Three young men came to a fakir and said that they wanted to know themselves. The fakir said that before they set out upon the journey of knowing themselves, they should first do a small task. He gave a pigeon to each of the three and said, Go to a place where no one is watching, and wring the pigeon’s neck there.
The first youth went out onto the road—it was noon, the road was deserted, people were asleep in their homes—he saw there was no one, twisted the neck, returned inside, and placed it before the master. There was no one there, he said, the road was empty, people were sleeping in their houses, no one saw, there was no watcher.
The second youth thought, If I wring the neck on the road, who knows—someone might suddenly come by, someone might look out from a window. He went into a lane. But it was still day; he thought, I will wait till night, who knows—someone might suddenly come into this lane; wherever I have managed to come, someone else might also come. He waited till night; when it was dark, he wrung the neck and took it to the master.
But fifteen days passed for the third youth. He still did not return… still did not return… The other two were sent to look for him. They caught him somewhere and brought him. He was in great difficulty. He too had gone in the dark of night. In the dark of night, even in the deepest darkness, there was much that was seeing him. The moon and the stars were seeing. So he thought, Let me go down into a cellar. He went into a cellar. There were no moon or stars there, but when, in that dense darkness, he placed his hand on the pigeon’s neck, the pigeon was looking—its two eyes were shining. So he bound the pigeon’s eyes, so that the pigeon could not see. And when he began to twist its neck, the thought occurred to him—the darkness was profound, there was no one at all, the pigeon’s eyes were covered—but he thought, I am seeing, am I not? And the master had said: where no one at all is watching. Then he was caught in a great difficulty. And when his companions brought him back, he returned the pigeon. And he said, This cannot be done. Because however deep a darkness I may enter, even if no one sees, at least I will see! And you had said, where no one at all is watching.
So the master dismissed the two youths—You go; you will not be able to search very deeply. He kept the third youth, because he had reached a very deep insight—that in the darkest darkness, the watcher that I am still remains.
The first stage of Samadhi is also deep darkness. Because when all around there is darkness, consciousness has no way to move outward; consciousness returns back upon itself.
This is why at night we sleep; if there is light, sleep is disturbed, because consciousness has a path by which to go outward. When there is darkness, consciousness returns to itself. In darkness there is no pathway to go on seeing others; therefore only one possibility remains—to see oneself.
But we have fear of darkness. So we never live in the dark. If it is dark, we will fall asleep again. If there is light, we feel we can live. Hence the old world used to go to sleep at dusk, because there was no light. Now the modern world has light by which it can make night into day; now the day will run on to two in the morning. It is very possible that slowly, slowly, night may disappear altogether, because we will flood it with light. In the dark nothing occurs to us except to sleep, because there remains no road to go anywhere. But if only we could remain awake in darkness, we could enter into Samadhi.
So first, for five minutes, we will drown in deep darkness. Let only one feeling remain in the mind: there is darkness, there is darkness, there is darkness all around. Darkness has gathered on every side, and we have drowned in that darkness, drowned, drowned. Only total darkness has remained, and we are, and there is darkness. So for five minutes we will first do this experiment of darkness. Then I will explain the second experiment. Then the third. And in the end, we will join the three and then sit for meditation, for Samadhi.
So first of all, move a little apart from one another. Do not be concerned about your bedding; even if you sit on the floor it is not as much of a problem as someone touching you. For if someone is touching you, then someone remains present; the darkness will not be total. So let no one touch you at all. And do not wait for the other to move. The other will never move; you yourself will have to move. So move—go down to the floor if you wish, or go back. But in any case, let no one be touching anyone. And do not move so cautiously—if you end up on the floor, what is the harm? Move absolutely naturally. Not a single person should be touching another.
I will assume that you have moved, that no one is touching anyone else. If even now someone is touching another, then get up, go outside, and sit separately.
Now close the eyes. Close the eyes. Close the eyes, and leave the body loose. The body is left loose, the eyes are closed. And look within, experience—there is darkness, great darkness… vast darkness has spread… all around there is nothing but darkness… there is darkness, there is darkness, only sheer darkness upon darkness… as far as thought can go—darkness… darkness… darkness… For five minutes, keep drowning in this darkness; let only darkness remain, abandon yourself into the darkness…
And these five minutes of experiencing darkness will quiet the mind greatly. The first step of Samadhi will come within your sense. The first step of death too will come within your sense.
Experience the darkness… there is only darkness upon darkness on every side, darkness surrounding the mind on all sides, far and wide dense, impenetrable darkness… nothing is seen, nothing is comprehended; we are, and there is darkness… For five minutes I will be silent; you, while experiencing deep darkness, go on, go on drowning in the darkness…
Only darkness remains… darkness and darkness, great darkness; all has become dark… nothing is comprehended; there is darkness, as if a dark night has encircled from every side… I am, and there is darkness… there is only darkness upon darkness… drown, let go, drown utterly into the dark; only darkness upon darkness remains… there is darkness, only darkness, only darkness upon darkness…
As you go on experiencing, the mind will become utterly quiet… there is only darkness upon darkness… there is only darkness upon darkness… the mind is becoming quiet… the mind will become utterly quiet… there is only darkness upon darkness… let go, abandon yourself into the darkness completely… there is only darkness upon darkness… only darkness upon darkness… let go into the darkness, great darkness remains on every side; I am, and there is darkness… nothing is seen, nothing at all is seen; only darkness is felt… do not be afraid, let go, utterly let go… only darkness upon darkness remains… and the mind will become absolutely quiet. Darkness is supremely peace-giving. Every particle of the mind will become quiet. Every corner of the brain will become quiet.
