Shiv Sutra #1

The quest for the truth of life can proceed by two paths.
One is the path of the male — of attack, of violence, of snatching and grabbing. One is the path of the female — of surrender, of return.
Science is the male path; science is aggression. Religion is the female path; religion is reverent bowing.
Understand this very well.

Therefore all the scriptures of the East begin with salutations to the Supreme. And that salutation is not merely formal. It is not simply tradition and ritual. That salutation indicates that the path is surrender, and only the humble will be able to arrive. Those who are aggressive, full of ego; who want to seize the truth by force; who want to become the owners even of truth; who approach the door of God like a soldier — to conquer — they will be defeated. They may well snatch the petty; the vast can never be theirs. They may well plunder what is futile and carry it home; but what is meaningful will not become a part of their loot.

Hence science discovers the futile; the essential is missed. One gets information about mud, stone, matter; but the knowledge of Atman and Paramatman is lost. As if you attack a woman walking on the road — rape will happen, you will even seize the woman’s body — but her soul you will never get. You will not be able to attain her love.

So those who go towards God in the manner of aggression are violators. They may indeed seize God’s body — this nature which is visible, which is seen — they may tear it asunder, dissect it, analyze it, discover some of its secrets; but their discovery will be as petty as that of a man who has attacked a woman and raped her. The woman’s body will be available, but the attainment is worth two pennies; for you will not even be able to touch her soul. And if her soul is not touched, then the possibility of love within — the seed of love concealed there — will never sprout. Her shower of love will not be available to you.

Science is violation. It is an assault upon nature, as if nature were some enemy; as if it were to be conquered, defeated. Therefore science trusts in breaking and smashing — analysis is breaking — it trusts in cutting and chopping. If you ask the scientist whether the flower is beautiful, he will pluck the flower, cut it, investigate and examine it. But he does not know — in the very tearing the beauty is lost. Beauty was in the whole. In fragments, beauty will not be found. Yes, you will find chemical elements. Of which things the flower is made, of which substances, of which minerals and fluids — all that will be found. You will collect the separate parts of the flower into bottles and put labels. You will say — these are chemicals, these are substances; from these the flower was composed.

But you will not be able to fill even a single bottle with that of which you could say: this is the beauty that was filled in the flower. Beauty will have vanished. If you attack the flower you will not get the flower’s soul, only the body. That is why science does not trust in soul. How could it trust? After so much effort no glimpse of soul is found. A glimpse will not be found at all — not because soul is not, but because the method you have chosen is not a method for attaining soul. The door through which you have entered is a door for attaining the trivial. By aggression, the precious cannot be attained.

The mystery of life can be found if you go through the door of reverent bowing. If you bend, if you pray, then you will be able to reach to the center of love.

To entice God is almost like enticing a woman. One needs a heart utterly full of love, utterly humble, filled with prayer. And there is no haste there. If you hurry, you miss. Great patience is needed there. Your haste — and the heart will close. For haste too is news of aggression.

Therefore those who set out to seek God, the manner of their life is contained in two words: prayer and waiting. Scripture begins with prayer and is consummated in waiting. The search begins with prayer.

The first step of this scripture is:

‘Om — salutations to Lord Shiva, self-luminous, bliss-essence!’
‘And now the Shiva-sutras begin.’

Let this salutation sink very deep. For if the door is missed, then the palace that I shall speak of later will not be understood.

Set the male aside a little. Put the aggressive tendency a little far away. This understanding does not arrive from the intellect; it arrives from the heart. This understanding will not depend upon your logic; it will depend upon your love. You will be able to understand this scripture; but that understanding will not be like one understands mathematics. It will be like one understands poetry. You do not pounce upon poetry. You relish a poem slowly, sip by sip — like one drinks tea. You do not gulp it down. It is not some bitter medicine. You savor it, sip it — slowly, allowing its taste to suffuse you. And to understand even one poem, one has to read it many times. If you have understood a piece of mathematics once, then there remains no need to do it again; mathematics is finished. Poetry never finishes; for the heart has no shore. And the more you love, the more is revealed. That is why in the East we do not ‘study’ scripture; we ‘recite’ scripture.

Scripture cannot even really be studied. Study means: once you have understood, throw it into the trash, as if the matter is finished. Having understood, what is there to do again! Recitation means: if understanding were of the intellect it would be complete in one go; but this must be sipped again and again. This — knowingly or unknowingly — will have to be repeated countless times. In many feeling-moments, in many moods — sometimes when the sun rises in the morning, sometimes when all becomes darkness at night, sometimes when the mind is exultant, and sometimes when the mind is filled with melancholy — in different states of consciousness, in different moments of mind, you will have to enter it; then all its facets will be slowly revealed. Even then you will not be able to exhaust it.

No scripture is ever exhausted. The more you feel you have discovered, the more you will find that much more remains to be discovered. The deeper you go, the depth goes on increasing. A reciter never finishes a scripture. The very meaning of recitation is: again and again, many times.

The West cannot even fathom this. It is beyond their grasp — why people have been reading the Gita for thousands of years? And the same man gets up every morning and reads the Gita — has he gone mad?

It does not occur to them that the process of recitation is a process of letting it descend into the heart. It has little to do with understanding; it has to do with taste. It has no relationship with logic and mathematics and calculation. Its relation is with dissolving the distance between one’s heart and that scripture. Slowly, slowly we become so absorbed in it that the reciter and the recited become one; it is no longer known who is the Gita and who is the reciter of the Gita.

One who proceeds in such a mood — this is the mood of the feminine. This is the stream of surrender. Take this into account.

If we begin with salutation, the sutras of Shiva will be understood. Let them descend within you, and do not make quick judgments whether they are right or wrong. For with regard to sutras keep one thing in mind — it does not depend on you to decide whether they are right or wrong. How will you decide? One who stands in darkness — what decision can he make about light? And one who has never known health, who has been bound to the sickbed — how will he understand the definition of health? One who has never recognized the thrill of love and who has lived his life in hatred, jealousy and enmity — he may read the poetry of love, for the words will be understood; but what is hidden within the words, interwoven within — that door will remain closed for him. Therefore do not decide what is right, what is wrong.

Just drink — I do not even say understand — just drink, just descend into the taste. And if that taste begins to open the realms of mystery within you, and if that taste births a new fragrance within, and you discover that — even for a single moment — your personality of stench has dissolved, a flower has bloomed within you and you have become fragrant; even for a moment you find that you are not darkness, a lamp has been lit, there has been a glimpse — like lightning flashing in the night — from that, from that the understanding will come. Not from your ‘understanding’, but from the glimpse of your experience, understanding will arise. Therefore remain humble.

