing loudly...)
Just remain awake, watching — experiencing; let happen whatsoever happens. Let go of yourself; become one. Let whatever happens, happen. Remain awake, remain awake... let go completely — as if you are not, disappear; let whatever happens, happen. The mind will slowly, slowly become silent...
The mind goes on becoming silent... the mind goes on becoming silent... the mind goes on becoming silent... go on knowing, go on knowing... just awake, knowing — doing nothing; let yourself go completely — let whatsoever happens, happen. If tears flow, let them flow; if crying comes, let it come; if the body falls, let it fall — let yourself go completely... only go on knowing whatever is happening... let go completely as if you are not. Whatever is happening is happening — we are only knowing. The mind will become silent... the mind will become silent... the mind will become utterly silent...
The mind is becoming silent... the mind is becoming silent... remain seated, awake — filled with awareness. Awareness, wakefulness — remain within as a witness to whatever is happening. Knowing whatever is outside and within — and let yourself go completely... deeper, and deeper... the mind will become silent... the mind will go on becoming silent...
The mind is becoming silent... the mind is becoming utterly silent... the mind is descending into deep silence...
Let go... let go completely... let whatever happens, happen... the mind is becoming silent... the mind is becoming silent... let go completely; let the body go completely — if it falls, let it fall; hold no inner control; if tears are coming, let them come — you will become light; much that is bound will flow away — let it go, let it go completely.
The mind has become silent... the mind is becoming silent... the mind will become utterly silent; a void will arise within. There is sunlight, there are winds, there are trees, there is the sound of birds — but we, we have disappeared. A silence, a void will arise within. The mind has become silent...
Now slowly take two or four deep breaths... slowly take two or four deep breaths... with each breath it will seem as if more peace is coming. Take two or four deep breaths... then slowly open the eyes... As there is peace within, so there is peace without. Slowly open the eyes...
At four o’clock we will meet for silence. So when you come here at four, begin to be quiet half an hour before — attempt to be silent. Stop talking. Reduce it. If you can, come after a bath. Change your clothes and come. Then sit here quietly. In that hour, whoever feels he must come to me, may come to me for two minutes; then quietly return to his place.
Our morning sitting is complete.