Drown in the darkness, there is only darkness upon darkness… only darkness upon darkness… only darkness upon darkness… The mind has become utterly quiet, the mind has become quiet, the mind has become quiet… there is only darkness upon darkness… there is darkness on every side… I am, and there is darkness… nothing is comprehended, no other is seen; there is darkness, there is darkness… the mind has become quiet, the mind has become utterly quiet…
Now slowly, slowly open the eyes… Outside too a great peace will be felt… slowly, slowly open the eyes… then understand the second experiment, and do it for five minutes. The first step of Samadhi is the perception of darkness. Slowly, slowly open the eyes… outside too a great peace will be felt…
Now understand the second stage. Then we will do it for five minutes. When a person dies, he is encircled on every side by deep darkness. At the first stage before death, darkness surrounds. The whole world that was visible is lost. All those dear ones, friends, one’s own and others, all who were around are lost, and a curtain of darkness encircles from all sides. But we fear darkness so much that because of that fear we become unconscious. If only we could love darkness too, then there would be no need to become unconscious in death. And those who are to go into Samadhi must learn to love darkness, to embrace darkness, to show readiness to drown in darkness.
So, in the first stage we saw for five minutes that darkness had gathered around us. Now the second thing should be understood. The second stage of death—or of Samadhi—is the sense of aloneness: I am alone. In the second stage of death, as the darkness closes in, it becomes apparent that I am alone. No one is mine, no companion, no fellow traveler. But all life long we live in such a way that it seems—everyone is mine—there are friends, dear ones, my own. The thought that I am alone hardly ever occurs. And if it does occur, we quickly set out to make someone our own, lest the thought of aloneness arise. Very few people, in very few moments, are able to experience being alone. And the person who cannot experience being alone will not be able to experience his own being. One who continuously thinks, I am linked with others, linked with others—there are others, there are companions, there are friends—his gaze never turns upon himself.
The second experience of death too is the experience of being alone. Therefore death frightens us greatly. Because throughout life we were never alone, and death will make us alone. In truth, it is not death that we fear; we fear being alone.
Even now, if we are alone, we are afraid. If someone is with us, there is no fear. And the irony is that two people, each of whom is afraid when alone—if they come together, will the fear be doubled or halved? Two people, both afraid when alone, come together and each thinks, The other is here—there is no fear. The other also thinks, The other is here—there is no fear.
The fear has only doubled. But together we console ourselves.
A man passing through a dark lane becomes afraid and begins to sing loudly, begins to take the name of God. Even hearing his own voice, it feels as if someone is there. It is only the fear of being alone.
But one who is not ready to be alone—totally alone—cannot go into Samadhi. For who will accompany you into Samadhi? How will the wife accompany you into Samadhi? How will the son go with you? How will the husband go with you? How will the guru go with you? No one at all goes into Samadhi. Into Samadhi you must go absolutely alone.
Therefore the more extrovert a person is, the more he keeps himself tied to those outside himself, never being alone, the more difficulty he will experience in reaching Samadhi. If by good fortune we should ever be left alone, we quickly stuff ourselves with something. We will turn on the radio, start reading the newspaper—do something or other—light a cigarette. These are only ways to escape aloneness. People even sit alone and begin to play cards—alone, the same person starts playing both sides, imagining the other as if someone were there.
We are so frightened of being alone; then how can we enter Samadhi? And the beauty of being alone is extraordinary. I do not mean that someone should run away from society. Those who run away from society are not alone either. Because that from which they run accompanies them in their minds. They sit on mountains and in forests remembering you. For if they could forget you, they could have forgotten you right here; there was no need to go to mountains and forests.
Being alone does not mean running away. Being alone means knowing the truth that I am alone—I come alone, I am alone, I will go alone. There are companions, there are fellow travelers—they are friends met upon the road, together for a little while, and they will take leave. Togetherness is not wrong. But to become so together that the sense of one’s own being is erased—that is costly. Let there be togetherness—let there be wife, husband, children, friends, society—this is not the issue; but if, amidst all, one can know and recognize oneself as continuously alone, then even in the crowd one can be alone. And if the art of being alone is not known, then even in the forest one will not be alone; the crowd will be present there too.
So the second experiment is of being alone. As we just did with the feeling of darkness, so now first we will invoke darkness for one minute. When darkness has gathered, then we will invoke the second feeling: I am absolutely alone, alone, utterly alone. There is no companion, no fellow, no friend—there is no one at all—I am utterly alone. The deeper this feeling of aloneness, the closer I will come to myself. So long as I search for the other, I go far from myself. Thus the second stage of Samadhi, the second stage of death as well, is—the sense of aloneness.