Second thing: a sutra means — the briefest of the brief, the essential, telegraphic. There every single word is immensely dense; there is no expansion in the sutra, there is density. A sutra is not long; it is very short — like a small seed. In it the whole tree is contained.

A sutra is like a seed. You cannot even see the tree in the seed. If you want to see, you will not find the tree in the seed, because very deep eyes are needed — which can see the tree in the seed, the future in the present, tomorrow in today, the invisible through the visible — very keen eyes are needed. You do not yet have such keen eyes. For now you will see the seed only as a seed. If you want to see the tree, you will have to plant the seed; you have no other way of seeing. And when the seed breaks in the earth and the sprout arises, then you will recognize.

These sutras are seeds. You will have to sow them in your heart. Do not decide yet. For if you decide now about the seed you will throw it away; it will seem like rubbish and trash.

Between seed and pebble there is no much difference. Sometimes pebbles are more shiny, colorful, beautiful, precious. But there is a difference between a seed and the most precious Kohinoor — if you plant the Kohinoor, nothing will sprout. However precious, it is dead. The ignorant may value it, but there is no life in it. It is a corpse. And a seed may appear ugly, may have no price — but life is hidden in it. Plant it and a vast tree will arise; and from one seed millions of seeds will be born. A small seed can create this entire world; because from one seed millions of seeds are born; then from millions of seeds, from each seed a million seeds are born. In a small seed the universe can be contained.

A sutra is a seed. You cannot hurry with it. You will sow it in the heart and it will sprout, it will flower — only then will you know; only then can a decision be taken.

Third thing — before we begin — religion is a great revolution. What you have understood by the name of religion has little to do with religion. Therefore the sutras of Shiva will also startle you. You will be frightened too, afraid; for your ‘religion’ will wobble. Your temples, your mosques, your churches — if you understand these sutras — will fall! Do not get occupied in saving them; for even if they are saved, nothing has been attained through them for you. You live in them — and you are dead. The temples are nicely decorated, but there is not a single ray of joy in your life. The temple is flooded with light; your life’s darkness does not vanish by it. So do not be afraid; for the sutras will certainly put you in difficulty. For Shiva is no priest. The language of the priest always seems satisfying to you; for the priest has to exploit you. The priest is not eager to change you. Remain as you are — in this is his profit. As you are — diseased, sick — remain like that; his business is in it.

I have heard, a doctor educated his son. After study he returned home. The father had never taken a holiday. So he said, now you take care of my practice and let me rest for three months. All my life only I have earned and never taken rest. He set out on a world tour. After three months he returned and asked his son, everything going well? The son said, going perfectly well. You will be surprised that those patients whom you could not cure in your whole life, I cured them within three months. The father slapped his forehead. He said, fool! They were our business. Could I not have cured them? From where would your education have come? Upon them it was based. Other children would have been educated too. You have spoiled everything.

The priest wants you as you are — sick, infirm. His business lies in that. Shiva is no priest. Shiva is a Tirthankara. Shiva is an Avatar. Shiva is a vision of revolution, a prophet. Whatever he will say will be fire. Come to him only if you are ready to burn; accept his invitation only if you are ready to die. For only if you die will the new be born. Upon your ashes begins the new life. Keeping these things in mind, let us try to understand each sutra.

The first sutra is: ‘Chaitanyam atma. Chaitanya is Atman.’

We all are chaitanya — consciousness — but we have no clue of Atman. If chaitanya itself is Atman then we all should have known. We all are chaitanya. But what will it mean to say chaitanya is Atman?

The first meaning: in this world, only chaitanya is truly your own. Atman means: one’s own; all else is other. However much the rest appears as one’s own — it is other. Friends, loved ones, family, wealth, fame, position, empire — all that which you call ‘mine’ — there is deception there. For death will snatch all that from you. Death is the touchstone — who is one’s own, who is other. That from which death separates you was other. And that from which death cannot separate you — that was your own.

Atman means that which is one’s own. But as soon as we think ‘own’, the other enters. ‘My own’ immediately implies: some other who is ‘mine’. It never occurs to you that apart from you, none can be your own; cannot be at all. And as long as you wander in the stream that some other is yours, those days are wasted, so much life passes in vain, so much time you dream. In that time you could have awakened; moksha would have been yours; you collected rubbish.

Only you are yours. This first sutra — apart from me, nothing is mine.

This is a great revolutionary sutra, very anti-social. For society lives on the basis that others are one’s own; people of the caste are one’s own; people of the nation are one’s own; my country, my caste, my religion, my family — the whole game of ‘mine’. Society lives upon the notion of ‘mine’. Therefore religion is an anti-social element. Religion is freedom from society, freedom from the other. And religion says: apart from you, none is yours.

On the surface it will appear a very selfish statement. For it seems to say — only I am my own; at once it feels this is talk of selfishness!

It is not talk of selfishness. If this comes into your awareness, only then can par-artha and paramartha — other-centeredness and the highest good — be born in your life. For one who is not yet filled with the feeling of Atman cannot have par-artha or paramartha in his life. You say ‘others are mine’. But by saying ‘mine’ what do you do? By saying ‘mine’ you suck them. ‘Mine’ is your mechanism of exploitation, of extension. Whomsoever you call ‘mine’ you enslave. You turn him into your possession. My wife, my husband, my son, my father — what do you do? Behind this ‘mine’ — behind the curtain of ‘mine’ — what is the basic foundation of your relationship? You suck, you exploit, you use the other. If you think this use of the other is par-artha, then you are deluded.

An emperor grew old. He had three sons and was much worried — to whom should he give the kingdom? All three were able and skillful, all three had equal qualities. A great difficulty. One day he called the three and said, tell me the single greatest act you have done in the past year — one deed, the greatest in the whole year.

The eldest said, the richest man of the village was going on pilgrimage; he placed bags of diamonds and jewels worth millions with me — uncounted, without any accounting, without any signatures — and said, when I return from pilgrimage, return them to me. If I had wanted I could have taken them all; for there was neither writing nor witness. Even if I had kept some precious jewels, there would have been no difficulty — because that man had neither counted nor kept numbers. But I returned the pouch exactly as it was.

