All writing in this blog are from the Masters who returned to THIS (this moment) after crossing THAT (enlightenment). Putting the names & images of the masters will change your perception about the content. That is against the teaching of the Masters. Unless all these images are dissolved, you cannot see yourself.
Millions of fingers can point to the same moon. Fingers are bound to be different -- but the moon is the same. By clinging to the fingers you will not see the moon. Forget the finger and look at where it is pointing. It is the very essence of all the teachings of all the buddhas of all the ages -- past, present, and future too.
The words of a Buddha may not be able to communicate the truth, but they can communicate the music, the music that exists in one who is enlightened.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Even a wrong technique will help if the desire is intense...



There is a beautiful story in Hindu annals about a great saint, Valmiki. He was a robber, a murderer. He has written the story of Rama, one of the most beautiful epics in the world. He became converted. His conversion happened in such a way that it is almost unbelievable. He was a great sinner, but he went to a great teacher and asked him how he could purify himself of his sins. "Chant Rama a thousand times a day," advised the great teacher.

The sinner went to a solitary mountain and chanted and chanted, but in spite of his good will, he made a mistake and chanted Mara instead of Rama.

It happens that if you chant Rama Rama Rama fast, you can get messed up; it can become Mara Mara Mara. That's how it happened: he was chanting so fast, and he had never heard this name. It was almost an unknown language to him. He tried hard to remember, but somehow he forgot, and for years he chanted Mara, Mara, Mara.

After years of chanting he went back to the great teacher who immediately realized that the man was now pure -- not only pure, he was enlightened. "Did you sing the sacred name?" the teacher asked.

"Yes, great one," the ex-sinner answered, "for ten years every single day, thousands of times I have chanted Mara, Mara, Mara."

The teacher burst into a laughter that shook the mountains. As his laughter, like a pebble in the lake, vibrated farther and wider into the cosmos, the great teacher took the ex-sinner into his arms. "Your will to good, to do good, has saved you," he said, "even though you chanted Mara, Mara, Mara, millions of times: the name of the devil."

Rama is the name of God; Mara is the name of the devil -- but if the desire is there, the thirst is there, then everything is okay. Even the name of the devil will do. Just his intention, just his tremendous passion for God, to purify himself, for ten years, day in and day out, thousands of times he was continuously chanting Mara, Mara, Mara. Even a wrong technique will help if the desire is intense, and even a right technique will not be of much help if the desire is impotent.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

In the hands of a man of understanding, money is tremendously beautiful...


In the Upanishads there is a beautiful story. Shvetketu, a young man, came back from the university full of knowledge. He was a brilliant student, he had topped the university with all the medals and all the degrees that were possible, available. He came back home with great pride. His old father, Uddalak, looked at him and asked him a single question. He said to him, "You have come full of knowledge, but do you know the knower? You have accumulated much information, your consciousness is full of borrowed wisdom -- but what is this consciousness? Do you know who you are?"

Shvetketu said, "But this question was never raised in the university. I have learned the Vedas, I have learned language, philosophy, poetry, literature, history, geography. I have learned all that was available in the university, but this was not a subject at all. You are asking a very strange question; nobody ever asked me in the university. It was not on the syllabus, it was not in my course." Uddalak said, "You do one thing: be on a fast for two weeks, then I will ask you something."

He wanted to show his knowledge, just a young man's desire. He must have dreamed that his father would be very happy. Although the father was saying, "Wait for two weeks and fast," he started talking about the ultimate, the absolute, the Brahman.

The father said, "You wait two weeks, then we will discuss about Brahman."

Two days' fast, three days' fast, four days' fast, and the father started asking him, "What is Brahman?" In the beginning he answered a little bit, recited what he had crammed, displayed. But by the end of the week he was so tired, so exhausted, so hungry, that when the father asked, "What is Brahman?" he said, "Stop all this nonsense! I am hungry, I think only of food and you are asking me what Brahman is.

Right now, except food nothing is Brahman."

The father said, "So your whole knowledge is just because you were not starved. Because you were taken care of, your body was nourished, it was easy for you to talk about great philosophy. Now is the real question. Now bring your knowledge!"

Shvetketu said, "I have forgotten all. Only one thing haunts me: hunger, hunger -- day in, day out. I cannot sleep, I cannot rest. There is fire in my belly, I am burning, and I don't know anything at all. I have forgotten all that I have learned."