Now close the eyes, and for the second experiment sit leaving the body loose. Close the eyes, leave the body loose… the eyes are closed, the body is left loose… experience the dense darkness gathered on every side… there is darkness, there is darkness, darkness on every side… nothing is seen, nothing is comprehended, only darkness upon darkness… abandon yourself into the darkness…
There is only darkness upon darkness, and I am alone. Invoke the second feeling: I am alone. Let this news reach every corner of the life-breath: I am alone. Let this news reach every breath: I am alone. Let this news reach every particle of the mind: I am alone. I am alone, I am alone, I am utterly alone… I come alone, I go alone, I am alone… For five minutes, descend deeper and deeper into this feeling: I am alone, I am alone, I am utterly alone… There is no one at all, I am utterly alone, I am alone… there is no one at all; companions, fellows, dear ones—there is no one at all… I am alone, I am alone, I am alone, I am utterly alone…
For five minutes, drown in a single feeling: I am alone, I am alone, I am alone… and a vast peace will descend… I am alone, I am alone, I am alone… There is dense darkness all around, and I am alone, I am alone, I am alone…
As soon as you remain utterly alone, all will become quiet—so quiet as never before… I am alone, I am alone, I am alone, I am alone, I am utterly alone; darkness on every side and I am alone, I am alone; darkness on every side and I am alone, I am alone, I am alone…
The mind will become quiet, the mind will become utterly quiet… I am alone, I am alone, I am alone… There is no one, no one—only darkness—and I am alone… I am alone; all around there is darkness, darkness, darkness—and I am alone, I am utterly alone… Alone, alone, alone; darkness on every side—and I am alone… The mind will become utterly quiet. All restlessness is with the other, all restlessness is with the other. If I am alone, what restlessness can there be! I am alone, I am alone… all will become quiet… alone, alone, alone; there is darkness, there is darkness, and I am alone… the mind has become quiet…
The second step of Samadhi is—the feeling of being alone. Recognize this feeling clearly. I am alone, I am alone, I am alone. Then slowly, slowly open the eyes; people will be seen all around, yet it will still feel—I am alone. People are there on every side, but I am alone. Slowly, slowly open the eyes; there is a vast world all around, but I am alone.
Now understand the third experiment, and we will do the third experiment for five minutes.
Darkness is the first experience of death. The experience of being alone—utterly alone—is the second experience of death. And the third experience is the disappearance of the one whom I had known up to now as myself, the one I had taken to be ‘I’. The one who had a name, who had a house, who had honor, a place and address—the third experience of death is the vanishing of that one whom I had known as myself. Certainly, behind the one we know as I, there is also someone who never disappears. But we will not know or recognize that one until this layer we know as our being is dissolved.
Therefore the third experiment is the experience that I have dissolved—the one who was, whom I knew; who had a face, a form, an identity, a name, an address—has dissolved, has dissolved. I am dissolved, because the one as I know myself will dissolve in death. In Samadhi we must bring this third experience with intensity: I have dissolved, I have died, I have died. The third experience is the experience of dissolving. When darkness is total and I have remained utterly alone, then dissolving becomes very easy. And when I too have dissolved, then what remains—that is, the remaining—that which is left behind. That which darkness cannot drown, that to which aloneness makes no dent, and which is not erased even by dying—what remains after that, is. The third experiment is of dissolving. And when you dissolve, when you have dissolved, then you can do nothing at all; nothing is left for you to do. Then what remains, remains; what is lost, is lost. So this third experiment should be understood as the very center of Samadhi—the experiment of dissolving.
A fakir used to explain to people about Samadhi. But he would say, Only one who knows a little should come to me. A young man went to him. That youth said, I want to learn Samadhi. The fakir said, If you know even a little, then come. But the youth knew nothing at all. So the fakir turned him out of the door and shut it. The youth thought, How shall I say that I know something! I know nothing. He went to the neighbors and asked, What shall I say so that the fakir will accept me?
They said, As far as we know, the fakir teaches that Samadhi means to die. So when you go and the fakir asks, Do you know anything? then fall down and die.
He said, How shall I die like that? I can fall down, but how shall I die?
They said, You just lie down with your eyes closed. Then the fakir will think that at least you know a little.
The youth went. What is learned in this manner is always false. How will what is learned from another work? As soon as the master asked, Do you know anything? he fell at once and died. ‘Died’—meaning, he lay with eyes closed, limbs left loose. The master said, Exactly right! Exactly right! But at least open one eye!
The youth thought, Perhaps it is necessary in Samadhi to open one eye. But one eye would not open; when he opened one, both opened.
The master said, Get up and go out! From whom have you learned? Where do dead men ever open their eyes! If you had really died, then you should have remained dead. Why open the eyes? A dead man does nothing at all!
So, the third experiment—that you have died—means that for five minutes you are to do nothing. If the body falls, let it fall; if it droops, let it droop; whatever happens, let it happen. If some sound comes from outside, a car passes on the road, it is heard, let it be heard. A dead man can do nothing—not even say that this car should not make noise. It is making noise—what will a dead man do? A dead man will remain lying down. What is being heard will be heard; what is not being heard will not be heard. He will accept things as they are. A dead man can do nothing at all.
I have heard about another fakir: he always used to ask others, One day a wise man came to the village, and he asked him, If some day I die, how will I know that I have died? Please give me some trick by which I can check whether I have died or not! The wise man said, Is this something to check? When you die, your hands and feet will become completely cold.
It was winter; snow was falling. The fakir went into the forest to cut grass, to chop some wood. His hands became cold. He touched his hands and saw—it seems death is coming. He dropped his axe and lay down beneath a tree, because a dead man should lie down. In proper order he lay down. His hands kept getting colder; lying down made them colder more quickly; when he was chopping, there had been a little warmth. When he was completely cold, he said, Now I have died. Some people were passing on the road nearby; they saw, Alas, someone has died. They made a bier for him; they were strangers; and they began to carry him to the cremation ground.
Now the fakir said, What shall I do! Since I have died, I will of course be taken to the cremation ground. So he did not say anything. He mounted the bier. The bier moved. But they were strangers, people from another place; they did not know which way the cremation ground lay. Coming to a crossroads, they thought, Let some traveler come, we will ask which way the cremation ground is. The fakir knew which way it was, but he thought, I do not know whether the dead tell or do not tell. He had forgotten to ask the wise man whether, if such an occasion arises, a dead man may say something or not. But a long time passed; no one came; so the four who were carrying him became very worried. They said, A lot of time is passing. Then let us leave him here and go our way; someone else will take him. The fakir said, Do not worry! I know the way. When I used to be alive, people used to go to the cremation ground by the road to the left. When I used to be alive, people used to go to the cremation ground by the road to the left.