The father said, you did well. But I ask you — had you kept something, would remorse, guilt, the sense of crime have seized you or not? The son said, certainly would have. Then the father said, there was no altruism here. Merely to save yourself from remorse and pain you did this. Where is the altruism? If you had kept the jewels, guilt would have tormented the mind, pricked like a thorn. To save yourself from that thorn you returned the jewels. You did a good act, fine; but there was no paropkara in it. The favor you did was to yourself.

The second son grew a little anxious. He said, I was passing along the roadside, and at dusk, when none was there, a man began to drown in the lake. I could have gone my way, pretended not to hear. But I jumped immediately, risked my life, and brought the man out.

The father said, you did right. But had you gone on and not brought him out, would that man’s death not have haunted you forever? You would have pretended not to hear outwardly, but within you had already heard his cry — ‘save me!’ Would his ghost not have followed you forever? Out of that fear you jumped, risked your life. But there is no reason for falling into the delusion that you did some altruism.

The third son said, I was passing through a forest. On the edge of a cliff I saw a man asleep, who — if he even turned once in his sleep — would be gone forever, for on the other side was a great chasm. I came near the man and when I saw who it was — it was my sworn enemy. I could have silently gone my way. Or even if I had passed on horseback near him, without my doing anything — just because of my passing — he might have turned and fallen into the gorge. But I slid gently on the ground towards him so that my sound might not make him fall. And I also knew that the man was bad; even if I saved him, he would only abuse me. I shook him, woke him gently. And the man is going around the village speaking against me. For he says, I had gone there to die. This man pursued me even there. He will not let me live, he did not even let me die.

The father said, you are better than the other two; but even this is not altruism. Why? Because you are puffed up with ego that you have done some great deed. As you speak, the shine in your eyes increases. As you say it, your chest swells. And that deed out of which ego is manufactured — that is no altruism. In a very subtle way you have filled your ego with it. You are thinking that you are religious and altruistic. You are better than those two. But for the ruler of a kingdom I will have to search for a fourth.

When you do altruism, you cannot do it; for one who does not even know himself — how will he do paropkara? You may be thinking you are doing it — serving the poor, massaging the feet of the sick in a hospital — but if you search keenly you will find your ego being filled somewhere. And if your ego is filled by service, then even service is exploitation. Before Self-knowledge none can be altruistic; for without knowing oneself such a great revolution cannot happen.

I have heard: Mulla Nasruddin’s wife was quarreling with him and saying, this matter should be settled once and for all. Why is it that you hate and despise all my relatives?

Nasruddin said, that is wrong; it is not factual. And I have proof for it. The proof is: I love your mother-in-law more than I love my mother-in-law.

Ego finds such devices. On the surface it seems you are doing paropkara; but inside only you stand there. And the subtler the journey becomes, the more it goes beyond grasp. Others cannot catch it; you too cannot catch it. Others fall into deception; you too get lost in the deception you yourself have created. We all have built our own labyrinths. We had begun the whole arrangement and contrivance only to deceive others; we had never thought that in the labyrinth we built we ourselves would be lost. But we are lost.

Remember the first thing: apart from you, none is yours. As soon as this remembrance deepens that chaitanya is Atman — that chaitanya alone is what I am, and all else, all else is ‘para’, other, alien — just then the first ray of revolution enters your life; just then a fissure arises between you and society; just then a fissure arises between you and your relationships.

But a man does not want to look towards himself. It is difficult to look; for before looking, the process one must pass through is very shattering.

A Marwari businessman fell in love with a film actress. Ordinarily such a thing is unlikely — Marwari and businessman! He remains always far from love. But the unlikely too happens. He fell in love; but the businessman’s suspicious mind! So he appointed a detective behind the actress — you find out, is her character right or not. Before I propose marriage, all matters should be written clearly on paper.

The detective did a thorough investigation. After seven days he sent the report. It came: this woman’s character is absolutely flawless, spotless. Never has anything been heard or known about her that could cause suspicion; except for one thing — in the last few days she has been seen with a suspicious Marwari. That suspicious Marwari was he himself!

The eye looks at the other. The hands touch the other. The mind thinks of the other. And you remain always standing in darkness. Your state is the same as the darkness beneath a lamp. The lamp’s light falls on everything, only leaves you out. Therefore you wander in that light everywhere, travel in all directions, and one remains a stranger — and that is you.

This is the first sutra: ‘Chaitanya is Atman.’

Let this sutra descend deep like a seed into your heart. Futile is the journey through the whole world if you remain a stranger to yourself. If you cannot know yourself, and yet you know all else, then that entire knowledge, gathered together, will be proven ignorance. If you cannot see yourself and you have seen the whole world, scanned the moon and stars, still you will remain blind. For the eye is given only to one who has seen himself. Knowledge comes only to one who becomes acquainted with himself. One who bathes in the self-luminous chaitanya — only he is pure. There is no other pilgrimage; chaitanya is the pilgrimage.

And chaitanya is your nature. You have not gone beyond it even for a moment. But there is darkness under the lamp. You cannot go far from it, even if you want. But delusion can be created that you have gone far. You can dream in the world. But dream cannot become truth. Truth is only one thing — your chaitanya-nature.

‘Chaitanya is Atman.’

So the first thing: apart from chaitanya nothing is mine. If this feeling becomes dense in you, the birth of sannyas has happened. For the very feeling that something else, apart from me, can be mine — this alone is the world. Therefore in the very first sutra there is a great revolution. The first spark Shiva throws towards you is this — know that only you are yours; nothing else is yours.

A great sorrow will seize the mind from this; for you have made great relationships with others, you have woven great dreams. Great hopes are tied with others. The mother sees that the son will grow — great hopes! The father sees that the son will grow — great hopes! And in all these hopes you are losing yourself. Your father too ended, doing just these same hopes for you. What did he get from you? You too will end doing these hopes; you will get nothing from your son. And your son too will continue the same stupidity. He will hope from his sons.

No. Look towards yourself — neither behind, nor ahead. None is yours. No son can fulfill you. No relationship can become your soul. Apart from you none is your friend. But then a great fear arises; it seems you have become alone. And man is so frightened that even when he passes through a lane alone, he begins to sing loudly. Hearing his own voice he feels he is not alone. You are hearing your own voice. When a father pours his dreams into the son, the son has no consent. The father is whistling in the dark alone. Therefore he will be unhappy tomorrow; for he has built dreams all his life and he thinks the son too is seeing these same dreams. He is in error. The son will see his own dreams. You are seeing your own dreams. Your father saw his own. These never meet anywhere.

Every father dies unhappy. What can be the reason? Because the dreams he binds — all those dreams scatter. Every person is here to see his own dreams, not yours. And if you want an attained state — a fulfillment — then do not tie your boat of dreams with others; otherwise you will wander.