The father said, "My son, food is the first step towards Brahman. Food is Brahman -- ANNAM BRAHMA." A tremendously significant statement.

India has forgotten it completely. ANNAM BRAHMA: food is God, the first God.

If you drop the analytical mind, science disappears. If you drop the analytical mind, you can't be affluent; you are bound to be poor and hungry, and you will lose your first contact with God.

The West is in that contact; nothing is wrong about it. This orientation in analysis is a significant step towards knowing God. But one should not stop at it. Food is not an ultimate value, it is a means to an end. And if you have a meditative pilgrimage you start transforming food into prayer.

It depends. The painter eats the same food, but it becomes painting in him. The poet also eats the same food, it becomes poetry in him. The lover also eats the same food, it becomes love in him. The murderer also eats the same food, it becomes murder and destruction in him.

Alexander, Genghis Khan, Adolf Hitler, Gautam Buddha, Jesus Christ and Krishna, they were not eating different kinds of food; the food is the same, more or less. But in Adolf Hitler it becomes destruction, in Gautam Buddha it becomes compassion. Food is raw energy; it depends on you how you transform it. You are the transformer; you are really significant, not what you eat.

Money is not bad in itself. Money is neutral, it depends on you. In the hands of a man of understanding, money is tremendously beautiful.

It can become music, it can become art, it can become science, it can become religion. It is not money that is bad, it is the person. The stupid person, if he has money, does not know what to do with it; his money creates more greed. Money can free you from greed, but the stupid person changes money into more greed. It becomes anger, it becomes sexuality, it becomes lust. The more money the stupid person has, the more stupid he becomes, because he becomes more powerful to do stupid things.

With the wise, everything is transformed into wisdom.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Parents are less interested in the potential of the child...


MAN is not aware of what he is capable unless he comes to realize it.

It is just like a small young bird. The bird, sitting in the shelter the mother and the father have made, watches them fly, can see the delight of their flight. He himself would also like to fly in the same way, be on the wing in the infinite sky, under the sun. Seeing them going higher, moving with the winds, a great urge arises in him also. But he is not aware that he is capable of the same flight, the same delight, the same dance. He is not even aware that he has wings.

It takes a little time for the mother and the father to persuade him. And they have a certain methodology to persuade him. The mother may sit just a little higher on another branch and give a call to the child. The child tries to fly but is afraid he may fall. But the mother goes on calling him; that gives him confidence. Sometimes it is needed for the father to actually push him out of the shelter. There is fear, he is nervous, but one thing is certain: for the first time he knows he has wings.

He flutters his wings. He does not know how to fly, but the mother is not far away; he manages to reach her -- the miracle has happened. Now the mother's call will be coming from a second tree, and then the call will be coming from a far-off forest. But once he knows that he has wings, then distances don't matter. Slowly there is no need for the mother to call or the father to push him.

One day comes when he simply says goodbye to his father and mother and flies and never comes back. He has become an individual on his own.

Man is not as alert as the birds are, that the child has to be made aware of his potentiality.

Man's misfortune is this -- that the father is not interested in the child's potentiality. He is interested in his own investment. He would like the child to be part of his business, of his religion, of his politics, of his ideology. The mother is not interested in the child's development because that's an unknown factor. It is not as simple as a bird's; man is a complex being, multi dimensional. The child is capable of becoming so many things, but the mother has her own investment -- she would like the child to become someone in particular.

Man's parents, because of their own investment -- business, politics, religion, philosophy -- are less interested in the potential of the child. They are more interested in how to mold the child so that he fits in their world, becomes respectable in their world, is not an outcast, is not a misfit.

All this arises out of good intentions, but the result is not good. It is almost slaughtering the child, destroying, killing him. Most of his potential will always remain only potential. He will never be even aware what treasures he has brought with his life. He will die, and those treasures will remain unopened.

He lived his whole life according to somebody else's dictates: he lived a borrowed life. He smiled because it was expected; he paid respect to people because that was what he was taught. He went to the church, to the synagogue, to the temple because his parents were going there, everybody else was going there.

Those treasures are everybody's birthright.

You have just never tried it.

You have wings but nobody has pushed you.

You have not taken the jump on your own: you are still sitting in the shelter.