Then all four ran off in fright—What has happened!
The fakir said, You may be absolutely sure—I am a dead man. I only forgot to ask the wise man whether a dead man can tell something or not.
That is the only mistake.
In the five minutes during which we will experience being dead, we are to do nothing at all—let whatever happens, happen. Not even to show the way. If a horn sounds from the road, do not even think, Why are people making noise? If someone even falls upon you, do not think, Why has he fallen? A corpse should accept—whatever is happening is happening. For five minutes, do the experiment of being a corpse. Then we will sit for meditation.
Leave the body loose and close the eyes. Leave the body loose and close the eyes. Close the eyes and leave the body absolutely loose. You can leave it now—you have not yet died. Once you die, you will not be able to do anything. Leave it absolutely loose. The body has been left loose; the eyes have been closed. For one minute return to darkness. All around there is only darkness… all around there is only darkness… only darkness upon darkness…
Then invoke the second feeling: I am alone; there is no companion; I am utterly alone… I am alone, I am utterly alone…
And experience the third: I am dying, I am disappearing, I am dissolving, I am being erased, I am dying, I am coming to an end, I am dying, I am dissolving, I am coming to an end… For five minutes: I am dying, I am dissolving, I am coming to an end…
Dissolve, dissolve utterly, as if you are not… Die, as if nothing remains of you. Then what remains will remain. That is not you—that which has remained is Paramatma. That which remains is not you; that which has remained is Atman. Dissolve, die utterly… I am not at all… I have died, I have died, I have died… Dissolve completely; if the body falls, let it fall… if the body leans forward, let it lean… now a dead man can do nothing; whatever is happening is happening… I have died, I have died, I have utterly dissolved… let yourself die, let yourself dissolve; nothing remains; for five minutes get lost, come to an end…
I have died, I have died… I am not, I have dissolved, I have come to an end… I have died, I have dissolved, I have come to an end… I have dissolved, I have died, I am not… let go, dissolve completely, abandon yourself… I am not, I have dissolved, I have come to an end…
And an incomparable peace will spread over the life-breath, a supernatural peace will settle upon the mind…
I have died, I have dissolved; now I can do nothing, I am not… let go, let go, dissolve completely… I have died, I have dissolved, I am not, I am not… What is, is—I am not, I am not… What is, is—I am not, I have dissolved…
And see what peace, what peace descends from every side… I have died, I have dissolved, I am not, I have utterly dissolved… I have dissolved, I have dissolved, I am not, I am not, I am not, I am utterly not…
The mind has become quiet, the mind has become utterly quiet… I have dissolved, I have died, I am not… I have utterly dissolved, I have died… Recognize this feeling clearly—this is the center of Samadhi—recognize this feeling clearly… I have dissolved, I have come to an end, I am not… and the mind has become utterly quiet…
Now slowly, slowly open the eyes… within, everything has dissolved; slowly, slowly open the eyes… Now that which is seeing through the eyes is not ‘I’.
These are the three sutras for Samadhi.
First: darkness. Second: being alone. Third: coming to an end.
Now for the final ten minutes we will do these three experiments together, as one. I separated them to explain, so they could come within your understanding; now we will do the combined experiment for ten minutes. At that time you are to leave yourself utterly, as if you are lost, as if you do not remain. Sounds will come, machines outside are running, someone will pass on the road, somewhere a bird will cry—go on listening silently. Whatever is happening is happening, and we are finished, we have ended.
Now sit for the final experiment. Close the eyes and leave the body loose. Close the eyes and leave the body loose. There is darkness on every side, darkness on every side; I am utterly alone, there is no companion, no friend. Leave everything utterly loose; prepare to dissolve, leave it completely loose. Experience: the body is becoming slack, the body is becoming utterly slack. Darkness is dense; on every side there is only darkness upon darkness; I am utterly alone, there is no companion, no friend. And I am dying, I am dissolving, I am coming to an end. As a drop dissolves into the ocean. Prepare for that dissolving.
Leave the body utterly loose; experience: the body is becoming slack, the body is becoming slack… keep leaving it utterly loose; it is to dissolve, leave it absolutely loose; the body is becoming slack… if it falls, let it fall; if it bends, let it bend; whatever happens, let it happen… the body is becoming slack, the body is becoming slack… on every side there is only darkness upon darkness; I am utterly alone, completely alone… the body is becoming slack, the body is becoming slack… the breath is becoming quiet… the breath is becoming quiet. The mind is becoming quiet, the mind is becoming quiet…
Now for ten minutes dissolve utterly, as if you are not at all. I have died, I am not; I have died, I am not. Sounds will go on being heard; go on listening. A dead man can do nothing. He knows whatever is happening and accepts it. For ten minutes dissolve utterly. And from this dissolving a completely new peace, a new joy, and a new experience will be born. Dissolve; I am dying, I am dying, I have utterly dissolved…
There is only darkness upon darkness… only darkness upon darkness… and I have utterly dissolved, I am not at all… all will become quiet; within, a unique bliss will begin to arise… I have died, I have died, I have utterly dissolved…
Let go… let go… utterly let go… I have dissolved, I have dissolved, I have utterly dissolved… I am not at all, I am not, I am not, I am not… I am not, I am not, I am not, I am not, I am not… I am not at all, I am not at all, I am not at all… all has become quiet, and a wave of deep joy will begin to rise within, all has become quiet… I am not…
Osho's Commentary
The first youth went out onto the road—it was noon, the road was deserted, people were asleep in their homes—he saw there was no one, twisted the neck, returned inside, and placed it before the master. There was no one there, he said, the road was empty, people were sleeping in their houses, no one saw, there was no watcher.