The very meaning of the world is that you have tied your boat of dreams with others. The meaning of sannyas is that you have awakened. And you have accepted one thing — however painful, however sorrowful it may seem at first, however intensely searing the pain be — that you are alone. All companionship is false. It does not mean that you should run away to the Himalayas. For one who is running to the Himalayas still finds companionship meaningful — it has not become false. For that which has become false — even running away from it has no meaning. No one who wakes in the morning runs away because the dream was false. The dream became false, matter is finished. What is there to run from in it!

But there is a man who is running away from wife and children. His running tells: he has heard that the dream is false, but he has not yet known it himself. Until yesterday he was running towards the wife; now he turns his back and runs away from the wife; but in both meanings the wife was significant.

There was a Jain saint, Ganeshvarni. Years ago he had renounced his wife. He was a holy man. Some twenty years after renunciation, he was in Kashi when news came that the wife had died. The words that came from his mouth are worth remembering. He said, well then, the nuisance is over. His devotees took this to mean great non-attachment. Think a little and it will be clear that there is no non-attachment at all. For the wife who was left twenty years ago — was her nuisance still continuing? Only then could it be over. The arithmetic is plain. This wife left twenty years ago must have been following him like a shadow. She must have been riding the mind. Her disturbance persisted. Twenty years even after leaving her, that disturbance could not be ended. The mind must have been thinking continuously — pro and con. Upon the wife’s death this statement — the nuisance is over — tells nothing about the wife; it tells only about the husband — that this man ran away leaving, but could not leave.

And Ganeshvarni was a holy man. So think a little — holy men too can remain in great delusion. In his character, conduct there was no fault. He was a man of propriety. He walked precisely by rules. No crack can be found there, no error. All conduct was right, saintliness complete. Yet something within was missed. He reached the Himalayas, the nuisance went along.

Understand another thing as well. If upon the wife’s death the first thought that arose was ‘the nuisance is over’, then somewhere — knowingly or unknowingly, in the unconscious — the wish for the wife’s death must also have been hidden. That is a little deeper. On some level — let the wife disappear, not be, be finished. That becomes violence.

But a single utterance does not come without cause; it does not fall from the sky. Every single word comes from within. And in such moments, when the news has come that the wife has died, you are not in your everyday business-like mindfulness. Then that which issues from you is more true. An hour later you will get the opportunity — you yourself will think and plaster and paint. What you say then will be false. But in that instant Varni slipped. The arrangement of saintliness he had kept around for twenty years was forgotten in that moment. When such a thing can happen to Varni, then it can happen to you more easily. Nothing will happen by running away. No one has ever been able to run away by running away.

But devotees cannot see this. In Varni’s story they have collected this as a very precious utterance, thinking — see how non-attached the man is!

You cannot even know what non-attachment is. You live in attachment — you understand dispassion. You understand only that which is opposite to you. You know you cannot leave your wife and go; and this man left and went — this man is greater than you.

He is opposite to you, but not different. You stand on your feet; he stands on his head. But between your mind and his there is not a hair’s breadth of difference. Search and see! You all think that the wife is a nuisance. Can you find a husband who, when asked in depth, would say that the wife is not a nuisance? Do not ask in front of the wife; ask in solitude, alone.

Mulla Nasruddin has told me that I too was once happy. But I came to know that only after I got married — and then it was too late. I too was once happy — I discovered this after I married. But by then too much time had passed; happiness had slipped from the hand.

Ask a husband deeply and it is hard to find one who has not many times thought of murdering his wife, not dreamed of killing her. In the morning he will say, what a foolish dream! But there is an unconscious wish. From that which creates nuisance — to eliminate it — simple logic.

But nuisance never arises from the other. Had the disturbance been in the wife, who prevented you — you would all have run away to the Himalayas. The disturbance is not in the wife; for going to the Himalayas you will find another wife. The disturbance is within you. You cannot be alone. You need some other. In aloneness you are afraid. Some ‘other’ — then you feel at ease. Why? The other’s presence gives assurance — there is a companion in sorrow and in joy. In life, in death, a companion.

But aloneness is the nature. And one who has experienced that Atman alone is mine — he has experienced his aloneness. There is no need to run at all; otherwise the nuisance will follow. Remain where you are; there is no need to change outwardly even by a hair’s breadth. But within — become alone. Within, experience kevalya — that I am alone; there is no companion. And do not ‘repeat’ this, for there is no need to repeat every morning, sitting, that I am alone, there is no companion. Nothing will happen by this. This repetition will only show that you have not yet realized it. Understand this. It is a fact that you are alone.

The impediment in understanding — that alone is tapascharya. Tapas does not mean you stand in the sun. Except man, all animals and birds are standing in the sun. None of them is going towards moksha. Nor does tapas mean you remain hungry, fast, do upavasa; for half the world is dying hungry anyway, no one reaches moksha by fasting. Emaciate the body, burn it — nothing is solved. That is only self-violence and the greatest sin. Only the foolish descend into that sin. Those with even a little awareness will not do such foolishness.

If starving another is wrong, how can starving oneself be right? If tormenting another is violence, how can tormenting oneself be non-violence? In torment is violence. Whom you torment — what difference does that make! The brave torment others; the weak torment themselves. For in tormenting the other there is danger — the other will take revenge. In tormenting oneself there is not even that danger. Who will take revenge? The weak torment themselves.

Have you noticed — if a man is angry he beats his wife; if the wife is angry she beats herself. This wife is the symbol of sadhus. The weak beat themselves. What should she do? The strong beat the other; for there is danger — who knows what the other will do! The weak becomes self-violent, and the strong becomes other-violent. And the religious is the one who is non-violent — neither does he torment the other nor himself. Tormenting is useless.

Tapascharya means you have accepted this truth that you are alone, there is no way to have a companion. However much you wish — however much you close the eyes and dream — you will remain alone. For births and births you have built homes, raised families, destroyed them; but you remained alone, not a hair’s breadth of difference in your aloneness. One who has known — accepted — that I am alone, for him the indication in this sutra is: chaitanya is Atman. That alone is yours; none else is yours.

And the second thing in this sutra is: chaitanya.

Atman is not a theory that you read in a scripture and accept. Atman is not a theory like the theory of gravitation. Atman is an experience, not a theory. And the experience is of the intensification of chaitanya — consciousness. Therefore the more you become conscious, the more will you come to know of Atman. The more you become unconscious, the less will you know yourself. And you are almost unconscious.