The whole sky is yours -- but you are not claiming it.

If you can just flutter from one tree to another, you have got the golden secret in your hands.

Monday, February 9, 2009

Like to live the same way, if sent back after death...


If you are an atheist then there are no holidays, then there is no God, then there are no Sundays. The Christian parable says that God created the world in six days and on the seventh day, Sunday, he rested. That rest was very beautiful, it was out of great creation. He was feeling fulfilled. He had created the whole world and, on the sixth day, he looked and he said, 'Good, very good.' And he rested. He was happy, like a small child who has made something and looks from every side and says, 'Good. I have done it.' He rested on the seventh day. That rest-day was a fulfillment-day.

The parable has much significance. It says that you can have a rest-day only after creation. If you don't create anything, your life will be restless; you will not be able to have a holiday. Create something -- only then you can rest. Rest is a by-product. You cannot directly rest -- first you have to be so creative, you have to feel so good about yourself, so happy with yourself, so worthy, that you can allow rest for yourself, that you can allow a day just for fun.

Ordinarily people can't allow a day of rest for themselves because they feel so condemnatory about themselves, they feel so unworthy because they have not done anything worthwhile, that they have not experienced any fulfillment, nothing has happened, they have not blossomed. Hence continuous occupation, continuous activity is needed.

Many people go on working and working and working and one day they die...because their work is not creative. When is the work creative? The work is creative when you love it, the work is creative when you feel in tune with it, the work is creative when you enjoy it, the work is creative when you choose it, when it fits with your being and there is a great harmony between you and your work.

Once that happens, whatsoever you do is creative. And when after each creative moment you can relax, that relaxation is earned. Yes, God earned relaxation for the seventh day. For six days he worked hard, he created the whole world; on the seventh day he had earned relaxation, he was worthy of it. That's the meaning of the parable.

If you are creative only then can you have holidays, not otherwise. If you want to have holidays become more and more creative. I am not saying be creative in the eyes of others -- that is irrelevant -- just be creative in your own eyes, whatsoever you do. If you love it then do it, otherwise don't do it -- choose some other way. Life is vast. Says Jesus, 'There are many mansions in my God's house.' There are many dimensions in life. There is enough opportunity to choose.

If you are not feeling fulfilled in something that you are doing, then don't do it, because this will be a sheer wastage and you will not have earned holidays. A man who has lived according to his being, who has done his own thing, earns death. Then he dies, but the death is a Sunday; then he dies, but he dies fulfilled. He has no complaints. He lived the way he wanted to live.

If I am going to die and God asks me, 'If I send you back, how would you like to live?' I will say, 'The same. I loved it. I enjoyed it. I would like to live the same way.' Just think about you. If you die and God asks you, 'If you are sent back to the world what changes would you like to make in your life?' Will you be able to say that you would like to live the same way, absolutely the same way? If not, then you are doing something wrong with your life. Then you are dragging your life, then you are not living it. Then you are simply killing time -- as they say. Then you are simply wasting your energies, they are simply dissipated. They will not become an integral force and there is not going to be any blossoming -- your tree is going to remain without any fruits and flowers. Then how can you be happy and how can you enjoy?

Time as holy opportunity, that is the meaning of holiday -- a holy day, a day which is not profane, a day which is not ordinary. And once you know how to be creative, each moment becomes holy.

Was renunciation necessary ?


Buddha renounced in ignorance, not as a buddha. He renounced his palace and kingdom and luxuries, not as a buddha. He was in search of light, he was in darkness and doubt. He was as blind as anyone can be. In this blindness, in this darkness, he thought perhaps renouncing the kingdom, renouncing all comforts and luxuries was going to help him find truth.

What relationship is there? If this is the truth, that you have to renounce the kingdom, then how many people have kingdoms? Then the people who don't have kingdoms cannot become buddhas.

And how big was the kingdom? Do you understand? -- there were two thousand kingdoms in India at the time of Buddha. His kingdom was not more than a small tehsil -- a part of a district.

But when he became enlightened he came back to his palace to see his old father, whom he had betrayed in a way, because he had been hoping that in his old age his son would take over the burden of the kingdom, but instead he escaped. He was coming back after twelve years to ask forgiveness from the old man, and also his wife, and his son who was now grown twelve years... the night he was born was the night Gautam Buddha had escaped from the kingdom.