The second youth thought, If I wring the neck on the road, who knows—someone might suddenly come by, someone might look out from a window. He went into a lane. But it was still day; he thought, I will wait till night, who knows—someone might suddenly come into this lane; wherever I have managed to come, someone else might also come. He waited till night; when it was dark, he wrung the neck and took it to the master.
But fifteen days passed for the third youth. He still did not return… still did not return… The other two were sent to look for him. They caught him somewhere and brought him. He was in great difficulty. He too had gone in the dark of night. In the dark of night, even in the deepest darkness, there was much that was seeing him. The moon and the stars were seeing. So he thought, Let me go down into a cellar. He went into a cellar. There were no moon or stars there, but when, in that dense darkness, he placed his hand on the pigeon’s neck, the pigeon was looking—its two eyes were shining. So he bound the pigeon’s eyes, so that the pigeon could not see. And when he began to twist its neck, the thought occurred to him—the darkness was profound, there was no one at all, the pigeon’s eyes were covered—but he thought, I am seeing, am I not? And the master had said: where no one at all is watching. Then he was caught in a great difficulty. And when his companions brought him back, he returned the pigeon. And he said, This cannot be done. Because however deep a darkness I may enter, even if no one sees, at least I will see! And you had said, where no one at all is watching.
So the master dismissed the two youths—You go; you will not be able to search very deeply. He kept the third youth, because he had reached a very deep insight—that in the darkest darkness, the watcher that I am still remains.
The first stage of Samadhi is also deep darkness. Because when all around there is darkness, consciousness has no way to move outward; consciousness returns back upon itself.
This is why at night we sleep; if there is light, sleep is disturbed, because consciousness has a path by which to go outward. When there is darkness, consciousness returns to itself. In darkness there is no pathway to go on seeing others; therefore only one possibility remains—to see oneself.
But we have fear of darkness. So we never live in the dark. If it is dark, we will fall asleep again. If there is light, we feel we can live. Hence the old world used to go to sleep at dusk, because there was no light. Now the modern world has light by which it can make night into day; now the day will run on to two in the morning. It is very possible that slowly, slowly, night may disappear altogether, because we will flood it with light. In the dark nothing occurs to us except to sleep, because there remains no road to go anywhere. But if only we could remain awake in darkness, we could enter into Samadhi.
So first, for five minutes, we will drown in deep darkness. Let only one feeling remain in the mind: there is darkness, there is darkness, there is darkness all around. Darkness has gathered on every side, and we have drowned in that darkness, drowned, drowned. Only total darkness has remained, and we are, and there is darkness. So for five minutes we will first do this experiment of darkness. Then I will explain the second experiment. Then the third. And in the end, we will join the three and then sit for meditation, for Samadhi.
So first of all, move a little apart from one another. Do not be concerned about your bedding; even if you sit on the floor it is not as much of a problem as someone touching you. For if someone is touching you, then someone remains present; the darkness will not be total. So let no one touch you at all. And do not wait for the other to move. The other will never move; you yourself will have to move. So move—go down to the floor if you wish, or go back. But in any case, let no one be touching anyone. And do not move so cautiously—if you end up on the floor, what is the harm? Move absolutely naturally. Not a single person should be touching another.
I will assume that you have moved, that no one is touching anyone else. If even now someone is touching another, then get up, go outside, and sit separately.
Now close the eyes. Close the eyes. Close the eyes, and leave the body loose. The body is left loose, the eyes are closed. And look within, experience—there is darkness, great darkness… vast darkness has spread… all around there is nothing but darkness… there is darkness, there is darkness, only sheer darkness upon darkness… as far as thought can go—darkness… darkness… darkness… For five minutes, keep drowning in this darkness; let only darkness remain, abandon yourself into the darkness…
And these five minutes of experiencing darkness will quiet the mind greatly. The first step of Samadhi will come within your sense. The first step of death too will come within your sense.
Experience the darkness… there is only darkness upon darkness on every side, darkness surrounding the mind on all sides, far and wide dense, impenetrable darkness… nothing is seen, nothing is comprehended; we are, and there is darkness… For five minutes I will be silent; you, while experiencing deep darkness, go on, go on drowning in the darkness…
Only darkness remains… darkness and darkness, great darkness; all has become dark… nothing is comprehended; there is darkness, as if a dark night has encircled from every side… I am, and there is darkness… there is only darkness upon darkness… drown, let go, drown utterly into the dark; only darkness upon darkness remains… there is darkness, only darkness, only darkness upon darkness…
As you go on experiencing, the mind will become utterly quiet… there is only darkness upon darkness… there is only darkness upon darkness… the mind is becoming quiet… the mind will become utterly quiet… there is only darkness upon darkness… let go, abandon yourself into the darkness completely… there is only darkness upon darkness… only darkness upon darkness… let go into the darkness, great darkness remains on every side; I am, and there is darkness… nothing is seen, nothing at all is seen; only darkness is felt… do not be afraid, let go, utterly let go… only darkness upon darkness remains… and the mind will become absolutely quiet. Darkness is supremely peace-giving. Every particle of the mind will become quiet. Every corner of the brain will become quiet.