One who wants to know Atman does not need any philosophy; he needs the process of awakening chaitanya. He needs a method by which he may become more conscious. As you fan the fire — ash gathers, you fan it — the ash falls, embers begin to glow. You need some such process by which your ash falls and the ember shines; because in that shining you will recognize that you are chaitanya. And as much as you are conscious, so much are you possessed of Atman. The day you discover that I am supreme chaitanya, that day you are Paramatman. The measure of your consciousness will be the measure of your Atman.

But for now you are almost unconscious. As if you are drunk. You walk, you get up, you work; but as if in sleep. You are not aware.

Have you noticed — while reading a book, you read a whole page, then you realize — oh! I read a whole page and not a single word remains! How did you read the page? You can read half-asleep. The mind must have been elsewhere. You finished reading — then you came to awareness that this whole page went in vain. Many times you walk along the road, you walk the entire distance, then you realize that you are walking. You do things, and you do not know that you are doing them.

You are living in unconsciousness; and chaitanya is Atman. And you ask — is there Atman? You want someone to give proof. You want someone to prove, to convince you by logic and then you will believe. Otherwise you will become an atheist. Atheism is a natural result of unconsciousness; theism is the fruit of awareness. As your awareness grows, there is no need to ‘believe’ that there is Atman. Many fools believe; nothing is solved by it. In this land everyone believes that there is Atman; but what difference does it make? No revolution comes into your life from this. Perhaps you accept because it has been repeated for thousands of years; your ears are worn by hearing. Hearing and hearing you forgot that this is something to be thought about too. By repetition man is hypnotized. If the same thing is repeated again and again, you forget that it is questionable, that it can be doubted, that it can be contemplated.

And then — there is great consolation in thinking that there is Atman. The body will die — you know this; the Atman will not die — this gives great courage. And Atman will never die — fire will not burn it, weapons will not pierce it, death will do nothing to it — this gives you great solace.

But consolation is not truth. Atman cannot be accepted as a theory, nor can one be hypnotized by repetition; Atman is known only by those who increase their chaitanya. Live in such a way that ash does not collect upon you. Live in such a way that the inner ember remains burning, luminous. Live in such a way that moment to moment you remain in awareness, not in unconsciousness.

Mulla Nasruddin had a child. The first boy. Nasruddin was very happy. He called his best friend. To celebrate, both went to a tavern. For you know only one joy — unconsciousness. It is very amusing. Shiva, Buddha, Mahavira — all cry that there is only one bliss in the world — and that is awareness. And you know only one pleasure — and that is unconsciousness. Either you are right or they are right; both cannot be. Mulla Nasruddin went straight to the tavern, instead of going to the hospital to see the son first. He said — first let us enjoy. A dream of so many days has been fulfilled. They both drank heartily. When both reached the hospital drunk, and saw the boy through the glass window, Mulla began to weep. He said to his friend, first thing — he doesn’t look like me.

They do not yet even know themselves. They will not even recognize their own face. But — doesn’t look like me! And secondly — looks very small. What will we do with such a small child! Will he survive? The friend said, don’t worry. When I was born, I too weighed only three pounds. Nasruddin said, then did you survive? The friend began to think, for he too was drunk. He said, I cannot say for sure.

Man is in unconsciousness. The entire perspective of his life — his whole vision — is filled with unconsciousness; everything becomes smoky. You cannot see anything rightly. And you know only one pleasure — that when you forget yourself. Be it cinema, be it music, be it sex — wherever you forget yourself, there you say, great pleasure arose. You call forgetting pleasure? Oblivion? There is a reason. Because whenever you are filled with awareness, you find nothing in your life except sorrow. That is why whenever you look at life even a little alertly, you find — sorrow, sorrow; ugliness all around.

I have a friend. He remained unmarried. I asked him — what happened, how did you miss? He said — there was a great obstacle. The woman I loved — when I had drunk wine, then she appeared beautiful to me. Then I was ready to marry, but she was not ready then. And when I was sober, then I was not ready, and she was ready. So we missed; there was no way, no meeting could happen.

Whenever you open your eyes you will find ugliness and sorrow all around. When you are unconscious, then everything seems okay. Therefore you feel difficulty — chaitanya is Atman! Impossible. Hence one will have to pass through suffering. That is what has been called tapascharya. When a person begins to awaken, the first thing is — he will have to pass through suffering. For you have created suffering all around you for births upon births. Who will pass through it if not you? This we have called karma.

The total meaning of karma is — for births upon births we have created suffering all around. Knowingly or unknowingly we have sown the crop of sorrow. Who will reap it? So whenever you come into awareness, you see the crop — very long. You will have to pass through this field. Out of fear you sit down right there. Again you close your eyes and drink wine — this is too troublesome a work. But the more you drink, the more this crop grows. Each life adds something more to the chain of your karma, it does not subtract. You go deeper into the pit. Hell comes closer.

When you fill with awareness, the first event that is going to happen is that you will see sorrow all around in your life — hell. Because you created it. And if you keep courage and bravery and pass through that sorrow, then that sorrow through which you consciously pass — that crop is cut. You will not have to pass through those sorrows again.

And if once you pass through this entire chain of sorrow, the chain of karma — for they are chains bound around your Atman — if you pass through all of them and do not lose awareness and keep the courage — no matter, however much sorrow I have created, I will pass. I will go to the very end. I want to go back to that first hour when I was innocent and the journey of sorrow had not begun. When my soul was supremely pure and I had collected nothing of sorrow. I will enter up to that time — whatever be the result; however much suffering, however much pain!

If you keep so much courage then, today or tomorrow, crossing beyond sorrow you will reach that place where Shiva’s sutra will be understood: ‘Chaitanya is Atman.’ And once you are established in the inner chaitanya, then no sorrow is created by you; for an unconscious man creates sorrow around himself.

You have seen a drunk walking on the road — how he staggers! Such is your life. You intend to place your foot in one place, it falls elsewhere. You want to go somewhere, you reach elsewhere. You wanted to do something — something else happens. You went forth to say something, and return home having said something else. You see this every day. Yet you cannot understand why it is happening. You went to beg forgiveness from someone and you returned after a quarrel. Are you conscious? You were going to speak of love — enmity happened!

A man, drunk, was walking gazing at the sky. A car passed near him; the driver saved him with difficulty. Stopping the car the driver said, my good man! If you do not look where you are going, then you will go where you are looking.