He had gone to see the face of the child, but the child was clinging to the mother and they were covered with blankets. He was afraid to wake up the wife because she might create some tantrum, and his renunciation of the world might be prevented -- or delayed, certainly. So he left from the door without seeing the face of his child.

After twelve years, when he became enlightened, the first thing he did was to go back to his kingdom. The father was very angry, but Buddha stood in absolute silence. When the father had said whatever he wanted to say, when his rage was finished, he looked again at the face of the Buddha -- he was absolutely unaffected. When his father had calmed down, Buddha said to him, "You are unnecessarily being angry with me. I am not the same person who left the palace. I am a new being, with eyes to see. I have achieved the ultimate. Just look at my face, my silence; look into my eyes and the depth of my eyes. Don't be angry, I have just come to ask your forgiveness that I had to renounce the kingdom. But I have brought a bigger kingdom of the inner, and I have come to share it with you, and all."

Then he entered into the palace to meet his wife. Of course she was angry... but she also belonged to a big empire. She was the daughter of a far bigger kingdom, and as the daughter of a great warrior she had waited for these twelve years without saying a word. What she said is immensely amazing.

She said to Gautam Buddha, "I am not angry that you renounced the kingdom. I am angry that you did not say anything to me when you left. Do you think I would have prevented you? I am also the daughter of a great warrior...."

Buddha felt very embarrassed; he had never thought about it. Her anger was not that he had renounced the kingdom -- that was his business. Her anger was that he did not trust in her, in her love; that he did not trust in her and thought she would have interfered in his renunciation. She was not that type of ordinary woman; she would have rejoiced that he was renouncing the kingdom.

Buddha had to ask forgiveness.

His wife -- her name was Yashodhara -- said, "For these twelve years I have been carrying only one question to ask to you. And that question is: whatever you have attained -- and certainly you have attained something, I can see it in your eyes, on your face, in your grace. My question is: Whatever you have attained, was it not possible to attain it in the palace, in the kingdom? Was renunciation necessary?"

Gautam Buddha said, "At that time I thought so, because for centuries it has been said that unless you renounce the world you cannot find the ultimate truth. But now I can say with absolute certainty, whatever has happened to me could have happened in the kingdom, in the palace; there was no need to go anywhere."

Changing Name, adding Virtue won't help much...


I have heard about a man who was of such an angry temper that he killed his boy because he had disobeyed. And he forced his wife to jump into the well because she was trying to protect the child. The whole village gathered and the man was very much ashamed. He was so much ashamed that he said, "I will renounce the world. I am going to become a saint." A Jaina monk was in the city. He went to the monk, and the monk said, "It is a very difficult path."

The man said, "Nothing is difficult for me. You can understand -- I killed my child, I forced my wife to jump into the well. Do you think anything is difficult for me?"

The Jaina monk said, "You will have to be naked."

The man immediately threw his clothes; even the monk was shocked and surprised. But he did not understand that this was also his angry temper. The monk initiated him, and he became very famous. He was given the name Shantidas; the name means `servant of peace'.

After twenty years... he was in New Delhi. One of his friends from the village happened to be in New Delhi, so he thought, "It will be good to see how far Shantidas has gone." So he went to see him -- there was a big crowd of worshippers. Shantidas looked at him... and he recognized him, but he did not show any sign of recognition. A man of his stature cannot recognize a villager, although they have been friends. The other man immediately understood: "Nothing has changed, because he has looked at me as if he has not recognized me -- but he has recognized me. I can see it on his face."

So the man came close and said, "I have a simple question to ask. What is your name?"

This irritated Shantidas very much. He said, "You don't read the newspapers? The whole capital knows my name. My name is Muni Shantidas."
The man said, "My memory is very bad. Will you please repeat it?"

Now this was too much. He said, "I have told you! And I will repeat it, but remember: if you ask again... You know me perfectly well. My name is Shantidas."

The man said, "Just once more."

And Shantidas took his staff and said, "Once more and I will kill you!"

The man said, "There is no need to do that great work. I just wanted to know whether you had changed."

Twenty years of cultivation of all the virtues, and just a little scratch and the old man comes out. All our morality, all our cultivation is superficial. My interest is not in any superficial cultivation but in a revolution, radical, which comes out of your meditation.