Drown in the darkness, there is only darkness upon darkness… only darkness upon darkness… only darkness upon darkness… The mind has become utterly quiet, the mind has become quiet, the mind has become quiet… there is only darkness upon darkness… there is darkness on every side… I am, and there is darkness… nothing is comprehended, no other is seen; there is darkness, there is darkness… the mind has become quiet, the mind has become utterly quiet…
Now slowly, slowly open the eyes… Outside too a great peace will be felt… slowly, slowly open the eyes… then understand the second experiment, and do it for five minutes. The first step of Samadhi is the perception of darkness. Slowly, slowly open the eyes… outside too a great peace will be felt…
Now understand the second stage. Then we will do it for five minutes. When a person dies, he is encircled on every side by deep darkness. At the first stage before death, darkness surrounds. The whole world that was visible is lost. All those dear ones, friends, one’s own and others, all who were around are lost, and a curtain of darkness encircles from all sides. But we fear darkness so much that because of that fear we become unconscious. If only we could love darkness too, then there would be no need to become unconscious in death. And those who are to go into Samadhi must learn to love darkness, to embrace darkness, to show readiness to drown in darkness.
So, in the first stage we saw for five minutes that darkness had gathered around us. Now the second thing should be understood. The second stage of death—or of Samadhi—is the sense of aloneness: I am alone. In the second stage of death, as the darkness closes in, it becomes apparent that I am alone. No one is mine, no companion, no fellow traveler. But all life long we live in such a way that it seems—everyone is mine—there are friends, dear ones, my own. The thought that I am alone hardly ever occurs. And if it does occur, we quickly set out to make someone our own, lest the thought of aloneness arise. Very few people, in very few moments, are able to experience being alone. And the person who cannot experience being alone will not be able to experience his own being. One who continuously thinks, I am linked with others, linked with others—there are others, there are companions, there are friends—his gaze never turns upon himself.
The second experience of death too is the experience of being alone. Therefore death frightens us greatly. Because throughout life we were never alone, and death will make us alone. In truth, it is not death that we fear; we fear being alone.
Even now, if we are alone, we are afraid. If someone is with us, there is no fear. And the irony is that two people, each of whom is afraid when alone—if they come together, will the fear be doubled or halved? Two people, both afraid when alone, come together and each thinks, The other is here—there is no fear. The other also thinks, The other is here—there is no fear.
The fear has only doubled. But together we console ourselves.
A man passing through a dark lane becomes afraid and begins to sing loudly, begins to take the name of God. Even hearing his own voice, it feels as if someone is there. It is only the fear of being alone.
But one who is not ready to be alone—totally alone—cannot go into Samadhi. For who will accompany you into Samadhi? How will the wife accompany you into Samadhi? How will the son go with you? How will the husband go with you? How will the guru go with you? No one at all goes into Samadhi. Into Samadhi you must go absolutely alone.
Therefore the more extrovert a person is, the more he keeps himself tied to those outside himself, never being alone, the more difficulty he will experience in reaching Samadhi. If by good fortune we should ever be left alone, we quickly stuff ourselves with something. We will turn on the radio, start reading the newspaper—do something or other—light a cigarette. These are only ways to escape aloneness. People even sit alone and begin to play cards—alone, the same person starts playing both sides, imagining the other as if someone were there.
We are so frightened of being alone; then how can we enter Samadhi? And the beauty of being alone is extraordinary. I do not mean that someone should run away from society. Those who run away from society are not alone either. Because that from which they run accompanies them in their minds. They sit on mountains and in forests remembering you. For if they could forget you, they could have forgotten you right here; there was no need to go to mountains and forests.
Being alone does not mean running away. Being alone means knowing the truth that I am alone—I come alone, I am alone, I will go alone. There are companions, there are fellow travelers—they are friends met upon the road, together for a little while, and they will take leave. Togetherness is not wrong. But to become so together that the sense of one’s own being is erased—that is costly. Let there be togetherness—let there be wife, husband, children, friends, society—this is not the issue; but if, amidst all, one can know and recognize oneself as continuously alone, then even in the crowd one can be alone. And if the art of being alone is not known, then even in the forest one will not be alone; the crowd will be present there too.
So the second experiment is of being alone. As we just did with the feeling of darkness, so now first we will invoke darkness for one minute. When darkness has gathered, then we will invoke the second feeling: I am absolutely alone, alone, utterly alone. There is no companion, no fellow, no friend—there is no one at all—I am utterly alone. The deeper this feeling of aloneness, the closer I will come to myself. So long as I search for the other, I go far from myself. Thus the second stage of Samadhi, the second stage of death as well, is—the sense of aloneness.