And all of us... We do not even know where we are going, why we are going, where we are looking, why we are looking. We go on going; because there is a restlessness within which does not let us sit; there is a force within that drives us. Then whatever we do, the opposite results come.

People come to me, they say, we never did evil; we did good, and we are getting evil as fruit.

It cannot be that you do good and receive evil as fruit. It cannot be that you sow seeds of mango and get fruits of neem. It cannot be. Only one thing can be — that you sowed in such unconsciousness that you sowed only neem; you were not aware. For the tree cannot lie. Somewhere you must have been in error while sowing. Even when you do good, you do not have the mind to do good.

Even when you speak truth, you speak it to wound the other. You speak truth to insult the other. You use truth as if you are using truth as a deadly weapon. Your truths are bitter. There is no need for truth to be bitter. But your pleasure is in the bitterness, not in the truth. Your falsehood is always sweet. Your truth is always bitter. What is the matter? Is bitterness the nature of truth? Is sweetness a part of falsehood?

No. You want to run the falsehood, you make it sweet; for if it is not sweet, it will not run. Falsehood already has difficulty — only by the prop of sweetness will it run. Just as we coat a bitter pill with sugar, the child eats it thinking it is sweet. By the time the bitterness is known, the pill has gone inside.

You make falsehood sweet because you want to run the false. You make truth bitter; for from truth you only want to wound, you do not want to run it. You speak truth only when you can use truth in such a way that it proves worse than falsehood — only then do you speak.

You are unconscious. Of your acts you know nothing — what you are doing. Begin to see a little consciously. Do you speak what you intend to speak? Or do you speak something else? Did you intend this which you spoke?

Mark Twain returned one night. His wife asked — when he came home the wife asked — how was the lecture? He had gone to give a lecture. He said, which lecture? The one I had prepared? Or the one I gave there? Or the one I wish I had given? Which lecture?

One is what a man prepares, and one is what he gives — there is a great difference. And one is what on returning home he thinks he should have given — all three are different.

Are you aware? All your targets miss. Has any target ever hit in your life? Even with closed eyes if a man keeps shooting arrows, then someday or other the target will be hit.

I have heard — even a stopped clock hanging on the wall will show the correct time twice in twenty-four hours. In your life even that has not happened — that even twice you showed the right time. Are you worse than a stopped clock? Even in darkness if a man keeps shooting, sometime or other the target will be hit. You shoot with open eyes, in light — your arrows never hit. What will be the reason?

Mulla Nasruddin was very fond of deer hunting. The third time he went to hunt in the forest, and in the rest house of the forest he put his luggage, made preparations, and when he opened the suitcase, a big photo was kept in it. And under the photo his wife had written: Mulla, a deer looks like this. He loved hunting, but did not know what a deer looks like. You may bring home anything you kill. Look carefully at the photo of a deer.

You have missed everywhere — that is the sorrow of your life. And the only reason for missing is that you are not aware. Therefore whatever you do — do it with awareness. Rise — with awareness; walk — with awareness.

Mahavira has said: walk with viveka, sit with viveka, eat with viveka, speak with viveka, even sleep with viveka. Someone asked Mahavira — who is a sadhu? Mahavira said, one who is amurchchhita — un-intoxicated. And who is not a sadhu? Mahavira said, one who is murchchhita — intoxicated. One who lives asleep — he is not a sadhu. One who lives awake — he is a sadhu.

This is exactly what Shiva is saying: ‘Chaitanya is Atman.’

Increase chaitanya; slowly the glimpse of Atman will certainly begin to come into your life.

The second sutra is: ‘Jnanam bandhah. Knowledge is bondage.’

A very startling sutra. Jnana has many meanings. First — as long as you are filled with this knowledge that ‘I am’, you will remain in ignorance; because the ‘I’ is ignorance. Ego is ignorance. The day you are filled with Atman, that day the ‘am-ness’ will remain, not the ‘I-ness’. From ‘I am’ the ‘I’ will be cut, only ‘am’ will remain. Try this a little. Sit silently beneath a tree and search where within you the ‘I’ is. You will not find it anywhere. ‘Am’ you will find everywhere. ‘I’ you will not find anywhere. Everywhere you will find existence, but with existence you will not find ego anywhere. Ego is your contrivance. It is your making. It is false, untrue. Nothing is more inauthentic than it. It is a device for the world. It has no place in truth.

So first — knowledge is bondage: the knowledge that I am. The sense of ‘mine’! Not the sense of ‘am-ness’ — ‘am-ness’ is pure; there is no limit in it. When you say ‘am’, is there any difference between your ‘am’ and the tree’s ‘am’? Between your ‘am’ and my ‘am’? When you simply ‘are’, then rivers, mountains, trees — all are one. As soon as I say ‘I’, I am separate. As soon as I say ‘I’, you are broken, become other, I am separate from existence.

‘Am-ness’ is Brahman and ‘I’ is man’s state of ignorance. When you know that there is only ‘am’, then no center remains within you. Then the whole existence becomes one. Then you are like a wave that has dissolved into the ocean. Right now you are like a wave that has frozen into ice; broken from the ocean.

‘Knowledge is bondage.’

First — knowledge is bondage: this knowledge that I am. Second — knowledge is bondage: all that knowledge which you have collected from outside, which you have stolen from scriptures, borrowed from true masters, which is your memory — all that is bondage. From that you will not get liberation.

Therefore you will not find a man more bound than the pundit. All kinds of people come to me, all kinds of patients; and none is more cancerous than the pundit. There is no cure. He is incurable. His trouble is — he knows. Therefore he can neither listen nor understand. Before you say anything, he has already made the meaning of it; before he has heard you, he has already produced a commentary. A mind filled with words becomes incapable of knowing. He knows so much without knowing anything — because all that is known is borrowed.

If knowledge were obtained from scriptures, then everyone has scriptures — everyone would have knowledge. Knowledge is obtained when one becomes silent; when he consigns all scriptures; when he returns all that knowledge which has come from others back to the world; when he searches for that which is my original existence — which I have not received from anyone else.

Understand this a little. Your body is given to you by mother and father. In your body there is nothing of yours. Half is the donation of your mother, half is of your father. Then your body is given by food — that which you eat every day. It is given by the five elements — air, fire, all five elements — from them it is given. In it there is nothing of yours. But your consciousness has not been given to you by any of the five elements. Your consciousness has not been given to you by mother and father either.

All that you know you learned in school and university, you heard from scriptures, you obtained from gurus. That is a part of your body, not of your soul. Your soul is only that which you have not obtained from anyone. Until you find that pure element which is utterly yours, which you have not obtained from anyone — not given by mother, father, society, guru, scripture — that alone is your nature.