Now close the eyes, and for the second experiment sit leaving the body loose. Close the eyes, leave the body loose… the eyes are closed, the body is left loose… experience the dense darkness gathered on every side… there is darkness, there is darkness, darkness on every side… nothing is seen, nothing is comprehended, only darkness upon darkness… abandon yourself into the darkness…
There is only darkness upon darkness, and I am alone. Invoke the second feeling: I am alone. Let this news reach every corner of the life-breath: I am alone. Let this news reach every breath: I am alone. Let this news reach every particle of the mind: I am alone. I am alone, I am alone, I am utterly alone… I come alone, I go alone, I am alone… For five minutes, descend deeper and deeper into this feeling: I am alone, I am alone, I am utterly alone… There is no one at all, I am utterly alone, I am alone… there is no one at all; companions, fellows, dear ones—there is no one at all… I am alone, I am alone, I am alone, I am utterly alone…
For five minutes, drown in a single feeling: I am alone, I am alone, I am alone… and a vast peace will descend… I am alone, I am alone, I am alone… There is dense darkness all around, and I am alone, I am alone, I am alone…
As soon as you remain utterly alone, all will become quiet—so quiet as never before… I am alone, I am alone, I am alone, I am alone, I am utterly alone; darkness on every side and I am alone, I am alone; darkness on every side and I am alone, I am alone, I am alone…
The mind will become quiet, the mind will become utterly quiet… I am alone, I am alone, I am alone… There is no one, no one—only darkness—and I am alone… I am alone; all around there is darkness, darkness, darkness—and I am alone, I am utterly alone… Alone, alone, alone; darkness on every side—and I am alone… The mind will become utterly quiet. All restlessness is with the other, all restlessness is with the other. If I am alone, what restlessness can there be! I am alone, I am alone… all will become quiet… alone, alone, alone; there is darkness, there is darkness, and I am alone… the mind has become quiet…
The second step of Samadhi is—the feeling of being alone. Recognize this feeling clearly. I am alone, I am alone, I am alone. Then slowly, slowly open the eyes; people will be seen all around, yet it will still feel—I am alone. People are there on every side, but I am alone. Slowly, slowly open the eyes; there is a vast world all around, but I am alone.
Now understand the third experiment, and we will do the third experiment for five minutes.
Darkness is the first experience of death. The experience of being alone—utterly alone—is the second experience of death. And the third experience is the disappearance of the one whom I had known up to now as myself, the one I had taken to be ‘I’. The one who had a name, who had a house, who had honor, a place and address—the third experience of death is the vanishing of that one whom I had known as myself. Certainly, behind the one we know as I, there is also someone who never disappears. But we will not know or recognize that one until this layer we know as our being is dissolved.
Therefore the third experiment is the experience that I have dissolved—the one who was, whom I knew; who had a face, a form, an identity, a name, an address—has dissolved, has dissolved. I am dissolved, because the one as I know myself will dissolve in death. In Samadhi we must bring this third experience with intensity: I have dissolved, I have died, I have died. The third experience is the experience of dissolving. When darkness is total and I have remained utterly alone, then dissolving becomes very easy. And when I too have dissolved, then what remains—that is, the remaining—that which is left behind. That which darkness cannot drown, that to which aloneness makes no dent, and which is not erased even by dying—what remains after that, is. The third experiment is of dissolving. And when you dissolve, when you have dissolved, then you can do nothing at all; nothing is left for you to do. Then what remains, remains; what is lost, is lost. So this third experiment should be understood as the very center of Samadhi—the experiment of dissolving.
A fakir used to explain to people about Samadhi. But he would say, Only one who knows a little should come to me. A young man went to him. That youth said, I want to learn Samadhi. The fakir said, If you know even a little, then come. But the youth knew nothing at all. So the fakir turned him out of the door and shut it. The youth thought, How shall I say that I know something! I know nothing. He went to the neighbors and asked, What shall I say so that the fakir will accept me?
They said, As far as we know, the fakir teaches that Samadhi means to die. So when you go and the fakir asks, Do you know anything? then fall down and die.
He said, How shall I die like that? I can fall down, but how shall I die?
They said, You just lie down with your eyes closed. Then the fakir will think that at least you know a little.
The youth went. What is learned in this manner is always false. How will what is learned from another work? As soon as the master asked, Do you know anything? he fell at once and died. ‘Died’—meaning, he lay with eyes closed, limbs left loose. The master said, Exactly right! Exactly right! But at least open one eye!
The youth thought, Perhaps it is necessary in Samadhi to open one eye. But one eye would not open; when he opened one, both opened.
The master said, Get up and go out! From whom have you learned? Where do dead men ever open their eyes! If you had really died, then you should have remained dead. Why open the eyes? A dead man does nothing at all!
So, the third experiment—that you have died—means that for five minutes you are to do nothing. If the body falls, let it fall; if it droops, let it droop; whatever happens, let it happen. If some sound comes from outside, a car passes on the road, it is heard, let it be heard. A dead man can do nothing—not even say that this car should not make noise. It is making noise—what will a dead man do? A dead man will remain lying down. What is being heard will be heard; what is not being heard will not be heard. He will accept things as they are. A dead man can do nothing at all.
I have heard about another fakir: he always used to ask others, One day a wise man came to the village, and he asked him, If some day I die, how will I know that I have died? Please give me some trick by which I can check whether I have died or not! The wise man said, Is this something to check? When you die, your hands and feet will become completely cold.
It was winter; snow was falling. The fakir went into the forest to cut grass, to chop some wood. His hands became cold. He touched his hands and saw—it seems death is coming. He dropped his axe and lay down beneath a tree, because a dead man should lie down. In proper order he lay down. His hands kept getting colder; lying down made them colder more quickly; when he was chopping, there had been a little warmth. When he was completely cold, he said, Now I have died. Some people were passing on the road nearby; they saw, Alas, someone has died. They made a bier for him; they were strangers; and they began to carry him to the cremation ground.
Now the fakir said, What shall I do! Since I have died, I will of course be taken to the cremation ground. So he did not say anything. He mounted the bier. The bier moved. But they were strangers, people from another place; they did not know which way the cremation ground lay. Coming to a crossroads, they thought, Let some traveler come, we will ask which way the cremation ground is. The fakir knew which way it was, but he thought, I do not know whether the dead tell or do not tell. He had forgotten to ask the wise man whether, if such an occasion arises, a dead man may say something or not. But a long time passed; no one came; so the four who were carrying him became very worried. They said, A lot of time is passing. Then let us leave him here and go our way; someone else will take him. The fakir said, Do not worry! I know the way. When I used to be alive, people used to go to the cremation ground by the road to the left. When I used to be alive, people used to go to the cremation ground by the road to the left.