Knowledge is bondage, because it will not let you reach this nature. Knowledge has divided you. You say, I am a Hindu. Have you ever thought why you are a Hindu? You say, I am a Muslim. Have you ever reflected why you are a Muslim? What is the difference between a Hindu and a Muslim? Can any doctor, by testing blood, say — this is Hindu’s blood, this is Muslim’s blood? By cutting the bones can anyone say this bone comes from a Muslim or a Hindu?

There is no way. From the examination of the body nothing will be known; for both bodies are made of five elements. But if you examine their skulls then it will be known who is Hindu and who Muslim; for their scriptures are different, their doctrines different, their words different. The difference of words is between you. You are a Hindu because you received one kind of knowledge called ‘Hindu’. The other is a Jain because he received another kind of knowledge called ‘Jain’.

The distances and walls between you are walls of knowledge. And all knowledge is borrowed. Keep a Muslim child in a Hindu home — he will grow as a Hindu. He will wear the sacred thread like a Brahmin. He will quote the Upanishads and the Vedas. And keep a Hindu child in a Muslim home — he will recite the verses of the Quran.

Knowledge divides you; because knowledge draws a wall around you. And knowledge makes you fight, and knowledge creates ill-will and enmity in your life. Think for a moment — if you were taught nothing, that you are Hindu, or Muslim, or Jain, or Parsi — what would you do? You would grow as a human being; there would be no wall between you.

There are some three hundred religions in the world — three hundred prisons. And every man from birth is thrown into one or another prison. And the pundit and priest make great effort that the child be captured as quickly as possible. They call it ‘religious education’. There is no greater irreligion than that. They call it religious education. Catch the child before he is seven; because if the child grows to seven, then capturing becomes more and more difficult. And if the child gets even a little awareness, then he will begin to ask questions. And the priests have absolutely no answers to questions.

The priest can satisfy only the foolish. The less intelligent a man is, the more quickly he is satisfied by the priest. He asks one question — the answer is given. You go and ask the priest — who created the world? He says — God. You return home happy, without asking who created God. If you asked the second question, the priest would be annoyed; because he does not know that. It is not written in the book. And then the trouble — who created God? Then you will keep asking; whatever answer he gives, you will ask — who created that?

If you see carefully, the answer to your first question was not given. The priest only satisfied you; because you are not very intelligent. And children are naïve. Their logic has not awakened, thought has not awakened; they cannot yet ask questions. Whatever rubbish you put in their head they will accept. Children accept everything; because they think whatever is being given must be right. A child cannot raise many questions. To raise questions, a little maturity is needed.

Therefore all religions seize the necks of children and hang them. The noose is very beautiful! Around someone’s neck a Bible hangs, around someone’s neck a Samayasara; around someone a Quran hangs, around someone a Gita. These bonds are so endearing that gathering courage to drop them later becomes very difficult. And whenever you want to drop them, a danger stands before you. For if you drop them you are ignorant! Because as soon as you drop them, you will find — I know nothing; only this book is my entire wealth. Guard it; it is the only way to hide your ignorance.

But if ignorance could be removed by hiding, the matter would be easy. Ignorance increases by hiding. Like someone hides his wound. Nothing will be removed by that. The wound will go on growing within; the pus will spread throughout the body.

Shiva says: ‘Knowledge is bondage.’

Knowledge that is learned, borrowed, taken from others — is the cause of bondage. Drop all that which has come from others. Seek that which you have not received from anyone. Set out in search of that face which is yours. Within you is hidden a spring of chaitanya which you have not received from anyone. What is your nature, what is your own wealth, your ownness — that is your Atman.

The third sutra is: ‘Yonivarga and kala are the body.’

Yoni means: nature. That is why we call woman ‘Prakriti’ — Nature. Woman gives the body; she is the symbol of nature. And ‘kala’ means: the sense of doership. There is only one art — the art of descending into the world — and that is the sense of doership. From these two your body is constructed — your sense of doership, your ego, and the body obtained from nature. If there is the sense of doership within you, nature keeps giving you the fitting body.

In this way you have been born again and again. Sometimes you were an animal, sometimes a bird, sometimes a tree, sometimes a man. What you desired you got. Whatever aspiration you had — the craving for doership — that happened. The craving for doership becomes event. Thoughts become things. Therefore desire with much thought; for all desires are fulfilled sooner or later.

If again and again you look at a bird in the sky and think — what freedom the bird has! If only I were a bird! It will not take long — soon you will be a bird. If you see a dog mating and think — what freedom! what pleasure! — soon you will be a dog. Whatever desire you collect within, that becomes seed. Nature gives only the body; the artist is you yourself, the creator of yourself. Your body you have made yourself — this is the meaning of ‘kala’. No one is giving you a body; your craving creates it.

Have you noticed? At night you sleep — the last thought you have at the time of falling asleep, that will be the first thought in the morning when you wake. Through the night you slept — that thought lay within like a seed. The last becomes the first in the morning. When you die from this body, in the last moment of dying the cravings of your whole life will be condensed and become a seed. That seed will become the new womb. From where you disappeared, from there you will begin again.

Whatever you are — this is your own doing. Blame no other. There is no other here to be blamed. This is the accumulated fruit of your own actions. Whatever you are — beautiful or ugly, unhappy or happy, woman or man — whatever you are, this is the fruit of your own actions. You are the artist of your life. Do not say that fate has made it; that is deception. And by that device you are placing responsibility upon someone else. Do not say that God has sent you. Do not put responsibility upon Paramatman; for this is a trick to escape your own responsibility. You are in this prison by your own cause. The life of the person who fully understands that by my own cause I am here — a revolution begins in his life.

Shiva says: ‘Yonivarga and kala are the body.’

Prakriti is only yoni — womb. She is only the matrix. Your ego becomes the seed in that matrix. Your sense of doership — that I do this, I gain that, I become this — becomes the seed in it. And wherever your art of doership and nature’s womb meet, a body is formed.

Therefore the enlightened say — drop all desires, only then will you be free. If you desire heaven you will become a god, but that too will not be liberation. For from desires never arises a state beyond body; all bodies are fabricated by desires. Until you attain desirelessness, until you have utterly left craving, you will continue to wander into new bodies.