Then all four ran off in fright—What has happened!
The fakir said, You may be absolutely sure—I am a dead man. I only forgot to ask the wise man whether a dead man can tell something or not.
That is the only mistake.
In the five minutes during which we will experience being dead, we are to do nothing at all—let whatever happens, happen. Not even to show the way. If a horn sounds from the road, do not even think, Why are people making noise? If someone even falls upon you, do not think, Why has he fallen? A corpse should accept—whatever is happening is happening. For five minutes, do the experiment of being a corpse. Then we will sit for meditation.
Leave the body loose and close the eyes. Leave the body loose and close the eyes. Close the eyes and leave the body absolutely loose. You can leave it now—you have not yet died. Once you die, you will not be able to do anything. Leave it absolutely loose. The body has been left loose; the eyes have been closed. For one minute return to darkness. All around there is only darkness… all around there is only darkness… only darkness upon darkness…
Then invoke the second feeling: I am alone; there is no companion; I am utterly alone… I am alone, I am utterly alone…
And experience the third: I am dying, I am disappearing, I am dissolving, I am being erased, I am dying, I am coming to an end, I am dying, I am dissolving, I am coming to an end… For five minutes: I am dying, I am dissolving, I am coming to an end…
Dissolve, dissolve utterly, as if you are not… Die, as if nothing remains of you. Then what remains will remain. That is not you—that which has remained is Paramatma. That which remains is not you; that which has remained is Atman. Dissolve, die utterly… I am not at all… I have died, I have died, I have died… Dissolve completely; if the body falls, let it fall… if the body leans forward, let it lean… now a dead man can do nothing; whatever is happening is happening… I have died, I have died, I have utterly dissolved… let yourself die, let yourself dissolve; nothing remains; for five minutes get lost, come to an end…
I have died, I have died… I am not, I have dissolved, I have come to an end… I have died, I have dissolved, I have come to an end… I have dissolved, I have died, I am not… let go, dissolve completely, abandon yourself… I am not, I have dissolved, I have come to an end…
And an incomparable peace will spread over the life-breath, a supernatural peace will settle upon the mind…
I have died, I have dissolved; now I can do nothing, I am not… let go, let go, dissolve completely… I have died, I have dissolved, I am not, I am not… What is, is—I am not, I am not… What is, is—I am not, I have dissolved…
And see what peace, what peace descends from every side… I have died, I have dissolved, I am not, I have utterly dissolved… I have dissolved, I have dissolved, I am not, I am not, I am not, I am utterly not…
The mind has become quiet, the mind has become utterly quiet… I have dissolved, I have died, I am not… I have utterly dissolved, I have died… Recognize this feeling clearly—this is the center of Samadhi—recognize this feeling clearly… I have dissolved, I have come to an end, I am not… and the mind has become utterly quiet…
Now slowly, slowly open the eyes… within, everything has dissolved; slowly, slowly open the eyes… Now that which is seeing through the eyes is not ‘I’.
These are the three sutras for Samadhi.
First: darkness. Second: being alone. Third: coming to an end.
Now for the final ten minutes we will do these three experiments together, as one. I separated them to explain, so they could come within your understanding; now we will do the combined experiment for ten minutes. At that time you are to leave yourself utterly, as if you are lost, as if you do not remain. Sounds will come, machines outside are running, someone will pass on the road, somewhere a bird will cry—go on listening silently. Whatever is happening is happening, and we are finished, we have ended.
Now sit for the final experiment. Close the eyes and leave the body loose. Close the eyes and leave the body loose. There is darkness on every side, darkness on every side; I am utterly alone, there is no companion, no friend. Leave everything utterly loose; prepare to dissolve, leave it completely loose. Experience: the body is becoming slack, the body is becoming utterly slack. Darkness is dense; on every side there is only darkness upon darkness; I am utterly alone, there is no companion, no friend. And I am dying, I am dissolving, I am coming to an end. As a drop dissolves into the ocean. Prepare for that dissolving.
Leave the body utterly loose; experience: the body is becoming slack, the body is becoming slack… keep leaving it utterly loose; it is to dissolve, leave it absolutely loose; the body is becoming slack… if it falls, let it fall; if it bends, let it bend; whatever happens, let it happen… the body is becoming slack, the body is becoming slack… on every side there is only darkness upon darkness; I am utterly alone, completely alone… the body is becoming slack, the body is becoming slack… the breath is becoming quiet… the breath is becoming quiet. The mind is becoming quiet, the mind is becoming quiet…
Now for ten minutes dissolve utterly, as if you are not at all. I have died, I am not; I have died, I am not. Sounds will go on being heard; go on listening. A dead man can do nothing. He knows whatever is happening and accepts it. For ten minutes dissolve utterly. And from this dissolving a completely new peace, a new joy, and a new experience will be born. Dissolve; I am dying, I am dying, I have utterly dissolved…
There is only darkness upon darkness… only darkness upon darkness… and I have utterly dissolved, I am not at all… all will become quiet; within, a unique bliss will begin to arise… I have died, I have died, I have utterly dissolved…
Let go… let go… utterly let go… I have dissolved, I have dissolved, I have utterly dissolved… I am not at all, I am not, I am not, I am not… I am not, I am not, I am not, I am not, I am not… I am not at all, I am not at all, I am not at all… all has become quiet, and a wave of deep joy will begin to rise within, all has become quiet… I am not…