And though the patterns of body differ, the fundamental situation of body is one and the same. The sufferings of body are the same — whether a bird’s body or a man’s body, there is no difference in sufferings. For the fundamental sorrow is — the soul being bound in the body. The fundamental sorrow is — entering into prison. Whether the walls of the prison are circular or triangular or rectangular makes no essential difference. You may think it does.

I have a friend. He is a teacher of drawing. He went to jail. After three years he returned. I asked him, how were the days, how did they pass? He said, all else was fine, but the corners of my cell were not right angles. He is a teacher of drawing. His mind! The corners of the cell were not right angles. This was his real trouble for three years. Because to live in that cell and again and again to see that corner — that is not ninety degrees. So what he told me was: all else was fine, there was no other difficulty; but the corners were not ninety.

Whether the corners are ninety or not — what basic difference does it make? Prison is prison. Bird’s body or man’s — there is not much difference. You are imprisoned — that is the sorrow. You are bound — that is the sorrow. Desire binds. Desire is the rope by which we are tied. And remember — apart from you none is responsible.

‘Udyamo Bhairavah.’

The fourth sutra is: ‘Udyama alone is Bhairava.’

Udyama is called that spiritual exertion by which you strive to be outside this prison. That alone is Bhairava. ‘Bhairava’ is a technical word. ‘Bha’ means bharana — sustaining; ‘ra’ means ravana — dissolving; ‘va’ means vamana — expansion. Bhairava means Brahman — that which sustains, which upholds, in which we will be born and in which we will dissolve; which is expansion and which will become contraction; which is the origin of creation and in which dissolution will be. The name of the fundamental existence is Bhairava.

Shiva says: ‘Udyama alone is Bhairava.’

And the very day you begin the effort of spiritual life, you begin to be Bhairava; you begin to be one with God. The first ray of your effort — and you have begun the journey towards the sun. The first thought within you of being free — and the goal is not far; for the first step is almost half the journey.

‘Udyama is Bhairava.’

You will attain — it will take time to reach the goal. But as soon as you begin the effort, a seed is implanted within you — that I rise outside this prison; that I become free of body; that I withdraw from desire; that I no longer sow seeds to enlarge this world; that I do not hanker for more births. As soon as this feeling begins to intensify within you — that now I break stupor and become chaitanya — just then you begin to be Bhairava; just then you begin to be one with Brahman. For in truth you are one already; only you have to remember. Essentially you are one. You are a spring of that very ocean, a ray of that very sun, a small portion of that great sky. But if remembrance begins to come and the walls begin to dissolve, then you will become one with that great sky.

‘Udyama is Bhairava.’

A very intense effort is necessary. For sleep is deep; you will break it only by constant breaking. If you are lazy, it will not be possible. If you break it today and rebuild it tomorrow, you will keep wandering. If with one hand you break and with the other you build, your labor will be wasted. Udyama means — your whole effort is engaged.

People come to me. They say, we do it, but nothing happens.

I look at their faces. They do not do — or they do as if half-dead, as if shooing flies away. There is no life in their doing; therefore nothing happens. But they come as if they are bestowing a great favor upon God — that they do and it does not happen. They come with a complaint that somewhere something wrong is happening, some injustice is at work — others get it, we do not.

In this world injustice never happens. Whatever happens here is justice. Because there is no person sitting here to do justice or injustice. In the world there are laws; the very name of those laws is dharma. If you walk crookedly, you will fall, your leg will break — you will not go to the court and file a case against the law of gravitation. The court will say — do not walk crooked. Gravitation is neither eager to make you fall nor to hold you up. When you walk straight, it holds you up. When you walk crooked, it makes you fall. It has no desire to make you fall, no desire to hold you. The law of the world is neutral.

The name of that neutral law is dharma. The Hindus have called it rita. It is the supreme law. It does not favor you — to make someone fall, to raise someone. As soon as you begin to walk rightly, it supports you. If you want to fall, it makes you fall. It is available in every way. However you want to use it, it is open to you. Its doors are not closed. You want to bang your head against the door — bang it. You want to open the door and go inside — go in. It is neutral.

‘Udyama is Bhairava.’

Great labor is needed. Udyama means: profound labor. Your totality must be engaged in the labor — that is called udyama. And then it will not take long for you to become Bhairava.

‘By the completion of the wheel of Shakti the world is dissolved’ — the fifth sutra.

And if you make right effort, if you engage your entire energy in the effort — in the search for truth, for Paramatman or for Atman — then the wheel of power within you becomes complete.

Right now your wheel of power within is not complete — it is cut and fragmented. Scientists say even the most intelligent man does not use more than fifteen percent of his potential; eighty-five percent rots. This is the intelligent man’s account; what to say of the stupid — he perhaps does not use at all. Even of our body’s energy we do not use fully — five percent at the most. So if we live dimly, if our lamp seems to be flickering and flickering, whose fault is it? You do not live fully at all. As if you are afraid of living — lest the flame blaze up. You live in fear, you live trembling; then the wheel of power within you cannot become complete. Then your car runs like when sometimes you have seen a car — the petrol sometimes comes, sometimes does not, sometimes dirt comes — then the car runs as if it has hiccups. That is your life. With hiccups you run. Very little bits of power come in fragments; undivided power cannot be formed.

That in which you will put your whole power — whatever that thing may be — if you paint and you are a painter, and you put your whole power into painting — whole, not a crumb left — then you will be liberated from right there; for that very udyama, when complete, becomes Bhairava. If you are a sculptor and you pour everything into the statue — that while making the statue you do not remain, only the statue remains — then the wheel of power becomes complete. When you immerse the whole power in any act, that becomes meditation; Bhairava is near, the temple has come close.

The fifth sutra is: ‘By the completion of the wheel of Shakti the world is dissolved.’

And whenever your wheel of power becomes complete — total, whole; not fragmentary, but entire — in that very instant the world is finished for you. For you there is no world then. You have become God. You have become Bhairava. You are free. Then for you there is neither bondage nor body nor world.

Remember — total use of power. In this meditation camp, if you put in your whole power — not like doing meditation superficially, but putting your whole power — then you will experience that in the very moment where power becomes whole, in that same moment, without a moment’s delay, suddenly the world is lost and God stands before you. The total putting of your power becomes the revolution of your life. Then your back is turned to the world, your face to God. Even a single glimpse of this — then you will never again be the same as you were before. A single glimpse is enough. Then your life becomes engaged in that very journey.

So keep this in mind — here, immerse your whole self; only then something will be possible. If you save even a little of yourself, your labor is wasted. Until labor becomes udyama — full, total effort — there is no attainment of Bhairava.

Enough for today.